“A little banged up. Chin couldn’t tell for sure.”
“How far did he follow Jake?”
“Somewhere outside Santa Rosa.”
Sonoma County. Where could they be headed?
“The cabin,” Ben answered himself out loud. “That’s probably where they’re headed. Call the Trinity County Sherriff’s office. And have Bill meet up with us.”
“What about Moe?”
“The emergency responders can help him more than Bill can. We’re going to need a car to meet us at Weaverville in case we can’t get one at this hour.”
Flying into Weaverville would be shorter than flying into San Francisco. Ben only hoped he could get there in time.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kimani stood at the edge of a pier overlooking dark ocean waters beneath a moonless sky. Rope encircled her body, pinning her arms to her sides and her legs together.
“Come on, pet,” Ben called to her from where he treaded water.
She observed the choppy waves with doubt.
“Don’t make me come and get you,” he warned.
She looked from the water into his eyes, which she desperately tried to read, but they were also dark. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t explain that she couldn’t swim when she was all tied up. She supposed it was obvious.
Ben continued to tread water. He seemed at ease, but then, he didn’t have his hands tied.
Though she couldn’t tell in the dark, it seemed his expression softened.
“Trust me.”
With the grip of fear still about her, she jumped.
Water splashed over her. She coughed. Her head hurt.
“Wakey, wakey, slut.”
Kimani opened her eyes. She wanted to wipe away the droplets in her eyes, but rope still bound her. She felt wet, but she wasn’t in the ocean.
A hand slapped the side of her face. Had she drowned? Was Ben trying to revive her?
“I said to wake the fuck up, slut!”
She felt thumbs at her eyes, pulling her eyelids up.
The face of Jake Whitehurst came into view.
“That’s better,” he said.
She tried to turn her head away from the faint spray of his spit, but he caught her jaw roughly.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he growled, slapping her once more.
Her mind started to piece together her situation, and it wasn’t good. She remembered being accosted on her front doorstep, a scuffle, darkness, the hum of a car, her immobility. She had been dreaming just now but awoke to a nightmare.
“You’re such a bad slut,” he spit. “All that time with Benji boy, and you haven’t learned a damn thing. Maybe I got it wrong. Maybe he was the pussy. Is that right?”