Читать книгу McCullen's Secret Son - Rita Herron - Страница 11

Chapter Four

Willow couldn’t drag her eyes away from Leo’s dead body. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

She’d hated that her marriage had fallen apart, but it hadn’t been right from the beginning. She’d never loved Leo and he knew it.

And truthfully, she didn’t think he’d ever loved her.

But she’d been hurt with Brett, and lonely and a single pregnant woman with nowhere to turn. Leo had offered her security and comfort.

For a little while. Then everything had changed and the charming man who’d swept in like a hero had disappeared and become...someone she was afraid of.

Someone Sam was afraid of.

That was when she’d known she had to get out.

The blood on her hands mocked her. She hadn’t loved Leo but she’d never wished him dead.

And where was her precious little boy? Was he safe? Hurt? Scared?

A tremor rippled through her. Of course he was scared. He’d been taken from his home.

“We’ll bury him on the ranch somewhere,” Brett said. “It’s too dangerous to do it in your neighborhood.”

Willow rubbed her hands up and down her arms as if to warm herself. “But what about Maddox? He’s the sheriff and...your brother.”

Brett’s look darkened. “I know that,” Brett said. “I’ll talk to him and explain once we get your little boy back.”

Willow’s heart constricted. “I’m sorry for putting you in this position, Brett. You could get in trouble with the law. But...I didn’t know who else to call.”

Brett clasped her arms and forced her to look at him. “Don’t worry about me, Willow. I can handle whatever happens. But we can’t go to Maddox yet. We have to play by this bastard’s rules, until we find Sam.”

How could she argue with that? She’d give her life for her son’s.

And if Brett knew that Sam was his, he’d do the same.

He probably would anyway, just because he was a McCullen. Joe McCullen had taught his boys old-fashioned values, that men were supposed to protect women and children.

Brett moved over by the bed. “I need to get him in the back of my pickup.”

“Why? Aren’t we going to bury him in the backyard?”

“No,” Brett said. “You live in a neighborhood. And if anyone comes asking about Leo and is suspicious, this is the first place they’d look.” He glanced down at the floor and indicated the braided rug. “Let’s wrap him in the sheet and I can use the rug to slide him outside.”

“But what if a neighbor sees us?”

Brett’s jaw tightened. “Your house is set far enough back from the road, so unless someone is in the drive, we should be all right. But I’ll move my truck up to the garage and we can go through there just to be safe.”

Willow agreed, although she knew what they were doing was wrong. Illegal. That they could both be charged.

But nothing mattered now except saving Sam.

* * *

BRETT HATED THE FEAR in Willow’s eyes. If he had hold of the bastard who had hurt her and taken her little boy, he’d pound his head in.

He started to roll Leo in the sheet, but doubts hit him. He’d seen enough crime shows to know that as soon as he touched the man or the bedding, he was contaminating evidence. Evidence that could lead to the killer and the person who had abducted Sam.

Besides, he’d gotten in a sticky situation once. Had been accosted by the jealous lover of a rodeo groupie he’d dated, a man who’d tried to make it look as if he was the guilty party. He’d seen how the police handled the situation. If it hadn’t been for a savvy detective who paid attention to detail, Brett might have gone to jail.

Maybe he should call Maddox.

But the kidnapper’s warning taunted him. Willow’s little boy was in danger.

He couldn’t take the chance on that child getting hurt. Pain tugged at his chest. He’d once thought he and Willow would have a family together.

But he’d left and she’d met Leo, and their lives had gone down another path.

Still, her little boy shouldn’t suffer.

He removed his phone and snapped some pictures of the man, the wounds to his chest, the blood on the sheets, and the room.

“What are you doing?” Willow asked.

“We’ll be destroying evidence here,” Brett said. “I should document how we found Leo to show Maddox when we tell him.”

Willow’s face paled. “I can’t believe this is happening, Brett. I...don’t know why anyone would want to kill Leo.”

Brett clenched his jaw. “We’ll talk about that once we take care of him.” He studied the scene again, then snapped a picture of the bullet hole in Leo’s chest. “Do you have plastic gloves?”

