Читать книгу Christmas Stalking - Jo Leigh - Страница 10

“Where are we going?” Jade was scared, but kept her fear under control. If she was to escape this ordeal alive, she would have to be ready to flee at the first opportunity.

“Shut up. Turn right here.” The gun in Max’s hand never wavered. Damn that CSI show—she could picture the bullet entering her body, tracing a path to her heart… Her purse lay at his feet, so she couldn’t get to her cell phone or the mace.

“Can’t we talk about this?”

“No. Head for I-95.”

Jade threaded her way through the streets of Arlington for the highway, fully aware that it headed for either Washington or deeper into Virginia. She considered faking a skid on the snow-swept streets, but the gun could go off in a crash.

“Get on here,” Max said, waving the gun toward the southbound on-ramp.

She swung onto the highway, merged with the traffic and accelerated into the blowing snow. She reached to turn the heater up and Max’s nervous twitch reminded her that she was being kidnapped by a cold-blooded killer.

She tried to recall what she’d heard about the man on the news—pitifully little, actually—that might help her reason with him. He was a reporter for the Washington Post. He’d done some big stories, some undercover work. He’d even been up for a Pulitzer. For unknown reasons, he’d brutally murdered an older man, a friend of his father’s and an important man at Geotech, an energy and mining company large enough to change the course of the nation for years. Even the FBI, often loathe to meddle with the D.C. police, was involved in the hunt for this man. His father said the murder was totally uncharacteristic, that Werner Edwards was a family friend. He swore Max would be exonerated.

Oh yeah, she felt much better now. All his neighbors probably thought he was a real nice guy. Never hurt a fly.

“Pull off at the next exit.”

“We’re going to Springfield?”

“Just pull off.”

Jade did as she was told, and Max directed her through turn after turn around the suburban streets.

She watched him as closely as she could as he divided his attention between her and the streets, peering out between the gusts of snow, then back at her. “Stop. Stop here.”

Again, she did as she was told, pulling behind a black SUV on a quiet, windblown street.

“Turn the car off.”

She did, her hand shaking, her heart in her throat. Was this the end? Was he going to kill her here? In the middle of suburbia?

From beside him, on top of the Santa suit, Max withdrew the blue scarf. “Crawl through to the back seat and lay down.”

“No. Please.”

He waved the gun at her, a new sense of urgency and desperation to his moves. She obeyed, the fear making her clumsy. She finally made it to the back seat where he forced her to kneel on the floor. “Put your hands behind your back.”

“Don’t hurt me. My father can help you—”

“Your father’s the reason you’re here.”

“My father? What does he—”

“Put your damn hands behind your back.”

The seats pressed into her stomach as she worked her arms around until her hands were in the small of her back, and Max tied them tightly. “Lay down on the seat.”

“I can’t.”

Max grunted and opened the door. As the cold swept across her bare legs, Jade realized how exposed she was, but he quickly closed it, then opened the rear door. He tossed the presents into the back with his free hand. Once the seat was cleared, he pulled her roughly onto the cushions and pulled off the thick black belt from his Santa suit. He used it to tie her ankles together.

“One more thing,” he said and pulled a neckerchief from his pocket.

“No.”

“I can’t have you scream.” He crawled onto the seat with her. He didn’t hurt her, in fact, he moved carefully, making sure his knee was on the seat and not her body, but the closeness, his proximity, made her flesh crawl and it was all she could do not to pass out.

He forced the cloth between her teeth and tied it behind her head. “I’m going to be out of the car for a few minutes, but I’ll be watching you. Don’t be stupid.” Max waved the gun in front of Jade’s terrified eyes, then slammed the door.

As she lay face down on the back seat, the sound of his footsteps disappeared rapidly in the winter wind. She tested her bonds, but whatever other flaws Max might have, tying knots badly was not among them.

She tried squirming around so she could push herself upright against a door, but the necessary movement caused both her coat and her dress to ride up her thighs, and she felt horribly vulnerable, so she lay quietly and tried to think of a way to escape.

She heard scraping at the back of the car, but couldn’t tell what it was.

The mace and her phone were so close, and yet there was no possibility of getting them. No one knew where she was. The moronic detective had stopped tailing her. Her father wouldn’t even miss her for a few more hours, and then what? They’d look at the mall, but had anyone seen her abduction? The crowds that had been so pressing inside the stores had vanished in the far reaches of the parking garage, so she couldn’t count on any witnesses. Even if they had seen her, she’d been kidnapped by Santa Claus. She doubted they’d even start looking for her car for hours, and with this snow…

Overwhelmed, frightened beyond any kind of reason, she blinked frantically as hot tears blurred her vision. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t speak, God, at least she wanted to see. But the tears wouldn’t stop.

