Weep In The Night (11 page)

Maybe she should call Griff. But what would she tell him? She couldn't very well say, “I kept a photograph of Aaron and Hannah. Three people saw it tonight.”

Keeping the picture violated the conditions of her contract. If she told Griff she had it, he'd have reason to void her agreement with WITSEC, and then she'd be on her own with no protection. She knew the risks when she'd saved the photo.

With robotic motions, she cleaned the kitchen. After placing the brownies in a plastic container, Sadie retreated to the sofa and pulled the photo from her blouse. She should destroy it. Turning it over so she couldn't see the faces, she prepared to rip it in half.

But she couldn't. Her fingers shook. Tears pooled. Her throat burned.

She threw the picture across the room and then collapsed on the sofa. “I can't.”

 

 

 

 

12

 

Close to midnight, Sadie hauled herself up and plodded to the bedroom.
You're late, Sam. I'm going to bed.

A knock penetrated her bumbling thoughts. She trudged to the front door and checked the peephole.

Sam waited with a quirky grin on his face.

She opened the door.

“Sorry I'm so late, but you'll understand in a minute.” He brushed past her and motioned for her to follow him to the living room. “Let's sit.” The same softness she'd detected earlier eased the lines on his face, but this time his calm and assured manner intrigued her.

He took her hand. “What I'm going to tell you will come as a shock. I was almost positive before, but after seeing the photo tonight, I'm certain. I know you are Sadie Malone.”

The room swirled. Blood roared through her head. No! No! No! She jerked her hand away. With all her strength, she shoved Sam and bolted for the door.

But he grabbed her from behind. “Debra, Sadie. Wait. I'm not—“

“Let me go.” She squirmed out of his grasp. What now? Run. Get out of here. She turned the doorknob.

He grabbed her and clasped a hand over her mouth. His other arm encircled her waist, dragging her away from the door.

She kicked and twisted. Her lungs begged for air. She expended one last burst of energy and clawed at his hand. But she couldn't break free. This is it. This is the end. Memories of Aaron and Hannah hurtled through her mind in a kaleidoscope of colors.

Sam's breath heated her neck. “If you promise not to scream, I'll remove my hand.”

Anything to get his hand away. She nodded and quit struggling. Hope blossomed for a second.

He slid his hand down to her throat.

Great. He's going to strangle me.
Drawing on hidden wells of strength, Sadie dug into his flesh again. Then she threw her head back, striking Sam in the face. She kicked out, hitting his shin, and elbowed him in the gut.

He groaned and slackened his grasp enough for her to twist free. But his hunched body blocked the front door. The locked porch gate made that escape route impossible.

She spun and raced back to the bedroom where she jabbed the button lock. Her fingers scrambled through her pockets for her cell phone. She punched Griff's speed dial number. Busy.

No, no. Griff, I'm in trouble
. She disconnected and punched it in again only to get the same result. With the phone back in her pocket, she eyed the high window above her bed. Could she squeeze through it?

A thump sounded in the hall.

Her breath caught. Blood pulsed through her body, hammering inside her skull. The cheap lock wouldn't keep Sam out for long. She searched the room for something heavy to shove in front of the door. A rustic six drawer dresser sat on the other side of the room. No way could she maneuver that.

Sam pounded on the door. “Debra, open up. I'm not the bad guy here.”

Her heart thudded.
Am I supposed to believe you
? “I've called Griff. He's on his way.” One more lie didn't matter in the grand scheme.

The door shuddered as Sam threw his weight against it. Once. Twice.

What could she use as a weapon? The flashlight. Her fingers gripped it hard. She hid it behind her back as the wooden frame splintered, and Sam crashed in.

Blood caked beneath his nose. Good. She'd inflicted some pain. She expected to see his blue eyes smoldering, but they were gentle.

He ventured a few steps closer. “Please, Debra, hear me out.”

She stood her ground. She had one shot. Didn't want to waste it. The flashlight hung as heavy as lead dumbbells in her hand.

Sam held his arms out, palms open as if he wanted to show her they held no weapon. With the strength of a bull, he needed nothing but his muscles.

“Don't come any closer. Griff will be here soon.”

