Главная страница | Современная зарубежная литература | Fatal Vendetta

Fatal Vendetta
Sharon Dunn


DEADLY SHOWDOWNWhile reporting on a fire, Montana TV journalist Elizabeth Kramer is abducted—and saved only by the heroics of rival reporter Zachery Beck. But her kidnapper returns, taunting her, luring her to danger and making her relive a past she never put to rest. Elizabeth doesn’t like asking for help, but this time she can't stay alone and stay alive. And Zach knows how to evade danger. When tragedy thrust him into the public eye, he changed his identity to remain hidden. Protecting Elizabeth means stepping out of the shadows…but as her stalker closes in for a deadly showdown, it's a risk Zach has to take.







DEADLY SHOWDOWN

While reporting on a fire, Montana TV journalist Elizabeth Kramer is abducted—and saved only by the heroics of rival reporter Zachery Beck. But her kidnapper returns, taunting her, luring her to danger and making her relive a past she never put to rest. Elizabeth doesn’t like asking for help, but this time she can’t stay alone and stay alive. And Zach knows how to evade danger. When tragedy thrust him into the public eye, he changed his identity to remain hidden. Protecting Elizabeth means stepping out of the shadows…but as her stalker closes in for a deadly showdown, it’s a risk Zach has to take.


She was not going to die out here.

She told herself that even as a clawlike hand grabbed her hair, rendering her immobile.

She couldn’t scream, couldn’t move. Terror embedded itself deep in her muscles. She could feel herself shutting down and the world going black as ten-year-old memories crashed in from all sides.

Help me.

As if someone heard her plea, lights shone through the broken window. A car was coming down the hill.

Her assailant pulled her close and whispered harsh words before he took off.

She drew what felt like her first breath when she felt Zach’s arms surround her and lift her off the floor.

“It’s going to be all right, Elizabeth. I’m here.” He pulled her close to his chest.

Even as she burrowed into the comfort of his arms, she recalled the departing words of her assailant and knew they were true. You will never feel safe again.


Ever since she found the Nancy Drew books with the pink covers in her country school library, SHARON DUNN has loved mystery and suspense. Most of her books take place in Montana, where she lives with three nearly grown children and a spastic border collie. She lost her beloved husband of twenty-seven years to cancer in 2014. When she isn’t writing, she loves to hike surrounded by God’s beauty.




Fatal Vendetta

Sharon Dunn







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


When justice is done it brings joy to the righteous,

but terror to evildoers.

—Proverbs 21:15


For Richard, my friend and soul mate, for bringing me back to the land of the living and teaching me to breathe again.


Contents

COVER (#uc846ecb4-979f-5e01-9c1e-07ee3fa21f91)

BACK COVER TEXT (#u16f623be-f37c-5afc-b388-1497b002deef)

INTRODUCTION (#u703121d8-eaf6-5a3b-8ddc-c00652fdb767)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#u91f465e9-8cfe-5e1d-80f2-09995834e1ee)

TITLE PAGE (#ub7de5d7b-3450-511a-b950-608f5513efe2)

BIBLE VERSE (#u1192dcfc-2527-54a4-b5fc-52621a55af52)

DEDICATION (#ue34dd886-6ccd-5702-af0e-91e6703407aa)

ONE (#ud41a4402-23ad-5adb-b90e-a0d14e8a2a0e)

TWO (#u6ac1ce4f-5ee9-5120-a930-e69ef3e175b6)

THREE (#udaf58df1-1ce4-55ea-b031-9bd87690d71f)

FOUR (#u27ef4d00-1f8d-51a1-a6b1-5fa51d7eddc9)

FIVE (#u5f124dbf-521d-54f3-acaf-d5c4dfba9984)

SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)

COPYRIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)


ONE (#ulink_bcce28fa-e976-570f-b713-234395fd922f)

Elizabeth Kramer’s heartbeat skipped into double time as the fire trucks sped around her KBLK news van. She didn’t like the idea that another tragedy had struck Badger, Montana, but knowing that she might make a difference through her news reporting created a sense of excitement in her.

“The police scanner was a good investment.” Elizabeth looked over at her cameraman, Dale, who sat behind the wheel.

“Good thing you had it on.” Dale kept his eyes focused on the flashing lights of the fire trucks as he pulled back out into traffic. “We should be the first news team there.”

The prospect gave her spirits a jolt. Since the move ten years ago back to Montana to rebuild her life and then take care of her dying father, she was determined to succeed as a reporter, to put the past behind her.

When they arrived at the warehouse, flames shot out of the upper story. Cool summer evening air surrounded Elizabeth as she exited the van. She caught sight of the gathering crowd. Even at a distance, she could see the expressions of shock and fear on the faces of the onlookers. A reminder of why she had chosen to become a reporter in the first place. Her father had been a police officer. To him, work had been about sacrifice and service. Now that he was gone, she wanted to live by his example, using her chosen vocation, the gifts God had given her, as a way to help others.

Elizabeth tugged at the hem of the blazer she’d hurriedly thrown on over her T-shirt and sweats. Dale would shoot her from the waist up. No one would see her cartoon-emblazoned pants.

Her heart raced as she scanned the crowd, recognizing the fire chief and the arson investigator from Badger PD. Interesting. Maybe the fire wasn’t an accident. “Let’s get some coverage from the eyewitnesses until the first responders can give us some info.” She turned a half circle, reading the faces of thirty or so people who had gathered to watch the warehouse burn. Most of them were probably Johnny-come-latelies who would have nothing to contribute about what had happened, but surely somewhere in the crowd was the man or woman who had been here for the early stages of the fire and made the 911 call.

A woman with her arm around a teenage boy offered a welcoming expression. Elizabeth stepped toward her but stopped short when Zachery Beck emerged from the shadows holding a tablet computer. He closed in on the woman before Elizabeth could reach her.

Dale came up behind Elizabeth. He shook his bald head. “How did Zach Beck get here so fast?”

Elizabeth clenched her jaw. “Beats me.” She studied the tall, unassuming man. His blond hair was a little too long and wild to qualify for the messy-on-purpose look. The five o’clock shadow and ripped jeans indicated he was a man who didn’t care how he looked. He didn’t have to care. Zach wrote an independent news blog called Minute by Minute that was taking a lot of KBLK’s viewer and online base. Zach had a gift for being the first reporter at every major news event. She had to admire his talent even if he did scoop her.

How had he managed to get out in front of her this time?

She moved in closer to listen to Zach question the woman. He was typing as she talked. Did he actually send raw, unedited stories straight to the blog? She’d read his news stories. The articles were polished and professional.

“And when did you first notice the flames shooting out of the upper floors?” Zach offered Elizabeth a nod before turning his attention back to the woman.

The woman drew her son into a tighter hug. Embarrassed, the teenager rolled his eyes, but didn’t angle out of his mother’s embrace. “We just finished eating at the fried chicken place down the street and we were headed back to our apartment on Wilson Avenue.”

Zach asked one detailed question after another. She understood how he managed to get such good interviews. His voice was soft, inviting conversation rather than intimidating. He leaned in anytime the woman spoke. Everything about his body language indicated that the spotlight was on the woman, not him. Was it an act he’d perfected as part of his skill set as a reporter or was he really that humble?

When Zach finished, Elizabeth stepped toward the woman. “Hi, Elizabeth Kramer from KBLK. I wonder if we could get you on camera answering a few questions for us?”

“I already told that man everything I know. It’s been a long night for David and me.” She turned and walked away, still not letting go of her son.

Elizabeth let out a heavy breath.

Dale came up behind her. “I got some visuals of the fire. We need some talking heads before you do your stand-up.”

Fuming over losing the important interview, Elizabeth glanced at the fire chief, who was still engaged with the arson investigator. She walked over to Zach while he filmed the fire.

“Congrats on getting that interview with the eyewitness,” Elizabeth said.

Zach offered her a crooked grin. “Yeah, sorry about scooping you on that. Guess I wore her out. She didn’t want to be on TV with the beauty queen.”

She didn’t like it when people brought up her pageant days. That was over a decade ago when she lived in Seattle before her life had fallen apart. How did he even find that out? Had he been investigating her? She swept away the pain that talking about her past produced.