She nodded and hurried to the kitchen. Seconds later, she returned with two pairs of latex gloves and they both pulled them on. “Let’s roll him in the sheet onto the floor. Then I’ll wrap him in the rug and drag him outside.”

Tears glittered in Willow’s eyes, but she jumped into motion to help him. The man’s shirt was soaked in blood, his eyes wide with shock, his mouth slack, one hand curled into a fist as if he might have been holding something.

If he had, the killer had taken it.

“Did Leo own a gun?”

“What man in Wyoming doesn’t?” Willow asked.

“What kind?”

“A pistol and a shotgun,” Willow said. “But he took them when he moved out.”

“Look around for bullet casings. Maddox will want them to help with the case.” Willow walked around, searching the floor and the bathroom, but shook her head. “I don’t see any.”

“How about you? Do you have a gun?”

Willow shook her head. “No, I didn’t want weapons in the house with Sam.”

Good point.

“When did you learn about crime scenes?” Willow asked.

Brett shrugged. He didn’t intend to share the story about that debacle with the rodeo groupie. “Television.”

She frowned as if that surprised her, but he wrapped the sheet around Leo, gritting his teeth as Willow’s husband stared up at him in death.

Blood had dried onto the sheet and soaked through to the mattress. Rigor had set in and Leo was a deadweight. Willow gasped as he eased the man to the rug.

“Strip the rest of the bedding,” Brett said. “And bag it. We’ll keep it to give to Maddox later.”

Willow looked ill, but she rushed back to the kitchen and returned a moment later with a big garbage bag.

While he wrapped the top sheet tighter around Leo, she stripped the fitted sheet and comforter and jammed it in the plastic bag. Her ragged breathing rasped between them as she added the pillowcases, then she stood and stared at the bed for a moment as if she’d never be able to sleep in it again.

Brett wanted to comfort her, but he needed to get rid of Leo’s corpse before anyone discovered what they’d done.

* * *

THE SCENT OF the blood on her sheets and the image of Leo lying dead in her bed made Willow feel ill.

She didn’t know how she’d ever sleep in this room again.

“What should I do with these?”

“We’ll bury them with Leo.”

The thought of digging a hole for her husband sent bile to her throat. But as Brett dragged Leo’s body on that rug into the hall, she glanced in Sam’s room again, and determination rifled through her.

That empty room nearly brought her to her knees.

Determined to bring her son home no matter what, she followed Brett with the garbage bag. He pulled Leo through the hallway to the kitchen. She opened the garage door, and he left Leo in the garage, then backed his pickup around to the exterior garage door, which faced the side of the drive.

Anger at Leo mushroomed inside her.

Leo had a temper, was manipulative and secretive and...he had gotten rough with her more than once. But the day he’d put his hand on Sam, she’d ordered him to leave and told him she wanted a divorce.

Nobody would hurt her baby.

Except Sam might be hurt now... All because of the man she’d exchanged vows with. She leaned over Leo and stared at him, a mother’s temper boiling over. “What did you do to get my son kidnapped?”

Of course he didn’t answer. He simply laid there with his mouth slack and his eyes bulging. If possible, his face looked even paler beneath the kitchen lights.

Brett appeared a second later, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve. He planted his hands on his hips and looked down at Leo, then up at her.

“Are you okay, Willow?”

A sob caught in her throat, and she shook her head. “How can I be all right when Sam is missing? When he might be crying for me right now?”

Silence stretched full of tension for a minute. “Then let’s get this done.”

Brett sounded resigned, and Willow questioned again whether she should have called him. But what else could she do?

Brett knelt and grabbed the end of the rug, and Willow decided she couldn’t allow him to do this alone. She set the garbage bag down, flipped off the garage light so they couldn’t be seen through the front window, then grabbed the opposite side of the rug and helped Brett drag Leo through the garage.

She was heaving for breath by the time they reached the threshold of the exterior door. Leo’s body was so heavy that she didn’t know how Brett would lift him.

The garage door was situated on the side of the house and wasn’t visible from the street, but in silent agreement they paused to check and make sure there weren’t any cars passing or anyone walking by.

“It’s clear.” Brett stooped down, scooped Leo up—still wrapped in the rug—and threw him over his shoulder. She bit down on her lip to stifle a gasp as Leo’s arm swung over Brett’s back. The dried blood on his hand and face looked macabre in the moonlight.

