This is it, she thought. He's going to kill me.
She tried to scramble to her feet, but her hound hands hampered her, and by the time she got to her knees he was upon her. "I'm going to make you pay for doing this to me!" he roared.
She didn't see the blow coming. Pain like she'd never felt before exploded at the small of her back. She felt her right leg give. A scream tore from her throat as she fell forward. The son of a bitch had hit her with the baton. He was going to do it again if she didn't stop him. Twisting onto her back, she lashed out with both legs.
"Get away from me!" she screamed.
Her foot connected Solidly with his groin. He doubled over, hut Nat knew the pain wouldn't stop him for long. She lined up for another kick. But before she could nail him a second time, he raised the baton and brought it down with bone-crunching force against her right shin.
Nat felt the bone crack. A scream of agony burst from her throat. She forgot about getting away from him and closed her eyes against an undulating shock wave of pain that rolled through her body. She tried to curl, but it was difficult with her hands tied. And so for several unbearable seconds she lay on her side, her uninjured leg drawn up to her chest, the other stretched out in front of her.
"I told you what would happen if you crossed me."
Nauseous from the pain, Nat opened her eyes and looked up at him, hatred and pain choking her. "Stay away from me."
"Get up."
“Travis, for God's sake ... I think my leg is broken."
He stared down at her, his face dispassionate. "You should have considered the consequences before you ran away. Natalie. Now get the fuck up, or I swear I'll break the other one and drag you."
Knowing he was demented enough to do it, she rolled onto her side and struggled to a sitting position. Travis leaned over and grasped her beneath her shoulders. She tried not to jar her injured leg as he pulled her to her feet, but it was impossible. A cry of pain escaped her when her foot touched the ground.
"Put your weight on it,” he said.
She glanced over at him. He was staring at her leg, the flashlight in one hand, the baton in the other. Fearing he would hit her again, she eased some of her weight onto her foot. The ensuing pain wrenched a groan from her. “It's broken," she said. "I can't walk."
His eyes were alight with an emotion she couldn't begin to understand. It was as if he were drawing some sort of twisted satisfaction from her pain and fear. And for the first time she seriously considered the possibility that her life would end here and now, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.
Hopelessness pressed into her. She could feel her heart bucking and leaping in her chest. Trembling uncontrollably, she looked around. They were surrounded by trees and the thick tangle of undergrowth. The urge to run was strong, but she knew she wouldn't make it two steps before he stopped her.
She jolted when he came up beside her and pulled her arm around his shoulder. "Put your weight on me," he said. "Let's walk."
Fearing he would explode into violence if she refused, Nat obeyed. She hated being close to him. Hated the smell of his wet hair and expensive cologne. But she endured it, and for several minutes the only sound came from their feet against the wet ground as they struggled through the forest. The pain in her leg was bad, like a chisel clanging against her bone.
Even though she was soaked to the skin and shivering with cold, she could feel sweat breaking out on her neck.
"Are you familiar with the history of Gautier Mud Flats?" he asked abruptly.
She looked at him, wondering if she should go along with him. If she should try to talk him, try to convince him to let her go.
"Paul Willis Gautier and a team of four men disappeared without a trace while mapping the area, in 1918. Legend has it that a tropical storm had flooded the area and the four men became lost. One by one, they perished in the quicksand pits."
"I've heard the legend," she said.
"Some of the old-timers tell stories about full grown cattle being swallowed whole in a matter of minutes." He glanced at her, his eyes glinting with insanity. "Do you believe that, Natalie?"
“I think it's folklore."
"A horrific way to die, don't you think?"
She didn't answer.
"Most people think a man can step into quicksand and be swallowed alive. What most people don't realize is that the human body is mostly water. It has a density of sixty-two point four pounds per cubic foot and will float on water. Quicksand is denser than water. So a human being will simply float. So much for those Hollywood dramatizations." He smiled, his expression intensifying. ''A human body must be weighted in order to become fully submerged in quicksand."
The words filled her with such horror that for a moment she couldn't catch her breath. "Travis, let me go. Please."
"Natalie, I can’t let you ruin my life."
Nat couldn't believe her trip back to Bellerose had culminated in this moment. That she was in the middle of nowhere, facing the man who'd murdered her husband and son. That he was probably going to kill her, too, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
"We're here," he said.
They stopped in a small clearing surrounded by trees and heavy brush. A few yards away was a stand of cattails and what looked like a shallow pool of water. "I won't tell anyone," she said. "I promise. I'll do whatever I can to help you.”
"Sit down, Natalie."
Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear him. She could feel her entire body shaking. Her blood pumping adrenaline to every muscle. "You won't get away with this."
His hand snaked out. She succeeded in dodging the punch, but when she lunged back, the motion jarred her leg, sending lightning spears of agony through her body. Nat went down, landing on her side, gasping.
He tsked. "See what happens when you don't listen?"
Lying on the ground, she watched him cross to a pile of dead brush and begin to clear it away. In a matter of seconds a large plastic bin came into view. It was muddy, but intact. He opened the bin and pulled out a coil of nylon rope. Setting the rope aside, he tugged a concrete block from beneath the brush. Every muscle in her body tightened when he turned to her.
