“It doesn’t seem out of the realm of reasonable to say that our guy is familiar with your history with Autumn. Whether because he was here when it happened or because people will readily talk about it given half a chance. The threats to you were very particular pointing back to that event. You taking a bullet meant for her. The shot at you with the crossbow. Up to this point, y’all have interpreted that as threats from Autumn’s father.”
“But it doesn’t really play.” Judd set the coffee down. “I’ve been trying to make it fit from the beginning, but why would he do anything to harass me or her. That only serves to draw attention to himself, get him called in for questioning and risk violating his parole. We initially figured he’d gotten someone else to do his dirty work so that he’d always have an alibi, but why would anybody else attempt to kill me on his behalf? That’s been bugging me.”
“I agree. That seems unlikely. So, failing that, I see two possible scenarios here. Either you’re right and Jebediah had an accomplice to do the actual legwork who ended up going off the reservation, as it were, when he tried to take you out. Or this has nothing directly to do with Jebediah and someone is capitalizing on his release to throw suspicion his way.”
“I was working my way around to that.” Or trying to, at least. “But if Jebediah isn’t behind it, why has he disappeared?”
“No idea. But for the moment, let’s keep him out of the equation. Through this whole thing, you have an individual who has focused in on Autumn, on her books, and targeted you. Why? What’s the motive here? What does he get out of taking you out? Access to Autumn, certainly.”
“No,” Judd said slowly. “I mean, until the kidnapping, none of the physical threat has ever been directed at Autumn. She wasn’t home when the fire was set. That wasn’t about hurting her. It was about sending that first message. About displacing her. But then that’s a miscalculation on his part because she moves in with me. I block access to her, and he has a bit of a tantrum, leaves the book with a big, flashy ‘Hey look here. I could do this to you.’ Playing on Autumn’s greatest fear. But that still doesn’t get her to walk away from me. So he tries to take me out.”
“And when he couldn’t take you out of the equation?”
“When he couldn’t get her to walk away, and he couldn’t kill me, he just took her.”
“It’s not about taking you out as a shield,” Ethan concluded. “It’s about taking you out as the competition.”
“The competition. Oh fuck.” Judd shoved back from his desk and yanked open his office door. “Inez, get me the number to Human Resources at Wachoxee County Community College.”
Chapter 20
The file was done. Autumn had resisted the urge to stick a blatant message in bold in the middle of the narrative. We interrupt this story to ask you to call the Wishful Police Department immediately. I, the author, have been kidnapped. She couldn’t trust that Mark wouldn’t try to proofread or at least skim the thing before it was uploaded. So she’d been more subtle, manipulating the formatting in the section Mark had written, the section that readers would, hopefully, recognize didn’t sound like her. She had to trust that some of them would figure it out instead of chalking it up to a formatting glitch. She had to trust someone would get the message to Judd.
He had to be out of his mind with worry.
Once the file was uploaded, it was down to a waiting game. The book itself wouldn’t be up immediately. That depended on a multitude of other variables she had no control over. She’d heard tales of ebookstores getting the listing up in a single hour or as long as two days. She could only hope that the Universe would be on her side and she’d get the short window. The faster the better. Then she had to hope readers stumbled on it fast, as there’d be no email blast notifying them of the new release. And, please, dear God, let some of them read the book immediately instead of letting it linger on their ereaders until who knew when.
The more Autumn considered all the variables outside her control, the more she recognized what an absolute long shot this plan was. But what other options did she have?
“Okay, it’s ready,” she announced. “We’re lucky I already had the cover made. That would’ve slowed us down.”
Mark came around to look over her shoulder as she paged through the dummy file. “Looks good. Where did you save it?”
With a few keystrokes, she closed the dummy file and pointed to the desktop where she’d saved the manipulated one. “Right here. We’ll have to drive far enough in to get signal on your phone so we can tether it for an internet connection.”
“It doesn’t tether.”
Autumn’s heart sped up. “Then we’ll need to drive in to find actual wifi somewhere.” If they made it into a populated area, maybe she wouldn’t have to depend on someone understanding the message she’d left in the book.
Mark immediately shook his head. “It’s not safe.”
“Fletcher, we agreed. Getting this out there is the best way.”
“And I’ll upload it. But you’re staying here. Nobody’s looking for me.”
That was undoubtedly true. Judd would go after her father. He had no reason to suspect Mark of anything. But she could make this work, too. If he left her here alone, she could escape, maybe find help.
“Fine. You’re right. Of course, you’re right. Manigault will have his people combing the area for me. I’ll stay here, stay out of sight.”
Autumn realized her mistake almost immediately. Darcy would never capitulate so easily. Mark’s eyes narrowed on her in suspicion. She had to find a way to sell this.
Reaching for his hand, she tugged him down beside her on the sofa. “I want to go with you. That’s not even a question. This is huge, and I hate for you to have to do it alone. But I can recognize that I’m a liability. If something happened, I’d just slow you down. Even if I weren’t injured, I don’t exactly blend in.” She tugged at a lock of her red hair and offered up a wry smile.
