Vow to Protect (15 page)

Cord scanned car after car in the parking lot between the Memorial Union and the Red Gym. SUVs, vans and sports cars. But not one of them was a Taurus. Not one.

He wiped his palms on his jeans and tried to breathe. When he'd heard Melanie and Ethan hadn't checked in for their flight, he'd been hoping they'd stayed on the boat. That they'd gotten stalled in the middle of the lake, missed the time, something. Anything.

But if they were still on the boat, the car would be here. Wouldn't it? If they'd changed plans for any reason, Bryce Walker would have called McCaskey. He would have let them know. Wouldn't he?

Of course, maybe he had.

Cord grabbed the cell phone from his belt and punched in McCaskey's number.

The detective answered on the first ring. “Yeah?”

“Have you talked to Walker?”

“Can't reach him. I've also been trying to find Nikki and get through to the airport. Melanie and Ethan? Are they off?”

“They never made it to the plane.”

“Oh, hell. Where are you now?”

“At the Union. There's no Taurus here.”

“Maybe they were delayed. An accident. A flat tire.”

He'd like to believe the explanation was something so reasonable. He'd like to, but he couldn't. “Are you sure Nikki dropped off the car?”

“That's what I've been trying to find out, but she's not answering radio or phone.”

“What if something happened to her? What if she never dropped it off?”

“Bryce should have called.”

How could a car disappear? How could it be that they couldn't get ahold of anyone who knew what was going on?

He eyed the stretch of lakefront behind the Memorial Union. College kids sat at tables and balanced on the edge of concrete planters, watching a reggae band perform on the Union Terrace's outdoor stage. There had to be something he could do. Some way to get answers. He just had to come up with what. “Listen there is a band playing. Lots
of kids. Someone would have had to see a boat that big. Someone would have noticed. I'm going to ask around.” Cord lowered the phone.

“Wait.”

He clapped it back against his ear. “What?”

“The rental. I'll bet it has GPS. Let me check. Hold on.”

Cord forced himself to slow down. To breathe. Still holding the phone to his ear, he started for the Union Terrace. A mix of students and alumni and just plain citizens crowded around tables and sat on the trademark sunburst chairs. A girl shot past him, carrying a pitcher of beer to a table of friends.

Cord started after her. “Excuse me.”

“Turner? You still there?”

Cord gave up his pursuit. He held his hand against his other ear, straining to hear over the reggae beat. “Did you locate the car?”

“It's at Picnic Point. It's not moving.”

Dread stabbed into him, cold and hopeless. There was only one reason for the car to be parked in an out-of-the-way location like that.

Were they still alive?

If that bastard had touched Ethan or Melanie—

He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “What's the fastest way to Picnic Point from here?”

“Several units in the area are already on their
way. It's not far, but they'll still get there long before you will.”

He didn't care. What if they merely caught Kane? What if they put him back in the prison system—a prison system that couldn't seem to hold him? What if he got away?

Cord started back in the direction of his car. “Kane's not getting away this time.” If he had to put a bullet in the bastard's head right in front of a bunch of cops to make sure, he would accept the consequences.

“Cord, wait.”

“Hold your breath, McCaskey.”

“A call just came through. There's a man down. On one of the piers right there near the Union.”

Cord spun back to the lake. Sure enough, a small crowd gathered on the pier farthest out. He couldn't tell for sure in the dim light, but it appeared they were looking down at something on the pier. Something that could be a man. “Got it.”

“Cord—”

He slapped the phone closed and started running. Dodging partying students, he raced around the stage and along the concrete rimming the lakeshore. His boots slammed against the pavement. The sound of his pulse beat in his ears, mixing with reggae. He pushed harder, lengthening his stride, approaching the pier.

Boards shaking beneath his feet with each footfall, he closed the distance to the small crowd. Sirens wailed from a nearby street, screaming over the music.

He kept running. Finally he reached the crowd. “Get out of the way!”

A couple of older-looking people turned to look at him, but they didn't step to the side. A woman darted backward, almost losing her balance and falling in the water.

