chapter Fourteen
Her mouth ached. Hurt, actually. When she opened her eyes, she realized a hood of some kind covered her head. Rough material had been stuffed in her mouth so hard it pushed her tongue back toward her throat. She concentrated, breathed through her nose, so she wouldn’t gag.
She sat in a straight back chair, her wrists bound to the arms of it, upper chest to the back, and her ankles lashed to the heavy legs of it. Her bare feet rested on cold concrete. She was in human form.
She wasn’t alone. A man, somewhere past the hood, hummed along to a song on the radio. It buzzed and crackled, but didn’t hide the other sounds. Paint remover, smoke, and decomposition assaulted her senses. She needed to focus on one thing. She tried to turn her head, but the binds around her arms were attached to the one around her head. She was trapped, unable to move.
One thing at a time.
Where was Nathaniel? Gabriel? She’d gotten a whiff of death when the garage doors opened. Were they here, too? In a chair next to her? She couldn’t see. The fabric on her head was too black, too solid.
Glass tinkled, metal shuffled, and then some solid item pushed along the floor, causing vibrations beneath her feet. She counted slowly with each inhale, reaching seven before her lungs started to shake, and she exhaled.
Sage. She was in this house somewhere. She concentrated, tried to listen beyond the room. She couldn’t hear the television she’d heard from the yard. There was too much, and yet not enough, to take in. She counted to ten.
“Liberty,” a man said in a sing-song voice, like a mother playing hide and seek who already knows where you’re hiding.
She was at the Jenkins’ house. There was only one man it could be. Russ. Though he tried to sound harmless, the inflection in his voice gave him away. Becky was right. Liberty felt the sound of her own name twist in her gut like a fist.
Her breath hitched. How did he know her name? She tried not to believe Sage would play a part in this. But how could he possibly know?
His turned, his words carrying away from her. “I apologize about your mate here, I do.”
Nathaniel? Had she sensed him when the garage first opened? She moaned beneath the hood.
“I know. But in all fairness, he went after my son and well…you don’t go after a man’s child and expect to live.” He sighed, metal clinked in a glass like he stirred a spoonful of sugar into tea. “Your mate wasn’t any interest to me, anyway.” He gulped in swallows, exhaled, then spoke again. “You’re why we’re here. Me and Victor.”
Her? She pressed herself back into the chair and felt cloth, flexed her thighs and felt some on her legs. She was dressed, something flimsy like a tank and boxers. She trembled. He’d dressed her?
“See, I’m a hunter. But all this here, this taxidermy thing, it’s not the game I’m into. I’m a treasure hunter.”
Clink, clink, swallow. A click silenced the radio.
“I’m not alone out here, there are a lot more of us. But we don’t work together, not really. We learn from each other, that’s it.”
She heard him set the glass down, and then the sound of a door closing overhead.
“We follow the websites, watch for sightings of Sasquatch. It’s a pretty big business. Anyway, I’ve been doing this for some time, and I found it strange that in the past decade, almost all reported sightings in this area stopped. I decided to come up and take a look for myself.
His feet scuffed against the floor, back and forth in front of her. He paced.
“Your kind are the shield. Break through the armor, and find the treasure. Buckets of it.
He stopped moving.
“I’m going to take the pillowcase off your head. And if you do well with that, I’m going to remove your gag. I have a few questions I’d like you to answer before we take a little trip.”
Liberty stayed still, though her nostrils flared and the fabric puffed from her heavy breathing. She didn’t want to go for a trip. Please, her mind screamed, somebody help me.
“If you understand, nod your head.”
She did. So tightly tied, the gag it pulled her hair as she nodded. She wanted to look, yet what she might see terrified her. She would do this. Stay calm. One thing at a time until she got a chance to break free.
He took a few steps and stopped in front of her. She could feel his presence next to her, the warmth of his body radiated, heated hers. Placing his hands on either side of her face, he reached underneath the fabric to lift the case, his skin connected with hers as he pulled it up an inch at a time. His rancid breath blew soft against her cheeks, cooling the sweat that had formed. She wanted to scream.
She closed her eyes tight until he’d finished.
“Open your eyes.”
First a blurry slit, then all the way. Russ stood just out of her view, to the left, behind her. She faced a long wooden bench that sat against a cement wall, like the walls in the kennel. Three darkened television screens were mounted above it.
And like the busiest day in the history of the kennel, animals were abundant. Except none moved, some of them didn’t even have eyes. Or bodies. Heads on the shelf, on the bench, on the floor. Antlered deer heads, black bear, raccoons, and even a fish frozen mid-swim cluttered every inch of space.
Her eyes darted around, took it all in. Wooden boxes full of tools on the floor, jars of marbled eyes on the back of the bench. Overhead fluorescent lights hummed and flickered.