Focus on the story, Elizabeth.

“If you don’t mind, I listened to you interview her. I’d like to use some of that info in my report even if I can’t get her on camera.”

Zach’s eyebrow went up. “You do whatever you need to do, Betsy.” Then he smiled in a disarming way. His blue eyes had a Paul Newman coolness to them.

She bit her tongue. He knew what her name was. The jabbing at her happened every time they were both chasing the same story. Let it go. He’s just trying to bait you. She peered over his shoulder. “Looks like the fire chief and the arson investigator are free.”

“I already talked to them. No question about it. The fire was started on purpose, really basic incendiary device.”

Elizabeth could not push down her frustration anymore. “How could you possibly have found that out so fast?”

Zach laughed, putting on his best New York accent. “Youse gotta have your sources, lady.” He ambled away toward the circle of firefighters, who slapped him on the back. He’d cultivated his relationship with the first responders way more than she had been able to even though her father had been sheriff in a town not too far from Badger.

Elizabeth shook her head. Zach delighted a little too much in their friendly competition. It seemed clear that the humble guy who did the interviews was the act and the always-looking-for-the-upper-hand Zach was the real deal. Too bad. Those blue eyes suggested a much gentler man.

Another news truck pulled into the lot.

Dale leaned close to her. “So what now?”

They would end up getting the same footage as the other station when the police chief made his statement. Since Zachery Beck had stolen her thunder by getting the eyewitness report, she had to find an angle no one else had.

She peered at the faces in the crowd. Sometimes the arsonist showed up to watch the reaction to his work. A large man in a pulled-down baseball hat toward the back of the crowd raised and lowered his head. He’d looked at her only for an instant, but she thought she’d caught a flash of some emotion.

She edged toward him.

The man took a step back, turned and walked away. The darkness behind the warehouse enveloped him. Had she caught a look of guilt on his face, or was she just so desperate for a story angle, she was jumping to conclusions? Maybe he was involved, or it could be that the guy knew something but was afraid to talk. She couldn’t call herself a real reporter if she didn’t pursue a lead, even a tentative one. She glanced around for Dale, who was filming the firemen working. No time to catch his attention.

Feeling a mixture of fear and excitement, she slipped away from the crowd toward the darkness where the man in the baseball hat had disappeared.

* * *

Zachery glanced around. Where had Elizabeth gone? He’d seen her doing her broadcast only a moment ago. She was a good reporter. Way better on camera than he’d ever been. He might be good at finding the stories, but she was great at delivering them.

He watched her every night. Not that he would tell her that, though. He kind of enjoyed their friendly professional jousting. He couldn’t believe he’d let it slip he knew about her beauty queen days. It wasn’t on the official profile the TV station posted on their website—he’d had to go digging for the information. Wanting to find out more about her was only partially motivated by the know-your-competition rule he’d learned in journalism school. He found her intriguing. She treated every news story like she had a personal stake in it.

He pulled away from the crowd of police officers. The firemen had nearly gotten the blaze under control.

“Don’t forget about hoops on Friday,” one of the firemen shouted at his back.

“Yeah, sure.” Who would have thought that playing basketball with the first responders would give him an in? They answered his phone calls and gave him inside info even when they were on the way to an emergency.

“See you then, Beck,” said one of the other men.

He was still having trouble getting used to responding to a last name that wasn’t his. He didn’t enjoy the deception, but it was the only way he could go back to living a normal life.

Over a year ago, he’d been reporting on the fighting in Syria when he was taken hostage by terrorists. Once he was released and back in the States, a lot of media attention had been directed his way. He wanted to cover the stories, not be the story. So he left Baltimore and came to Montana. Now he reported small-town news in a part of the world where it was easy enough to hide who he’d been. He didn’t care where he lived as long as he could write and not have people asking him personal questions.

Zachery glanced back toward the crowd. His story was already wrapped up and posted by the time the other reporters were showing up. The only one who’d come close to being able to keep up with him was Elizabeth. Yet another thing he admired about her. But though he thought she was pretty and smart, he couldn’t see their relationship getting beyond fun, professional competitiveness. Something about her demeanor suggested she was all about work. She had an aloofness to her he couldn’t decipher.

What did it matter? After all the terror of his hostage experience, and then the ugly furor of the media frenzy, he needed time to put himself back together before he even thought of trying for some romance in his life.

He loved his job, and working to beat the pretty redhead to a story made him a better reporter. It was good for both of them, iron sharpening iron. Another news truck pulled into the lot, and Elizabeth’s cameraman turned his attention to filming the police chief while he made his public statement.

Zach watched as a man in a hat disappeared around the corner of the building. A moment later, Elizabeth followed him.

A shiver, which had nothing to do with the night chill, ran over Zach’s skin. Chalk it up to having spent so much time in war zones; his instincts for knowing when bad things were about to happen were finely honed. It wasn’t a cognitive thing. His gut told him when danger was close. Right now, he didn’t like the way his stomach clenched when Elizabeth disappeared around the corner of that building.

He shoved his phone in his pocket and dashed toward the shadowed darkness where Elizabeth had gone.


TWO (#ulink_123b5c68-87a0-56b9-95af-447c94d007b7)

The illumination from the streetlights didn’t reach to the back of the warehouse. Elizabeth’s eyes probed the dark corners, trying to spot the man in the hat. Running wasn’t always an indication of guilt, but her journalist curiosity wouldn’t rest until she was sure the man was just an innocent bystander.

Her foot hit something hard and metal, sending a sharp pain up her leg. She stopped for a moment, pulled out her phone and switched on the flashlight at the end. The place looked like some sort of automobile graveyard. Piles of tires, bent metal and rusted-out cars populated the field.

She aimed the flashlight into the shadows. No sign or sound of the man anywhere. She would have seen him if he’d headed toward the well-lit street a hundred yards away, so he had to be here somewhere.

“Hey, I want to talk to you.” The waver in her voice gave away her fear. She stepped farther from the warehouse, shining the light all around. The sounds of the firefighters faded. Her pulse drummed in her ears.

What was she doing out here anyway? She couldn’t waste any more time. She turned to head back to civilization when the creak of metal caught her attention. Her heart pounded against her rib cage.

“Hey,” she said, edging toward where the noise had come from. “I just want to talk to you. Did you see something to do with the fire?”

Gravel crunched beneath her feet. Lifting her arm, she aimed the light at the shell of a car.

A hand went over her mouth. The smell of gasoline and dirt filled her nostrils.

Adrenaline shot through her body. She fought to twist free of her captor as memories of the assault she’d lived through in college bombarded her. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see.

His arms were like iron around her waist as he pulled her through the field. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t get away. She feared she might faint. How could this be happening again?

She dragged her feet.

“Stop it.” His breath was like hot lava on her skin. He pressed his mouth close to her ear. “I have a gun. Come with me or die.”

Oh, please, dear God, no.

She took in a breath as she struggled to clear her head and get beyond the terror. Not only was her life in danger, her mind was drowning in the violent memories from ten years ago. But fighting back the fear was a familiar struggle—one she lived with almost every day. And this time, conquering her emotions might be the only way for her to stay alive.

“Stop resisting me.”

The hard edge to her captor’s words told her staying alive meant doing what he asked, for now. She stopped struggling. Her eyes scanned the dark landscape. There must be some way to save herself.

She trudged forward, turning to see the warehouse and the junk field in her peripheral vision. The lights looked a million miles away. Who was this man? Why was he doing this?

He poked the gun in her back. “Open the door.”

A car materialized in front of her. They were on a dirt road behind the warehouse. Her hand reached out toward the handle.

She struggled to clear her mind of the horrifying images from ten years ago. Hands around her neck. Craig Miller grinning at her. She’d trusted him enough to go on a date with him.

Stay alive.

She fought to find her way back to this night and the new threat.

She knew from having covered abduction stories that once he had her in the car, her chances of getting away diminished.

He pressed close to her back, his clothes brushing against hers. She leaned forward as though to open the door but spun at the last moment, putting her head down and charging toward her abductor’s chest.