Cord grabbed her arm to steady her, then bulled his way through. He knelt down beside the body. Even in the dark, he recognized Bryce Walker immediately. “Bryce?” He checked his neck for a pulse. Blood met his hand, warm and sticky. The beat drummed steady against his fingers.

Walker groaned.

He crouched low, until his cheek almost touched the boards. “What happened?”

“I…didn't see him.”

A hum rose in Cord's ears. “Kane?”

“He knifed me…he took the boat.”

“And the others?”

“On the boat. Oh God, they're all on the boat.”

Cord looked out to the water. Behind him, flashing red lights poured over the pier and reflected off the waves. An ambulance drove to the lake's edge.

Cord grasped Bryce's shoulder and lowered his
mouth back to the attorney's ear. “The paramedics are here. They'll take care of you. I'm going after Kane.”

Bryce struggled to move his head, to look at him with pain-dull eyes. “Go.”

The pier thundered with the approach of running paramedics.

Cord scrambled to his feet. He looked out across the dark water. A light shone in the distance. A light he swore had to be from a large boat.

He tried to breathe, tried to think. The boat was too far out to reach by swimming. Even if he could make it that far, it would take too long. And likely he would be too tired to be of much use once he got there.

He spotted several canoes on the edge of the water. A lanky kid was loading them onto a trailer with other canoes and locking them down. Dodging paramedics wheeling a stretcher to Bryce, he raced for the canoes.

Oblivious to the drama unfolding just yards away on the pier, the kid worked like a drone. He picked up the last canoe and hefted it up to the trailer.

“Wait!”

The kid stopped. He looked up, the expression on his face a mixture of annoyance and disbelief.

Cord leaped off the side of the pier and landed on the concrete next to the kid. “I'll take that canoe.”

“Sorry. Too late.”

“I need it. This is urgent.”

“Like I said, sorry. I'm packing up.”

If he had to pull his gun on the kid, he would. “I'm not fooling around.” He unsnapped the holster at his side.

“You robbing me?” The kid glared at him. He didn't even look scared. He looked angry, offended.

That was it. Cord didn't need a weapon to handle this. He grabbed the canoe and ripped it from the skinny kid's grasp.

“Hey, you can't do that!”

He threw the canoe in the water and grabbed a paddle from the stack.

“Stop. That ain't yours.” The kid lunged at him, grabbing his waist. Stumbling over his own damn feet, he fell to the concrete.

Cord whipped around, giving the kid a
Murder One
stare. He raised the paddle. “Back off.”

The kid held up his hands. “Take it easy.”

Spinning around, Cord waded down the steps and into the water. He steadied the canoe and stepped in. It tipped and bobbed, but he managed to get in and sit on the seat without tipping over. Thrusting the paddle into the water, he started paddling.

Shouts sounded from behind him. The kid, the paramedics, he didn't know. And he wasn't about to turn around and find out.

He dug the paddle into the water and pulled, stroke after stroke. He had to get to that boat. He had to stop Kane. He had to reach Melanie and Ethan and his sisters before it was too late.

The lake stretched black in front of him, lights rimming the shores. The wind had died down, but the waves still bucked him in the air. He fought back, stroking as hard as he could. He focused on a light out in the water, the one he'd thought was the boat. The one he
prayed
was the boat. His arms began to burn.

All he'd ever wanted was on that boat. All he'd ever needed. Melanie. His son. His sisters, too.
His family.
He wasn't going to let Kane steal them from him.

He'd kill the bastard and cut out his heart first.

After paddling for what seemed like an eternity, he could make out the white outline of the boat. That was it. That was the one.

A muffled scream rose over the lapping of waves.

Anger slammed through him, hot and hard. He wanted Kane dead. He wanted to strangle him and watch his eyes bulge when he died.

Choking back the rage, he locked it inside, ready to use it. To summon it forth when the moment was at hand.

Maybe Kane was right. Maybe Cord was a chip off the old block. Maybe he was a killer at
heart. He just hoped his father appreciated the irony. Because right now dear old dad was the one in his sights.

