Dead Right (Stillwater Trilogy 3) - Page 93/100

Yet here he was…

“You’ll get there in time,” she said. But he knew that probably wasn’t true. No drive had ever seemed so long.

“Have you heard anything from Pontiff?” he asked hopefully. “Did the Sevier County Sheriff’s Department get back to him?”

“Haven’t you called the sheriff yourself?” she asked.

“Hunter’s tried to, more than once. They won’t put us through to him, won’t tell us anything. They say it’s a police matter. That they’re looking into it. No one on the Stillwater force will tell us anything, either.”

“Why not?” she asked indignantly.

“Pontiff’s angry that we searched Ray’s cabin illegally.”

“You didn’t have time to get a warrant! You did him a favor!”

“He feels we’ve overstepped our bounds, that we’re trying to do his job.”

“How can he care about his precious ego at a time like this?” she cried.

“He’s not about to let Hunter take charge.”

“I’ll bet Elaine knows what’s going on. I’ll check with her and get back to you,” she said. But when she called again, Clay’s cell phone coverage was so spotty her voice cut in and out.

“What did you learn?” he asked.

“Two—ties…the c—”

He eased off the gas, hoping he wouldn’t lose her. “What?”

“I said, two deputies vis—ted the cab—”

That he could decipher. “And?”

“It was empty. Some—thinks—sp—”

“Say that again.”

“Some guy thinks he spotted Ray’s truck going south toward Tupelo, and Pontiff’s all over it.”

To Iuka perhaps? Shit! They were heading in the wrong direction. No wonder Pontiff was playing it so smug.

Slamming on the brakes, Clay skidded to a halt on the side of the road. “Allie?”

She was gone.

“What is it?” Hunter asked. “Why are we turning around?”

Clay cursed again. “Madeline’s not at the cabins.”

When the headlights of Ray’s truck swung over the extra set of tire tracks in the snow, his heart began to thud. Someone had been at the cabin. Not only were there tire tracks, there were footprints everywhere.

For a moment, he was tempted to run. To get the hell out while he still could. But the cabin was dark. Whoever had come by wasn’t there now. If he was busted, the police would’ve already cut him off, pulled their guns, something.

Leaving the engine running, he waited for several minutes, trying to determine whether or not it was safe to get out. When nothing happened, nothing stirred, he took the flashlight and the knife he kept in his truck and approached the front door. There were other cabins in the area, but they were miles away. It wasn’t as if someone would’ve come here by mistake, was it?

No. His flashlight had just passed over something small and white. A business card. Wedged in the door.

Taking it, Ray held it in the light so he could read. It belonged to a Mr. Brian Shulman, an employee of the property management company from which he’d rented the cabin. Turning it over, he saw a brief note.

Enjoy your stay and don’t forget to put the key in the lock box when you go.

Had this Mr. Shulman gone inside?

Probably not. Why would he?

Still, panic poured through Ray at the possibilities. Unlocking the front door, he went straight to Madeline’s room.

The door that he’d closed when he left was now standing open. So was the closet.

His gut tightened as he set his flashlight on the bed and dug through the blankets. She was gone.

Whirling, he checked the rest of the room and under the bed. Nothing. The place was empty. Where was she? Had someone taken her? No. That didn’t make sense. Mr. Shulman wouldn’t have bothered to leave his card if he’d found Madeline.

She must’ve gotten away by herself. How the hell had she done it?

Regardless, he couldn’t lose her. She was his. A replacement for his own daughter. It was Barker’s fault that Rose Lee had tried to pass that note to Eliza. Nothing would’ve happened if Barker hadn’t insisted on having Ray bring Rose to church every Sunday. Then she wouldn’t have passed that note and Ray wouldn’t have had to punish her with his belt. And she might not have overdosed afterward.

“Madeline?” he called softly.

There was no response. But she couldn’t have gotten far. He saw no rope piled on the ground, no gag. And he’d drugged her. Chances were she was stumbling around in the snow, staggering through the trees, maybe even going in circles.

But the dead bolt on the front door had been set when he arrived. How could she have gotten out?

A muted noise drew him across the hall. He hurried, anxious but relieved, thinking he’d found her. But it was only the soft clank of the blind stirred by the wind. The wind? The window was open, and there was a chair underneath it.

She’d managed to get outside. Shit! A white-hot rage built inside him. He’d find her. He’d find her before anyone else could.

And God help her when he did.

Madeline could hardly hear above the racket her heart was making as she listened to Ray move around the cabin. He’d gone to the room where he’d left her, as she’d expected. Then he’d crossed the hall to the window she’d opened by biting the latch with her teeth and using her chin. If she was lucky, he’d rush outside, and start looking for her in the forest—because she didn’t have much of a chance if he started searching the cabin. She was only three feet from him when he came back into the hall, hiding behind the door of the third and last bedroom. She hadn’t had time to think of—or get to—a better place. It had been all she could do to open that damn window.

“She’ll pay for this,” he muttered. Then he went out the front door, and turned off the truck’s engine.

She’d hoped he would be in too much of a hurry to think about his truck. If he’d gone directly to the back, she might’ve been able to slip out the front and drive away, even with her hands and feet still tied. The sound of his engine had given her hope and helped cover her movements. She’d opened a window, so she could move a gear lever and manage a steering wheel well enough to drive a mile or two, someplace she could find help. That was why she’d opened the window in the back room—to draw him away from the road.

But he was too smart, too cautious. For all she knew, he was standing on the porch waiting for her to come out the front door. What if there was snow on the ground? If it remained undisturbed beneath the window where she would’ve had to land, he’d know it was a trick.