Sleep No More (37 page)

No doubt while his car was being repaired.

"And the van?" Jason asked. "Is it here?"

"No."

"I need to look at your uncle's desk in the church. Maybe there's a clue about where he went," he said.

"Okay." Maggie led him through the house and out the back door. Passing the key rack, she picked up a set of keys attached to a crucifix keychain.

"Are those keys usually there?" Jason asked.

She stopped and tilted her head. "Only if Uncle Father is home."

Jason urged her on, hoping there would be a clue in his office that could lead him both to the priest and whoever had Abby.

Once they reached the side door, Maggie fumbled with the keys, selecting the one for the outer door. Jason had to fist his hands to keep from snatching the keys and trying them himself. Finally she found the one that opened the door.

He followed her down the hall to Father Kevin's office. Once inside the door, Jason looked around the cluttered office for something obvious. Of course it wasn't going to be that easy.

He went to the desk. There was a smudged double old-fashioned glass sitting next to the blotter. On the blotter were doodles of the COC logo.

Jason tried to open the desk drawers. All but the large center one were locked. He rifled through that one. It yielded nothing but the norm: pens, pencils, paperclips, tape, a pair of reader glasses, and a pad of Post-its.

"May I see those keys?" He put his hand out and Maggie handed them over.

Luckily, there was only one key small enough to be the desk key. The top drawer held a nearly empty bottle of Scotch. The store receipt was still taped to it. Father Kevin had bought it yesterday.

Abby's middle-of-the-night caller had sounded drunk.

Jason quickly went through the rest of the drawers, including the file drawer. After glancing in each of the hanging folders, he decided Father Kevin had been very careful not to leave clues here.

The police had checked all garages in Preston, looking for a white vehicle with appropriate body damage and hadn't come up with one. If Father Kevin had been forced from the accident scene, whoever was watching him wouldn't have allowed his vehicle to be repaired locally.

Jason called Kitterman and, with a stomach full of frustration and dread, explained what was happening with Father Kevin. "We need to have your patrols looking for the church van. Maybe we can find him before he does something rash." Jason chose his words carefully; he hadn't been able to convince Maggie to leave his side.

"Got it," Kitterman said. "Is there a chance he's out there on the same road executing his original plan?"

"Doubtful. People normally resort to a different... tactic second time around." Jason paused. "Whoever is here watching him is after Abby. Could be Toby Smith--the gray Impala guy." Jason still could not understand how Bryce fit into this. Vandalism was one thing, but could he actually have gotten caught up into something bigger?

Jason kept thinking of how Father Kevin's face looked after his "accident." Those injuries were inflicted by a person with no conscience. God help Abby--and Bryce, too--if that's whose hands they were in.

"If you've been seeing his car, you're probably right. We're already looking for him and his vehicle. No luck yet. I doubt his name is Toby Smith, but we're searching DMV and credit cards to see if we get a hit."

Desperation clawed at Jason's insides. Then he realized it could be even worse. "What if Bryce is still with him?"

"I think it's time to track your kid's cell phone."

The instant Bryce saw the knife,
his
knife, in Toby's gloved hand, his breath became trapped in his lungs. Toby was fucking serious.

"How'd you get my knife?" Bryce asked, feeling his cargo pants pockets. Abby still lay in the back seat of his car. Both rear doors were open with Toby on the passenger side and Bryce on the driver's.

"You make a horrible criminal. I've had this knife since this morning," Toby said in a light tone--as if they were talking about catching fly balls or the latest DC comic issue. But there had been a silent shift in him; same friendly guy on the outside, but beneath the skin there was a dark and sharp-edged undercurrent that scared the crap out of Bryce.

"We're not going to cut her," Bryce said with as much authority as he could force into his voice. He tightened his throat to keep from puking. "Just tie her up and leave her here for a while. Let her know we're serious. Stick to the plan."

"Don't be a pussy. She'll promise anything now, but once you let her go, you're toast. It'll be easy. We'll dump her in the river. Maybe nobody'll ever find her and you won't even have to come up with an alibi."

The ice in Toby's eyes made Bryce swallow his protests. Toby looked like a shark about to go into a frenzy over bloody chum. He was set on killing Abby Whitman. The dude was a psychopath. And Bryce had no doubt, Toby wouldn't hesitate to kill him if he got in the way.

He blinked rapidly against the tears burning his eyes. He couldn't let Toby know how scared he was.

God, how was he going to get out of this and keep Abby alive, too?

Toby was three inches taller, thirty pounds heavier, ripped,
and
he had the knife. Bryce had to outthink him, play smart, and hope someone had found his dad's car and was looking for Abby right now.

He was gauging if he'd be able to jump in the driver's seat and take off before Toby could get in the car.

Not likely.

He'd taken the battery out of Abby's cell phone right after he'd sent the text, just like Toby had instructed. If Bryce could get the battery back into her phone without Toby noticing--they might use her phone to locate her.

Then he had another idea. But he needed a little time. He forced a shaky laugh. "Guess you need to teach me some shit, huh?"

"You have no idea," Toby said. "First, I'm going to teach you how to keep bitches like this from ruining your life."

Toby ducked and leaned into the car.

"Wait!" Bryce yelled, bending to look at him across the car's interior.
Stall. Stall. Think of a way out of this.
"Don't kill her in my car! She'll bleed all over."

"See, learning already." Toby saluted him with the knife. Even when talking murder, he still showed the innocence of a hometown hero--as long as you didn't look deep in his eyes. "Besides, I'm not going to kill her. You are."

For a stunned second, Bryce said nothing. Toby held his gaze, never blinking.