The blow made him grunt, but he remained upright. He yanked her blazer collar. Cold metal pressed against her temple.

“I said get in.” He pushed her hard against the car.

The impact knocked the wind out of her. She was shaking from the inside out as she reached for the car with a trembling hand and pulled open the door.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He jerked her hands behind her back and wrapped wire around her wrists before shoving her in the backseat and slamming the door shut behind her. Pain pulsed through her rib cage as she angled to sit up.

The driver’s-side door opened. The man sat behind the wheel. The car roared to life. Nausea roiled through her stomach as black dots filled her vision. She struggled to remain coherent.

As the car sped through the darkness, she wondered if this time she would die.

* * *

Zachery’s heart raced as he watched the dark figure push a woman into the car and speed off. That woman, who was probably Elizabeth, had clearly been abducted. He knew where that road led. He sprinted through the junkyard toward the side street where he’d parked his car, yanked open the door and jumped in. He thought to call the police but knew there wasn’t time for them to get here and follow the car. He’d have to follow himself, and call it in once he found out where the man was going.

The engine revved to life, and he zigzagged down city streets to the edge of town, where pavement met gravel. Up ahead, he could see the red taillights of a car as it rolled over the hills out into the country. That had to be the guy. There were no other cars out this way.

Taillights winked out. The kidnapper knew he was being followed. Zach slowed his own car, trying to discern the shadows in front of him. Moonlight provided a hint of illumination as he came over the crest of a hill. He didn’t see or hear any evidence of the car anywhere. His tires rolled silently over the dirt road.

After he drove for several minutes without seeing anything, he pulled over to the shoulder and got out. He saw no sign of a house or even a barn, no lights—no place where the man could have gone. Darkness consumed the road a couple of hundred yards ahead of him. To one side was a stretch of forest. Not even the mechanical clang of a distant car engine met his ears.

Time to call in one of his cop friends. He yanked on the car door.

Zach climbed back into his car, fumbling for his phone at the same time he turned the key in the ignition.

“Hey, Dan, it’s Zach,” he said as soon as the other man picked up. “I think I need your help. I’m out on Old Forsyth Road.” He gave Dan the details of what he’d witnessed as he pulled out onto the road. He scanned three hundred and sixty degrees around him. He wasn’t going to give up, and he wasn’t going to wait for the police.

Whatever it took, he’d find the guy. There couldn’t be that many roads out this way.

He turned onto a side road.

Backup would be nice when it arrived, but he couldn’t wait around for it. A woman’s life was at stake.

* * *

Hope rose up inside Elizabeth when her kidnapper switched off his lights. She turned her head and stared out the back window, seeing only shadows on the road. Someone must have seen the kidnapping and come after her. Why else would he turn off his lights?

As her body jostled on the seat from the car speeding down the road, Elizabeth wondered who had spotted them—maybe one of the police officers on the scene?

She lifted her head even as pain coiled around her rib cage and pulsated. “Why are you doing this?”

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

A jolt of fear shot through her, and for a moment, she wondered if the man who had date raped her in college had come back to torment her. She shook off the rising terror. This man had a big build. Craig had been short and muscular. She’d remember her attacker’s gravelly voice forever. She heard it in her dreams. This wasn’t Craig Miller, the man who had nearly destroyed her, and the reason she had left a promising career in Seattle.

She struggled for breath as the memories flooded her mind.

Hold it together.

She stared at the back of his head. With the baseball cap, she couldn’t see his face or even what color his hair was. All she had to go on was that momentary connection she’d made when he’d been a face in the crowd. She couldn’t even recall any of his features. “Where would I know you from?”

“Ha, nice try. The intrepid reporter always knows what questions to ask.”

Even his voice wasn’t distinctive. She twisted her hands, working the wires around her wrists loose.

Someone was looking for her. That gave her a fighting chance. All she had to do was stall for time. They drove for what felt like at least half an hour until he came to a stop. The back door cranked open, and he grabbed her arm just above the elbow. Squeezing hard, he yanked her out. She fell on the ground. Though the wire was now loose enough for her to slip free, she kept her hands behind her so her kidnapper wouldn’t know.

“Before this night is over, you’ll know who I am.” His voice held menace that made her shiver.

She lifted her head, noticing the outline of a house. The broken window and dilapidated porch indicated it was abandoned.

“Get up.” His words were filled with venom.

She tried to push herself to her feet, but movement made her torso hurt. She must have broken or bruised a rib when he slammed her against the car. Each breath caused a stab of pain.

He grabbed her collar and pulled her to her feet, pressing his mouth close to her ear. “Don’t even think of trying to escape.” Violence undergirded each word.

Fear was like a thousand knives stabbing her vital organs. She couldn’t get a deep breath. The same two words pounded over and over in her head.

Buy time. Buy time.

She could barely speak. “Please, I want to remember you. Have we met?”

He hesitated before pushing her. “Quit stalling.”

His voice carried a nuance of emotion she hadn’t heard before. She’d touched a nerve.

She purged her voice of the terror that gripped her. “Clearly, I was important to you. We have met.” She managed a soft coyness in her tone.

“Stop. It.” He spat the words out, but loosened his grip on her collar.

She detected weakness in his voice. She was getting to him.

She dared a look out on the dark horizon. Help should have arrived by now. Her stomach clenched. What if her kidnapper had only imagined he was being pursued? She hadn’t seen any car lights.

Maybe it was up to her to escape on her own. She squeezed her eyes shut. Think, Elizabeth. He’s stronger than you, but he’s not smarter.

“It would be nice if we could talk. If you would just tell me why I matter to you.” She chose her words carefully, struggling not to go into reporter mode. She wanted to know where this man knew her from, but the wrong sort of question might fuel his violence. Instead, she tried for an emotional connection to him.

His rough fingers rubbed against the vulnerable spot on her neck where he gripped her shirt collar.

His reaction was slow in coming as though he were processing what she had said. Did he realize she was manipulating him?

“Elizabeth Kramer, big-time reporter.” He expelled the words in a single breath as though he’d been punched in the stomach. “You’re just so smart, aren’t you?”

She kept her voice to a soft whisper, hoping that would persuade him. “Why can’t we talk? Can you tell me your first name?”

He tightened his grip on her neck. Panic shot through her like a bullet. She’d overplayed her hand.

“You should know who I am.” His words dripped with indignation.

“Really, why?” Talking to him didn’t seem to be helping, but she refused to let the fear win. She would get away no matter what it took. Her father had taught her how to defend herself.

While he was distracted by her question, she leaned against him and rammed her elbow into his stomach. He grunted. The grip on her neck loosened. She burst forward and angled to the side, wriggling her hands free from the wire. In the darkness, she could feel his hands on her, grasping, trying to get a hold.

Keep fighting.

She stumbled forward into the dark forest. He grabbed her shirt at the hem, yanked her back. She turned and smashed her flat palm against where she thought his face was. Skin smacked against skin.

She ran again, his footsteps at her heels. She could make out very little in the darkness. The roughness of the terrain told her she wasn’t on a road or trail. If she could get back to the car, maybe he’d left the keys in the ignition.

Her heart raged in her chest as she zigzagged, turning in a wide circle back to where they’d been. The sound of his footsteps dimmed. She ran faster.

The abandoned house came into view. She slowed her pace. No human noise reached her ears. The trees thinned, becoming more like bushes. She crouched lower.

She slipped out from behind a bush. Still bent over, she started toward where she remembered the car being. The landscape was nothing more than shadows.

She peered through the darkness, trying to discern objects. No car. She must have come around to the back of the house. A branch broke off to the side of her. Desperate to hide, she scrambled toward the house, slipped inside and pressed against a rough wooden wall. The drumming of her heart in her ear threatened to drown out all other sound.

She still couldn’t see the car through the window. It must be on the other side of the trees.

She crouched on the floor, working her way toward the door. Her eyes adjusted enough so she could make out the outline of an object on the floor. She crawled toward it, careful not to make the floorboards creak.

Her hand reached out, touching the cold metal of a chain. The air left her lungs with a whoosh as a chill struck the marrow of her bones. Groping in the dark, she followed the chain to a set of manacles at the end. Her lungs compressed. The abduction had been planned. He was going to keep her as a prisoner here.