The driver’s door opened with another blast of cold wind and gusting snow. She heard his coat rustle, the SUV tip slightly with his weight. Then his voice. “You okay?”

She tried to tell him she was not okay, that she’d never be okay again, but she couldn’t with the gag in her mouth.

He turned on the interior light and looked over the seats at her.

All she could do was blink, trying to clear her vision.

“Legs cold?” he asked.

That startled her. What the hell did he care if she were cold? She didn’t want to answer, but the fact was, her legs were freezing. She nodded once, then turned her head so she faced the back of the seat.

She heard the rustle of cloth, then her coat slipped down to mid-calf. More rustling, then more of her legs were covered. She twisted around so she could glance down, and saw the red of the Santa suit across her ankles.

He started the car, slowly edged into the street. As he drove, she shifted on the seat until, when she craned her neck, she could just see out the top of the side window. She tried to guess where they were from her limited field of vision but it was useless, and she quit trying. She needed to conserve her energy. He had to stop sometime.

She tried to focus on sounds, anything at all familiar, but the big luxury car had been designed to keep traffic noise out. All she could tell was when they got on the highway again, by the speed of the car and the occasional sound of a truck going by.

Time crawled by as he drove and drove, and every minute seemed to reveal a new ache, a new pain, a new terrifying facet of her situation. Her arms cramped in the unnatural position and no matter how she lifted them, shifted them, the pain just worsened. Even her ankles hurt, as the edge of the thick belt chafed.

Her ribs hurt, her head throbbed, and she’d gotten stuffed up from crying and had to struggle for breath beyond the gag in her mouth.

It felt as if she would surely die from the fear, if nothing else. Image after image of what he could do to her flooded her brain, only to be followed by vivid mental pictures of her father hearing the news that she was dead.

A lurch, and her eyes opened.

God, she’d slept. It seemed impossible. But she had slept, for how long, she had no clue.

She realized that the very absence of noise and motion was what had awakened her. The driver’s side door opened and her kidnapper got out, then the rear door opened and she once again felt cold air on her legs.

“Just a second and I’ll have your legs untied,” he said. She felt him fumbling with the belt, but was still unable to answer with the gag in her mouth.

With her legs free, he awkwardly helped her out of the back seat. Once she was standing, he undid the gag.

She swallowed several times, moved her aching jaw. She wished her hands were free because she felt so unsteady. “Where are we?”

“Someplace safe. Come on.” He took hold of her arm and pulled her along, at first quickly, but after she stumbled, he slowed the pace. He opened a door, and the light temporarily blinded her.

“I don’t feel safe,” she said. She blinked her eyes several times as they adjusted to the light. She took in her surroundings.

They stood in a large one-room cabin. There was a kitchenette to their right, a small table with four chairs around it, a desk against the wall to the left below a small window. On the other side, a half wall blocked her view of what she assumed was the bathroom. Across the room a double bed complete with a brass headboard sat below a second window. The door behind her led to the enclosed garage.

The decor was simple, rustic. Wood dominated everything, including the floor, which only had a few area rugs to lend warmth. There were two pictures on the wall, but they were both landscapes, nothing that would give her a clue as to the personality of the man who’d kidnapped her. It was neat, tidy, but it felt like it was more of a vacation cabin than a real home.

Max quickly shed the remains of his Santa outfit to reveal a pair of gray slacks to go with his light blue dress shirt. He recovered his gun from the kitchen counter and came back to Jade. “Turn around.”

She did so, facing the wall, and he untied her hands, then pulled off her coat.

“Go sit at the desk.”

“Why? You need some typing or something? I don’t—”

He poked her with the gun barrel. “Just do it.” She walked to the desk chair, and Max pulled it around so it faced the room. “Sit. Put your arms on the rests.”

She did, and using both the blue scarf and the rope he expertly tied her to the chair. He put the gun on the table and moved to the sink. “Do you want some water?”

Her mouth was terribly dry. An almost metallic aftertaste reminded her of the gag, the terror of feeling so helpless. Water wouldn’t fix that, but she was thirsty. “Please.”

She watched as he got a glass and filled it. He looked harried. With one hand, he grabbed one of the chairs from the small table. He set it down with the back toward her, straddled the seat and tilted the glass to her lips so she could drink.

