The Green-Eyed Doll (37 page)

“Sonofabitch. The motherfucker has her.” Matt slapped the hood of her car. “I knew JC wasn’t the killer.”

“We’re not sure she’s been kidnapped.”

Matt wasn’t buying Ash’s theory. “Don’t treat me like I’m some ordinary husband who doesn’t know jack-shit. The murdering bastard has her.” The words sliced him wide open, the truth made him bleed inside. “Her car’s empty, her cell and purse left behind. It’s the same damn MO.” The sharp pain in Matt’s chest was rivaled only by the flood of fear racing through his veins.

He snatched his vibrating cell off his hip and hope flared. Emma was calling. “Did Catherine call?”

“No. There’s something you should see. I’d like you to come to my house.”

“Emma,” Matt tried to put her off.

“No, Matt,” she interrupted. “This is important.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Friday, September 8th, 6:00 p.m.

Emma ran out the front door straight to Matt. “Did you find her?” Her face was pale, her eyes wide with hope.

“Not yet.” Matt stepped out and walked to meet Emma, keeping his tone reassuring as possible. “What did you want me to see?”

Ash got out with Matt and asked, “May we take a look in the little house while we’re here?”

“If it will help.” Her hand fluttered in the direction of the main house. “The extra key’s on a nail by the back door. I’ll get it.”

Ash was already moving. “Let me.” He sprinted up on the back porch and into Emma’s home.

“Emma, you wanted to show me something.” Matt drew her attention back to him. She was frustrated and scared, and he tried to be patient.

Ash burst out of her back door. “Got it.”

“Go with him,” Emma said. “I’ll bring it to you.”

Matt wanted to argue, but instead pointed Emma back toward her house and joined Ash.

Matt walked past Catherine’s bathroom. “Shit,” he hissed. His fear rocketed to terror. Pain slashed through his gut, a scalpel slicing away at hope. Her makeup, hair dryer, everything, reminded him of how stupid he’d been. He had to find her.

“Sheriff?” Emma called from the front porch.

Matt turned on his heel and went to Emma, who held a small wooden box in her hands. She handed it to him then backed away. Indecision played across her face.

“I hope I’m doing the right thing. She left this with me for safekeeping. She was afraid of what you’d think, but now things are out in the open. It’s my opinion...you need to read this.”

Matt fought back his need to rejoin the search for Catherine. Emma believed this information was important, so he sat on the love seat and opened the box.

He picked up the document on top and read a physicians sworn statement regarding the abuse of Catherine Marie McCoy Andrews. Cracked ribs. Multiple times treated for bruised kidneys. Contusions, all carefully placed where no one would see. The night she shot and killed her husband, she had choke marks on her neck. She’d almost died.

The weight of the world slowly pressed him further and further down. He studied the sworn statement from a women’s shelter in Tulsa where she’d sought refuge, and then found a job before moving to her own place. Tears for her suffering threatened, causing him to close his eyes and concentrate.

How could he have been so bull-headed?

He was vaguely aware of Ash sitting down, clamping a strong hand on Matt’s shoulder. He forced himself to continue reading. Ash handed him an arrest warrant for Catherine and a couple of news stories in direct contradiction to the doctor’s deposition. On the bottom of the pile, Matt found a document from the Oklahoma Grand Jury finding Catherine killed her estranged husband in self-defense.

“She’d made it out, found a job, and started a new life. This crazy bastard hunted her down and tried to kill her.” Ash’s voice dropped as he spoke, filled with compassion.

“My God. What she went through.” Matt threw the papers back into the box. “I had no doubt if she took his life she had no other choice. But hell no, I wouldn’t listen. For a second time in her life, a man, and the law, has let her down. One tried to kill her and the other ran her out of her home into a killer’s arms.” He searched Ash’s face for answers or hope and found neither.

“I’m sorry, man,” Ash said, his tone troubled.

Matt jerked his vibrating cell to his ear. “Talk.”

“We’ve got something,” Jake said, excitement riding high in his voice. “The deputy I sent to the garage talked to the owner. He remembered Catherine picking up her car but didn’t notice her acting weird or nervous. She paid her bill and left. Here’s the kicker, Danny Mason left right after she did. He came back a couple of hours later, but wasn’t worth a shit for the rest of the day. Matt, he has scratches on his neck.”

