Thunder at Dawn Read online

  Her mind clicked through everything Owen had told her as she walked. Zach hadn’t done it. He’d never hit Pete Harrison. Yet, for all these years, he’d taken the blame, stayed silent.

  Why?

  To protect Owen, she realized, pain squeezing through her heart. He’d obviously realized what it would mean to Owen if everyone in town learned he’d injured his best friend, put the son of his father’s boss into a coma. Everyone in Thunder Creek, including Zach, had known that Owen’s mother was in poor health. So Zach had let Owen place the blame on him for all these years, keeping the secret even now when Harrison and Wood Morgan were trying to use it against him . . .

  Suddenly she realized that the deputy had fallen behind her. She paused as they reached the police cruiser. “I don’t suppose you’d let me use your mobile phone—” she began.

  But she got no further. Someone grabbed her from behind and shoved a damp aromatic cloth against her face. Faith struggled, trying to kick him, trying to scream, but she couldn’t breathe. Strong arms had snaked securely around her and the cloth was pressing into her nose and mouth—she couldn’t tear his hand away. Her muscles weren’t working . . . her strength was ebbing . . . the light was fading.

  Still she struggled and kicked and writhed—until darkness like a dank wind swept her up and carried her away.

  Chapter 25

  THERE WAS NO SIGN OF FAITH IN THE WAITING room or the hallway. In fact, Zach thought as he hurried toward Room 247, Patti’s visitors seemed to have cleared out. Faith must be in with her, he guessed, and, reaching the room, he stepped quietly inside.

  But Patti was asleep, with Bob seated beside her in a chair. And Faith wasn’t there.

  Bob stood up when he saw Zach and followed him out into the corridor.

  “How are Patti and the baby doing?” he asked quickly, even as he scanned up and down the corridor once more.

  “Doing better, thank God. The doctor thinks now that the baby’s going to be okay.” Bob’s face was drawn, but there was a sheen of hope in his eyes. “You’re looking for Faith?”

  “Yeah, I dropped her off a while ago. She was supposed to wait for me. Have you seen her?”

  “She left before I got back.” Bob fought a yawn, and scraped a hand through his rumpled hair. “But Patti told me she was here earlier.”

  Zach tensed. He didn’t like the feeling in his gut. Where the hell had she gone? Why didn’t she wait for him? He couldn’t even call her—Keene had her damned cell phone.

  “I’m going to check the rest of the hospital—the chapel and the cafeteria,” Zach said quickly.

  Bob caught the edge of concern in his voice and his attention sharpened. “Bessie was here with Patti when I got back—maybe she knows something,” he suggested.

  Zach phoned the diner on his cell as he paced the length of the corridor, and checked out the visitors’ lounge where Keene had questioned them the night before. But when Bessie came to the phone, she wasn’t much help.

  “Well, when Faith left Patti’s room, she looked pretty shook up. I’m sure she was plenty worried, because I was too. But Roy was there,” Bessie added suddenly. “He rode down in the elevator with her. What’s going on, Zach? You sound worried.”

  “I just need to talk to her, Bessie. We missed connections and I thought she might have left me a message—with you or someone else.”

  But his thoughts were racing. Faith’s car was back at his ranch. She didn’t have a cell phone—and she wasn’t where she’d promised him she’d be.

  Faith, where the hell are you?

  There was no message at the nurses’ station, no sign of her in the chapel or the cafeteria, and he had a nurse’s aide check the bathrooms. No Faith.

  Finally he called Roy.

  His gut clenched when Roy told him she’d gone into the chapel more than an hour ago, and that was all he knew.

  “What’s up? You lost her, McCallum? With a killer on the loose?”

  “She was supposed to wait for me,” Zach shot back. Every muscle in his body was tense and the pain in his head throbbed. “Start calling around. Find out if anyone’s seen her.”

  “I’m on it,” Roy said. “I’ll check back with you in fifteen minutes.”

  She’s all right, Zach told himself as he clipped his phone back to his belt. She has to be all right.