“You’ve already done so much for me, getting involved in this mess at all.” Sell it, Autumn ordered herself. She cupped his cheek, trying to imagine him as the harmless, awkward academic, who’d been crushing on her for months. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”
Mark’s breath quickened as he searched her face. Knowing she had him, Autumn closed the distance, settling her mouth over his. He sank into the kiss, and it took everything she had not to pull away and scramble back. When his arms slid around her, tightening over bruises, she did pull back. “Ow.”
Instantly contrite, he loosened his grip. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“Just hit my bruises.” She caressed his cheek and leaned away. “You should go. Go and get this done so we can be free of him.”
He rose and shoved the laptop into a bag. Autumn resisted the urge to wipe the back of her hand across her mouth.
“It will take a little while for the dominos to fall. I’ll pick up provisions while I’m in town. Come on.” Mark held out a hand.
“I thought I wasn’t going.”
“You’re not. But I need you to help me make a list of what we need.”
She took his hand, let him pull her to her feet. “And why can’t I do that from the sofa?”
“Because the storage room is tacked on to the back of the cabin. Uncle Holden added it as an afterthought. It’s wired for electricity but the bulb’s out. I can’t easily hold a flashlight and make a list.”
Though unease began to swirl in the pit of her stomach, Autumn followed him outside. It was her first real look at their surroundings. She couldn’t lose the opportunity to maybe catch sight of something familiar or useful.
The cabin was ramshackle. From the outside, passersby might even think it was abandoned. Paint peeled from the siding and the porch boards sagged. Mark’s Explorer sat beside a stocked woodpile. Not the truck that ran her off the road. So where was it? If Mark himself hadn’t been driving, then who?
“Watch your step.” Mark kept his arm around her, taki
ng some of her weight so she could hobble around back.
A little lean-to was constructed, as he’d said, off the back side of the cabin. He swiped the screen of his phone, opening the list app before handing it over to her. Autumn checked the signal again. Still nothing.
Mark opened the padlock and stuffed it in his pocket, then pulled open the door. Clicking on the little flashlight he’d brought, he illuminated a short flight of steps.
Autumn’s chest tightened at the sight of them. “I’m not going in there.”
He flashed her an indulgent smile. “I’ll protect you from the creepy crawlies. I swear they aren’t bad. I cleaned it out when I inherited the place and bug bombed the hell out of it.”
“Seriously, you can just shout out what you need and I’ll add it to the list.”
“Shouting makes too much noise. Come on. I’ll be quick.” He took her hand and tugged her forward until it was go with him or stumble. With her ankle injury, she didn’t have the leverage to fight him.
The steps creaked under their weight. The dirt floor angled down a ways before leveling out in a space about half the square footage of the whole cabin. One side had been kitted out with a wooden work bench and pegboard, currently bare of tools other than a vise bolted to the top. The other held wooden shelves. Autumn caught sight of camping gear, assorted canned goods, and other detritus she couldn’t quite identify. The place smelled musty and damp but looked clean enough as root cellars went. It was cool, almost to the point of cold. The cold sweat that broke out down the center of her back didn’t help.
“What is all this stuff anyway?” she asked.
“Uncle Holden was a little bit of a prepper. You should’ve seen the junk down here when I got the place. He was all into researching how to live off the grid. You probably didn’t notice. The roof has solar panels. That’s the source of electricity out here. And it’s well water. So as hideouts go, we’re in good shape.”
Meaning there were no utility records that could be used to track this place down. Wonderful.
“I cleared out everything that was decrepit or spoiled, which was a lot. I think he started all this in the seventies.”
“Why on earth would you store food down here?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice level.
“You’ve seen the inside of the cabin. There’s no room. There’s literally the one cabinet and shelves for dishes. Let’s see.” He tugged open some bins. “We’re reasonably well stocked on root vegetables. Potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots.” He continued going through the inventory, which was strangely well stocked for a hunting cabin. He either used it regularly or had been planning this for a while.
As he muttered to himself, she looked back at the open doorway, wondering if she could make a break for it, lock him in. She tested her ankle and immediately felt it begin to buckle. That was a no-go. She couldn’t hop fast enough to get up stairs. And, of course, the lock was in his pocket. Resigned, she added things to his list as he called them out, staring fixedly at the phone, as if it would distract her from the fact that an entire cabin was over her head and there was barely enough room to breathe down here.
“That should do it.” He held out his hand for the phone.
Autumn gave it over and accepted the flashlight in return. Not heavy enough to make a good weapon. “You’ll forgive me if I’ll be ecstatic to leave this place. For somewhere like Fiji.” Somewhere with wide open spaces where she could see light and breathe.
He pulled her gently into his arms. “Sweetheart, when this is over, I’ll take you anywhere you want. And on that note, I’d better get going.” He kissed her fast and then trotted up the steps.
“Wait, I need help to—”
Mark shut the door.
“What are you doing!” Autumn screamed. She leapt toward the steps and fell to her knees. The flashlight fell to the ground and skittered away.
“It’s for your own good. Anybody could see you if you were in the cabin.” On the other side of the door, she could hear him putting the lock back on.