He just handed you the ball. Grab it and run.

"I guess she
is
my problem," Bryce finally said. "You've risked enough for me, man. It'd be safer for you not to be here when I do it. That way the police won't come after you as an accessory."

"You'll need help carrying her down to the river." He spoke as if this was a matter of simple logistics.

Cold shot through Bryce so severely his teeth chattered.

"Um." Bryce swallowed and clenched his teeth. "Guess we should get her out of the car first."

"That'd be a good start."

"Go on and pull her out your side," Bryce said. "Maybe she'll wake up when she hits the ground. I want her to know she's going to die." He tried to sound callous, but to his ears he just sounded scared.

When Toby reached for Abby, Bryce turned his back and reached into his pocket. He kept his phone close to his body and typed in a message to his dad. It had to look innocent, just in case Toby got a look at it.

gone fishing

He heard rustling behind him as Toby pulled Abby from the car. Bryce hit send, then put it back in his pocket and groped for Abby's phone and battery. Once he had the battery back in it, he could stash it someplace Toby wouldn't see it.

Suddenly, something pricked the middle of Bryce's back and he nearly shit his pants.

"Dude," Toby said. "You disappoint me." The knifepoint pushed a little deeper.

He heard Toby moving again and realized he'd crawled across Abby to get to Bryce's side of the car.

Toby moved out of the car and stood behind him, somehow maintaining steady pressure on the knife. Bryce kept his back to him, trying to get the battery in place with one hand while it was still in his pocket.

Toby's left hand reached around, palm up. "Give it."

Bryce hesitated.

The knife stabbed deeply enough that Bryce felt a trickle of blood run down the small of his back.

Sickened with defeat, he dropped the cell and the battery into Toby's hand.

"And yours, too."

Bryce pulled out his cell and put it in Toby's hand.

"I actually thought you might have the stomach for it," Toby said. "I'm rarely wrong. Let's see what you were up to.

" 'Gone fishing.' How clever. Now the clock is ticking." Toby almost sounded excited.

"It's late. If I didn't tell Dad something, he'd be looking for me." It was a desperate grab; he doubted Toby would believe it.

Toby flipped out Bryce's battery. Then he dropped both phones on the ground and stomped them with his heel. "I suppose you know this is a game changer. But Plan B isn't so very different from Plan A. Either way you murder Abby Whitman. It's just a matter of murder--or murder-suicide."

Toby had been setting him up for days. He was so fucking stupid!

Bryce started to see lights dance before his eyes. He forced himself to keep breathing. Plan A or B. Either way Abby was dead. Either way, for all intents and purposes, Bryce was, too.

He prayed for the strength to keep his head; it was his only ticket to safety. His dad always said people never did anything without a reason. That if you could unearth that reason, you could figure out a way around it. Bryce had to figure out Toby's reason if he was going to stay alive.

"Why do you care if she's dead or not?" Bryce asked, willing his voice not to break.

"I don't," Toby said. The knife continued to press against Bryce's back. "She's just a job. I never leave my work unfinished, and I never leave a trail. That's why they pay me the big bucks."

"Who wants her dead?" What could she have done to make someone hire a crazy bastard like Toby?

"I'm afraid that's classified information," Toby said.

"What does it matter? You're going to kill me." Bryce felt the tears rolling down his cheeks and was humiliated by his fear. He should be strong. He should fight. But he was going to die like a coward.

"And I'm sorry about that. I kinda like you. But I do have professional standards to maintain, no divulging the client, ever." He jabbed again with the knife. "Now, let's get your girl out of the car, shall we? She's starting to wake up."

S
omeone was lightly slapping Abby's cheeks, calling her name. Nausea rolled in her stomach.

Birds chirped and frogs croaked. A breeze moved over her.

I'm outdoors.

Sleepwalking?

"Abby. Wake up." It sounded like Jason's son.

She forced her eyes open.

Daylight.

Green leaves blurred overhead. An indistinct face between her and the leaves.

She was lying on the ground.

The nausea swelled.

Rolling to her side, she gagged with dry heaves.

After a moment, she gasped to regain her breath with her eyes watering.

"Abby?" Bryce. He was leaning over her.

She tried to get up, but her arms were bound behind her.

That realization shot adrenaline coursing through her body, clearing her head. Her heels scrabbled against the ground in an effort to get away.

She had stopped behind his Civic. He'd asked her to get jumper cables from his back seat. When she'd leaned in, he'd come from behind and covered her nose and mouth with a cloth.

Get away!
She scooted on her rear end, legs frantically pumping to put more space between them.

Bryce's face and arms showed the scratches from the struggle she'd put up earlier. But he didn't look angry. And he made no move to stop her as she pushed away from him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered with hitched breath. She now saw his face was wet with tears.

She tried to ask, "Why?" but all that came out was a croak. On the second attempt, it came out as a raspy whisper.

Bryce said nothing, but he cast a glance over his shoulder.

Now she saw there was someone standing just behind him. Someone with a handgun pointed at his head. Her view of his face showed his profile... there was something familiar about him.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

The guy with the gun ignored her question. "This really would have been less painful for you if Bryce had brought the gun from the car. Where did it go, Abby?"

"I gave it back to Jason." Her answer was automatic--and stupid. She had to start thinking.

The guy made a
tsk
ing sound. "You've been screwing up my plans for days now. I really should have killed you that night in the marsh. You can thank Father Kevin for the gift of these last days." Then he tapped the barrel of his gun against the side of Bryce's head. "Get her on her feet, man. Time's a wastin'."