  “Excuse me, I couldn’t help overhearing.” A young nurse with short dark hair came toward him from the nurse’s station. “You’re looking for Mrs. Maxwell’s friend—Faith Barclay?” She smiled.

  “I saw her a little while ago when I was coming on duty. I was just finishing my shift last night when she came in with Mrs. Maxwell,” the young woman explained. “And I could see how upset she was. But she was fine when I saw her today,” the nurse assured him.

  “Where did you see her?” Zach demanded.

  “Right outside. She was speaking to a deputy when I came into the hospital.”

  “Was it the acting sheriff—Rick Keene?”

  “No. I didn’t recognize him. I’m sorry.” The nurse shook her head, then spread her palms. “I have to get back to my station, but . . . I wanted to reassure you that Ms. Barclay was perfectly fine when I saw her. You don’t need to worry.”

  Zach nodded, tight-lipped. His thoughts were spinning as the young nurse picked up a chart and headed into Room 244.

  Maybe Keene had sent a deputy for her. Maybe he’d wanted to question her again. Or return her cell phone. She might be at the sheriff’s office right now.

  There was one way to find out. He bypassed the elevator and sprinted down the stairs two steps at a time.

  Chapter 26

  HE HAD HER. AT LAST.

  Excitement permeated his body like red-hot peppers injected under the skin. He could barely keep his jittery eyes on the road—he kept wanting to stop the car, get out, bang on the trunk. And listen to her plead.

  Ha. That would be the best part. Hearing her voice begging him, begging him to let her out, let her go—that would be the first level of victory.

  Then came level two. The blood and guts. He laughed to himself, almost giddy with excitement. Faith Barclay’s blood and guts. That would be sweet.

  After all this time, she was going to pay. Through the nose and through every other orifice.

  Cry, plead, bleed, and pay.

  It was going to be a red-letter day.

  Faith awoke groggily and in darkness. Nausea filled her throat, bile choking her. Oh, God, she felt sick. So sick. And she was rolling, bumping . . . her body being battered and tossed . . . as if she were on a ship. A dark enclosed ship . . .

  She heard a horn and realized suddenly through the throbbing in her head that she was in the trunk of a car.

  A car, she thought dizzily. And then, as memory returned instantaneously, jarring her from the vestiges of sickly sleep, she felt a jolt of terror.

  His car.

  He’d grabbed her . . . pressed that cloyingly sweet cloth to her face . . . chloroform? What had happened to the deputy? How had Bayman gotten to him first?

  Her heart was pounding and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She fought desperately in that small, dark space to keep from vomiting as the car bumped over the rough road.

  She tried to move her hands, her legs. They felt weak as butter sticks, but at least he hadn’t bound her.

  There hadn’t been time.

  She had to get out of here, get help, get away . . .

  Faith tried to think through the dizziness and the pulsing pain in her head. Then it came to her. The taillights. If she could kick them out . . . stick her hand out through the gap . . . someone might see . . .

  But the roads around Thunder Creek were lonely, she knew as despair washed over her. What were the odds another car would be following behind?

  But she had to try. Twisting her body in the cramped space, she began desperately to get her bearings and to grope for the taillights. She found one on the left side and twisted again, hope sliding through
her.

  Awkwardly she managed to shift into position. She mustn’t move too much, she thought. She couldn’t let him feel any movement in the trunk or he’d know she was awake.

  Taking a deep breath of the suffocatingly close air, she kicked at the light with the heel of her boot, softly at first, then harder, then with all her strength, praying he wouldn’t hear, wouldn’t know.

  Tears welled in her eyes as she finally broke through. Air, sweet, fresh air flowed in and she took deep gulps. She managed to twist her body around once more and inched headfirst toward the broken taillight, then pushed her hand out through the opening.

  Please let someone be there, she prayed as she waggled her fingers with all of her strength. Let someone see.

  The car accelerated. They were climbing. Faith put her face to the opening, breathed in fresh air.

  She had no jewelry to throw out, in the hopes someone would find it, see it, know she’d been there. Nothing in her pockets . . .

  Suddenly the car swerved abruptly and came to a sudden jarring halt. She held her breath as the weight of the car shifted, and a door slammed.