A foot padded on wood. She whirled around to see a hulking figure in the doorway.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Terror embedded deep into her muscles. She couldn’t move.

He pounded across the floor, grabbed her by the elbows and lifted her up.

“Don’t you dare try to get away from me.” Rage colored every word.

Spit hit her face. His anger gave her the will to fight. Even though her ribs hurt, she kicked and twisted her body. But it was no use. His arm didn’t budge from around her waist. A claw-like hand grabbed her hair, rendering her immobile.

Below her, the chain glistened in the moonlight.

“I want to know...what I did to you. I want to make it right.”

“Liar.” He tossed her to floor, the impact sending reverberations up her knees and agony through her ribs. He reached for the chain. She crawled on all fours to get away, but he grabbed for her. His grip on her ankle was like iron.

She could feel herself shutting down and the world going black as ten-year-old memories crashed in from all sides.

Oh, God, help me.

Adrenaline coursed through her like a raging river of fire. She was not going to be his prisoner. And she was not going to die out here. She clenched her teeth, flipped over and kicked with her free leg.

Bright lights shone suddenly through the broken glass of the window. A car was coming down the hill toward the house.

He let go of her ankle, grabbed her at the shoulders and pulled her close.

“Looks like the cavalry is here. But that doesn’t mean you’re safe. Just remember, the next time you go to a story, it might be me who created it to lure you there. You will never feel safe again.”

His words seemed to linger in the air even as his footsteps pounded across the floor. She sat stunned. A car engine started up outside.

Footsteps pounded toward her. Arms surrounded her and lifted her from the floor.

“It’s going to be all right, Elizabeth. I’m here. The police are on their way.” Zach’s voice reverberated softly in her ear.

She pressed close to his chest and thanked God Zach had found her.


THREE (#ulink_9fea58ca-2272-57a7-93cf-d6e9735a6a1b)

Zachery placed the steaming cup of coffee in Elizabeth’s hand while the activity of the police station buzzed around them.

He pressed his hand against hers, making sure she had a grip on the cup. “Probably not the tastiest, but it will warm you up.”

Elizabeth stared straight ahead, not focusing on anything. His heart squeezed tight with empathy. This was not the same confident woman he enjoyed bantering with. He’d seen the same effect on soldiers. The violence she’d witnessed must have stripped her bare, left every emotion raw and exposed and turned her brain into shredded mush.

“Go ahead, have a sip. I put three sugars in it.” His hand still covered hers. He feared she would drop the coffee if he pulled away.

She drew the cup to her lips. He sat in the hard plastic chair beside her. He couldn’t leave her, not in the state she was in.

“It’s not too bad.” She stared down into the steaming liquid. “Thank you.” She spoke in a monotone.

He knew the thank-you was for more than the bad coffee. “My pleasure.” He glanced around at the officer assigned to her case, who typed away on his keyboard. “Busy night. I’m sure he’ll be able to take your statement soon.” When the cop glanced up from his keyboard, Zach offered him a raised eyebrow as if to say hurry up.

The night had been long enough already. Elizabeth had gone through a medical exam that revealed she had bruised ribs.

Another policeman walked by them, punching Zach in the shoulder as he passed.

She lifted her chin. “Do you know everyone in this town, Beck? You haven’t lived here that long.”

Her voice still lacked the old fight he’d gotten used to, but at least she was feeling well enough to take a shot at him.

“What can I say, people just gravitate toward this handsome mug of mine.” He rubbed his chin.

She shook her head. “Yeah, right, that must be it.” Her smile faded and she gazed back into her coffee cup.

The brief moment of humor passed, and a taut silence coiled around them. What had happened to her out there in that house? He knew more than he wanted to about the terror connected with being abducted.

Experience on a very personal level told him what she needed. “I’ll stay,” he said.

“What?”

“I’ll stay while you give your statement...if you want me to.” He didn’t want to seem forward. “Or I can call someone.”

“There’s no one to call. I have friends but...my father is really the only one I would want here. He died a few years ago,” she said. “I moved back here from Seattle, then he got sick and I took care of him at the end.”

“Sorry about your dad.” He was surprised to hear there was no one else important in her life, though. A beautiful, smart woman and no boyfriend to call? He mentally kicked himself. Why was he even entertaining that thought? The last thing on his radar was a girlfriend. “It’s settled, then. You’re stuck with me, Betsy.”

“Is that right?” She picked a piece of invisible lint off her jacket. “I guess this means I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said. And he meant that.

“That’s not the way I see it. I’ll find a way to repay you. I can’t give you some sort of scoop on a story because you always beat me to them already. But I’ll think of something.”

The police officer rose to his feet. “Miss Kramer. Sorry for the delay. I’m ready to take your statement now.”

She took in a sharp breath, and her back stiffened. It was clear she dreaded having to relive everything she’d just been through.

He wanted to wrap an arm around her, to calm her, but instead he pressed his shoulder against hers. “It’s going to be okay.”

The look she gave him was one of utter confusion, like she couldn’t process what he’d just said.

She rose from her chair and walked toward the officer’s desk. Zach stood behind her.

“Have they been able to find the man?” Her hand curled into a fist and her voice faltered.

“We’ve got units patrolling the woods. We’re dusting that house for prints along with the...” the officer cleared his throat “...the items that we found inside.”

Zach had seen the manacles and chains on the floor. At least he’d been able to keep her from being held prisoner.

Images of his own captivity infected his thoughts. After a brutal beating, he was thrown in a small room that smelled like urine. The room had no windows. Though he lived in constant fear, it was only after he was free that he learned the terrorist group had filmed the beheading of two other reporters and that he had been next in line to die.

If it hadn’t been for the dauntless work of his sister, his life could have ended, as well. The reality of how close he’d been to death brought him back to the God he’d loved as a teenager.

The officer looked up at Elizabeth. “Miss Kramer, are you ready to answer the questions?”

Zach watched as Elizabeth swayed backward. Fearing she might faint, he held out his hand to catch her. She righted herself and squared her shoulders.

She touched her fingers to her lips. When she spoke, it was in her reporter’s voice. “Clearly, it was premeditated and personal. The guy acted like I should know who he was.”

She needed to distance herself from the terror of the attack. He understood the coping mechanism.

“Let’s get started with the interview so we can catch this guy.” The officer stared at Zach.

“He has my permission to stay,” said Elizabeth. Warmth filled her eyes when she looked over at him.

Maintaining her reporter persona, she answered the officer’s questions. Zach watched her, her gaze never wavering, her voice like sharpened steel. He didn’t know her whole life’s story, but he admired her inner strength. She wasn’t allowing herself to falter, even if it meant pretending the abduction had happened to someone else.

When the interview was over, Zach turned to her. “I can take you home.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’d appreciate it. I’m sure Dale took the van back to the news station. I’ll call him and let him know I’m okay when I get home.”

They walked down the long hallway that led to the outside, their shoes tapping on the concrete floor. He held the door open for her.

A male news reporter scurried over to them.

“Oh, great. Neil Thompson, my prime competition,” Elizabeth said under her breath.

Neil shoved the microphone toward Elizabeth. “So, Miss Kramer, you had quite an ordeal tonight.”

“Please, I don’t want to talk...” She looked like she would crumple to the pavement.

Neil persisted. “Have they caught the man who abducted you?”

His ire rising, Zach wrapped an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders and guided her toward the parking lot.

Neil’s words pelted their backs. “How does it feel to be the story instead of covering it, Elizabeth?”

Zach felt an echo of his own life in the question. Maybe he could help Elizabeth get through this. “Don’t give him anything to feed off of. The story will die down in a couple of days if you don’t give them anything.”

She pressed close to him, seeking his protection. Neil traipsed after them with his cameraman in tow.

“I know the public has a short attention span. It’s just going to be a long couple of days.” Frustration colored her words.

Zach turned to face Neil, holding his palm toward the other reporter. “She really doesn’t want to talk right now.” Zach kept his voice level.

They were within a few feet of his car. He reached over to the passenger side door. Elizabeth slipped into the seat.

