“I don’t know why, but most serial killers have a pattern they’re compelled to follow,” he said with a lift of one shoulder. “I suppose it makes sense to them even if it doesn’t to us.”
Another shiver racked her body as they turned onto a narrow road and she caught sight of the flashing lights.
For a horrified second she was terrified that something had happened to Rafe’s home, or worse, one of his friends. Who knew what Martin would do if he felt threatened?
Then she realized they were still a couple of blocks from the house and that the lights were yellow instead of the typical blue or red of an emergency vehicle.
She leaned forward, trying to read the words painted on the side of the truck blocking the road.
“What’s going on?”
“Must be some trouble with the gas lines.” Coming to a halt, Rafe glanced around the dark streets, his body tense. “I don’t like this.”
“Why?”
“It feels like a trap.”
Releasing his seat belt, Rafe leaned down to pull out his gun, keeping it in one hand as he put the truck into reverse.
Annie followed his lead, undoing her belt and shoving it aside. She didn’t want to get tangled up if she had to run.
Continuing to scan their surroundings, Rafe slowly backed down the empty street. They’d reached the corner when there was the shrill peel of tires and a blinding flash of headlights being turned on.
Rafe cursed, shoving the truck into drive, but it was too late.
Before they could move out of the path of destruction, the car slammed into the side of the truck, sending them skidding across the narrow road and into a fire hydrant.
An explosion of pain shot through Annie’s head as she was thrown into the windshield. Distantly she could hear the sounds of twisting metal and the burst of water from the destroyed hydrant, but shoving herself back into her seat, her sole focus was on the man who was crumpled over the steering wheel.
Her heart halted as she tried to reach over the console to touch him. Even in the dark she could see he was unconscious and that there was a trail of blood running down the side of his face.
Or at least she was praying that he’d just been knocked out.
She wouldn’t allow herself to even contemplate the possibility that he could be dead.
That was unacceptable.
“Rafe.” Ignoring her own injuries, she managed to brush his hair off his forehead to reveal a cut that was still seeping blood at an alarming rate. “Oh God, Rafe.”
She had to do something.
He was alive, but it was obvious he was badly injured.
Phone. She latched onto the thought like a drowning woman. She needed a phone to call for an ambulance.
Leaning down, she desperately patted the floorboard in search of her purse. It’d been in her lap when the car had slammed into them. Which meant it could be anywhere.
She was still searching when the passenger door was abruptly yanked open to reveal a slender man with brown curls and clear blue eyes.
Her lips parted to demand he go for help when he leaned forward to offer her a gentle smile.
“Hello, Annabelle.”
Annabelle.
Annie’s blood ran cold.
Dear God. She’d been so fixated on Rafe, she’d shoved aside the suspicion that the wreck hadn’t been a random accident.
Now she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the car had deliberately rammed them.
In silence, she studied the man who had to be her brother, her hand covertly sliding behind her back. Rafe had been holding a gun when they were hit. If she could just reach it . . .
“We need help,” she said, pretending she didn’t know who he was as she tried to keep him distracted.
Even if she couldn’t locate the gun, the crash had to have attracted attention among the neighbors. Someone surely had called the police?
Almost as if capable of reading her mind, Martin offered a heartrendingly sweet smile and leaned forward. “Forgive me,” he said, just before he grabbed her by the arm and hauled her toward him.
She felt a pinprick at the back of her neck as she struggled against his astonishingly strong grasp. Her lips parted, but before she could release her scream of sheer horror, she felt her muscles freeze, immobilizing her as surely as if she’d been dipped in cement.
Oh . . . hell. He’d drugged her.
Still smiling, Martin wrapped an arm around her waist, ruthlessly tugging her out of the truck.
Annie grunted, unable to do anything but to tumble bonelessly into his waiting arms. Even worse, darkness was creeping at the edge of her mind, warning that whatever drug he’d given her was about to knock her unconscious.
Her last thought was oddly one of relief. Whatever happened, she could cling to the belief that Rafe would soon be found and taken to the hospital.
She could endure almost anything as long as she knew he was safe.
Rafe hovered on the edge of consciousness, knowing that a shitload of pain was waiting for him once he fully committed to waking.
For a minute he continued to hover, contemplating the pleasure of sinking back into the beckoning darkness. Then the sound of sharp, steady beeps penetrated his fog of sleep.
Shit. He recognized that sound.
A heart monitor.
He was in a hospital.
Jerking himself awake, he managed to lift his heavy lids.
As expected, the pain slammed into him as he glanced around the excruciatingly white room filled with bright lights and strange machines.
Yeah, definitely a hospital room.
So what the hell had happened?
On cue a lean face with brilliant blue eyes and a worried expression came into view.
“Welcome back to the world of the living, amigo,” Hauk said.
Rafe grimaced, not convinced that being in the world of the living was worth the agony that thundered through his poor body.
“What hospital is this?” he managed to rasp.
“The emergency room in LaClede.”
He glanced down to see his clothing had been replaced by an ugly hospital johnny and his arm was being used like some sort of science experiment. He could see a blood pressure cuff, a heartbeat monitor and, stuck into his flesh, a needle that was attached to a clear bag above his head.
