A Memory Worth Dying For (32 page)

Someone had brought her here and left her to die. She remembered a voice—a low raspy growl she had heard before—in the alley. The same man had made good on his threat to kill her if she returned to Texas. And, no one could help her. Sweat popped out on her forehead even as a cold chill paralyzed her body.

The realization hit her in the pit of her stomach. No one knew where she was, or probably cared. Gerald was at the ranch. Skyler and Cynthia had long ago said their goodbyes. Veronica could care less, and Daniel . . . Daniel would probably be happy to have her absent from his life—finally.

Tears bubbled up in her eyes and blurred the shivering shaft of light coming in from a crack in the roof. She had run from this man for years. She’d have to run no longer. It was over. Her struggle to win Daniel back. Her fight against evil in the world. Her fight to survive. It was finished.

“God, please forgive me for turning from you. Please forgive my lack of faith. Help me die quickly, Lord.”

When she said the words out loud, shame raced through her. Her words sounded so childish, so weak, so pathetic. She was giving up without a fight. The Lord promised His strength in her weakness. Anger fired through her veins.

“Okay, Lord. I’ll trust You. I can’t even move, much less get out of here, but I know You can help me. Please send someone, Lord.”

How long had she been here? Had anyone missed her yet? Surely someone would notice her absence if nothing but as the absence of an irritation. She closed her eyes and prayed silently until she heard a cracking sound outside. Maybe someone was riding by.

“Help! I’m in here! Please help me!” she cried.

More scraping came from outside the shed. Thoughts of her attacker coming back to finish the job ran through her head, and she grew quiet. Listening.

Scratching sounds against the wooden walls sounded faint, but distinct. Could it be some kind of animal? Another kind of fear coursed through her veins.

She lay still and searched the base of the walls around her. The light was dim and made it hard to see, but there was no small foot digging under any of the walls. A silent, hopeful breath escaped her parched lips.

The sounds grew quiet until suddenly, a loud thud banged against one outside wall, then another. Through the crack under the wall beside her, she saw boot-clad feet walking back and forth from the woods to the shed. Should she cry out? Should she beg for her life? Indecision tore her apart. The wrong choice could cost her life.

Each time the feet came back to the shed, there was another dull thump. She saw a small branch poke through the hole at the base of the wall. Someone was piling up branches outside the shed.

While she waited, trying to decide what to do, a strong stench reached her nose—the pungent sharp smell of gasoline.

A flame of fear ripped through her. She looked out under the crack in time to see the whoosh of a fire. Terror made her faint. She strained on the chains.

“Please! Let me out! Please,” she cried. Tears rolled down her cheeks and made silent plops on the hard dirt. She watched in horror as fire raced along the bottom edge of one entire wall and crept along the wall toward the door.

No, not the door! There’s no other way out.

“Lord, please help me. I am weak, but You are strong.”

Smoke began to filter through the cracks of the old shed, and her nose burned with the strength of the smell. The fire had reached the door and whooshed across it to the other side of the wall.

In panic, she watched as the fire crept toward the last wall of the shed. Smoke was filling the building and reached its tendrils toward her. As much as she could, she covered her mouth with her shoulder and tried to have faith. God would save her if it was His will. If it wasn’t, she prayed He would be merciful.

A single whiff of smoke penetrated her covered lips, and she coughed uncontrollably. The acrid smell stung her eyes and her throat, and her stomach rebelled against the smell of smoke entering her lungs.

“Lord, please help me.”

SIXTY-THREE

DANIEL JUMPED OUT OF HIS
Chevy diesel truck and glanced around. His father’s truck was still in the garage. Why hadn’t he made it to the auction? And where was Marti’s car? She’d left the auction, but no one knew where she’d gone.

He turned toward the pathway from the garage and crossed the yard toward the barn. Maybe his dad was having trouble with one of the horses. He’d check in the barn and see if one of the stable hands knew anything.

The door to the office was closed, but he yanked it open and peeked inside. Max sat at the computer. The horse roster was spread out in front of him, and he was entering the new information concerning each horse into the computer.

“Hey, are you checking the immunization records for the new mares?”

“Yeah. I’m almost done. Mr. Gerald wanted it done by the end of the week.”

“Speaking of my dad, have you seen him today?”