She gulped awkwardly, spilling a thin stream of liquid down her chin. She had to turn her head when she was through and more water dripped down to her dress. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment despite the illogic. It wasn’t her fault she was tied up like this.

He set the glass on the desk, then walked over to the fireplace on the opposite wall. The wood had already been laid, kindling and all, and it took him only a moment to get a nice blaze going. He stared at the fire as it swelled, then walked back to where she sat. He knelt in front of her. She tried to scoot back until he slipped off one of her shoes, then the other. He stood, his expression somehow scarier because of its neutrality, walked back to the fireplace and put her shoes on the hearth. “They’ll warm up soon,” he said.

The act unsettled her as much as anything had. This odd, desperate man who’d kidnapped her at gunpoint was concerned about her feet being cold?

He joined her again, sitting on the other chair with his arms folded across the back.

“Look, I hadn’t planned this.”

“Yeah. Right. You just happened to have rope and scarves in your suit. What do you want? Money? I can get—”

“I don’t want your money. I told you that at the mall.” Max shifted his gaze to the wall behind her, his face losing all expression. What remained was exhaustion, worry. Fear.

“Then why? What the hell do you want from me? Are you some kind of pervert or something?”

Max laughed weakly. “Well, I’m not this kinky. I just—I’m at the end of my rope.” He shifted his gaze back to meet hers, and for the first time she really noticed how blue his eyes were. Despite the fact that they were so bloodshot. His left eye even had a tiny twitch.

“Why did you kill that old man?”

“I didn’t kill him. Werner was like an uncle to me.” He briefly closed his eyes and the grief shadowing his face surprised her. Or was it guilt?

“Then why not turn yourself in? Look, if I get home safely, I’ll just forget all this—unpleasantness. My father has some power in D.C. We could help—”

Max stood, almost knocking his chair over. “Your father is the reason I’m in this mess.”

He’d mentioned that before. Obviously he was unbalanced and she needed to tread lightly. She made sure her voice was soft, non-threatening. “What are you talking about?”

Max paced the small room like a tiger in a cage. “Your father. And Geotech. Christ, I’ve tried everything. Even my own editor can’t wait to see my head on a pike outside the city walls. You have to know the senator is in it up to his eyeballs. I know you two work together, that you’re his assistant. So please, do us both a favor and cut the bewildered act.”

If Jade could have faded into the desk chair, she would have. She was stunned by the vehemence in his voice. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

He stopped in the middle of a frenzied stride and looked at her. His shoulders slumped as he ran both hands through his dark hair.

Staring at her, measuring her, obviously wondering if he should believe her, his lips curved in a wry smile, and he sat on his chair again. “If you’re lying you’re damn good at it.”

“I’m not lying.”

That smile again, mellowed with a sadness that was palpable. “When your father first got on the Ways and Means committee, Geotech was a relatively small company, but with big ambitions. Their basic approach was deals and mergers, lots of investor cash, but few real assets. They approached Senator Parker for political assistance, but he turned them down cold, unsure of their stability, and unwilling to expose himself and the country to the risk.”

Jade remembered that time. Mom had still been alive, and there had been lively discussions about the viability of the company. Her dad had been dubious about their entire approach. “Okay, so what’s that got to do with murder and kidnapping?”

“Flash forward a few years. Geotech found the support they wanted in Texas. Their stock flew out of the brokerages at ever higher prices, and they rapidly became a more-or-less respected organization, one of, if not the, biggest energy brokers in the country.

“Meanwhile, your father became more powerful, wielding the kind of influence that gets bills passed. Then your mother died.”

“My mother?”

His mouth curved in an apologetic smile. “She’s only relevant because your father’s grief made him an easy target for Geotech. He started gambling, which Geotech was happy to exploit. They made sure your father would gamble to his heart’s content. And now he owes them somewhere in the arena of ten million dollars, peanuts compared to the hundreds of millions the new energy bill is worth to them. Now they’re blackmailing him for his vote.”

“That’s a lie.” Jade’s hands shook at the thought. “Dad would never submit to that kind of blackmail. Which is irrelevant because he doesn’t gamble and would never have incurred that kind of debt.”

Max smiled at her, his gaze assessing her carefully. “A man will do almost anything to protect his name and reputation.”

She shuddered, his message not lost on her. “You are crazy. I’m Dad’s executive assistant. There’s no way he’d be that deep in the hole without me knowing about it.”