He was about to close the door when Neil bent down and leaned close to Elizabeth. “Did the events of tonight bring back what happened to you in college?”

Elizabeth’s face went completely white. “How...did you...find out about that?” Not giving him a chance to answer, she grabbed the door and slammed it.

Zach resisted the urge to push Neil. His hands curled into fists. “You need to leave right now.” He had no idea what events Neil was referencing, but the comment clearly had upset Elizabeth.

Neil put up his hand in a surrender gesture. “A story is a story.”

Despite his warm onscreen persona, Neil Thompson always struck Zach as being a little slimy. Now he seemed downright repellent. “Is that what it’s really about or are you just trying to humiliate your competition?”

Neil shook his head. “Just trying to do my job.”

“I doubt that.” He brushed past Neil, close enough that Neil had to take a step back. “Get out of my way and stay out of hers.”

Zach yanked open the driver’s-side door and got behind the wheel. Elizabeth still looked pale, and her mouth was drawn into a hard, flat line. She turned her face toward the window when he glanced over at her.

As he pulled out of the parking lot, he got a view of Neil and his cameraman, both with angry expressions. He was glad to see them growing smaller and farther away in the rearview mirror.

Elizabeth continued to stare out the window.

Whatever Neil had made a reference to, it had cut Elizabeth to the core. His heart ached for her. He liked Neil Thompson even less. Getting the story was one thing. Deliberately hurting someone was another thing entirely. “You don’t have to tell me what he was talking about. Let’s just get you home.”

* * *

Still burning from what Neil Thompson had brought up, Elizabeth’s hand trembled when she flipped through her keys to find the one for her house. As they pulled up to the curb, her home was a welcome sight. They got out of the car and made their way up the walk.

A familiar looking woman parked at the curb exited her car and bustled toward Elizabeth—Gwen Monroe from the Badger Chronicle. Elizabeth’s knees felt weak. The bombardment just kept coming. She really didn’t want to deal with this right now or at any time. She liked being the one doing the interview.

Zachery stepped between Elizabeth and the woman. “Gwen, she doesn’t want to talk to anyone.”

Gwen lifted her chin. “A well-known reporter gets kidnapped. That’s a story, Zach.”

After shoving the key in the lock, Elizabeth breathed a prayer of thanks for Zach. The man was her nemesis in so many ways. But he’d come through for her when she needed him most. In the days to come, she knew she would need all the friends she could get, especially if other reporters kept circling around.

She was still bothered that Neil Thompson had found out about her date rape. The case had never made it to trial, but the allegations had been covered by the college newspaper and her name had been leaked. Still, it wasn’t like it had been front page news. Neil didn’t strike her as the investigative reporter type either.

Zach’s voice held authority as he faced Gwen. “Find a different story. She’s not ready to make any kind of a statement.”

Gwen took several steps back.

Elizabeth pushed open the door and closed her eyes. “Stay,” she said to Zach. Her words held a desperation she hadn’t expected.

“What?”

“Stay until we’re sure there are no more reporters going to bother me.” Normally, she wouldn’t even be comfortable asking a man into her house. But Zach seemed...safe.

He met her gaze, and for the first time, she noticed that his eyes were more gray than blue.

“I can do that.” He nodded before glancing over his shoulder. “Gwen doesn’t give up easily.”

Elizabeth slipped inside her house, and he followed. She hit the light switch by the door. Nothing had changed in her living room, though it felt like an entirely different place. She was not the same person who had left here to cover the warehouse fire.

The warm tones of the living room that normally looked so cozy only made her feel more alone.

“How about I make you some tea?” Zach offered.

“Let me. It’s my kitchen.” She moved toward the counter.

He touched her arm just above the elbow. “No, you need to sit down. I’ll figure out where things are in the kitchen.”

Though his touch was gentle, his words held force. She didn’t have the energy to argue with him.

“Thanks for everything. Now I double owe you,” she said.

“It’s all part of my evil plan. Soon you will owe me the world.” He rubbed his hands together theatrically and laughed like a villain in a cartoon.

In spite of everything, he made her shake her head and smile. When she laughed, her ribs hurt, just a reminder that the bruising would take weeks to heal.

“There’s that beauty queen toothy grin we all adore, Betsy,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, amazed at how easily he could pull her from a dark place with his humor. “Stop—it was one pageant and winning paid for journalism school.” She’d been only eighteen then. Small town girl headed to the big city, so full of hope. She slumped down on the couch and watched as he put a teakettle on and opened cupboards to find cups and tea.

She was grateful he hadn’t pressed for details about what happened in college. Craig Miller had never gone to jail. Her lawyer had believed her, but there hadn’t been enough evidence. The trauma of the attack had caused her to fall apart emotionally, which would have made her a bad witness. She understood why the case hadn’t gone to trial, but the fact that she’d never gotten closure made it hard to move on emotionally. Her trust toward men had been completely broken. She had decided not to date and put her energy into her work. “I do want to pay you back some way.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

“You seem to be old hat at fending off the press. Like you’ve been through it before.”

He opened a tea bag and placed it in a cup. “Do I?”

She caught the hitch in his voice, the way he froze for a nanosecond before opening the tea bag. He wasn’t telling her the whole story. She’d done enough interviews to pick up on the subtle clues and body language that he was hiding something. Fear skittered across her nerves. Her back stiffened. She hoped she hadn’t been foolish to let him in.

The kettle whistled, and he turned his back to her before she could read his expression. When he swung around again, it was as if he was wearing a mask. He poured the tea and brought the cup over to her, taking a seat in the chair across from her.

So they both had secrets. She took the steaming mug and raised it. “To the giver of hot beverages.”

She studied him over the top of her mug. She had a feeling that even if she probed a little more, Zach would not be forthcoming. His keen reporter instincts would clue him in that she was turning him into an interview subject. A Google search would probably be more productive.

“You’re not going to have any tea?”

“I’m the giver of hot beverages, not the drinker,” he said.

She took a sip, allowing the warm liquid to flow down her throat while the minty flavor lingered on her tongue. “Nothing like tea to soothe the rankled soul.”

He nodded. “I suppose.”

The reporter in her really wanted to know what he was hiding. She studied him long enough that he started to fidget. He burst up from his seat opposite her, turning his back to her and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So have you ever had to fend off the press?” she finally asked.

He offered her a nervous smile. “Don’t go all journalist on me, Betsy. I thought we had a pretty good start on being friends.”

Friends? She hadn’t thought about that possibility.

He stared out the window. “Looks like Gwen is gone.”

His changing the subject told her she’d pushed a little too far. “I should be okay here alone.” The idea caused a new wave of fear to crash over her.

“You’ll be safe from the reporters, but...”

He seemed to understand her trauma in a way that others would not have been so sensitive to.

“Tell you what, why don’t you try to sleep,” he offered. “I’ll grab my laptop and get some work done.”

Zach seemed completely trustworthy, but trusting too easily was what had gotten her in trouble in college. “Really, you’ve done so much already.”

“It’s not that big a deal. I was only going to go home and sit with my laptop there.”

She did want him to stay. She wasn’t ready to face being in the house alone. “I don’t know if I could sleep, but maybe both of us could get some work done.”

“All right, then.” He moved toward the door but stopped when something on the entryway table caught his eye. “You’re going to the Waltz by the River Ball?”

She rose to her feet. “Yes, part of being a good reporter these days is keeping in touch with the movers and shakers.” Badger was a community of fifty thousand, so there weren’t that many muckety-mucks, as her father used to call them, to rub elbows with.

“If you could swing me an invitation, I’d consider us even. Since you’re so convinced you owe me,” he said.

“Sure. Actually, I need a date.” It was hardly a fair trade, considering he’d saved her life. “Why do you want to go?”

“You get better stories when people recognize your face,” he said. “Since I’m new in town, I’ve got to start making connections with those people.”

So he had an in with the first responders, but not the power brokers like she did. She chided herself for thinking in terms of them competing, though it came so naturally. She walked across the floor and placed her teacup on the counter. “You do realize this is a formal party.”

“I can rent a tux.” He stroked his five-o’clock shadow and yanked open the door.

