Freight Trained (25 page)

A loud crash of breaking glass at the back of the house had her yelling out in surprise and Lucky bounding off the couch, disappearing into her bedroom.  She jumped up, fear racing through her body
—
fear for herself and fear for Lucky
—
as she frantically looked around for something to use as a weapon.  A knife block sitting on her kitchen counter caught her eye but before she could make a run for it, her sicko-admirer came into view, a squirming Lucky clutched tightly in his arms.

"Hello, my sweet."  

Her eyes darted to the kitchen, gauging the distance.

"Don't even think about running or your cute little puppy here will pay the consequences.  And we all know how much you love sweet, little Lucky.  Would be such a shame really to snap his furry neck."

That he knew the name of her dog, told Abby he'd been closer to her than she'd ever known.  She tried to think, but her brain was in a state of paralysis.  She knew logically she shouldn't risk her life for a dog but damn it, she loved that dog and sadly, she would risk her life for him.  She held up her hands.  "Please, I'm not going anywhere.  Just don't hurt him."

His evil smile came back as he scratched Lucky's head.  "Such a good momma."  He looked down at Lucky.  "Did you hear that, boy?  Your momma loves you."  He looked back up.  "Now come here, slowly.  Keep your hands where I can see them."

Abby slowly inched her way forward, not wanting to make any sudden moves and risk Lucky getting hurt.  When she got close, he grabbed her by the arm and dropped the dog.  He landed on his side before slowly rolling to his feet, giving her a small whine when he looked up at her.  A jolt of pain zapped her neck and a few seconds later all went black.

Abby awoke, surprisingly clear-headed, remembering everything that had taken place before passing out.  Also, surprisingly, she wasn't in full-out panic mode.  In fact, she felt pretty calm because, at the moment, she was in the backseat of a moving car.  Yes, she feared what psycho-stalker/kidnapper had in store for her but knowing he was preoccupied for the moment driving, kept her emotions from flying out of control. 

She took the time to assess her situation.  Her wrists and ankles were tied with those plastic zip-tie thingies.  The kind with the notches that make it impossible to pull apart once they've been "zipped" through the slot.  She tested their hold anyway, but the hard plastic ties were impossible to pull loose or wiggle out of.  She was neither blindfolded nor gagged so were probably traveling somewhere unpopulated or with very low population, giving her less chance of escape.  That thought had her heart beating faster.   

Not knowing how long she'd been unconscious, left her with no idea how far they'd traveled or what direction they were heading.  Lifting her head from the seat to look out the side window did her no good, seeing nothing but inky darkness and the shadowed outline of the trees that lined the road.

"You awake back there?"

The question startled her.  Did she feign sleep and hopefully catch him unawares once they reached their destination or admit she was awake and pump him for information while he was preoccupied driving?

The option was taken out of her hands.  "I know you're awake.  I heard you moving around back there so pretending to sleep will do you no good."

Okay, option two then.  "Where are we going?"

She saw him glance at her through the rear-view mirror.  All she could see were his eyes, but the crinkles at the corners gave her the indication he was smiling.  "To our new home.  I know you wanted to go to Hawaii for our honeymoon but unfortunately, the boss wouldn't give me time off work."  His eyes flashed to her through the mirror again along with another set of eye crinkles.  "But don't worry, I'll be sure to make it up to you.  You won't be sorry."

Abby felt a shiver slide down her spine.  The guy was delusional, and that didn't bode well for her.  He seemed in an amicable mood so asked another question.  "What..." Abby licked her lips.  "What are you planning to do with me?  Are you going to kill me?"

She was sorry she asked the question as soon as the words left her lips and more sorry when evil laughter filled the car.  "Kill you?  Don't be silly, Celine.  I would never kill my blushing bride.  It's my duty to take care of you, love you, and cherish you.  And I'll do all those things tonight.  After all, it is our wedding night."

