*
I hopped in Misery and drove to the spot Shawn’s abductors had instructed, knowing that this could be my fault. I’d turned over the wrong rock when looking into the Foster case. I’d struck a nerve. The only thing I didn’t know was whose nerve I’d struck.
Well, that and how the hell they knew I was working with Shawn Foster on this. I had to think. Whose milk did I spill?
The Fosters. That was it. They were the ones with the most to lose. But he was their son. So, who else? Maybe it was someone else involved in Veronica Isom’s case. Or with the fake adoption agency. Or even with the missing girl we were looking for, Dawn Brooks.
While they all pointed back to the Fosters, I no longer believed they’d worked alone on any of it. They had followers. Believers who would likely do anything for them. Even abduct their son?
I thought about calling the Fosters, but what would I say? I still couldn’t tip them off to the fact that Shawn had come to me.
I’d taken the fastest route. I pulled up to the Giant and put Misery in park. First, I would meet with the person on the phone, then I’d have Ubie run a trace on Shawn’s.
I hadn’t been sitting there thirty seconds before my phone rang again.
“Leave your phone and walk to the abandoned car wash on the other side of Dion’s.”
“First, let me—”
They hung up before I could insist on hearing Shawn’s voice.
I clenched my jaw and contemplated if I should stuff my phone into my boot. Deciding against it, I left it on the floorboard with my bag, locked up Misery, and headed that way.
After crossing the street, I rounded Dion’s and, as sure as death and taxes, an abandoned car wash sat on the other side. It looked unassuming enough. Had probably been a family-run business. How bad could it be? Then again, the Mansons had been a family.
Stepping inside one of the tall bays with weeds growing out of the cracks in the cement, I looked around and saw no one.
Then I heard a male voice. “Back here.”
I whirled around and followed it to the back of the building. A mixture of weeds and ivy had grown along the chain link fence so that no one could see the back of the car wash from the restaurant next door. This just didn’t bode well.
A man, clean and dressed in khakis and a baby-blue button-down, coaxed me over with a nod. He looked about as much like a kidnapper as my accountant did.
And then it hit me. Of course. I was so stupid.
He stood by a dark blue sedan, the trunk open. After motioning me over, he patted me down and told me to take off my boots. When he was satisfied, he said, “Get in.”
“Look, you haven’t done anything yet.” He was so young. For a kidnapper, anyway. He looked in his early thirties. Clean cut. Well groomed.
It was all a ruse to get me to come along quietly. No one had Shawn. The Fosters were behind this. They’d used him to get to me.
“What do the Fosters want with me?”
So far, the guy had done two stupid things. He’d joined a cult of crazy people. And he’d worn a rope belt with khakis. Unless he was a sailor in his spare time, that was just tacky. But I was willing to forgive him his trespasses until he knocked the ever-lovin’ craptastic out of me.
He backhanded me. My head whipped to the side and hit the edge of the trunk lid, sending a sharp jolt of pain rushing through me.
“Get in.”
I glared at him to make my point, but he only stared, unmoved. Lifting one leg over the rim of the trunk, I crawled inside, still hoping for the best. After all, these were the God-fearing kind of abductors. How bad could this be?
I’d scared them. The Fosters. And somehow they had put two and two together. They were smarter than I’d given them credit for. My bad. Though I should have known. They’d gotten away with child abductions and murder for over thirty years. They had to be at least semi-intelligent.
After climbing in, I expected the trunk to close down on me. What I hadn’t expected was the shot of electricity he’d hit me with. He’d Tasered me! Jolts of electrical currents rushed through my muscles and crashed against my bones. My body stiffened, my head jerked back, and I lost all motor control.
When he turned the gun off, I shouted a few expletives like I had Tourette’s then went completely limp. I couldn’t even lift my head, so when I felt a needle pierce the skin on the inside of my elbow, I could do nothing about it. Except seethe.
This guy had serious issues. I saw a promising career as a serial killer if he lived that long, because I was suddenly in a killing mood.
Still reeling from electroshock therapy, I realized I may have bitten off more than I could chew. Uncle Bob was never going to let me live this down. Reyes was going to kill me. And Cookie … well, at least Cookie would mourn me.