  He was out of the car.

  He was coming. He was coming to get her now.

  Chapter 27

  “SORRY, MR. MCCALLUM.”

  Deputy Ken Marsden shrugged and turned the palms of his hands up. “Can’t help you. Miz Barclay isn’t here. Neither is Deputy Sheriff Keene. We have a situation going on right now.”

  “I don’t give a damn about your situation. I want to speak to the deputy who talked with Faith Barclay today.”

  “As far as I know, no one from this department spoke with Miz Barclay today. The investigation is still ongoing, and we can’t return her cell phone yet. She—”

  “Where’s Keene?”

  “I told you he’s not here—”

  “Where is he?” Zach advanced until he was right in the deputy’s face. “I want to talk to him now.”

  Marsden bristled. “He happens to be a mite busy. And so am I. So I suggest you back off and I’ll have him call you when he has a chance.”

  “Not good enough.” Tension vibrated through Zach. Every second that he didn’t know Faith was safe was tearing him apart. “Faith Barclay is missing.”

  Somehow just saying those words aloud made them seem terrifyingly, ominously real. Zach had tried to believe he’d find her here, that Keene had her once more going over the attack at Patti’s house detail by detail. If she wasn’t here . . . where the hell was she?

  “Missing?” The deputy stared at him skeptically. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means I can’t locate her,” Zach bit out. “And the last person to have seen her says she was talking to a deputy from this department—the department that’s run by her brother, Ty Barclay. Remember him?” he added sarcastically. “I don’t think Ty would look kindly on my getting the runaround when I’m trying to make sure his sister is safe.”

  Marsden looked startled. “Run that by me again,” he said quickly. “About her speaking to a deputy from this department. Do you know who it was?”

  “That’s what I’m asking you.”

  Marsden sucked in his breath. “Okay, listen. I’ve been here all morning manning the office and I have no knowledge that anyone spoke with Miz Barclay today, much less that they were sent to find her. You got a description of the man who was talking to her?”

  “No—you’d have to ask the nurse at the hospital who told me about it. She was coming on duty at the time.”

  Fresh alarm surged through Zach as he stared into Marsden’s suddenly attentive face.

  “Are you telling me that the man she was seen with wasn’t really a deputy?” he asked in a low tone.

  “I didn’t say that—”

  “Stop bullshitting me, Marsden,” Zach yelled. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “We have a man down—Deputy Lee Sawyer. He’s been hospitalized with a concussion. Someone coldcocked him no more than an hour ago while he was out on patrol—took his uniform, his vehicle, his gun, cuffs, everything. When Sawyer came to, he was out in the middle of nowhere—turned out he was in a ravine two miles behind the Pine Hills apartments. We have an APB out now for the assailant but—”

  “Bayman. It was Bayman. He has her,” Zach said hoarsely, but an instant later, he realized his mistake.

  “No . . . Shit. That can’t be.” He raked a hand through his hair as sick, numb fear overtook his body. “Faith never would have left with Bayman,” he told Marsden. He fought a rising panic. “Who the hell was this guy?”

  The deputy frowned. “An accomplice maybe.”

  All Zach knew was that Faith was in trouble, serious trouble.

  “Get moving,” he ordered. “Call Keene—I want every man you’ve got out there searching for her starting now.”

  The phone rang before Marsden could move toward it. He picked it up and listened, his glance flicking to Zach.

  “Yeah, I got it.” Setting down the phone, his mouth tightened. “More trouble. That was Big John Templeton. There’s been an explosion at your construction site—he was passing by and called it in. All hell’s breaking loose, I gotta get over there—”

  “To hell with my site,” Zach yelled, blocking his path to the door. “You don’t go anywhere until you call Keene right now and get him focused on the search for Faith Barclay. Do it, Marsden, or I swear to God, I’ll see you run out of town on a rail!”

  “Your new offices are burning, McCallum—what’s left of them. Templeton said the place is a shambles—”

  “Call Keene!” Zach shouted, and grabbed up the phone, shoving it into the deputy’s hand. “Faith Barclay is priority number one, do you hear me?”