"This is my burying ground, Natalie. The quicksand here is almost twelve feet deep. It takes a while, but a body will eventually end up at the bottom. Pretty goddamn brilliant way to hide a body, don't you think?"
"Stay away from me." Using her good leg, she inched away from him. "Stay the hell away!"
"Don't make this any more difficult than it already is.”
Malice gleamed in his eyes as he picked up the rope and started toward her. "Lie still for me, and I'll make sure you're unconscious before I toss you into the pit."
Nat had known terror before. But she had never felt the kind of raw, wild horror that rose inside her at the thought of drowning in quicksand. She knew struggling was futile; she would never be able to escape him, but her will to survive would not let her submit. Rolling quickly, she scrambled, made it to her knees.
Snarling a profanity, Travis put his foot between her shoulder blades and shoved her to the ground. "Don't fight me, Natalie."
She screamed in rage and terror when he put his knee at the small of her back. She lay there like a beaten animal while he secured the weight to the bindings at her wrists.
She hadn't wanted to break down in front of him, hadn't wanted to give him the satisfaction. But the thought of such a horrific death at the hands of this evil, soulless man left her bereft. Closing her eyes tightly, she began to cry.
As the tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. she found herself thinking about Nick. The last hours they'd spent together. She wondered if he'd realized she was in love with him. If he saw it in her eyes. Felt it in the way her body responded to his. And even though he'd told her he would never give her his whole heart, she wondered if he would have eventually loved her, too.
That she would never get the chance to find out broke her heart.
br />
Chapter 29
Nick brought the truck to a screeching halt in the alley behind Travis Ratcliffe's office near downtown Bellerose. The doctor shared the two-story brick structure with a dentist, a pediatrician, and the law offices of Henson, Bain and McFarland.
He left the truck at a dead run and crossed to the back entrance where a steel door was set into an alcove. He tried the knob, but found it locked. Heart pounding, he looked around for something to pry it open with, but the alley was damnably clean.
Feeling the seconds tick by, he went to the truck and quickly searched the bed for a crowbar or shovel--anything he could use to break into the building. Bur the only items in the bed were a five-gallon bucket and a rusty chain he'd used to pull down an old tool shed the week before.
"Damn it!"
He knew in his heart that Nat was with Ratcliffe. He knew if he didn't find her quickly, Ratcliffe was going to hurt her. Kill her. The thought that he may already be too late ate at him like acid.
Climbing behind the wheel, he started the engine and backed to the door. Ramming the shifter into neutral, he hauled the chain out of the bed and carried one end to the door. He wrapped the rusty links around the knob and secured them with the hook. Dragging the other end of the chain to the truck, he hooked it to the undercarriage and tried hard not to think about the consequences of what he was about to do.
He slid into the truck and jammed the shifter into first gear, then edged the vehicle forward until the chain went taut. Slowly, Nick let out the clutch, giving the truck just enough gas to power it forward. Metal groaned as one and a half tons of steel tugged at the door. An instant later the door flew from its hinges and landed fifteen feet into the alley.
The security alarm began to wail. but it didn't keep him from going inside. Knowing he only had a few minutes before the police arrived, he sprinted down the main hall, reading the names on each office door as he passed. The last door was the one he wanted: Travis Ratcliffe, M.D.
Not considering the consequences, he stepped back and rammed the door with his shoulder. The door flew open and slammed against the wall. He burst into a tastefully decorated waiting area. Ahead, a sliding window opened to a reception desk. To his right, a door with a small rectangular window led into the interior office. Grabbing a lamp from the nearest end table, he shattered the window, then thrust his hand inside and unlocked the door.
He found Ratcliffe's inner sanctum at the end of the hall. Nick turned on the light and looked around. He saw expensive furniture. A wall covered with framed certificates and plaques. He strode to the credenza behind the desk and tried the drawer. Locked. Feeling the press of time, he tried the desk drawer. Frustration burst through him when he found it locked.
Spotting a letter opener on the desk, he snatched it up and jammed it into the locking mechanism hard enough to split wood. The drawer rolled open. Time ate at him as he paged through the files. Finding nothing, he went to the second drawer.
Travis. Office. Map.
The words written in blood flashed in his mind's eye. Her blood, he thought. What the hell did it mean? Did Travis have some kind of a map? A map to what?
Nick had no idea what he was looking for, but he methodically went through every file, desperate for any clue that would tell him where Travis had taken her. If he didn't find it here, he would have no recourse but to go to Ratcliffe Plantation. If Elliott Ratcliffe got in his way, Nick swore he'd go right through him.
He was about to close the last drawer when he spotted a folder at the very back with the word Gautier written in red ink on the tab. "Bingo." He snatched the folder from its nest and found himself looking at a crude map.
The paper was yellowed and worn, with trails marked in blue highlighter. Gautier Mud Flats was a vast area, but Nick recognized it immediately. A red X marked a spot not far from where they'd discovered Ricky Arnaud's body. Something pinged in his brain. He knew in his heart that was where Travis had taken Nat. He knew it was where he'd taken more than one of his victims in the years he'd been killing.