“Yes, sir, I saw him this morning. He was vaccinating some of the foals in the next pasture.”

“You haven’t seen him this afternoon?”

“No, sir.”

“If you see him, tell him I’m looking for him. He was supposed to come into town for the art auction, but he never showed up.”

Max leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, he asked me this morning if I’d like to go along, but I forgot. He was right excited about seeing Marti’s painting. It’s odd he didn’t show up.”

Worry built up in Daniel’s thoughts. If Gerald asked Max to go with him, it wasn’t like him to forget, and it certainly wasn’t like him to ignore something important either. “I’m going to take a look in the barn. If you see him, call me on my cell.”

“You got it.”

Daniel hurried to the barn and through the stalls where the new horses were stabled. He checked each stall carefully and made sure his father hadn’t fallen in the hay out of sight. There wasn’t a sign his father had even been in the barn. The feed troughs were empty. He turned toward the storage room.

When he opened the door, chaos met him. The shelf was pulled over onto the floor, and the contents were spread everywhere. Bottles of topical hoof treatment were piled in a heap, and the fluid leaked out of several bottles. He reached to pick up one of the leaking containers, when his eyes caught a glance of a boot under all the supplies.

Worry shot through him as he ran to the barn door and yelled, “Max! Come here!” Hurrying back to the mess on the floor, Daniel began tossing salt blocks into the corner—out of the way. Slowly the boot became more visible, and his stomach sank—a cowboy boot. A hollow moan came from somewhere under the pile of supplies.

“Dad?” His actions became frantic as he jerked on the heavy shelf. It didn’t budge.

Another moan—louder than the first—escaped from his father’s throat. “It’s okay, Dad. I’m here. Just be still. I’ll have you out in a minute. Max, get in here!”

Max slid around the corner into the room. “What happened?” he puffed out.

“I don’t know. Help me lift this shelf.”

Daniel and Max strained to lift the shelf up and over to the side. After the shelf was out of the way, they worked together to move the heavier bags of feed.

“Call 9-1-1, Max,” Daniel said. “Dad’s going to need an ambulance.”

Max left the room to make the call. Daniel pulled salt blocks, paper towels, and plastic bottles of soap from off the top of his dad. “Dad? Can you hear me?” His words were tight with panic. Daniel knelt beside his father’s head. Gerald was lying on his back, his eyes were closed. His leg was twisted at an odd angle. “Dad, can you hear me?”

Gerald’s eyes opened slowly. His pupils looked even but dazed.

“Son . . . Marti—”

“It’s okay, Dad. Max is calling 9-1-1.”

Gerald reached up and grabbed Daniel’s arm. His grip was surprisingly strong. “Marti . . . help Marti.”

“Marti doesn’t need help, Dad. You’re the one who needs help. The ambulance is on its way.”

“No, Daniel. He will . . . kill her.” Gerald dropped back and struggled for breath.

“Who are you talking about, Dad?”

“Marti . . . help Marti. Equipment shed . . . fire.”

Daniel struggled to understand. What was his father trying to tell him about the equipment shed? Was Marti at the old shed? His dad must be worried about the wildfire.

“First let me help you, Dad. Then I’ll check on Marti, okay?”

“No, Daniel. Leave . . . me. Go to Marti. He’s going to . . . kill her . . . build a fire. She was right.”

He felt like ice water had been thrown in his face. “Someone is trying to kill Marti?”

Gerald nodded jerkily. “Help her, son.”

Max ran back into the room. “The EMT’s are on their way, Daniel.”

Gerald pushed Daniel’s hand. “Go!” He had a panicked look in his eyes.

Daniel stood up. “Max, take care of him. I have to go check on Marti. My dad says someone’s trying to kill her at the equipment shed. I don’t know if he’s talking out of his head or if there’s something to what he’s saying, but I’m gonna check it out. Call the sheriff. When the ambulance leaves with my dad, get the sheriff to come out to the old shed.”

“Yes, sir. Don’t you worry none. I’ll take care of your dad.”