Autumn scrambled forward on her hands and knees to beat on the door. “Don’t. Don’t you dare leave me in here! I can’t stay here. I can’t. I can’t—” Breathe.
“I know it sucks. I’m sorry. I truly am. But Manigault’s men will be looking for you, and I can’t risk them seeing you. Just stay calm and think of Fiji. I’ll be back before you know it.”
There was no answering him. Her throat had closed up so tight, she couldn’t even scream.
Outside, she heard his engine turn over, then the sound of tires crunching on gravel. Then nothing.
She rose to her knees, beating on the door until her hands were raw and tears streaked her cheeks as memories swamped her.
No, Daddy. No!
Her father’s hands, rough and frustrated as he shoved her into the shed. Get in there and think about what you’ve done.
I’m sorry, Daddy.
Maybe some time alone in the dark will help you remember to always put the Lord first.
Scrabbling at the door as Daddy closed it, locked it. Then nothing but the sound of her own screams, choked off by the panic.
Calm down. Calm down. You’re not a child anymore. It’s not the shed and you’re not in the total dark. Hysteria won’t get you anywhere.
But it was so fucking hard when terror had her by the throat. Her last checkup with her cardiologist had been good, but Dr. Webb could never have imagined this kind of stress test. She crawled to the flashlight—still working, thank God. For long minutes she sat on the dirt floor, rocking, hearing Judd’s voice in her head.
Breathe. Breathe for me. That’s it. In and out.
She had to breathe. She had to keep herself calm because Judd was coming. Judd was going to find her. He’d never failed her in all their lives, and he wasn’t going to start now. She just had to survive long enough for him to get here.
~*~
Judd pounded on Mark Cauffield’s door. “Police! Open up!”
No one answered.
“Fan out,” he ordered.
The group of men he’d brought with him broke apart to search the property. Set well back from the road, the house was small but neat, an older ranch style common in Wishful. The landscaping was a bit overgrown but not truly unkempt. Blinds were drawn on all the windows, but Judd could just see through the gap into a living room, with a wide screen TV mounted to one wall. The community college reported he’d taken some time off this week—sick leave. He’d made arrangements for his class load to be covered for several days. But if he was sick, he wasn’t cruising the couch here. All in all, the place was as unprepossessing as its owner, with no real indicators where Mark had gone.
“Judd! You need to see this!”
At Ethan’s hail, he trotted around the house to the detached, two-car garage. He followed the marshal through the open side door. A large, gray Chevy truck took up one of the bays. Outfitted with a brush guard and lift kit, the vehicle wasn’t out of place in half the garages in town. But it didn’t fit with his image of the professor. Nothing about him shouted Mississippi boy or hunter.
Ethan panned a light over the brush guard. “Paint. Doesn’t take a forensic team to see it’s the same color as Autumn’s car.”
“It’s not gonna be enough for the judge.”
Judd slipped on a pair of gloves and tested the door handle. Locked. He shone a flashlight into the backseat. Gun rack—empty, pile of bungee cords, and a rough gray blanket wadded in the floorboard. Ethan circled around to the other side, panning his light over the blanket, and Judd caught the flash of red.
“Wait, bring your light back. Yeah, right there.”
A single strand of long red hair clung to the surface of the blanket.
“She was in here. That’s enough for a warrant.”
Judd made the call to get the ball rolling.
In an hour, he was breaking in the front door to Cauffield’s house. He and his team cleared the entryway and living room, moving effici
ently through the rest of the three bedroom home. No one was there.
“Holy shit.”
Following Spence’s exclamation, Judd poked his head into one of the bedrooms. “Holy shit.”
Photographs covered most of one wall. Every single one of Autumn. Autumn at work. Autumn walking around town. Autumn at the diner with friends. Autumn through her living room window, sitting at the desk where Judd assumed she used to write. All moments where she was clearly unaware of being observed.
Judd had fucking met the guy and hadn’t suspected a goddamned thing. He’d seen the camera bag himself. His gut roiled as that sank in. Guilt and a fresh terror. As long as he’d believed Autumn was with Jebediah, he hadn’t needed to worry about sexual assault. Not really. Jebediah had been violent, punitive, but never with a sexual edge. But this…
“I think we just found our smoking gun,” Spence observed.
Judd moved into the room, studying the photographs closer, trying to place some of the times and locations. “These go back for months.”
There were even several pictures of her with Judd. His image had been methodically destroyed in every one. Some scribbled out with Sharpie. Some sliced up with a knife. Some cut out entirely.
Ethan followed his gaze. “That whole theory that you’re the competition is starting to look pretty damned promising.”
“What’s all this stuff?” Spence asked. He faced a wide bulletin board on another wall.
The surface was covered with index cards, each one scribbled with a note. Names. Events. Locations. String criss-crossed the board, connecting the pieces.
“I recognize some of these, but the others are a total mystery,” said Spence.
“They’re from Autumn’s books.” Judd found one with his name scrawled on it and traced the string to another card with Dirty agent? written in bold letters. Another series of strings led from that card to two others. Manigault. Inside job.