  He waited, his chest tight, until Marsden had placed the call, until Keene issued orders for a search. Ty’s would-be successor also ordered Zach to stay right where he was until Keene could come in personally and get more details from him.

  “No way in hell,” Zach muttered, wheeling toward the door. It slammed behind him before Marsden could do more than blink.

  Jumping into his truck, Zach fought the terror pulsating through him. He was already calling Roy as he turned the ignition.

  “Faith’s in trouble. We need a search party combing the town, the foothills, Blue Moon Mesa. Fast.”

  In the darkness, Faith braced herself as she heard a key scrape in the lock. She had to run or fight the moment an opportunity presented itself. She prayed her muscles and reflexes would work.

  Bayman was a big man, burly, strong. As a cop he’d been trained to protect himself. But Ty and Adam had trained her too, she reminded herself, fighting the fear that clogged her throat. She’d do whatever it took . . .

  The trunk swung open and light poured in, blinding her after the thick darkness. She blinked, peering at the dark shadow looming over her, the shadow staring in at her.

  Her heart was hammering so hard her rib cage hurt. She bit back a scream as he leaned in toward her and suddenly she could see him—young and strong, with a merrily smiling face, ordinary even features, a pair of eyes the color of chocolate chips.

  It wasn’t Bayman.

  It was the deputy—the one who’d escorted her away from the hospital.

  “I hope you had an uncomfortable ride,” he said in a clear, cold voice, as she pushed herself up to a sitting position, struggling against the dizziness that surged through her as she shifted position.

  “Who . . . are you?”

  “Your opponent. Your adversary. Your executioner.” He grinned wickedly. “Correct answer—all of the above.”

  He took hold of her arm. “No more time-outs. The clock is running. It’s time to finish the game.”

  As he dragged her from the trunk, Faith staggered, pretending to be more unsteady than she was, though she still felt light-headed and her limbs were heavy. When she stood on the ground, her legs shaking, she saw that they were on a mountain road, high up, overlooking Thunder Creek’s cemetery in the dis
tance.

  This must be Snowflake Mountain, she realized suddenly. It was a lonely place, not nearly as popular or scenic as Cougar Mountain or Shadow Point.

  She could see no signs of life anywhere—not even a squirrel or rabbit skittering through the dead gray brush.

  But she saw the path . . . the path that led down, winding and twisting to the creek far below, which flowed along behind the graveyard.

  “It’s just the two of us,” he assured her, and let go of her arm to slam the trunk. “No one here to spoil our fun.”

  He half turned away from her and, in that instant, Faith spun toward the path and began to run.

  “Fucking bitch!” he yelled, and sprang after her. She hurtled forward so fast that her feet skidded on the rocks. She ran desperately, rounding the corner, not daring to look back, but suddenly he tackled her and, with a grunt of triumph, knocked her to the ground.

  The trees and scrub brush whirled—she hit the ground with a sickening thwack that whooshed the air from her lungs, and then he was on her, holding her down, trying to pin her hands.

  She fought him, twisting beneath him, kicking and biting.

  She had to get away—he was hurting her—she had to get him off . . . she had to run . . .

  He smacked her across the face, and pain ricocheted through her head. She struck out with her fist and managed to nick his chin before he wrenched her arm down, twisting it until she screamed in pain. She kneed him, heard him grunt, then as he crushed his hand against her mouth and nose, she bit him as hard as she could.

  He shrieked and punched her again. She slumped beneath him, caught in a daze of gray-and-black-spotted light.

  Then the world began to fade again—it turned black and cold and empty, and she knew just as she slipped over the edge that she was going to die.

  Chapter 28

  RACING THROUGH FAITH’S CABIN, ZACH SCANNED the living room one last time before he bolted out the door. He’d done a quick search, and Faith wasn’t here—and it didn’t look as if anyone else had been here either. But he’d found her .357 Magnum on the nightstand next to her bed and tucked it in his waistband. There was no time to go home for his own gun. Faith had hers loaded, ready to go.