Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(24)
She tested the length of chain with a yank. It didn’t give, but a few minuscule granules of gray dust trickled down to the floor to accumulate in a hopeful pile. Jayne pulled harder. The metal cuffs bit into her flesh. Blood seeped from the thin skin over her wrist bones.
She ignored the pain and stepped to the wall to inspect the fastening, a giant eyehook set directly into the mortar. Jayne grasped the eye with her fingers. In the next few minutes, she managed a painstaking eighth of a turn, watching optimistically as more dried mortar dust emerged from the hole and trickled slowly down to the dirt floor.
Freeing the hook was going to be a slow process.
But how much time did she have before her captor returned?
Jayne said a silent prayer and wiggled the hook again.
“I’ll be in the truck, Scott!” Reed shrugged back into his coat and snagged his keys from the hook by the door.
“Coming,” his son called from his bedroom at the other end of the one-story house.
Juggling two travel mugs of coffee, Reed opened the door and stepped out into the predawn gray. He was raw and numb from the night’s lack of success in finding Jayne. How could she be gone?
Snow fell, the density of the dancing white curtain thickening by the hour. Three inches had accumulated since midnight. Sheba brushed past his legs to chase a squirrel up a nearby tree. Reed leaned in and started the red Yukon. A blistering gust burned his unshaven jaw, sending a fresh ache of cold through his bones. The tall pines overhead bowed to the wind. Jayne’s Caribbean-blue eyes filled his mind while emptiness crushed his chest.
Where was she? Was she warm? Was she injured? He refused to think about the possibility of her being dead, even though his inner cop told him the chances increased with each hour that passed.
Never mind the fact that 90 percent of women taken to a secondary location didn’t survive.
Pushing the sick feeling back, he opened the back door of the truck. “Come here, girl.”
Sheba leaped into the vehicle. Reed closed the rear door and climbed behind the wheel, grateful for the dog’s silent company. Scott burst from the house and loped down the short walk. Slinging a backpack to the floor, he hopped into the truck. He removed the Pop-Tart that protruded from his front teeth, rooted through the bag, and pulled out a blue box. He handed Reed a cold toaster pastry. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Reed took it. His stomach protested the first bite, but he forced it down. The sugar would have to serve as a stand-in for sleep. It took a few seconds for the artificial flavor to come to life on his tongue.
Strawberry.
He closed his eyes, the scent conjuring images of Jayne in his mind. Her wide smile, the vivid turquoise of her eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw.
The small shake of her head as she refused his escort to the inn.
The pastry went back into the package. Food would not fill the void inside him. Just like wallowing in guilt and loss wouldn’t find Jayne.
He shifted into gear and the truck rolled down the drive.
“You OK?” Scott asked.
Reed glanced at his son. Scott’s eyes were underscored. The night’s search had been long and cold, but the teen had held up. Like a man. Even if Reed had f*cked up every other aspect of his life, Scott had turned out OK.
“Yeah. You?”
“I’m fine.” Scott’s slip into a slush puddle had prompted their brief trip home for a hot shower and dry clothes. “Where to?”
“I don’t know. We’ll check in with the chief.” What could they do? A dozen volunteers and two hunting dogs had failed to find Jayne overnight. Huntsville was a small town. Reed’s gut said Jayne wasn’t in it, unless someone had hidden her somewhere.
But who? And why?
Had her paroled assailant followed her or was a resident of Huntsville not what he seemed? The fact that two teens had disappeared in the woods wasn’t necessarily an indication of foul play. A few people died in the wilderness every year. Even seasoned woodsmen could suffer an accident or get lost. But when Reed factored in the possibility that the boy’s throat could’ve been cut, then threw Jayne’s sudden disappearance into the mix, his instincts went ballistic.
Malevolence in the snapping cold of the air clung to the town like static electricity.
He scraped a hand through his hair, as if the pressure of his fingertips on his scalp could contain the grisly images pulsing through his head. Visions of dead bodies from former cases scrambled inside his skull. Jayne’s face was superimposed on old corpses. Fear for her fate throbbed in his chest with every beat of his heart.
What had happened to her?
Scott reached behind the seat and ruffled Sheba’s fur. “She’s coming with us?”
“Yeah. That way we don’t have to worry about coming back to feed her or let her out. Besides, she might be useful.” Sheba’s eyes and ears were sharper than any man’s. She’d proven to be an excellent judge of character over the years. She didn’t like Doug Lang. “Keep your eyes open.”
“’Kay.” Scott turned his head toward the passenger window.
On the main road that led back into Huntsville, Reed spotted the chief’s cruiser parked on the shoulder, right behind Jed Garrett’s beat-up black F-150. Reed pulled off the road. The chief must have expanded the search beyond the town limits.
Spying Jed’s orange hunting cap through a stand of pine trees, Reed stepped out of the cab. Sheba jumped into the driver’s seat, wagging her tail expectantly.