“How bad?” he demanded.
“A couple bruised ribs. A cut on your forehead that’s been stitched, and a possible concussion. No internal injuries beyond the ribs, although you’re going to be as sore as hell for the next few days,” Hauk answered with concise detail.
They’d all spent time in emergency rooms. They knew the drill.
Rafe frowned. The fog was clearing, but he struggled to remember how he’d been injured. “How’d I get here?”
Hauk’s face was unreadable. “Ambulance.”
“Smart-ass,” Rafe growled. They both knew he was asking how he’d been hurt. But as his lips parted to insist his friend share the details of his accident, he had a sudden memory of being in his truck as headlights blinded him from the side. “Oh . . . hell. There was a car,” he said slowly. “It came out of nowhere to ram into us.” He gave a low groan, his ribs protesting as he inched up higher on the narrow gurney. “Is Annie okay?”
Hauk’s face looked pale in the bright light. “I don’t know.”
Rafe hissed in shock at the blunt words. “What the fuck do you mean?”
“Teagan and I were waiting for you at the house,” Hauk explained. “We didn’t realize anything was wrong until we heard the sirens. By the time we got to you, the sheriff and EMT were there and you were being pulled out of the truck. There was no sign of Annie.”
Terror exploded through Rafe as he struggled to sit up, ignoring the searing agony that ricocheted through his body.
“Shit.” He reached to remove the various torture equipment strapped to his arm, ignoring the annoying beeps and alarms as he ripped out the IV needle stuck in his vein. “I
t was a setup.”
Hauk blinked in confusion. “What was?” he demanded.
Rafe groaned, forced to lean his head back against the gurney as a wave of dizziness threatened to overwhelm him.
“There was a utility truck blocking the road,” he muttered, frantically trying to recall each detail.
It was that or lose his mind at the thought of Annie in the hands of a psychotic killer.
If he went into that rabbit hole he’d never come out.
And Annie needed him.
Now more than ever.
“You’re right,” Hauk said, his brows tugging together. “I remember seeing it.”
Rafe muttered a curse.
He’d been suspicious of the truck, but he’d assumed it was there to keep him from reaching the house. It hadn’t occurred to him that it was a deliberate means to force him to back down the street.
“Whoever attacked us couldn’t know exactly when I would be returning, but they were smart enough to block the road assuming I’d have to come to a halt. It gave him the opportunity to get ready for me before I started backing up.” His teeth clenched in frustration. He’d failed Annie. “Christ, I couldn’t have made it easier for the bastard.”
Hauk shook his head. “You didn’t suspect it was a trap, Rafe.”
“I should have.”
Rafe once again shoved himself upward. The dizziness threatened, but he grimly concentrated on the clock hung on the far wall until his brain settled into place.
It was only when he was upright that his eyes focused enough to actually see the hands on the old-fashioned clock weren’t pointing to 2:30 as he first thought.
“Christ, it’s six thirty,” he snarled in disbelief, shoving aside the sheet that was tangled around his legs.
Annie had been missing for over four hours.
Four fucking hours.
“Hold on.” Hauk placed a hand on his shoulder, careful not to press too hard. “What are you doing?”
“Getting the hell out of here.” He swung his legs over the edge of the gurney, his ribs screaming in protest at the twisting movement. “I have to find Annie.”
“Teagan and Lucas are already out searching.”
“Good.” The knowledge his friends were on the hunt for Annie helped to ease a portion of his thundering terror, but that didn’t stop him from pushing to his feet. More pain, more dizziness, but he didn’t collapse. It was a start. “The more the better.”
Hauk stood close at his side, his hands twitching as if he was considering the possibility of physically throwing him back on the gurney.
“And Max is at the house, sifting through the journals.”
“You found them?” Rafe felt a stab of relief. He’d forgotten about the diaries they’d found in Martin’s bathroom.
Now he had to hope there was some clue in them that would help track the bastard down.
With a curse, Hauk followed Rafe’s pained shuffle across the short space to the chair where his clothing had been neatly folded.
Thankfully he was smart enough not to try and stop Rafe from pulling off the gown and reaching for his jeans. Instead he grabbed Rafe’s upper arm, holding him steady as Rafe stepped into the wrinkled denims.
“I caught sight of them when they were putting you in the ambulance,” the older man revealed. “Since I doubted you wanted the local authorities to get their hands on them, I snuck them out of the truck and shoved them in a nearby bush along with your guns.” He shrugged. “Max dug them out when he arrived in town.”
Releasing a string of foul words as he wrangled his sweatshirt over his head, Rafe shoved his feet into his tennis shoes. He was breathing hard and his entire body was drenched in sweat, but he was dressed.
“Max needs to let his FBI contact know he has them,” he ground out, willing to include anyone who might be able to help. Hell, he’d call in the National Guard if he thought they’d come. Anything to get Annie back safely. “Maybe together they can find something.”