Daniel ran to his truck. As he backed the truck down into the barnyard, he saw the tip of a red ax handle propped against a tree where one of the men had been splitting firewood. He jumped out of the truck, grabbed the ax, and threw it into the back of his truck on top of a pile of log chains. He barreled down the gravel road toward the back forty acres as fast as the gravel would permit. About a mile from the equipment shed, he saw dark gray smoke billowing into the air. It was too concentrated to be the widespread smoke of the wildfire.

Fire! There was a fire. His dad was right.

Sweat popped out on his forehead, and he pushed the gas pedal to the floor. His heart sank as he sped to the scene. If his dad was right, Marti was in the shed. Was someone really trying to kill her? She had tried to tell them someone had been stalking her, but they wouldn’t listen.

In spite of the unsettling way she made him feel, he cared for her. Her sweet, innocent personality had worked its way under his skin. He fought the attraction, but he couldn’t deny one was there. Guilt raised its head. He shouldn’t be thinking about another woman when he and Veronica were getting married in a week.

When he turned the last curve, his heart pounded. Flames rose high into the sky above the shed, and the wall that contained the only door was completely engulfed and hidden by flames and smoke. Marti’s car was parked outside the engulfed building, and the driver’s door stood wide open.

“God I don’t remember ever praying to You, but I could sure use some help now. Marti loves you, God, so will You please help me find her?”

He rushed out of the truck, grabbed the ax, and headed toward the inferno.

SIXTY-FOUR

EVEN AS MARTI TRIED TO
have faith that God would send someone to rescue her, she heard a pounding on the only wall not consumed by fire. The ground shook with the force. She saw a small hole splinter at the base of the wall. With every crash, the hole opened a little more. Through burning and teary eyes, she watched a man force his way through the opening. An old rag was tied around his face, and his other hand held an ax. When he saw her, he rushed to her side and dropped to the floor beside her.

Daniel! His eyes were the only thing she could see through the smoke, but she recognized them well.

“Marti!” he screamed. He jerked the rag from his face and laid it over her mouth and nose to protect her from the smoke before he tugged at the chains near the ground. When they wouldn’t give, he grabbed the ax and began pounding on the chains. His muscles rippled as he lifted the ax way above his head and struck the chain with full force. The chains were strong and seemed untouched by the tremendous blows.

Marti’s heart sank. He was here, but he couldn’t help her. He would die trying. She knew that. That was the type of man he was.

“Go, Daniel. Leave me. Please!” Coughing weakened her voice. Smoke burned her eyes. Tears of pain rolled down her face—mingled with tears of fear.

Coughing thwarted Daniel’s movements, but he covered his mouth with his sleeve, patted her arm, and then pushed his way back out the opening in the wall.

The feeling of abandonment numbed Marti’s limbs until she saw Daniel climb back through the hole. Behind him he dragged another chain, larger than the one around her arms and legs. He wrapped the chain around the pipe sticking up out of the ground and hooked it together with the hook on the end of the chain. He disappeared once again through the opening in the wall.

Through the popping and cracking of the burning building, she could hear the noise of a diesel motor revving up. Slowly the chain tightened until the pipe strained against the dirt edge of the opening in the floor. The chains around her legs tightened, and pains shot through her ankle.

Even as the chains played tug-of-war, a large portion of the roof on the far side of the shed cracked and fell inward—falling a few feet from Marti. She screamed in terror. Ambers flew through the air and landed all around her and on her clothes. She shook her elbows, trying to dislodge them from her blouse. She watched in horror as they left tiny burn holes in the sleeves of her shirt. She rolled on the floor to mash the smoldering embers and felt the chains tighten again.

By this time the fire had consumed the supports of the far corner, and the wall behind her gave a shudder and broke apart. Burning pieces fell on the floor behind her. The room became a blistering inferno, and her skin felt as if it were being roasted.

Once again the chains around her ankles clenched even tighter, and the pipes anchored in the ground exploded out of the floor. The chains fell off the bottom of the broken pipe.

Another fit of coughing brought tears to her eyes, and she covered her face with her shoulder, trying to summon faith that God would give Daniel the strength and knowledge to save her.

“Lord, please help us.” Her throat was hoarse and almost silent, but she knew God heard. He would answer in His will. She laid her head closer to the dirt floor and tried to breathe in the fresh air flowing through the cracks under the walls. The fresh air from the hole in the floor fanned the flames, and the smoke and fumes filled her lungs.