Double Take. Jenness Walker

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СКАЧАТЬ Take it slow. If she could concentrate on her surroundings, maybe she could figure a way out of here. If she couldn’t—

      She could. Concentrate.

      They’d taken off her blindfold. Not that she could see much, but it was something, at least. Rope burned her wrists. They’d lashed her to something—metal chilled her fingertips. If she could get a grip on it, maybe she could pull herself up.

      Her sore fingers flexed, then slid down the square bar. She couldn’t grip it, not the way her hands were tied together. She curled her hands around the rope instead. One. Two. Three. She pulled with her arms, kicked off with her legs. The water swirled around her navel for an instant, then back around her shoulders as she dropped with a grunt. Shivering, she stared upward, seeing the dim outline of the rope and her hands, then the outline of a small boat.

      The metal was a lift. They’d dumped her in a boathouse. Why? It didn’t matter. Right now her biggest enemy was the water. It couldn’t be very deep, but how long had she been in it? Her clothing was soaked through, her arms ached and her body trembled. She had to get out. Had to get warm. Had to find a light.

      She needed to do a chin-up. Hold steady. Fling her legs up and out till they hit the deck. Try to propel herself forward enough to hold her body above water. And then what?

      She’d cross that bridge when she came to it. If she came to it. First she had to get her feet out of the water. A gust of wind rattled the windows, shaking her resolve. What if the water rose or a tornado ripped through?

      The tremors grew stronger as she pressed her face into her extended arms, trying to block the sudden images—the ones that always came out along with storms and darkness. The one where she was trapped in the dark listening to the house turn to kindling, waiting in vain for her brother to come back for her.

      She wouldn’t go there. Couldn’t, or she’d be dead. How long did it take for hypothermia to set in? It was a warm spring, but the water was still cold. So cold…

      She had to get out of the water. Now.

      She tightened her grip on the rope, breathed in and strained to lift her body clear of the water. Up. Up. Hold. One foot hit the underside of the deck, and she sank back down. Biting her lip against the explosion of pain in her ankle, Kenzie tried again. And again and again. The ropes cut deeper into her wrists. Her legs banged against wood and scraped against metal until tears flowed freely down her face. She couldn’t quit, but her arms were on fire. Her legs barely cleared the water.

      Breathe in. Breathe out.

      Kenzie closed her eyes, envisioning each move. Maybe if she saw herself doing it, she’d believe it, and, believing, it would happen.

      Sure. Then why didn’t she just “see” a rescuer burst through the door? Or maybe God’s hand gently scooping her up and transporting her back to her couch at home? When had believing ever worked for her?

      A low rumble of thunder, then another, closer. Kenzie tried to swallow. Couldn’t. Her mouth tasted metallic. God, I don’t want to die here. In a storm, in the dark…like Mikey.

      Maybe that’s why this was happening. Her punishment for putting her brother in danger. For letting him die in her place. He was the darling child, after all. The beloved son.

      She opened her eyes and caught a fleeting image. Mikey. Staring at her—his own eyes unseeing and lifeless. No, just a hallucination, but still the scream came, catching in her throat, then pushing its way through. Loud, long. Ending in a gasping sob. She screamed again. Wind rattled the walls, but no one came. Another scream.

      But no one heard.

      FIVE

      “This is unreal, man,” John said as Cole slid into the truck. “I didn’t think they were going to let you go.”

      Cole caught his cousin’s sidelong glance, and his face heated. “I didn’t think you’d come back after what I told you on the way in.”

      “It’s weird, but I believe you. I think. Did the police?”

      Cole shut out the memory of the officer’s steely eyes. “No. But Parker couldn’t come up with any reason to hold me.” But he would in a couple of hours…“Did you bring your gun?”

      John pointed to the glove compartment.

      Cole opened it and tugged out a map, a knife then the Glock. The cool feel of it soothed him as John pulled the truck onto the road.

      “Should we get some coffee to go?”

      “There’s no ‘we,’” Cole said.

      “If you’re doing this, I’m doing this, okay? What good is family if they won’t go out for an evening of boathouse hopping with you? Besides, I’m the one with a license to carry that beauty.” John grinned, then sobered. “You really think she’s there?”

      “No…Yes.” He closed his eyes. “I have no idea. But I sat on that bus and did absolutely nothing while they took her. If I go back home and wake up tomorrow to find out my bizarre theory was right…”

      “Okay, man. Then let’s do this. You said we’re looking for a small lake near a larger one. Secluded. Affluent-community type thing, correct?”

      “Exactly.” Cole had studied that chapter of the book, read it over and over again, gleaned as many details as he could. “In Obsession, it seems like they drove maybe an hour. So…”

      “So we’re looking for something that’s an hour away, right?”

      “Or less. Right.” Maybe.

      John shoved the map toward Cole and edged the Dodge Ram back onto the road. “I’ll head up I-85. There’s an area near Lake Lanier kind of like you’re talking about. Some of Kasey’s clients live up there. Nice homes.”

      “And what would your girlfriend say if she knew what I was dragging you into?” They could get arrested, maybe worse if someone decided to try out their shotgun collection on intruders.

      “We’re just friends. And…she’d wonder why she wasn’t invited.” John smiled. “So let’s do this. But if the girl isn’t right there—” John pointed to the map. “I don’t know where else to look.”

      “As long as we do what we can.” Cole glanced up as lightning sliced through the night sky.

      

      So…c-cold.

      Rain hit the roof, a solid wall of sound. Occasional crackles of lightning lit the boathouse, making the shadows deeper while spotlighting the boat, the lift, the lack of color in her hands.

      An eerie keening filled the room, echoing off the walls. It wasn’t until the lapping water choked it off that she realized it came from her own throat.

      She was going to die here.

      No! She’d get through this. Maybe she could work the knots loose. Bite through them. Rub them against a bolt on the lift until she could break free. Awkwardly, Kenzie ran her icy fingers along the couple inches of metal she СКАЧАТЬ