“You’ll have to locate a razor, too.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He stepped outside after offering her a playful backward glare.

Shaking her head, she watched him stride toward his car. He came back a moment later holding his laptop. They sat on opposite sides of the living room, the tapping of the keys the only sound in the house. Though they were working on separate projects, the sense of companionship was kind of nice. After about twenty minutes, her eyelids felt heavy. She placed the laptop on the side table. “Maybe I’ll just rest my eyes.”

“Sleep is the best thing for you now.” His voice was soft and far away.

She heard him get up, and a moment later, the creamy softness of the couch throw enveloped her.

As she drifted off, she wondered why a man who seemed so forthright like Zachery would have something to hide.

She felt herself falling into a deeper sleep. Images of the abduction blasted through her dreams. She awoke with a start, jerking into a sitting position.

Zach seemed alarmed. “Everything all right?” His voice filled with sympathy.

She rose to her feet and turned away. “I’m fine.” What a lie. Her abductor’s threat to lure her to another news story so he could take her again made her throat go tight and her heart race. She wouldn’t be safe until he was caught.


FOUR (#ulink_63e10d1d-dfbf-5200-af38-7695550ceb00)

Despite the warm summer air, a chill crawled over Elizabeth’s skin as she got out of Zach’s car. Seeing the crowd moving through the parking lot toward the country club where Waltz by the River was being held only made her more anxious. This was the first public event she’d been to since her abduction. Her stomach knotted. All these people. Any one of them could be the man who’d kidnapped her.

Zach came up beside her, pressing his shoulder against hers. “Lots of hoity-toity people.”

The warmth of his voice calmed her. “Yes, I’m amazed they let the likes of us in.” She glanced over at him, clean-shaven and wearing a tux. Though his blond hair still looked a little out of control, he did clean up nicely.

His hand lightly touched the middle of her back. “Let’s go mingle, shall we?”

His touch made her afraid and excited at the same time. She’d given up on dating after what happened her senior year of college. But she found herself relaxing around Zach. “I’ll introduce you to the mayor.” She lifted the skirt of her gown as they both ascended the wide staircase.

Music spilled from the open doors of the country club, which looked out on a river on one side and was surrounded by a golf course on the other three.

Tension twisted around her chest as the noise of people in party mode grew louder. She studied each face. What was she looking for anyway? Some sign of guilt? Maybe there was nothing to find. The man might have already left town. Yet, his threat to lure her to a story to get another shot at her fed her paranoia.

She wasn’t here to cover a story. Her boss at the station had given her a week off to recover from the trauma. Other than to get groceries, she hadn’t left the house at all. Her heart raced as a man she knew loomed toward her.

Richard Drake, owner of several businesses, held out his hand. “Elizabeth, so good to see you.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the air between them. She saw in his eyes that he knew what had happened to her. Even though she’d followed Zach’s advice and not done interviews, her story had been in print and on the local news. Only Zach had chosen not to write about it.

Elizabeth took Richard’s hand. “So good to see you here.” She turned toward Zach. “This is Zachery Beck. I’m sure you have heard about his news blog.”

Richard’s eyes brightened. “Ah yes, who would have thought one man could steal so much readership from the Badger Chronicle.” His voice held a note of animosity.

“Richard is part owner in the Chronicle,” she explained to Zach.

Richard shook Zach’s hand a moment too long. “You and I should talk about a partnership.”

“I like my independence,” said Zach.

Richard raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you do.” Offense colored his words. He turned away and headed toward a huddle of men.

She spoke under her breath and elbowed him. “I thought you wanted to network, Zach, not make enemies.”

“I’ve never been very good at that,” he said. “And I have no interest in being bought out or controlled by some corporate entity.”

“You should at least try not to burn bridges before they’re even built,” she said. “Both of you are in the same business. It wouldn’t kill you to be cordial.”

He let out a breath. “Sorry, I’m not the king of diplomacy. That seems to be your gift. Maybe you can help me with that.”

The music swelled, and they turned toward the dance floor as it filled with couples. He grabbed her hand before she had time to protest and whirled her out there.

Trepidation crept in. Dancing meant touching in a sustained way, which always made her nervous. “I’m not much of a dancer,” she said.

He offered her a disarming smile. “It beats networking.” He took her hand.

His touch was disarming.

As the waltz played, his hand warmed the middle of her back. She cupped his shoulder. For the first time in ten years, she was allowing a man other than her father to touch her for any length of time. Dancing was safe. At least that’s what she told herself, but butterflies in her stomach relayed another story.

He circled her around the dance floor with ease. As the song played, she found herself relaxing just a little. He was such a good dancer, she didn’t even have to think about the steps.

She whirled around and then looked at him. His blue, almost gray eyes blazed through her, and she thought she saw just a hint of affection there. The idea made her heart flutter, but she pulled away as the song ended as fear invaded her awareness.

He seemed to instinctually know that he shouldn’t touch her. Instead, he stood close to her. “Sorry, networking made me nervous. I needed to escape.”

She walked toward the food table, grabbing a glass and filling it with punch. “Where did you learn how to dance like that?” Her heart was still racing as she handed him the drink.

“Believe it or not, knowing how to waltz got me a contact I needed for a story years ago.” He took a sip of his drink.

“Oh, really, where was that?”

“Baltimore.” His jawline went taut. Clearly, he didn’t like it when she probed about his past. Her journalist mind just couldn’t let go of the idea that he was hiding something.

She poured herself a drink and then tilted her glass toward a corner of the room. “The mayor is over there. Would you like to take a shot at diplomacy again?”

His back stiffened. “Maybe later. Can you excuse me for just a moment? Point me in the direction of the restroom.”

Elizabeth shook her head as she watched him cross the room. After saying hello to several people, her nerves were on edge. Being in public was harder than she’d been prepared for. She found herself wishing for Zach’s return. Nobody mentioned the abduction directly, but the body language of the people she spoke to suggested a certain level of discomfort.

Neil Thompson’s laughter rose above the murmur as he slapped the back of one of the men he was with. He started to turn in her direction. She panicked. The last person she wanted to talk to was Neil.

She hurried over to an out-of-the-way table by the kitchen and sat down. Her view of the room was slightly obscured, and noise from the kitchen overpowered the party chatter. She took in a deep breath, hoping to stop her racing heart. She really wasn’t ready yet to be out in public. Only Zach’s presence had made it bearable, and without him by her side, she felt overwhelmed.

“Excuse me, miss.” A waiter stood beside her table. “A man asked me to give you this.” He placed a folded piece of paper on the table and walked away.

She picked it up and unfolded it. In bold type the note said I am watching you.

Her breath caught. She jerked to her feet and glanced around at the crowd of people. No one looked in her direction. By the time she stepped outside to catch a breath of fresh air and get away from the crowd, anxiety raged through her.

She crossed her arms over her body. She needed to go home now. Or maybe she needed to talk to the police chief. He was here tonight. In her haste to leave the ballroom, she’d dropped the note. She gazed out on the dark river, allowing the rushing water to calm her. Her phone buzzed, indicating she had a text. The noise startled her.

Her fingers trembled as she unclipped the fastener on her clutch and pulled out her phone. Was the stalker texting her now? She pressed the button that opened up her texts. Zach. She let out the breath she’d been holding and read.

Where R U?

She saw him through the glass wall that separated the balcony from the ballroom. He looked up from his phone, his expression changing. He must have seen something on her face even at this distance.

He stepped outside and moved toward her. “Elizabeth, what is it?”

She could barely get the words out. “He’s...here.”

Zach stepped closer to her. “Who? You mean the man who... How do you know?”

“A waiter brought me a note that said...” She swallowed. “He was watching me.”

“Where is the note?”

She looked at her empty hands. “I must have dropped it.” She’d been so upset, she wasn’t thinking straight.

“Do you remember what the waiter looked like?”

She stared through the glass wall. All the waiters were dressed the same in white shirts and black pants. “I think if I saw him I might.”

He cupped her elbow. “Let’s go back in there.”

She took in a ragged breath. He’s in there watching me.

Zach’s soft tone indicated that he’d picked up on her fear. “I’ll stay with you the whole time. You want this guy put away, don’t you?”

