Sidney Sheldon's Chasing Tomorrow (Tracy Whitney #2)(102)

Feeling her palms start to sweat and her mouth go dry, she reached into her jacket and coiled her fingers around her gun. Then she walked into the tunnel.

It was pitch-black, and narrower than it looked from a distance. With her arms outstretched, Tracy found she could touch the walls on either side. Slowly, like a blind woman, she began to move forward, her feet alert to any bumps or potholes in the uneven ground.

If it branches off, which way should I go?

The thought of getting lost, trapped here in the darkness, filled her with profound fear. And then she remembered. My phone! How could I have been so stupid? She stopped, pulled out her cell phone and turned it on. The moment the screen came to life, the light was blinding, dazzling. Tracy saw at once that the tunnel was in fact very short, running only a few more feet. After that it forked both left and right into a long, curved corridor. Looking right, she saw abandoned machinery, including a small cement mixer and a pair of pneumatic drills. This must be the part they’re restoring, she thought. Astonishing that they don’t lock those up, or take them home at night. Anyone could wander in here and steal them.

She looked left.

“Hello, my love.”

Daniel Cooper, his pale face lit up by a revolting smile, stood just inches away from her. Panicked, Tracy opened her mouth to scream but Cooper was too quick for her. Clamping one hand over her mouth, he forced her back against the wall. Tracy reached for her gun. With terrifying ease, Cooper twisted it out of her hand, pressing the barrel against her temple.

“Don’t struggle, my darling.” Cooper’s breath was on her neck, in her ear. Pinning her back against the wall, he slid one hand down to her left breast and squeezed hard, pinching her nipple beneath the fabric of her T-shirt. “You’ve waited for this as long as I have.”

Tracy’s phone clattered to the ground.

All the light went out.

JEAN RIZZO CHECKED IN to a guesthouse in the center of town with a view out over the city walls. He jumped on his phone at the first ring.

“Any word on Tracy?”

“No, sir. Not yet. The local police had reports of some sort of disturbance outside of town. A small farming hamlet. It’s probably not worth mentioning but—”


“What sort of disturbance?”

“Screams, apparently. They sent two men out there.”

“And?”

“They didn’t find anything. Probably just a wild animal being killed. Someone got spooked.”

Probably. Jean was tempted to go and see for himself. He had no other leads, and would at least feel like he was doing something. But if Tracy was meeting Daniel Cooper in Plovdiv and he was stuck out in the sticks on a wild-goose chase . . .

“Okay. Let me know if anything else comes up.”

He hung up, but the phone rang again immediately. Antoine Cléry sounded breathless.

“I think we’ve found her!”

“Here? In Plovdiv?”

“Yes, sir. She checked into the Hotel Britannia two nights ago.” Cléry blurted out the address.

“I’m on my way.”

Jean Rizzo started running.

TRACY HIT AND KICKED for all she was worth, lashing out with her nails and teeth, fear and rage both driving her on. But for such a small man, Cooper was astonishingly strong. In just seconds he had pinned her down on the ground. Unable to move her arms or legs, Tracy was utterly powerless, like a butterfly with its wings pinned to a board. The darkness was total, like death. She felt Cooper reach down and undo the button and zipper of her jeans, shoving them roughly to her knees. Within seconds, his clammy hand was inside her underwear, touching her.

“My wife.” He sighed. “My angel.”

Vomit rose up in Tracy’s throat. Cooper’s fingers prodded and invaded while his foul breath assailed her nostrils. He was slow, delighting in what he was doing. Every few seconds he let out a little squeal of excitement.

No! This couldn’t be happening. Not again.

Tracy flashed back.

She was in Joe Romano’s house in New Orleans. She was twenty-two years old, pregnant with Charles Stanhope’s baby, and she’d come to avenge her mother’s death, to force Romano to admit the truth: that he and his Mafia buddies had killed Doris Whitney, killed her with their lies and greed and arrogance. But it had all gone wrong. Joe Romano overpowered Tracy easily, laughing as he pushed her down, ripping her blouse away and pinching her nipples.

“Fight me, baby! I love it! I’ll bet you’ve never been f*cked by a real man.”

Tracy had reached for her gun and shot Romano, leaving him for dead. But her gun was gone now. She was powerless. Daniel Cooper was on top of her, grunting like a pig. Tracy heard him unzip his fly. Terror overcame her. I can’t do it! I can’t fight him off!

She forced herself to focus. There had to be something else, another way to stop him.

What did she know about him?

What were his weak spots? His fears?

He’s the Bible Killer. He hates prostitutes.

His breath was coming faster now.

He hates immoral women. He believes he’s on a mission from God.

Cooper pushed up her T-shirt. His wet lips were on Tracy’s breasts, sucking at her like a baby at its mother’s teat. Tracy sobbed, squirming away from him, aware that her struggling only heightened his excitement. Ripping off her jeans and panties completely, Cooper straddled her, forcing her thighs farther apart. His erection, tiny but rock hard, pressed against Tracy’s stomach.