Matt ran for the cruiser, Ash at his side. “Sonofabitch. We’ve got him.”

“I sent a car, he’s not at home,” Jake continued.

“Search his apartment. I know where he lives and we’ll be there in minutes.”

“I’ve already called the judge and got a verbal on a warrant. Rey will pick it up and meet us there.”

Matt disconnected. “Goddammit. I should’ve dug deeper into Danny Mason.”

“Didn’t you do a follow up after Jake talked to him?”

“Yeah. I talked to him and Mel Hamilton. Both checked out clean.”

“You had no way of knowing. Stop kicking yourself in the ass.”

Matt called Sue and updated her quickly. “I want to know everything about this bastard. If he has Catherine, we have to figure out where. Fast.”

****

Friday, September 8th, 7:00 p.m
.

A door slam sent Catherine’s brain whirring. The time had come to fight back. She wouldn’t die peacefully. She wanted to live, to make things right with Matt. No way was she giving up. She loved him, and that knowledge strengthened her. She would escape. Catherine grudgingly lay down on the disgusting bed and draped her arm to look as if the cup had fallen from her hand, and the ice had melted where it landed.

She’d prayed Danny would return while it was daylight but the sun had disappeared and it was dark inside the trailer. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, and her heart beat too fast. She was awake and alert. He had to believe she was still drugged or her plan would fail. She slowed her breathing and forced her eyes closed.

The light came on down the hall and footsteps came closer. Her insides were on fire, but she lay still as death.

“Wake up.”

When Catherine felt Danny’s hand on her rib cage, she bit down on the inside of her mouth to suppress a scream. He shook her, and she feigned a groggy look by batting her eyes rapidly before slowly looking up at the face looming over her. “I’m awake.” She purposely slurred her words. “What happened?”

“It’s time you learned the house rules.” He grasped her shoulders tightly and shook hard.

Tremors shot through her body, and she couldn’t control the twitching. She had to convince him to take the cuff off her ankle. Then she’d escape or he would kill her, but he wouldn’t rape her...not while she was alive. No more surrendering her self-respect. No more submitting to humiliation. These were numbers one and two on the
Never
list.

“Rules?” she said with a slight slur.

An odd noise startled her, pulled her gaze to him. Danny slapped himself on the leg with a whip or a piece of wire. Smack. Smack.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you? That shit should’ve worn off by now.” He pulled her upright. “Get up and go wash your face. Snap out of it, or you’ll get a taste of Mama’s hanger.”

She stood and found wobbling her knees didn’t have to be faked. He pushed her toward the bathroom, and she meekly followed his instructions. Catherine struggled against the blood boiling through her veins. The urge to panic competed with the knowledge she had to remain calm when she stumbled back into the hall. Controlling her fear was more difficult than she’d imagined.

His gaze raked across her body and settled on her breasts. His hand covered her left breast and squeezed hard. She sucked in a gasp of air from the pain. Tears filled her eyes, and his lips curved upward. His eyes and his mouth screamed satisfaction that he’d hurt her. This was the look of a lunatic. One she was all too familiar with. He wanted her to be terrified.

“Don’t hurt me. Tell me the rules.” The words jarred old memories. She’d delivered them with a remembered sincerity.

The blow to the side of her head came so fast and unexpectedly she cried out with surprise and pain. Her ear rang from the percussion and stars swirled in the blackness in front of her eyes. He followed with a stinging smack of the wire across her thigh.

“Rule one. You’re here to please me. You don’t tell me what to do.”

Danny went to the kitchen and opened a cabinet. He removed a red ribbon and a tube of lipstick, placing them on the counter. Next came a pair of scissors. His erection bulged and strained against his jeans, and he massaged himself. Catherine’s blood rushed to her brain, and she fought back the scream rising in her throat.

“I’m going to cut you out of those clothes.” He waggled the scissors in his hand.

“I’ll take them off for you.” She attempted a lopsided smile.
Look subservient.

His lip curled, and he advanced a step toward her. “Have you decided to be nice to me?”

“I’ll do exactly what you say.” She intentionally rubbed her thigh to show him her pain.

“You behave and we’ll have some fun.”

“Okay. Let’s have some fun.” She rubbed her hand across her eyes, staggered, bracing against the wall for support. She had to make him believe the drug still had a strong hold on her.