She nodded, took in a breath and steeled herself against the fear.

“We’ll just walk around the room.”

He stepped inside with her. She studied not only the waiters but the other guests, looking for any sign of menace as she skirted the edges the ballroom and then threaded between the tables. She had a vague memory of the waiter’s short dark hair...and glasses. He had glasses. “That’s him.” She pointed to a waiter headed through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen.

Zach grabbed her hand, and they hurried across the floor. A cacophony of noise assaulted them as they entered the humid kitchen. Cooks shouting at each other cooks, waiters shouting at cooks, pans banging, food sizzling and water running.

Zach caught the waiter as he picked up a plate. “Did you give this woman a note earlier?”

The waiter studied Elizabeth for a moment and then nodded. “The news lady. I didn’t realize it was you.”

Elizabeth stepped toward him. She purged her voice of any fear and switched on to reporter mode. “Can you describe the man who gave you the note?”

The waiter shrugged. “I look at a thousand faces in a night, taking orders from all of them.” He shook his head.

“Can’t you remember anything?”

“Sorry, I can’t help you.” He made his way toward the swinging door.

Disappointment saturated Zach’s voice. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“Let’s go back to the table. Maybe the note is still there.” There might be fingerprints on it or something that would help the police track her tormentor.

A quick search revealed that the note was not to be found. She was mad at herself for having dropped it. She didn’t like being rattled like that. Usually, she was pretty levelheaded.

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” Zach led her toward the door.

She scanned the sea of faces one more time before leaving the ballroom. Neil Thompson locked her in his gaze and stalked toward her.

She walked faster. “Let’s get out of here before he has a chance to dive-bomb me.”

As they hurried outside, the sharp heaviness of terror sunk through her skin and permeated to the bone. It was a fear she knew would be her strange companion until the man who had abducted her was behind bars.

* * *

Zach glanced over his shoulder. Just as their feet hit the bottom stair, Neil Thompson came outside. “That guy just never gives up.”

Elizabeth wrapped her arm through Zach’s. “The last thing I want to do is answer his questions.”

She stood close enough for him to catch a hint of her citrus perfume.

He stared out at the sea of cars, trying to remember where he’d parked. There had been fewer cars out here when they’d pulled up. He headed in the general direction he thought his might be.

She followed him. “Don’t tell me. You don’t remember where you parked.”

“Sorry,” he said.

“I do it all the time,” she said.

Even though she was being very forgiving, he picked up on the nervous tremble in her voice. The note had clearly shaken her. He flirted with the idea that the note was not connected to the abduction, just some sick person having fun with a local celebrity. It was possible...but not very likely.

Elizabeth walked beside him through the dark parking lot, lifting her skirt so it didn’t drag on the concrete. “Weren’t we more toward the seventh hole?” She indicated a section of the golf course that bordered the parking lot.

Dark shadows covered her the farther away they got from the warm glow of the country club. She’d looked so beautiful on the dance floor, the flush of color in her cheeks, eyes sparkling with life. Red-blond hair swept up into a bun. It was the first time he’d seen her happy since all of this had happened. That happy smile was gone now, replaced with a tense, worried frown.

They made their way through the dark lot. “I wonder if I’m ever going to be able to go out in public.”

His heart went out to her. He remembered feeling like a prisoner in his sister’s home because of the press hounding him. If he could catch the guy, he’d throttle him with his bare hands for doing this to her. What was his game anyway? “We’ve got a good police force. They will catch him.”

“I don’t see your car anywhere. Do you have a panic button on your key fob?”

“No, my car is old,” he said.

“It’s so dark out here. How about I do that row, and you walk that way? Shout when you find it,” she said over her shoulder as she trotted away.

She walked in one direction and he in the other. He could kick himself for not paying closer attention to where he’d parked. The truth was he’d been focused on how beautiful Elizabeth had looked and trying not to sound like an idiot when he talked to her. Nothing could come of it. Theirs had been a date of convenience. He reminded himself of his vow to pull himself together before he even considered a relationship. Besides, as soon as she went back to work, they’d be back to knocking each other down to get to a news story again.

Finally, his nondescript, forgettable car came into view. One row over. He lifted his head and turned a half circle. “I found it.” He didn’t see Elizabeth anywhere. Almost no artificial light made it to this part of the parking lot. “Elizabeth?”

His chest squeezed tight as though it were in a vise. He jogged past the cars in the direction she’d been walking. His jog turned into an all out sprint.

Then he heard it, faint and far away, a scream from the golf course green. He took off running as he recognized Elizabeth’s voice.


FIVE (#ulink_5f802337-e763-5e4e-b2e6-4b374fe4b823)

Elizabeth saw only flashes of light and color as the man dragged her across the green. Her pumps had fallen off in the struggle, and her feet brushed over the wet grass. He had her in a neck lock with one arm while the other was wrapped around her waist, pulling her sideways.

She could barely breathe or move. He’d waited until she was close to the edge of the parking lot and then grabbed her. One thought crashed over another. How was she going to get away? If she could scream again, Zach might hear it.

She lifted her hands and scratched at his forearm. The action only made him tighten his grip around her neck. In the night sky, clouds and stars pulsated above her as she tried to twist free of his hold on her.

Her kidnapper descended a small hill and the country club faded from view. His grip loosened, shifted as he hefted her fully into his arms...and then threw her. She sailed through the air and landed in a shallow pool. Water surged around her. He lunged toward her. She angled to get away, but the weight of her wet dress made it hard to move.

He clamped onto her shoulders and pushed her under. She clawed at his hands as she took in water. He jerked her up. She gasped for air.

Though she could not make out any features in the dark, his face was very close to hers. “Are you scared yet?” His words cut her to the core.

Still gripping her at the shoulder, he cranked his head sideways and cursed. Something had alarmed him.

He dumped her in the pond. “I’m not done with you yet. Remember that.” He took off running; his footsteps barely registered on the soft grass.

“Elizabeth!” Zach’s voice sounded so far away.

Air filled her lungs and she tried to pull herself out of the water. “Here, I’m here.” Her words came out as barely a whisper.

He called for her again.

She summoned strength somewhere deep inside and managed to shout. “Zach, I’m over here.”

He was beside her within a few seconds, pulling her to her feet. She fell against him, holding on tight and shaking. No words came. She wrapped her arms around his neck grateful for his strength and silence. He held her close. Her whole body was shaking.

After a long moment, she said, “He got away.”

“I’ve called into the police station. They’ll do a search. And since I didn’t dial 911, we might be able to avoid other reporters picking it up on their police scanners. I’m sure you don’t want to be a news item again.”

“Thank you.” Her cheek rested against his chest as gratitude flowed through her. She touched his sleeve. “I’m sorry, I got you all wet.”

He waved his hand in the air to indicate it didn’t matter. “Let’s go down to the police station and file a report.”

Anxiety surged up her throat. “Please, I can’t. I just want to go home, where it’s safe.”

“Okay, maybe later,” he said. “They can contact you after they’ve finished their search.”

There was a part of her that didn’t believe the police would do anything helpful. Past experience told her that you didn’t always get justice where the law was concerned. She took a wobbly step out of the water, weighted down by her soaked dress. He wrapped an arm around her waist.

When they got back to the parking lot, a few more people were already leaving. She pressed in close to him, not wanting to be seen or have to explain what had happened. She rested her head against his neck so no one would recognize her.

He seemed to instinctually know what she needed.

She could feel the weight of a few stares as Zach opened the passenger side door for her.

Zach got in and pulled out of the lot and was on the country road back into town in a few short minutes. As fields and fences clipped by, she wondered who her attacker was. His question lingered in her mind.

Are you scared yet?

Very different from the first attack when he insisted that she should know who he was.

He had had opportunity to drown her and instead had dragged the torture out. Who was he? What did he want from her?

* * *

Only his tight grip on the steering wheel gave away how angry Zach was. He was angry at himself for letting his guard down. He never should have let Elizabeth wander the parking lot alone. And he was enraged at the attacker. If he could get his hands on that guy...

Zach took in a breath. Violence never solved anything, and the last thing Elizabeth needed was to see his rage. Though it wasn’t directed at her, she had witnessed enough for one night.