“Right.” Max’s smile faded to grimness. “I figure you’re either unaware of his problem, or you don’t know what to do about it.”

“No. You’re wrong about this. And what’s that got to do with that old man you killed?”

Max leaned forward. “I told you. I didn’t kill him. Werner was finally persuaded to be on the board at Geotech, and when he found out what was going on, he talked to my dad and then to me. He knew all about your father’s debt, the gambling. And that Geotech wasn’t above blackmail. That’s why he was killed.”

Exhaustion suddenly swept through Jade. Max was obviously one of those people who had seen so many bad things that he’d been overwhelmed, seeing conspiracy everywhere. She doubted he would listen to reason. “I see.”

Max met her gaze. “You remember something?”

She saw a flash of reason in his eyes and hope boosted her spirits. “There’s probably a bunch of stuff I missed on my dad’s computer. You know, if we just went to the Senate Office Building, we could probably…”

“Damn it.” Max stood and swept his chair over with one angry wave of his hand.

Jade cringed. Had she pushed him over whatever edge of sanity remained?

“You’re good, lady.”

“What do you mean?”

Max glared at her, his desperation obvious. “I’m not stupid, Jade. You will tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know anything other than that you’re wrong. My father is an honest, hard-working public servant. He would never allow himself to be compromised.”

He snorted. Shaking his head, he walked to the television and turned it on.

“You know, if you untie me, I’ll be a lot more likely to listen to reason.”

“Right.” Max moved to the refrigerator and opened it, the commercial for maxi-pads coming from the TV as incongruous as it was uncomfortable. “You have a choice between the frozen fried chicken, or the frozen meat loaf dinner.” He opened the packages and put them in the oven.

“Super.” Jade shifted uncomfortably. “Uh—Max? I could use a bathroom visit.”

He looked at her for a moment as if he didn’t believe her. But after a sigh, he came to her chair. “Yeah, okay.” He untied her and with a hand on her elbow, escorted her to the bathroom.

“Thanks.” She stepped inside and reached to close the door, but he stopped it with his hand.

“Don’t be long.”

“I wanted to wash up a bit.”

His gaze swept the small bathroom, lingering on the useless miniscule window, and then he gave her a curt nod.

She closed the door, sank against it and sighed. Decorated in the same rustic fashion as the rest of the cabin, the bathroom walls were paneled wood. Two pictures hung above the commode, both antique prints of Victorian women on washday. The sink had a rust stain running under the spigot, but it looked clean enough. The floor, a spotted linoleum, had two area rugs, both in a shaggy brown. Sure enough, there was no way out other than the door.

She turned the water on in the sink and used the sound to cover a quick search of the medicine cabinet and drawers, but there was nothing that she could use as a weapon. Only a few personal items: aspirin, a comb, toothpaste, some new toothbrushes, floss. The only razor was electric, and she doubted she could shave him into letting her go.

Hurriedly, she washed her hands and face.

She turned the water off and, through the thin wall, heard Max moving about in the kitchen. If she could get to the car and get her cell phone…

As cautiously as she could, she opened the bathroom door and crouched behind the half wall. The door to the garage was only a few feet away. She hadn’t noticed before, but the wood floors were cold. Her toes, encased in nothing but panty hose, curled.

She started when Max called out. “How you doing in there?”

She held her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound and said, “Fine. Out in a minute.” With her heart pounding so loudly she was surprised he couldn’t hear it, she detected movement near the stove. If he stepped out past the wall, there was nowhere to hide.

She made the mad dash, holding her breath, and reached for the doorknob, turned it. The door opened silently and she edged into the darkness of the garage and held the door until it closed.

The cold concrete was worse than the floor inside and she stumbled forward until she bumped into the car. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but she thought he’d dropped her purse on the floor on the front passenger side.

With shaking fingers, she felt her way around the car. The hood still held a hint of warmth from their trip, but the rest of the metal was cold.

When she reached the passenger door, she touched the frigid handle and took a deep breath. She planned her actions—open the door, climb in and hit the locks, then grab the purse, dig out the cell phone and dial 911. The Virginia police could triangulate the phone, and she could hold Max off with the mace.

She let her breath out with a whoosh and opened the door.

As it registered that there was nothing at all on the floor of the car, the garage suddenly flooded with light. Max stood in the doorway, her purse in one hand and the gun in the other, pointed right at her head.

His eyes were more sad than angry, and so was his voice, when he said, “Are you looking for this?”