And he knew that if he didn't get there soon, he was going to be too late.
Stuffing the map into his waistband, he left the office and sprinted down the hall toward the rear door. He barely noticed the pouring rain as he crossed to the truck and started the engine. His only thought was that he had to reach Nat. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. In the few short days he'd known her, she'd come to mean more to him than he ever could have imagined. She'd proven to him that not all people were bad. She'd given him hope when he'd been hopeless. She'd made him feel when his heart had been frozen. Made him laugh when he wanted to cry. Against all odds--against all hope--he'd proven himself wrong and fallen in love with her.
His heart pumped ice through his veins as he left Bellerose and headed toward the river road. He glanced at the map on the seat next to him. He had no idea what to expect when he got there. Maybe he was wrong and nobody would be there. Or maybe he was about to walk into his worst nightmare. Unarmed, he wasn't sure what the hell he was going to be able to do about it.
Praying he wasn't too late, he pushed the accelerator to the floor and the truck spun into the night.
# # #
The primal symphony of the bayou ebbed and flowed, an ocean of life in the midst of death. Rain pounded the foliage and muddy ground. Mist swirled like restless ghosts among the cypress and reeds and fan palms.
Nat lay on her side, taking it all in through the dull haze of shock and pain. Vaguely, she was aware of Travis securing the concrete weight to the rope at her wrists. Her heart beating heavily in her chest. The pain in her leg throbbing with every beat.
She couldn't believe she was going to die like this. Like an animal in the bayou with no one but her killer to hear her screams. That she'd failed to vindicate her son's death filled her with outrage and pain. She thought about Nick, and a different kind of pain engulfed her. He'd made her believe that there was more to living than revenge. That life didn't have to be about pain. That the future was hers for the taking if she was brave enough to take that first, faltering step. That one day she might even be happy.
Oh, how she'd wanted the chance to love him ....
"Get up."
Blinking rain from her eyes. she looked up at Travis. He was leaning over her, rain dripping from his hair into his face.
"Don't do this," she said.
"It's either you or me, Nat." Tightening his grip on her arm, he pulled her to her feet. "I choose me. It's that primal will-to-survive thing bred into all of us, you know?"
She knew what would happen next, and the horror of it was too much for her mind to absorb. She could see the surface of the quicksand fifteen feet away. She knew he was going to push her into it. She wasn't going to go without a fight, even if it was a fight she couldn't win. With her hands tied behind her back, she fought the only way she could. Bending, she went in low and butted him with her head. An instant of satisfaction zinged through her when she heard his teeth snap together. He reeled backward, landed hard in the mud on his backside.
Unable to run because of the concrete block tethered to her wrists, she gripped the rope and tried to swing the block, use it as a weapon. But the piece of concrete was too heavy and she only succeeded in dragging it.
Then Travis was upon her. His mouth snarling expletives. His eyes furious and cruel. "I was going to knock you unconscious for this. But now I think I'll watch you die."
The next thing she knew, she was being hauled toward the quicksand pit. Nat lashed out with her uninjured leg, but lost her footing and went to her knees. He continued dragging her toward the mud pit. She fought him, twisting and throwing her weight in an effort to free herself. But he was stronger, and her struggles were in vain.
"Help me!" she screamed. "Someone please!" She heard panic in her voice. Felt the terror grip her, shake her like a giant beast.
At the edge of the pit, he shoved her hard. "See you in hell, Natalie."
"No!" Off b
alance, she reeled backward. Another scream burst from her throat when she sank into mud up to her knees.
She could feel it closing around her thighs like a giant, sucking mouth. For an instant, she didn't think she was going to sink any deeper. Then she saw Travis pick up the concrete block and toss it into the pit beside her. Mud splattered. The weight sank quickly. Blinking rain and mud from her eyes, Nat went still.
An instant later, she felt the weight of the block tug against her bound hands, pulling her down.
Panic exploded in hot, undulating waves. She struggled against her bonds. Screams ripped from her throat, animal sounds of pure horror. "Help me! Oh, God! Oh, God! Help me, pleeeeeease!"
But the more she moved, the deeper into the mud she sank. Vaguely, she was aware of Travis moving into her line of vision. She felt the cold, wet pressure of the mud moving steadily over her legs to embrace her hips. She tried to move her legs, to kick her way free, but they were frozen in place.
This can't be happening, she thought. I cannot die like this. Oh, dear God, not like this!
But the water and mud and decaying leaves crept steadily over her hips. Choking back sobs, she looked at Travis. Another layer of horror crashed over her when she realized he was enjoying himself.
"You sick bastard!" she cried.
He moved to the edge of the bog and squatted, his eyes alight with excitement. "Don't fight it, Nat. You can't beat death."
She threw her head back and screamed. The mud was up to her breasts now, pressing against her, as cold and black as death. She thought about Kyle. Wondered if he would be there when she crossed over. If she would be able to hold him in her arms. Hear his laughter. See his smile. Smell his little boy scent. Feel the goodness of his child's soul.