Retribution Read online

  Jillian looked up to see Colton standing in the doorway. He looked ten years older than he had when he’d kissed her good morning a short fourteen hours ago. “Tanner? Where is he? Does he know where Meg is?”

  “He’s dead,” he whispered. Tears filled his eyes and he blinked. “He’s dead, Jilly.”

  6

  Meg yanked against the restraints and hollered.

  Silence echoed back at her. Where was she? Tremors of terror wracked her. She had to get loose. If she didn’t, she knew she would die.

  She leaned back against the cement wall and shivered as she fought the urge to vomit. Hunger pains bit her stomach and her head swam. She’d only had a pack of crackers for lunch and then a granola bar and a banana while changing clothes to go home.

  A door slammed in the distance and she flinched. Footsteps came closer. She cringed against the wall, then jerked when the cold penetrated her thin long-sleeved T-shirt. A whimper escaped her lips before she could bite it back.

  And then her prison door scraped open. The slender figure stepped inside, wearing black jeans, a bulky jacket, and a ski mask. Her kidnapper set up a small tripod and camera, then turned to face Meg. Through the mask’s slits, dark eyes met hers, and Meg’s terror spun to a whole new level as her captor stepped closer. In a gloved hand, a large knife glinted with wicked intent. Meg bit back a scream and tried to get a grip on her shakes. She held back the scream, but couldn’t stem the rising horror. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

  “Revenge.” The one word hovered in the air between them, spoken so softly Meg had to strain to hear it.

  “Who are you?”

  Her captor’s low laugh sent chills racing down Meg’s spine. The dark, terrifying figure moved toward her and Meg cringed. Then straightened her spine and forced herself to meet the empty eyes. If she was going to die, she wouldn’t give this evil one the satisfaction of seeing her cower.

  The knife lifted and Megan’s heart thudded as it dropped toward her head.

  Jillian jerked awake. “Meg!”

  Sunlight streamed through the blinds. The alarm clock on Meg’s end table said 6:45 in bright red numbers. Jillian bolted from the bed and into the den. She’d slept? Guilt assaulted her. How could she sleep when Meg might not be able to? The thought nearly took her to her knees. She pushed through the weakness and stumbled into the kitchen to find Colton sitting at the table staring at the wall.

  Dread centered itself in her midsection. “You’ve heard something?”

  Her words brought him back from where he’d mentally escaped to and he blinked at her. A frown creased his forehead, erasing the blank expression. “Not about Meg.”

  “Then what?” She went to the coffeepot and filled a mug. After two cautious sips, she settled herself at the table across from her husband. “What?”

  “Tanner was her friend and he’s dead.”

  “Yes.”

  “And the young woman found behind the dumpster. She’s dead.”

  Jillian ignored the tightening in her throat. “Yes.”

  Colton’s fingers curled into fists. “Then what makes me keep believing that Meg’s not dead too?”

  Jillian froze. Then rose. “Because she’s your daughter and you’ll believe she’s alive until we see with our own eyes that she’s not.” She jutted her chin and narrowed her eyes. “I won’t believe it until I see it and neither will you.” She flew around the table and gave him a hard shove. “Neither will you, do you understand me? Do you?” She couldn’t help the screech in her voice any more than she could help collapsing against him, grasping his shirt and sharing his sobs.

  7

  Colton paced his home office as he prayed like never before. The kidnapper hadn’t made contact with him since the phone call yesterday. No news, no pictures of Meg, no ransom demands.

  Just … nothing. He couldn’t take it. The stress was slowly killing him.

  Dominic and Hunter were on their way over. Jillian was making phone calls to Meg’s friends, and the news had Meg’s face splashed on the television screen, asking for any information should someone have seen something at the high school yesterday evening. Two crime scene pictures were shown. Meg’s car with the door open and a close-up of her keys on the ground.

  Colton turned away, his heart unable to bear it, his mind spinning, desperate to find a reason someone would take his daughter. He leaned his head against the mantel and tried to corral his thoughts, to focus. To think.