They passed several police cars headed toward the country club on their way back into town. He’d asked the officers to keep it low-key for Elizabeth’s sake.

What he needed to do was direct his angry energy at finding this stalker. “Any idea who this guy might be? Why he’s after you?”

She took a moment to answer and then spoke slowly as though she were processing all that had happened. “Last time, he was angry at me for not knowing who he is and this time, he said he wants me to be scared.” Her voice wavered a little, probably from having to revisit what she’d just been through. “He’s inconsistent.”

She was holding it together pretty well, but he knew he had to be careful with his questions. Everyone had a breaking point, and he didn’t want to find hers. “So maybe it’s connected to a news story you did or a crazed fan,” he said.

She let out a little laugh. “I’m a reporter on a regional station. How many fans do you think I have?”

“To some people, anybody who is on television is famous. You must get fan mail.”

“Nothing scary or obsessive. Not even back when I worked for the larger station in Seattle,” she said.

When he’d researched her, he remembered thinking it was strange to give up a big-city job to come here. “Badger is a step down from Seattle.”

She laced her hands together. “I came back here to take care of my father.” He detected just a hint of defensiveness in her response.

Her father had died only few years ago. Clearly, she wasn’t telling the whole story. He let it go. She’d talk about it when she wanted to...or never. It was her choice. He certainly was in no position to judge when it came to keeping secrets.

She turned slightly in her seat to face him. “I don’t want to talk about Seattle. We both have to quit acting like reporters if we’re going to work on being friends.”

The lights of Badger came into view as he rolled down the two-lane. It was a fragile friendship. They were both a little too good at reading other people, and they both had a hard time shutting off the journalist instincts. Still, he warmed to the idea. Friends he could handle. “Agreed. I’ll try my best.”

He did like the idea of being her friend instead of her competition.

She nodded. “Okay, so let’s problem solve here.”

“Maybe this stalker is connected to a news story you covered,” he said.

She stared through the windshield as though a video were playing before her eyes. “There was one guy about five years ago. Randy Smith. He went to jail for robbery. He threatened everyone who had anything to do with his trial.” She touched the skirt of her ruined ball gown. “I remember, he pointed directly at me in the courtroom. I was only doing my job and reporting the facts.”

“That has to have been scary,” Zach said.

“It was, but I helped see that justice was the outcome and that made me feel good,” she said.

He slowed down when they entered the Badger city limits. So she desired justice over her own safety. He realized then he was sitting beside a very brave woman. “So would he be out by now?”

“I think so. And if I’m remembering right, he had a similar build to the guy who attacked me.” She cleared her throat and then rubbed her forehead. Her shoulders slumped. “I know this is important, and I want to get to bottom of it, but I really don’t want to think about this right now.”

He nodded. He wanted to nab this guy—Elizabeth wouldn’t be safe until they did—but it was clear the trauma was catching up to her. He slowed as he drew close to her neighborhood. He pulled up to the curb and pushed open his door. He ran around to her side of the car and held out a hand for her.

Even if she looked composed on the outside, he was pretty sure she was in a wrestling match with deep fear on the inside. Her fingers were cool to the touch as she gave him only a passing glance.

At the door, she fumbled through her clutch for the keys. She unlocked the door and pushed it open. She turned to face him.

“Thank you, Zach.” She reached up and touched his face. The brush of her hand on his cheek was so fleeting he thought he might have imagined it. The sudden heat on his face and the tight throat told him he hadn’t.

“No problem, Betsy.” The remark was intended to put distance between them. Her touch and his response to it caught him off-guard. They were still working on becoming friends, right? Nothing more. “I’ll let you know what the cops find out.” He’d do anything to pull her from the pit of angst she must be in. “You going to be all right?”

“I really just want to go into my house, lock the doors and not think about this right now.”

He understood all too well needing to block out everything.

She stepped inside and shut the door. He hurried back to his car. The best thing for dealing with his rage over what had happened to her was to do something. He pulled away from the curb and headed toward the police station.

He pulled his phone out. A text had come in from one of his fireman friends about a house fire. Let someone else get the story. He needed resolution for Elizabeth, or he wouldn’t be able to sleep either.

He dialed the personal number of the detective who would be handling the search at the golf course.

Glenn picked up on the second ring. “Zach.”

“Anything?”

“We’ve searched the grounds and the surrounding woods but we didn’t find anyone. There were a lot of people leaving the ball. He could have just gotten in his car and driven off before we had a chance to detain and question people.”

He squeezed the phone a little tighter. He really had hoped for an end to all this. “I’ll try to talk her into coming in tomorrow to make a statement.”

“She can do that. But there is zero evidence,” said Glenn.

Zach’s stomach tightened. “What happened tonight must be connected with her abduction.”

“Maybe, but we need evidence. Did you see the guy?”

“No, he ran off by the time I got to her.”

Glenn took a moment to answer. His voice dropped half an octave. “A television reporter like that is used to lots of attention.”

Zach gritted his teeth. “She’s not like that. She wouldn’t make something like this up.”

Glenn took a moment to answer. “We’ll focus our energy on the previous kidnapping. We have something to work with there. I don’t know what tonight was about.”

His jaw clenched. He didn’t want to get into an argument with his friend. “I just need you to do your job.”

“You know we will, but we can’t put man hours into investigating an attack with no leads. Bear in mind that I am sure Elizabeth Kramer has some major PTSD going on from the abduction. That kind of thing can mess with your head.”

PTSD. There were those letters again. Now he and Elizabeth had that in common. Prayer was the only thing that had kept him from spiraling down to a place where he’d lost all perspective. “She’s not safe until this guy is behind bars. That’s all I’m saying.”

“We are doing everything we can,” said Glenn.

Zach hung up. He checked his texts again. Maybe he could still make the fire. A text had come in from Elizabeth.

Someone is in my house.

* * *

Elizabeth had changed out of her ruined ball gown when she detected a smell in her bedroom that seemed foreign—a woodsy, damp smell. Her breath caught. Had a man been in her bedroom while she’d been changing in the bathroom?

Her gaze darted around the room. One of her coats had fallen on the floor, and the chair by her makeup table was askew, but it was the lingering odor that made her heart pound. She couldn’t take any chances. She grabbed her clutch and slipped into a closet.

Zach was probably not far away. She texted him.

While her heartbeat drummed in her ears, she listened. Had the culprit just been here and left or was he still in the house? The smell was so strong.

She heard noise in her office next door. It could be her cat.

Was she losing her mind? Was she just imagining things? It wasn’t a chance she was willing to take.

She thought she heard a door easing open.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Please, let that be Zach.

She checked her phone again. He hadn’t replied to her text. More footsteps. She pressed her back against the closet wall. The clothes shielded her. But if someone wanted to find her, they could.

“Elizabeth.” Zach’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Relief filled her. She leaned forward and pushed open the door. He hurried toward her from across the room and gathered her in his arms.

How easy it was to fall into his arms. Embarrassed, she pulled free of the embrace and looked up at him. “Did you see him?”

“No, but let’s search the house together.” He moved toward the bedroom door. “What tipped you off?”

“A smell in my bedroom.” The moment she said it, she realized how ridiculous it sounded.

He stared at her a moment too long.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“It doesn’t sound like the police are actively investigating what happened at the country club.” He pressed his lips together. “They just don’t have that much to work with, but they are all over the abduction.”

So now the police thought she was some kind of unstable nut job crying wolf. “I know someone was in my bedroom.” She kept her eyes on the floor as doubt filled her mind.

He touched her hand just above the elbow. “I believe you. Do you have a back door?”

She appreciated the vote of confidence from Zach, but wondered if he had some doubts, too. She led him through her office to the back door. Now she was beginning to wonder if her own fear had made her smell something that wasn’t there. She didn’t like the way the stalker was able to mess with her mentally even when he wasn’t around.

Zach stepped outside. “This door was locked?”

“Both doors were.” She leaned to look at the door handle. It didn’t look like it had been forced. She let out a heavy sigh. “Nothing.”




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/sharon-dunn/fatal-vendetta/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.