Clearly irritated with the reporter’s relentlessness, the sheriff stiffened his shoulders. He inhaled, inflating his chest and sitting taller. He tried to stare down Thin Man, but the reporter’s expression remained smug.
When the sheriff spoke, his words were careful, measured, and full of authority. “Chelsea Clark was abducted last Friday night and held for six days by a man wearing a mask. She never saw his face.”
Thin Man changed the target of his inquiry. “Ms. Dane, as the family’s legal representative, can you divulge any details? The public has a right to know if they’re in danger.”
“Chelsea’s family is grateful to have her back and are focused on her well-being. They ask for the understanding and prayers of the community,” Morgan said. “If you want details about the case, ask the sheriff.”
Thin Man wasn’t deterred. “Is there a serial killer in Randolph County?”
The sheriff leaned close to the mic. “We don’t have evidence to suggest the cases are connected or the inclination to leap to such a conclusion at this time.”
Except that two women, approximately the same age and physical description, had been kidnapped and beaten.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A child’s scream startled Morgan from a dead sleep. Her heart stuttered in her chest. The bed was cold. After being woken too many nights, Snoozer had abandoned Morgan to sleep with her grandfather. A second small cry floated through the open doorway.
Sophie.
Morgan listened intently for another sound. Her eyes drifted to the clock on the nightstand. Just after midnight. She’d slept barely thirty minutes after staring at the ceiling and worrying about the case for an hour.
Maybe the night terror will pass.
The previous two episodes lasted at least ten minutes each, but the doctor had said their duration could be a short as a minute or so. It was possible that they’d get lucky and Sophie would settle on her own. A thumping noise verified that this would not be the case tonight.
Bleary-eyed, Morgan tossed the comforter aside and stumbled out of bed. A chill swept over her. Grandpa liked to turn the thermostat down at night, and the old house could use new insulation.
Her bare feet hit the freezing hardwood. Where were her slippers? Not beside her bed where they should be. No time to look for them. She grabbed a sweatshirt and headed for her daughters’ room, still half-asleep and hoping she could remove Sophie before the screaming woke Ava and Mia. They were both sound sleepers, but if Sophie really got going, her screams could wake the dead.
Drawing the shirt over her head, she hurried into the dark hall. A night-light, plugged into a wall socket, cast light downward onto the floor, just enough to keep one from tripping over a toy on their way to the bathroom. The hallway led to the foyer, living room, and kitchen at the front of the house. Moonlight streamed through a window, cutting a swath of light through the darkness.
The light also silhouetted two dark figures, one child and one adult, at the other end of the hall. Morgan stopped in her tracks. Did Gianna or Grandpa wake up and see to Sophie?
Her eyes continued to adjust to the dimness.
The adult figure was much larger than Gianna and definitely male. The child’s shadow wiggled.
“Grandpa?” she called softly, but as the word left her lips, she knew the figure didn’t move like an old man.
He spun to face her. Morgan’s blood chilled to ice water. Definitely not her grandfather.
A strange man stood in her hallway.
An intruder.
A hood shadowed his features. The small form next to him struggled, but he held her firmly by the arm, her back pressed against his body, one of his hands covering her mouth.
Sophie’s eyes were opened so wide that the whites showed in the dark corridor.
Morgan’s brain processed the scene in front of her with horror. She looked for a weapon. But both of his hands were visible and occupied. The chill in her body transformed itself into a cold and furious calm.
“Release my daughter.” Morgan didn’t recognize her own voice. It was full of a menace she’d never felt before. She’d secured her gun in its safe when she’d arrived home and set the alarm. Not that she’d risk firing a shot with the intruder using her daughter as a shield. TV shows aside, pistols were not accurate enough to fire over a child’s head, especially in a dark hallway with adrenaline mainlining through Morgan’s bloodstream.
So what could she do?
She took a step closer.
He moved his hand from Sophie’s arm to her chin. “If you take one more step, I’ll snap her neck.” His voice was an unidentifiable whisper.
Morgan assessed his hold on her daughter. With one hand across her face and the other cupping her, could he scissor his hands with enough force to break her neck?
Sophie was tiny and fragile, and Morgan couldn’t take the risk.
Fear and adrenaline flooded her veins, but Morgan’s mind felt strangely detached. Some primitive instinct kept her concentrated on getting her child away from the intruder without giving in to her terror.
“What do you want?” she asked. She didn’t recognize her own voice. The calm inside her was steely and determined and pissed off beyond measure. It waited, biding its time, until it could be unleashed upon this man who dared to touch her baby.
“You’re coming with me.”
“Done.” She would do whatever it took to get him away from her child. Sacrifice herself, kill him with her bare hands, claw his eyes out. There was no price too high, and no act beyond consideration. “Let go of her.”
He chuckled, a low and mocking sound that rippled along the goose flesh covering Morgan’s arms under her sweatshirt. He was enjoying himself. “It’s not going to be that easy.”
“Tell me what you want me to do.” She waited for his response.
“She’s coming too.”
Sophie turned her head and bit him. He jerked his hand away from her face. “Ow. You little . . .”
His hand rose, as if he was going to smack the child. But she didn’t give him the chance. Her little body pivoted to face him, her arms flailing wildly to keep him from getting a fresh grip.
The hallway seemed to grow longer as Morgan rushed forward.
Six feet still separated them as Sophie kicked out. Her bare foot connected with his leg. One flailing fist struck his groin. He doubled over, and Sophie broke away, running behind her mother.
The flash of relief was fleeting.
The man got to his feet. They were too close now. Barely five feet separated them. Sophie clutched Morgan’s thigh, inhibiting her movement.
His head turned toward the doorway on his left. The girls’ bedroom.
Morgan wanted to put herself between him and her other two children. Without lowering her gaze, she pushed Sophie backward. “Go in Mommy’s room and lock the door.”
Crying softly, Sophie clung to Morgan.
“Do it now.” Morgan kept her gaze firmly on the intruder, watching his head, hands, and hips for signs of his intended movements.