Russ’ head appeared over her left shoulder, he opened his mouth to speak, and his teeth looked wooden. “Nice, huh?”
Her eyes grew wide, his brown muddy aura matched his hair, eyes, and teeth. Dirt, or maybe dried blood, was caked in the deep lines in his forehead and she looked away. Was this her destiny now? Later that night, would her eyeless head be on the bench? Or, perhaps, the floor?
“Ooh, look,” he said like he were a child with a new toy. “See this?” He walked to the bench, pressed a black button mounted on the wall behind it.
The recorded Sasquatch wail.
“Call of the wild, huh?” He laughed, a party of one.
She shut her eyes. What had happened to Nathaniel? Sage? Russ started to push her, maneuvered the chair to the left. It scraped against the cement. In the far corner, a figure came into view. A body beneath a blood-stained blanket. Tears rolled down her face.
She’d been so mean to him for a year. Deceptive this past week. Cold. And he’d been nothing but patient and understanding. She hated herself.
And her daughter had been upstairs in the company of this monster’s son. Was she still?
“Victor,” he yelled out, “come here.”
She jerked as his voice boomed behind her. She averted her eyes from the body and strained to see to her right as a door creaked open.
“Yeah?” Victor answered from above.
“Get your ass down here, you need to go turn some compost.”
The boy whispered “Now?”
“Now.”
Feet pounded down the stairs, then Victor came into her view— his aura a deep blue, flecked dark pink, with an overlay of gray. Fearful, guarded, dishonest. She recognized him from the photograph Becky showed her. She cowered back into the chair as he crossed the room without looking at her. No acknowledgment. Like she were just another project.
She heard the stairs creak again.
“You can come down,” Russ said. “I want to introduce you two, anyway.”
“Dad, she doesn’t care.”
“Sure she does. Don’t you, Sage?”
Liberty made a noise, a cross between a grunt and whine, and Russ bent over to look into her eyes. His were bloodshot and beady.
“You want the hood?”
Spittle landed on her forehead.
Liberty held her breath, tried not to retch behind the gag, and shook her head.
“Good, shut up.” He elbowed her cheek as he straightened, then he turned and spoke to Sage. “I have you to thank, little girl. If I wouldn’t have seen you on the tape, I might never have found her.” Russ moved behind Liberty and kneaded her shoulders. She saw stars from the blow to her face.
Sage descended the rest of the stairs and came into view. Liberty stared at the pure, pulsating aura. Smelt the familiar scent. What she’d smelled at the farmhouse, a splash of honeysuckle. Saw her hair. She’d colored it in streaks. Like Liberty’s. Sage blurred and Liberty blinked away the tears.
Sage didn’t make eye contact with her, instead wore a look of indifference and said, “The tape?”
Victor dragged the body across the floor in front of Liberty. Between the vision of her daughter alive, and her husband’s dead body, she didn’t know where to focus her eyes. Or heart. It split in two.
“Uh huh,” Russ said. “Since Victor and I moved here, we’ve done some scouting, put up cameras on nearly a hundred lots. Hoped to get lucky, he shook Liberty’s shoulders. “And we did.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the blanket had slid off to the side, showed the bare skin of the corpse. Sage’s eyes flashed when she saw it. Liberty focused down at it and furrowed her brow.
It wasn’t Nathaniel.
A white, ragged scar ran up the outer calf, above the knee, and then hooked toward the inner thigh.
Gabriel. He’d gotten it at the Clear Lake cavern as a teenager, after a nasty spill. He’d been a little too adventurous with his playmates.
Gabriel was dead. Not Nathaniel.
Even as she grieved for Gabriel, her hope skyrocketed. She’d caught Nathaniel’s scent when she’d arrived. He’d been there as well. Maybe he was biding his time, waiting for an opportunity to rescue her. And Sage.
“A couple of days ago, when I was reviewing some footage from the northern corner of Fairfield, guess who I saw?”
Sage shrugged.
“You. I had to look at it several times, the quality wasn’t that great, but not many leggy girls ‘round here with striped hair, are there?” He smoothed Liberty’s hair as he spoke.
Sage slowly crossed her arms and sidestepped as Victor moved past her. “So what?”
Russ laughed, tugged Liberty’s hair and she jerked in the chair. “I didn’t just see you, I saw you climb into a hole in the ground wearing a flat backpack and come back up with something inside it. What was in there?”
Sage tossed her head. Defiant. “Who cares? It’s a place my Grandpa showed me once. Like a bear den or something. I wanted to see if I remembered where it was at. Big deal. It was just an old blanket.”
That’s what happened to the clothes, Liberty realized, and she willed Sage to look at her, to see how much love Liberty had for her. Her wish went unanswered. Why wouldn’t she make eye contact?