He lay the scissors down then reached behind his back and pulled the gun from his belt. Escape would be easy if she could get her hands on the pistol, but he wasn’t stupid. She had to catch him off guard, but he pushed her backward until she fell on the bed. He pointed the gun at her, pulled a small key out of his pocket, and then tossed it on the mattress.

“Unlock the cuff and then strip. Do it right, or I’ll punish you. Got it?” He followed with a smack of the wire on his own leg.

She nodded her understanding but deliberately fumbled with the handcuff, stopping once to rub her face and push her hair out of her eyes. Catherine removed the one remaining shoe she wore then pushed herself up on her knees and unzipped her wrinkled slacks. She stole a glance at Danny. His free hand busily stroked the front of his pants. The gun pointed in her direction, but his gaze and attention were between her legs. She stood up, and then hooked her thumbs in the sides and wiggled out of her pants.

Catherine welcomed the surge of adrenaline rocketing through her system. The stronger the flow the more physical power she’d have.

With one leg, she kicked the slacks at Danny’s head. Then she launched herself using the mattress as a springboard. The heel of her hand missed his nose, but her body slammed solidly into him. Pain shot through her shoulder when they hit the floor. The gun flew out of his hand, and she focused on its path as it skittered out of reach. When the pistol slid to a stop, she scrambled for it, but Danny recovered quickly and grabbed her foot. She kicked hard and pulled herself away. All she needed was a few more inches, when she felt the grip under her hand there was no hesitation. Catherine rolled and fired. The pistol jumped in her hands, the recoil vibrated up her arm, and the noise bounced off the walls of the trailer.

Danny fell backward. He struggled to his feet, and one hand went to the wound in his chest. His eyes went wide and wild when he screamed with fury. “You bitch. I’ll kill you.” His face contorted into pure evil.

He staggered toward her, grabbed at her arm, knocking the gun out of her hand. Catherine struck out with her foot. The force of the blow sent a sharp pain up her leg when she connected with his right kneecap. He howled and stumbled sideways, giving her needed seconds to reach the door first. She ran outside and down the long, dirt driveway into the darkness. Barefoot, wearing nothing but a cotton blouse, a bra and panties, she hurled herself forward blindly.

The night was silent except for her heart pounding and labored breathing. She couldn’t slow down. He could be right behind her. At the end of the driveway, confusion hit her. Which way to safety? She scanned the horizon, found nothing but darkness. No lights or nearby homes to seek shelter. The sliver of a moon offered no help, and dark eerie clouds covered most of the stars.

Danny’s pickup roared to life forcing her to make a decision. Catherine stepped onto the road and felt the warm pavement under her bare feet. Relief washed over her, a paved road meant civilization. Which direction? With no time to debate, she turned left and ran as fast as she could. What seemed like seconds later, the screech of tires warned her. She stole a quick glance over her shoulder. Shit! He’d chosen the same direction she had, and his headlights were coming up behind her. Fast. She couldn’t continue down the middle of the road. He was gaining ground. She had no choice but to cut across the ditch and run headlong into the woods.

The sound of his engine dying and the door slamming sent a warning. He was coming for her.
Run. Don’t turn around and check. Run.

“You crazy bitch. I’ll kill you. It’s you, me, and the rattlesnakes.”

She never broke stride, plunging deep into the dark trees, which were nearly impassable. Given a choice between Danny and rattlers, the snakes won hands down. Damn, if she’d only managed to get to the gun.

Danny coughed a couple of times. He'd followed her into the ticket, but it was impossible to tell exactly which direction the sound came from. Fear rocketed through her blood. She couldn’t go back, and she couldn’t see to go forward. Using her hands to feel her way, she pressed on. Thorns jammed into her feet. She tripped and fell to her knees in the underbrush. The flesh on her legs and arms ripped and Catherine failed to stifle her moan. Had her gasp told Danny where to find her? She gritted her teeth, got up, and pressed deeper into the darkness. Getting caught meant sure death, and she was not ready to die.

Oppressive heat stole her breath. Not a hint of a breeze found its way to give relief. Catherine tried to swallow, but her mouth and throat were parched and dry. Blood trickled down from where the undergrowth and mesquite thorns cut her flesh. Sweat covered her body, burning every scratch. A tree limb snagged and pulled at her hair, but she didn’t stop. She jerked the knot of hair loose and bit back the urge to cry out in pain. Leaves crackled and snapped with her every step, the sound echoed like gunshots.