“Listen to me—“

Sadie swung the flashlight at his head with all her might. It caught him square on the temple, and he staggered. She lunged past him, out the door, but he seized her blouse, propelling her backward.

He pinned her arms behind her back with one hand, groaned, and rubbed his head. “Nice shot, but it'll take more than that to stop me.”

She struggled but his steel grip held. Spent, she whimpered, “What do you want? Get it over with, please.”

Without relaxing a muscle, he dragged her back into the bedroom and shoved her onto the bed.
No, Sam, not this
. But he stayed near the doorway and pointed to the side table. “Give me the box of tissues.”

She threw it to him, keeping her gaze on his face.

He tore out a couple of tissues and wiped blood from his nose. “Now, listen to me. Yes, I've been sent to find you, Sadie Malone, but—“

“I'm Debra Johnson.” She set her feet on the floor, ready to run at the first opportunity.

Shaking his head, he ripped out another tissue and held it to the welt on his left temple. “No, Sadie, that boat sailed. And sank. I know you're Sadie. Your little attempt to flee confirmed it.”

“So, you work for Lonnie Levasseur. Big deal.” The flashlight lay eight or nine inches from her feet. Maybe she could use it again.

“No, I work for Caleb, your brother-in-law.”

Tufts of beige carpet seemed to come alive. Patterns swirled and twisted, making her eyes cross. She blinked and stared at Sam. “What did you say?”

He planted his feet wide and stuck his hands low on his hips. “Cal sent me to find you. He has—“

“Why should I believe you? Everything you've ever said to me has been a lie.” She held his gaze but moved the flashlight closer with her foot.

He rubbed the goose egg on his temple. “I agree, I've told my share of lies.”

“Is your name even Sam Boudine?”

He lowered his head.

Sadie grabbed the flashlight, and before he faced her again, shoved it behind her back.

“You're right. My name's not Sam. I used it because it was Aaron's nickname for you.”

She closed her heart to his words. They slithered over her like frozen rain. Keeping the weapon concealed, she stood on rubbery legs and took a step closer. “Who are you?”

He removed his wallet and held it out to her, exposing his driver's license on one side and the photo of his wife and child on the other. The one he showed her before.

Without looking at the license, she asked, “Is that your wife?”

“Don't know who she is. But here, check my license. I'm Bowen Boudine.”

Another step closer. She glanced at it. “Is that supposed to make me trust you,
Bowen
? Is it real?”

He snapped the wallet shut. As he slipped it into his back pocket, she lashed out with the flashlight. This time she hit him on the back of the head. The blow sent him staggering into the wall. She raced out of the bedroom, down the hall, and made it to the front door before his groans followed her.

Out the door, across the lawn. The slick soles of her sandals lost traction on the damp grass, and she landed on her knees. Scrambling up, she scanned the area. Where could she hide? She ran on blind instinct. With her car keys still in her purse on the dresser, she had no fast escape. She rounded the corner of the unit and collided with Kyle.

“Where're you going in such a hurry?” His voice sounded thick and strange.

“Kyle. What are you doing here?”

He held onto her arm and jerked his head in the direction of her apartment. “I left my wireless card on…on your coffee table. I need it for work tomorrow.”

Staring at his twitchy mustache, she frowned. “I didn't see it when I cleaned up. Are you sure?”

His grip on her arm tightened. Alarm bells clanked in her brain. She struggled. “Let me go.” She didn't like the tone of his voice nor the way his eyes narrowed to dark slits. Why was he really here? Had she missed something in his reaction to her photo? “Let me go, or I'll scream.”

He jerked her closer. A hard jab in her ribs. “If you scream, it'll be the last thing you do. Now, keep your voice down and tell me where you're going?”

The gun digging into her side froze her vocal chords but spurred her brain. Kyle meant no good, for sure. Sam, uh, Bowen hadn't tried to hurt her. Maybe she could pit one against the other.

“I left something in my car,” she whispered,

Kyle, taller by at least eight inches, lowered his head until his hot, garlicky breath seared her cheek. “You won't need anything from your car—or anywhere else. Turn around.”

She complied.

His left arm circled her throat. The gun poked her lower back.