Hauk tightened his grip on Rafe’s arm. “I think he already gave them a call, but it’s going to be hours before they can get an agent here. Newton is too far from a major city to have any regional offices nearby.”
Rafe grimaced. Dammit. Annie couldn’t wait.
He had to get to her.
“Let me go,” he said as Hauk tried to steer him back to the gurney.
“At least let the doctor finish taking X-rays,” the older man pleaded.
“No, dammit. I—”
“In a hurry, Vargas?” a male voice drawled as the door to the ER room was shoved open and the sheriff strolled across the tiled floor.
Rafe stiffened, instantly feeling the urge to punch the man in the face.
It wasn’t just the fact the man had tried to bully Annie, although that was enough to deserve a broken nose. But there was something about the cocky attitude that set Rafe’s nerves on edge.
Sheriff Graham Brock was a small-town petty tyrant who routinely used his authority to intimidate anyone who stood in his way.
Unfortunately, Rafe couldn’t afford to indulge his dislike.
He might not trust the man any further than he could throw him, but he was the local law. Which meant he had the resources to mount a search for Annie. “Annie is missing,” he said in sharp tones.
The lawman’s lips twisted into a sneer. “That’s convenient.”
Rafe narrowed his gaze, caught off guard by the man’s response. “What the fuck do you mean?”
Perhaps sensing the sudden danger that crackled in the air, the sheriff held up his hand.
Like all tyrants, he was no doubt a coward at heart.
“Settle down,” he muttered. “It’s not uncommon for someone to flee the scene of an accident. People who are driving drunk or—”
Rafe wasn’t appeased. In fact, his hands curled into fists as the need to wipe the smirk off the man’s face became irresistible. “Are you trying to imply she took off because she was drinking?”
“No.” The man shifted uneasily, but his expression remained defiant. “It was obvious you were behind the wheel, but there could be other reasons she might not want to be taken to a hospital. Doing drugs might be legal in Colorado, but we don’t allow it here in Iowa.”
“Look, you piece of—”
Hauk moved to stand directly in front of him, his face hard with warning. “Easy, Rafe.”
Rafe glared at the sheriff over his friend’s shoulder. It was lucky he was too weak to do something stupid.
Otherwise there would be a new patient for the ER to stitch back together.
“The only thing Annie had in her system was the wine that I insisted she drink with her dinner,” he snarled. “Now, if you aren’t going to help me find her, then step aside.”
The man scowled, clearly not used to having his authority challenged. “You need to make a statement about the accident.”
Rafe pushed aside his friend. He wasn’t going to kill the sheriff.
Not with so many witnesses.
When this was all over, however . . .
All bets were off.
“Later,” he snapped, taking a step toward the door.
Instantly the sheriff was blocking his path. “Now.”
Hauk reached out to give his shoulder a sharp squeeze.
It was a timely warning.
Sheriff Brock might be a conceited jackass, but he had a badge.
Which meant Rafe was going to have to make a token effort to play by the rules. For the moment.
“I’ll call Teagan and see what’s happening,” Hauk said, heading for the door.
Rafe watched his friend stride from the room before returning his attention back to the sheriff, who was pulling a small notebook from his pocket.
“Maybe you should sit down,” the sheriff suggested as Rafe lifted a hand to touch the bandage on his forehead.
Rafe folded his arms over his chest, ignoring the acute flare of pain. He’d be damned if he would show weakness.
“This won’t take long,” he said, his impatience a tangible force in the air. “I was returning to my grandfather’s house with Annie.”
“Coming from where?” Graham Brock demanded.
“That’s irrelevant.” Rafe scowled at the interruption. “When we got two blocks from the house, I discovered the road was blocked by a utility truck.”
The sheriff’s lips thinned as he futilely attempted to gain an upper hand. “Do you know how it got there?”
“How would I know?” Rafe demanded.
“The gas company claims it was stolen from their lot.”
“Then you should be talking with them.” Rafe took a step forward. It wasn’t a threat, but with at least six inches on the sheriff, it was a silent form of intimidation. “Or better yet, you should be searching for Annie.”
Brock tilted his chin, looking like a belligerent bulldog. “What happened next?”
Rafe trembled with the effort not to knock the idiot out of his way. God dammit. He didn’t have time for this shit. Annie was missing. And every passing second felt like an eternity. “I was backing up to go around the block when a car came from a side street and rammed into my truck,” he said between clenched teeth.
The sheriff jotted down something in his little notebook. “Did you see the driver?”
“No.”
“Did you recognize the car?”
“It was dark. All I saw was headlights,” Rafe snapped. “Then the world went black. That’s all I know.”
The man lifted his head to study Rafe with a searching gaze. “Do you think Annie was kidnapped?”
Fear clutched his heart at the blunt question. “Yeah, I think she was kidnapped.”
“Why?”
Was the jerk kidding?
Or just trying to piss Rafe off?
“The same reason you instantly assumed that Cindy Franklin was missing when she was late for work,” he snapped. “There’s a crazed madman out there snatching women.”
Sheriff Brock stilled, abruptly shoving the ridiculous notebook back into his pocket. “You know something,” he accused in flat tones.