Victor yanked Gabriel’s body through the door behind Sage and into the underground garage. Liberty saw part of a burgundy colored car, boxes stacked haphazardly, and more mounts. Stuffed bodies and antlers pointed this way and that, a macabre zoo.
“Hold up, Vic, I’ll come with,” Sage said and turned to leave.
“No. You won’t,” Russ said. “Besides, he’s taking the four wheeler and he’ll already have a passenger.
“Knock off the waterworks, Sasquatch, they won’t save you,” Russ growled into her ear.
Liberty hadn’t realized she was crying out loud. She stiffened. She wasn’t sad, she was afraid for their lives. She thought she saw Sage flinch.
He stood up, walked toward Sage, then past her. “You know what I think? I think you know our lady friend here.”
“How would I? You said you’re a bounty hunter. You bring in bad people for private citizens they’ve wronged.”
Wronged? Who could she have wronged?
He pulled the door shut behind Victor and turned the lock. An audible click. “Yup. But see, the person who hired me gave me a little background on my target.”
“So what?” Sage gestured toward Liberty, still wouldn’t meet her eyes. “What she’d do anyway? Not like I really care.”
It stung, but Liberty had to admit it was a good ruse. Her daughter was intelligent. She would find her way out of this mess.
Russ reached for Sage’s hand.
She jerked away from him.
“Calm down, I’m going to tell you.” He took Sage above the elbow and ushered her reluctant body to the workbench. He rifled through a few things on the bench, and then turned around. Letting go of Sage’s elbow, he put a hand on her chest, holding her up against the bench. “Stay here.”
Sage complied.
He walked to Liberty, hand slightly ahead of him and her eyes grew wide. A knife. Not just any knife, but a big one with a curved tip and serrated edge. A hunter’s knife. Like the one Nathaniel had. He bent over her, she pressed back as far as she could. He put the knife in his mouth, freeing up his hands.
“What are you doing?” Sage asked from her spot near the bench.
He put his hands over both of Liberty’s bound wrists, and jerked the entire chair back toward the bench. With every tug she grunted in pain. Russ smirked around the blade in his mouth. The motor from the garage sounded, and the four-wheeler started.
“God, Russ.” For the first time, Sage’s voice raised higher in a growing panic. “Did you hear me? What are you doing?”
He stopped a foot from the bench, removed the knife and turned to Sage. “Seems she’s rubbed somebody’s fur the wrong way back at the palace.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t know? She doesn’t look familiar to you?”
“I don’t know this woman.”
“Seems hard to believe. Seeing as how I have some info that says different.”
Sage looked at him, face blank. She nearly had Liberty convinced. Why not Russ?
“Tell me, Sage,” he said as he used the tip of the knife to flip the ends their hair, first Sage, then Liberty. “How many people do you know named Liberty, who have a daughter named Sage? Hmm?”
“How should I know? My mother’s name was Jill.”
“Sure it was.”
“I think I should know. You don’t know me.”
“No?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Obviously not if you think she and I are related.” Her eyes flashed and she raised her voice, smacking her hand on the workbench. “And I don’t appreciate you thinking you can accuse me, keep me here like I’m a damn prisoner.”
“Hmm.” He hadn’t moved a muscle, held the knife at arm’s length toward Liberty. He studied Sage for a moment, finally spoke. “If that’s the case…” He turned the knife around and held it out to her. “Cut her.”
“What?” Sage snapped her head back. “Are you out of your mind? I’m not cutting some woman. What kind of business are you running here?”
He reached out and latched onto her wrist, eliciting a short cry.
“Shut your mouth.” He jerked her to his chest. “Shut your lying trap and take this. Prove it to me and I’ll believe you.” He grunted as he tried to force the handle into her fist.
“Ow! You’re hurting me.” Sage yanked her arm free. It flung back, hitting the metal light bar above them. The light started to swing and Liberty grunted behind the gag. Tried to draw attention to herself so Russ would leave Sage alone.
Russ’ and Sage’s auras merged, his appearing to poison Sage’s, muddy brown and black daggers perforating her pearly overlay. Liberty grunted with more force, desperate to get him to stop.
He reached out and backhanded Liberty, but she began to scream, curled her toes, rocked the chair.
“Look,” Russ’ lip curled, “you’re upsetting her.”
“Dammit, fine. Just knock it off. I didn’t even know these… things,” she flicked her wrist toward Liberty, “really existed until a few days ago, so whatever.” She grabbed at the knife. “Give it to me.”
Russ straightened up his shoulders, ran a hand through his sweaty hair. “Good. Glad to hear it.” He released the knife.
“And just so you know,” Sage said, her head cocked, “my mother, Jill, was a hippie. Duh. Lots of kids are named after plants.”