He stroked for all he was worth. Finally reaching the boat, he pulled the canoe alongside and positioned it as close to the ladder as he could.

He stood in the tippy vessel and grabbed the ladder's cold steel. Climbing hand over hand, he forced his tired muscles to pull him up the ladder. Near the top, he reached to his holster for the gun.

The holster was empty.

Damn, damn, damn. Back at the pier. When the kid lunged at him, he'd grabbed hold of his waist to stop him from taking the canoe. He must have knocked the gun out. That or it slipped out later when he was in the canoe.

He looked down at the water. The canoe drifted on the waves, already bobbing fifteen feet from the boat.

The canoe or the shore, either way he was out of luck.

It didn't matter. He didn't have a second to lose, a moment to hesitate. He'd already heard one scream. If he didn't stop Kane now, there would be others. He just prayed he wasn't already too late.

He pulled himself over the rail and into the boat. Red lights from shore pulsed off the deck. No, red
and
blue. Cord glanced back at the Union. Sure
enough, cop cars had joined the ambulance. Reed must be on his way.

Too bad he couldn't wait.

He knelt down and slipped off his boots. The last thing he needed to do was thunder around on deck and tip off Kane below. He had to be quiet. Without a weapon of any kind, he had to rely on surprise. It was his only chance.

A weapon.

He remembered the night they'd boarded the boat. Bryce had been behind the wheel. He'd emerged with a rifle.

He started across the deck, moving as quietly as he could. If the rifle was still there, he might have a chance.

He passed the door leading down to the cabins and moved to the front of the boat. Stepping in front of the console, he scanned the area for any place Bryce could have stashed his rifle. Two prongs to the right of the console caught his eye. A gun rack.

An
empty
gun rack.

His pulse pounded in his ears, louder than the waves lapping against the hull. He could only hope Kane didn't have the rifle with him. At the hotel he'd had nothing but a knife. If he'd gotten his hands on a gun since then, this might be a very short rescue.

He stepped from the bridge and headed back toward the steps leading to the hold. A shrill bleat cut through the night.

His cell phone.

He grabbed the thing from his belt. Fingers fumbling, he punched it on, heading off a second ring.

For a moment he just stood perfectly still. If Kane had heard the ring, would he come to investigate? Or would he speed up his killing?

No sound reached him but the lap of waves and the pounding of his own heart. He held the phone to his ear. “Yeah?” he whispered.

“Nikki was in the car,” McCaskey said. “In the trunk.”

Cord's throat closed. “Dead?”

“No. But she was in pretty bad shape. She says he left her alive so he could hunt her later. And there's another thing.”

“What?”

“It was Nikki. She was the leak. She was trying to trap Kane.” McCaskey's voice sounded rough with emotion.

Cord could just imagine how betrayed he felt. Cord would like to have a word with Nikki himself. But she would have to wait. “I'm on the boat.”

“What?”

“I'm out on Walker's boat. Kane is below.”

“I'm on my way.”

“I'm not waiting.” He closed the phone. In the dark, he couldn't see the button to turn the damn thing off. So not wanting to risk having it ring again, he tossed it over the side and started down the steps.

He was about halfway down when he heard the hum of voices. When he reached the kitchen, Kane's low monotone rose over the sound of the waves. “It's every boy's dream to kill his mother. Isn't it?”

“Leave her alone,” Ethan shouted.

Cord's stomach clenched. Kane couldn't be forcing Ethan—

He couldn't even think about it. He had to find a weapon. He had to take Kane out before he could do anymore harm than he already had.

“I always wanted to listen to my mother scream, listen to her beg. To treat her like trash. The way she treated me.”

Cord yanked open one kitchen drawer after another. As quietly as he could, he rummaged inside. It was so dark, it was hard to see. But there had to be a knife here. There had to be.

“Get away from her.”

“Ethan.” Melanie's voice trembled. “It's okay. Please, he'll hurt you.”