Brett struggled for a minute with the weight, then maneuvered Leo’s body into the truck bed. He climbed in and threw an old blanket over the body, and she tossed the bag of linens in the back with him.

“I’d tell you to stay here,” Brett said, “but it’s not safe, Willow. Come with me and I’ll bring you back later.”

The last thing Willow wanted to do tonight was bury Leo, but she had started this and she had to see it through. At least until she got Sam back.

“Let me get my phone in case the kidnapper calls tonight.”

* * *

BRETT SAID A SILENT prayer that the kidnapper would call, but as Willow went to retrieve her phone and purse, he had a bad feeling. What did the kidnapper want?

Money? Or something else?

All questions to pursue once they got rid of Leo’s body.

Damn, he couldn’t believe he was doing this. Actively covering up a crime. If his agent and his fans found out, his career would be over.

Hell, if Maddox didn’t help him out when he finally explained things, his life as a free man would be over.

But he couldn’t let Willow down.

His phone buzzed, and he checked the caller ID. Kitty. Another pesky immature groupie.

Dammit, he’d slept with her twice, then broken it off, but she’d become obsessed with him. He’d warned her that he’d take out a restraining order if she didn’t leave him alone.

He’d hoped coming home for a while might give her the time and distance she needed to move on.

Willow locked the house and closed the garage door and he let the call roll to voice mail, then covered Leo’s body in the bed of the truck. If he got stopped...no, that was not going to happen.

He removed the latex gloves and Willow did the same. He stuffed both pairs in his pocket, then opened the passenger side for Willow, and she climbed onto the seat, her hand shaking as she gripped the seat edge. The wind kicked up, stirring leaves and rattling the windows as he hurried to the driver’s side, jumped in and started the engine.

The moon disappeared behind storm clouds as he eased onto the street. Senses on alert, Brett searched right and left, then in the rearview mirror, looking for someone who might be watching.

For all he knew, the killer/kidnapper might have hung around to see if Willow called the law.

Willow leaned against the doorframe, looking lost and shaken, and so terrified that Brett’s heart broke. In spite of the fact that he was digging a hole for himself with the law and his own brother, he pulled her hand in his.

“We’ll get Sam back, Willow. I promise.”

“But what if—”

“Shh.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “Everything will be all right. I swear.”

Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she broke into another sob. Brett pulled her over beside him and wrapped his arm around her as he drove. She collapsed against him, her head against his chest, her arm slipped around his waist.

The two of them had ridden just this way in high school, hugging and kissing as they’d driven up to Make-Out Point. But tonight, they wouldn’t be making out or...making love.

Tonight they were hiding her husband’s body, and she was almost despondent over her missing son.

Still checking over his shoulder as he turned onto the highway, a siren wailed from the right, and he tensed. A fire engine, ambulance, police?

Suddenly blue lights swirled against the night sky as a police car careened around the corner and flew toward them.

Brett’s chest constricted. He was about to get caught with a dead body in his truck.

* * *

SAM CURLED INTO a little ball, hugged his knees to his chest and leaned against the wall. He was shaking so badly, he thought he might pee his pants. He hadn’t done that since he was two.

Where was he? And why had that man with the bandana over his face grabbed him and thrown him in the trunk of his car?

Sam hated that trunk. He hated the dark.

Swiping at tears, he clutched the ratty teddy bear the man had tossed into the room with him. He didn’t want the old dusty thing. He wanted his dinosaur and his mommy and his room with all his toys.

But he clutched the bear anyway because it made him feel like he wasn’t all alone.

Outside the dark room, footsteps pounded and two men’s voices sounded. Loud. Mad. They were barking at each other like dogs.

They had been mad at Daddy. Then one of them had pulled that gun and shot him.

Sam closed his eyes, trying to forget the red blood that had flown across the bed like a paintball exploding. Except it wasn’t paint.

He couldn’t forget it.

Or that choked gurgling sound Daddy had made.

He started shaking and had to hug his legs with his arms to keep his knees from knocking. He had to be quiet. Make them think he was asleep or they’d come back and get him.

Daddy was dead.

And if he didn’t do what they told him, he’d be dead, too.