“Keep walking.” He forced her to her door.

They entered the dark apartment. Had Bowen turned off the light? If the open door surprised Kyle, he didn't comment on it.

Sadie listened for Bowen, but her heart pounded so hard, she heard nothing but the
tick-tock
of the hall clock.

With the gun digging into her flesh, Kyle thrust her into the dark living room and stopped.

“Turn on the light,” he hissed.

She raised her arm.

Kyle moved the gun a fraction.

Before she could flip the switch, a slight noise to her right made her hesitate.

Then Kyle spun away, grunting and cussing.

Sadie turned on the light. Bowen had Kyle in a headlock. She couldn't see the gun. Kyle twisted free and aimed the weapon at Bowen, who swung his leg in an arc, knocking the gun across the room. He threw several hard punches at Kyle's head, but the taller man ducked and stepped sideways. Bowen didn't give up. Kyle avoided each thrust, dodging furniture as he maneuvered around the room.

Light bounced off a metallic object on the floor. “He's after the gun!”

Her words distracted Bowen enough for Kyle to land a solid blow to his jaw. She'd meant to warn Bowen, not to give Kyle the advantage. The men locked arms and struggled. They fell to the floor and rolled, first Bowen on top, then Kyle, thuds and moans accompanying their movements.

Could she retrieve the weapon? She'd have to step over the flailing bodies. She decided not to risk it. The action moved closer to her. She jumped onto the sofa in time to avoid their entangled, thrashing legs.

Kyle groaned and rose to his feet, his eyes unfocused. Bowen knocked him into the coffee table. Candles and candleholders flew in all directions as the table disintegrated.

Avoiding the debris, Sadie slid off the sofa and staggered to the wall.

Bowen punched Kyle three times in quick succession and then held back.

Kyle lay among the broken table pieces as still as if asleep.

After feeling for a pulse, Bowen flipped him over and twisted his arms behind his back. “Get something to tie him up. He won't be out for long.”

Leaning against the wall, Sadie stared at the men on the floor. She was glad Bowen had overpowered Kyle, but she still didn't trust him.

“Come on Deb…Sadie, I'm the good guy here. Help me tie him up, and I'll prove it.” His chest heaved in and out from the exertion. “Hurry. Do you have any rope?”

She shook her head.

He pointed with his chin. “Then hand me that lamp. I'll use the cord.”

Giving Kyle a wide berth, she reached for the plug. “Wait. How about extension cords? I have three or four.”

“They'll do. Hurry.”

She scrambled in a kitchen drawer and withdrew a tangle of cords which she deposited near Bowen.

While he lashed Kyle's wrists and ankles, he said, “Get me something for a gag.”

A dishtowel lay on the counter. She threw it to Bowen.

After he tied it around Kyle's mouth, he sank back on his haunches and rubbed his head. “Sadie, girl. You sure have good aim. Kyle's jabs didn't help, either. Now, please, we need to talk.” He pulled himself to a stand and examined his grazed knuckles.

With Kyle safely out of the way, Sadie still had questions for Bowen. “Go wash your hands, and I'll get you some ice.”

“I'll wash, but I don't need the ice. Promise you won't run?”

Sadie nodded. She wanted to know why he said Caleb sent him. But now she'd have an advantage. Kyle's gun lay on the floor behind a potted plastic ficus. She picked it up and held it out of sight by her side.

When Bowen returned, the hair around his face damp, she aimed the gun at him and motioned for him to sit in the armchair. “Now prove to me you've come from Caleb.”

Hands help up in mock surrender, he stood by the chair. “We need to move to another room. Don't want Kyle to overhear us.”

“But—“

“Let me check on him. I'm sure he's still unconscious.”

Taking a step backward, Sadie lowered the gun a fraction. “OK. No tricks.”

Bowen lifted one of Kyle's eyelids and then felt his pulse. “Out cold, but I don't know for how long.”

“The bedroom.” Sadie wiped her clammy palm on her slacks. “Move slowly.”

He held his hands high and walked down the hall.

She followed with the useless weapon aimed at his back. She'd never fired a gun, but holding it gave her a bit of confidence. “Sit on the stool by my dresser.”