Oh, God.  A new fear started to grow and panic finally started to set in.  Who did he think she was?  Who was Celine?  She struggled at the bonds on her wrists again, hoping they had magically loosened since the last time she tested them.  They held as firm as they had a few minutes ago.

"Now, no more talking, Celine.  We're almost there."

The car stopped a few minutes later.  The back door opened, and she was grabbed under the arms and slid from the backseat.  She knew struggling at this point would be futile so instead remained docile, hoping to be presented with a better opportunity for escape. 

Her feet were set on the ground, and she teetered, her bound ankles causing her to lose her balance.  He was there to steady her with a firm hand on her arm. 

He seemed to study her a moment before a smile lit his face.  "Can't have you hopping all over the place, now can we?"

Oh, God, was he going to cut her restraints?  Please.  Please.  Please. 

Nope.  In one swift move, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms.  He chuckled ominously.  "Need to carry you over the threshold, anyway."

He carried her into a one-room cabin and flicked a wall switch that activated a tall, shadeless floor lamp before he set her on a narrow twin bed that occupied one corner.  The once white sheets were browned with grime and yellowed with age, and the mattress was saggy in the center, making it hard to keep her upright balance.  

She watched as he went to the small kitchen and picked up a pair of scissors that rested on the counter.  He knelt by her feet.  "You're not going to cause any problems are you?" he asked, snipping at the air above her ankles with the scissors.

Abby vigorously shook her head afraid to speak for fear of saying the wrong thing.

With a small tilt of his head, he stared at her a moment.  "Sorry, love, I just don't trust you yet."  He reached around behind himself at the small of his back.  The black object he held flashed in her peripheral vision just before she felt the zap at her neck.  And again, it was lights out.

Chapter Twenty

Cole rolled over and opened his eyes to a vast, empty expanse of bed covers.  His head pounded, his mouth was dry as shit, and his breath probably smelled even worse.  Fuck, he knew better than to drink too much, he was an ass when drunk and more than likely sent Abby scurrying for the couch.

Abby!  He sat up too quickly and the room went fuzzy.  His heart beat faster when he couldn't remember anything after coming up to his room with a bottle of Jack to drown his guilt on the anniversary of Marco's death.  Did he pick her up from work?

Rolling out of bed, he raced down the stairs, searching the entire bottom floor while calling her name.  Nothing.  Something nagged at the back of his brain, and it took him a moment to realize Lucky was gone too.  So she
had
been here.  He wasn't even sure what time it was.  Only knew it was dark outside. 

Phone.  He needed his phone.  He patted his back pockets, feeling the bulge.  His pants sagged, making him realize they weren't fully fastened.  He did them up quickly as he took out his phone and saw he had one missed call and two missed texts, all from Abby, sent shortly after school had gotten out.  Fuck.  He quickly dialed her number and after five agonizingly endless rings, it went to voicemail.  He checked the time on his phone.  It was late, half past one so she was likely sleeping and not hearing her phone. 

He was wasting time.  Needing to get to her, he grabbed a shirt from upstairs and a water from the fridge.  Plucking his keys off the counter, he slammed into his truck and not bothering to wait for the garage door to fully raise, backed out as soon as he had enough clearance.   His only goal, getting to Abby.

He found her car in her driveway.  He felt some relief but wouldn't be happy until he had her in his arms.   He didn't have a key to her house and hated to wake her but pounded on her door anyway.  After a few minutes of waiting, he pounded again.  The banging was loud, the security screen door, rattling with a metallic clang, and he couldn't imagine anyone sleeping through it.  A tingling started at the back of his neck, and he pounded again, this time, harder. 

He didn't allow himself to panic, but a kernel of dread formed in his gut, spreading like a weed through his limbs when he reached down to try the latch, and the screen door opened easily, and instinct told him the front door would open with just as much ease.  But he still held a thread of hope, as he reached for the knob, that she'd just forgotten to lock the screen.  His hopes were dashed when the knob turned freely in his hand.