“Right.” He motioned to Liberty. “Go on. Do it.”
“Where?”
Liberty tensed. She’d watched the exchange and searched for a clue that Sage was acting, but didn’t see any sign. Could she have developed some kind of amnesia and really didn’t remember her? She saw the silver amulet, Ellie’s band, peek out from Sage’s cuff and focused on it. Sage was good. She had to be.
Russ shrugged, exasperated. “Client didn’t say she had to come back in one piece, so…” He gestured to Liberty’s legs, then face, arms. “Wherever.”
Sage took a step forward, held the knife in both hands and brought it up over her head with the blade pointed down. She paused. Liberty pleaded with her eyes.
Russ said, “What’re you waiting for?”
Sage exhaled hard, brought her arms down slowly. “Can’t you cover up her face or something? She’s giving me the creeps staring at me like that.”
“Victor said you were a tough chick, not weak like his mother.” Russ bent over to reach for the pillowcase on the floor. “See? This is why I don’t trust women. You’re wishy-washy.”
Liberty whined, closed her eyes as Russ shoved the case over her head again. “There, you happy n—?”
Sage screamed.
Russ let out a holler. “What the hell?”
Liberty heard a sickening pop. And felt the weight of Russ as he collapsed onto her. So much noise. And then wetness. On her lap. On her chest.
Liberty couldn’t breathe. The weight of Russ on her, the hood, the gag. Her nostrils could only take in tiny fits of oxygen.
Then the weight slid off and she could breathe.
Sage removed the hood. “Mom? Oh my God, Mom? Are you okay?”
Liberty blinked, unable to fully comprehend.
Sage wiped both sides of the knife across the leg of her jeans and carefully worked the tip of the blade beneath the binding near Liberty’s ear until the fabric slipped off. Liberty shook her head and used her tongue to push the rag out of her mouth as Sage pulled.
Liberty couldn’t speak. All she managed was a combination low-pitched cry and moan.
“Shh.” Sage’s hands were on her cheeks, she kissed Liberty’s forehead, smoothed her hair. “Shh, Mama, we have to get out of here. Try to be quiet, okay? I’ll be quick.” Sage cut through the binds on Liberty’s chest, arms, legs.
Russ slumped over onto her feet and Liberty kicked him as she scrambled out of the chair, He let out a soft moan. She pulled Sage a few steps away and fell into her arms. “I love you so much. I never gave up. I know what happened. I know why you left.”
Sage embraced her, brief but heartfelt, then looked at Russ and pulled away. “We have to get out of here, come on.” She snatched Liberty’s hand and led her to the door Victor exited. “This way.”
“Wait. What about your father? He was here, too.”
“If he was still here, we’d know it.” Sage turned the lock, slowly opened the door to the garage and looked inside. “Okay, it’s clear.”
Liberty’s heart thumped. She started to cough, her throat was so dry. “Gabriel. I can’t—”
“Stop thinking,” Sage whispered. “Not now.” She flipped the light off to the workshop, leaving Russ’ body in the dark. “We’ll worry later.”
Her daughter possessed strength Liberty didn’t. She’d grown so much since they’d last seen each other. Liberty nodded. “Let’s go.”
Sage motioned for her to stay, and jogged to the wall by the garage doors. Grabbing a set of keys off the hook, she flipped the switch to extinguish the main lights in the garage.
Two vehicles sat in the garage, a shiny yellow VW convertible and a beat-up burgundy Jaguar. Sage walked to the Jaguar, opened the rear passenger side door and motioned for Liberty to get inside.
“I’d let you ride up front, but when we drive out,” Sage motioned at the incline to the garage doors, referring to the inevitable change Liberty would go through as they left the underground garage, “I don’t think you’ll be comfortable.” Sage pointed to the dimly lit semi-spacious back. “See? More room.”
Liberty nodded and climbed in. Sage shut the door, the light went off, and she walked toward the front of the car. She’d reached the hood when she stopped and turned, wide eyed. “Oh, shit,” she yelled and scrambled around to the driver’s door. “Stay down, get down!”
Panicked, Liberty peeked out every window. The door to the workshop was still shut, the big doors were shut. “What is it?” Liberty shouted.
Sage yanked the door open and jumped in behind the wheel.
Liberty heard a motor.
“Shit, shit.” Sage slammed the door and fumbled with the keys. “Vic’s back.”
Deja vu. Liberty’s mind flashed back in Becky’s truck, except somehow this was so much worse. Just her and her girl now. “What can I do?” she yelled.
“Get down, be quiet.”
Liberty flattened herself against the floor. She’d hardly registered the pain from the wounds the bindings had caused, but against the carpet, they burned. She heard the metallic clink of keys.
“Thank God,” Sage mumbled.
Something tapped on the back window. Liberty turned, screamed.