Fatal Burn (West Coast 2) - Page 130

“Shhh,” he whispered and one hand gently stroked the back of her head.

It only made it worse. How he must be aching. How he must be breaking bit by bit.

“I…I…Oh, God, Travis, I’m so sorry,” she whispered losing her battle for control.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Of course it is. If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have taken her. She was calling out to me, did you hear that? To me! Her mother. But why? She doesn’t know me. No…Now I see. He’s making her say those things. Staging what he wants her to say, by the sound of a fire that he was sure we’d recognize. Then…then…leaving the recording in my truck so that I would know, I would feel her pain…Oh, my God…” Her knees gave out and he held her upright.

“Don’t beat yourself up.”

“But it’s because of me.” She blinked hard, fought the rush of tears, tried to stiffen her spine and square her shoulders. Travis was right. She couldn’t fight the monster by falling apart, by doing exactly what he’d hoped. And yet, it seemed impossible to pull herself together, to fight the way she always had all her life.

Whoever was doing this had known how to hurt her, had wanted to cut deep to the heart of her, to see her twist in the worst pain imaginable. She swallowed and sniffed, clutching his shirt so that it was wrinkled and wet, trying to draw strength from this man, Dani’s father, the only person on the planet who was wounded by this more than she.

“We have to find her,” she said, lifting her head back to stare at him through the sheen of tears. “We have to do every damned thing we can to get her back.”

“We will. We are,” he said, his voice gruff, his own eyes shining. But beneath the fear, lying under the surface of his pain, was a visible resolve. His jaw was set, his muscles rigid, his nostrils flared as if for battle. “First, you need to go upstairs, to bed. Rest. Pull yourself together. I’ll call Paterno. They’ll take the tape and dissect it. Maybe they’ll find fingerprints, or break down the sound to listen for other noises on the tape, noises disguised or hidden by Dani’s voice.”

“He won’t have slipped up,” she said, not daring to believe.

“Everyone does. Now, come on, let me help you upstairs—”

“No…I’ll be all right. I…um, just give me a second to clean up.” She couldn’t have him taking care of her like some frail, weepy, pathetic woman, even if she was acting like one. She pushed herself away from him and nearly crumpled when he let his arms fall away. “Call Paterno, have him come back here for the tape and to check over the truck or whatever he wants. He can tear this place apart for all I care. I just need a minute…to…wash up.”

“You should rest,” he said, “you’re still recovering.”

“Aren’t we all, Travis? Just give me a minute. I didn’t mean to break down, it’s just that…Oh, damn it all…hearing her voice…”

“I know.” He reached for her again, pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. His breath ruffled the hairs on her crown, caused a small tingle of anticipation to run through her blood.

She thought about pushing away from him, of breaking this unlikely embrace, but she couldn’t. It was as if they needed to hold each other tight to reaffirm their dedication to their cause, to find their child. Not his kid. Not her daughter. But their child.

She looked up at him, found his eyes staring down at her and a heartbeat seemed to stretch to infinity. Here was a man she could love, she thought fleetingly, a single man whose life was dedicated to his child.

Her throat thick, she pressed a quick kiss to the side of his face and smelled a hint of aftershave as she felt the prickle of beard stubble against her lips. “I’ll be down in five. Use my phone if you want.”

And then, before she did anything so foolish as to sweep her mouth over his, she hurried to the stairs, barely feeling any of her injuries as she climbed up. At her bed, she paused and walked to the nightstand where she picked up the picture of Dani Settler. Tears again threatened her eyes as she thought of the desperate words, aimed at her, that had been coerced from her daughter’s throat. “Don’t worry, honey,” she said, tracing the curve of Dani’s jaw with her finger. “I’m coming…your momma’s coming.”

It was now or never. The Beast had been gone for nearly an hour and she wasn’t going to be tricked by trusting that he would be back as soon as he said.

Even if he hadn’t lied, Dani couldn’t stand it one more second in this stinky, hot room with the crummy cot and no windows. She’d already lost some time as it was, had planned to leave earlier, but circumstances had prevented her escape. She knew things were changing. He was getting desperate. She could tell by how erratic he was, how angry all the time, how restless. And he wouldn’t have forced her to make that tape pleading for her mother to save her unless he was planning to get rid of her soon.

She had no illusions.

To stay was to die.

She had to take her chances.

She was ready. She’d put on all her clothes, filthy as they were, and now, with the nail in hand, she walked to the door that was the gate to freedom.

She was jumpy, her nerves thin and stretched as she slid the nail into the crack between the door and frame and slowly and steadily lifted upward. She felt resistance as the nail encountered the hook that held her door closed, but she pushed upward.

Nothing.

The hook didn’t so much as budge.

No, oh, no! Her plan couldn’t fail. She had to escape. The thought of leaving this creep behind was all that had kept her from dissolving into a million pieces when faced with being alone with him. Her scheme had kept her going and she wasn’t going to abandon it because of some stupid, dumb latch that seemed hell-bent on staying put.

Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery
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