His eyes scanned the living room, noting other than some scattered papers and her cell phone on the coffee table, nothing seemed out of place.  He heard Lucky barking excitedly behind the closed bedroom door.  He made his way over, apprehension oozing from his pores at what he would find on the other side.

He turned the knob, slowly pushing the door open.  A flurried fur-ball came darting out as soon as the door cracked, yapping and dancing around his feet, but he couldn't pay Lucky any attention, his sole focus centered on the white, lace curtains, fluttering on the breeze from the shattered bedroom window.  Small and large pieces of glass littered the floor, glittering like diamonds from the reflection of the moon.

He closed the door behind him, locking Lucky out, and the crunching of glass echoed in the sudden silence of the room as his booted feet neared the broken window.  A pain gripped and twisted at his heart, bringing him to his knees with a vicious slam, completely unmindful of the glass as it dug into the denim.

His hands, resting on his thighs, turned into fists of rage as he raised them, pounding them down on the floor in front of him.  Throwing back his head, he bellowed an almost inhuman roar before collapsing, burying his face in his hands, feeling as broken and shattered as the glass surrounding him.

Lucky lay curled in his lap as Cole absently stroked his fur while impatiently waiting for the sheriff to arrive.  He was anything
but
patient.  And although he knew precious time was wasting, sitting on the couch, waiting like some dumb fuck, he also knew, jumping in his truck running all over town shouting Abby's name would be a wasted effort as well.  They needed a plan that was constructive, something proactive.  He'd already failed Abby once, he wouldn't do it again.

"Cole?"

His head snapped up at the sound of his name.  "About fuckin' time you got here," Cole said, standing, dislodging Lucky, who yapped twice before curling himself into the corner of the couch. 

Sam glanced at his watch, raising one eyebrow before he replied sarcastically, "Yeah, traffic's a bitch this time of night."

Cole looked at his booted feet, rubbing the back of his neck.  He knew he'd only called Sam about ten minutes ago and that he'd arrived pretty damn fucking fast even if it did feel like hours, knew he was being a dick but couldn't find it in himself to care. 

He picked his head back up, taking a long look at Sam.  Haggard seemed a good word to describe his appearance.  His hair, always neatly combed, was mussed in a way that indicated frustrated fingers had raked through it.  Dark, puffy circles under red-rimmed eyes stood out starkly against pale skin that usually held a decent tan, indicating a lack of sleep.  Between the hangover that pounded through his head and his worry over Abby churning through his stomach, Cole had a feeling he looked no better. 

Noticing the deputy was missing, Cole asked, "Where's John?  Don't you think we can use all the help we can get about now?"

Sam gave him a curt nod.  "Got a call in to him.  I stopped by his house on the way over, but he didn't answer the door.  Not sure where he could be this time of night, but I'm sure he'll call back soon."

It was now Cole's turn to raise a brow.  "He ever go missing before?"

Sam held up a hand as if able to see the accusations flying around in Cole's head.  "It's not what you're thinking, Cole."

Cole narrowed his eyes and took a menacing step forward.  "You willing to bet Abby's life on that?  'Cause that's what you'd be doing."

"John's a lot of things and most of them are annoying, but a stalking kidnapper he's not.  I promise you that."  Just then his phone rang.  Glancing at the display, he muttered to Cole, "Speak of the devil."  He brought the phone to his ear.  "This better be good."

Cole half listened to Sam's side of the conversation, wishing he would hurry the hell up, while trying not to let his mind wander to what Abby may be going through right at that moment, knowing it would just make him insanely unstable and totally useless to her.

"We'll meet you at the station in a few."  Sam hung up the phone then disappeared into Abby's bedroom, Cole tracing his steps.

He stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest when Sam turned to him and asked, "You know what was sitting there?"  He pointed to the nightstand at the side of the bed and Cole noticed a clean, dust-free circle, denoting a missing object.