  His phone pinged, indicating a text message. He lifted the phone and looked at the screen. He didn’t recognize the number, but the dread in his stomach told him it was the kidnapper. He pressed the button and a video came up, just waiting for him to play it.

  The door opened and he jumped.

  Hunter and Dominic stepped inside. Snow flurries clung to their clothes. He couldn’t help wonder if Meg was warm or if she was cold. Was she awake? Hungry?

  Alive?

  His throat closed and he sank onto the sofa, still staring at the screen of his phone. A stack of case files slid to the floor. He ignored them.

  “You heard anything more from the kidnapper?” Hunter shrugged out of his coat and let it drop onto the recliner.

  Dominic hadn’t bothered with a coat.

  “Just now.” He held up his phone. “A video.”

  Hunter moved to his side. “Have you watched it?”

  “Just getting ready to press Play when you got here.”

  Dominic closed in on the other side. “Go.”

  Colton pressed the button and saw his daughter’s terrified face fill the screen. He wanted to shut his eyes, but couldn’t. Fear like nothing he’d ever felt before filled him. “Meg,” he whispered.

  “She’s watching the person taking the video,” Dominic murmured.

  “She’s scared, so very scared.”

  Hunter’s hand landed on Colton’s shoulder as the video panned out and Meg’s features grew smaller, but still clear.

  “Why are you doing this?” his child demanded in a low whisper.

  Colton waited, the tension running through him nearly splitting him apart.

  “Revenge,” the faceless tormentor whispered back.

  “Who are you?” Meg asked.

  And then no more words, just a wicked laugh and a knife plunging toward his child’s head.

  Colton cried out and dropped the phone.

  8

  Hunter gripped his arm and Colton drew in a deep breath to steady himself. He leaned over, picked up the phone, and handed it Dominic. “Get someone to analyze that video. Please.” He cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of the lump that wouldn’t seem to dissolve.

  “Right now.” Dominic pressed the necessary buttons to send the video to someone he worked with. Someone who could help find Meg. Colton prayed it was so. Please, God!

  “We checked bank accounts,” Hunter said.

  “What did you find?”

  “Your daughter’s friend, Tanner Brant? He made a deposit of five thousand dollars two days ago.”

  “A payoff?” Colton blinked, trying to rid his mind of the vision of the knife plunging toward Meg’s head. His body trembled and he wanted to simply break down, cry out his fear and fury. Instead, he poured every effort into focusing on what his friends were saying.

  “Possibly.”

  “Probably, I say,” Dominic said. “Where does a seventeen-year-old kid without a job get that kind of money?”

  “Exactly,” Hunter said.

  Colton rose and paced to the fireplace where he picked up the latest family picture. He stared at Meg. Her bright, carefree smile sent his heart thudding, his mind spinning at the thought of never seeing her again. He cleared his throat again and replaced the picture. “Where did the money come from?”

  “We don’t know. It was cash.”

  Colton snorted. “Of course it was.” He picked up his drink and sipped. His hand still shook.

  “What is it?” Jillian asked.

&nbs
p; Colton looked up at Jillian, who stood in the doorway, her coffee cup held to her lips, her gaze on his hand. She lowered the cup and moved her eyes to meet his. The terror there told him she recognized his own. “It’s, uh … we heard from the kidnapper.”

  “What?” she whispered, dread in the word.

  “It was a video. The kidnapper threatened Meg.”

  “You’re not telling me everything. Let me see the video.”

  “No,” Colton’s refusal was too swift, too strong.

  Jillian’s chin lifted. “Let. Me. See. It.”

  Colton sighed. He couldn’t hide anything from her. An investigative reporter in her former years, she knew how to read people. Most especially her husband. Colton looked at Dominic and gave a slow nod.

  Dominic pressed the necessary keys to pull up the video and handed the phone to Jillian. “Just press Play.”

  With a shaky finger, she did.

  The video played in its entirety. Jillian’s face paled to a bleached white and she swayed. Colton rose from the couch and went to her. She shrugged him off, her breathing coming in fast pants. She played the video again. And again. Then she lifted her narrowed gaze. “She’s mad.”

  “What?”

  A hard smile curved his wife’s lips. “She’s scared, terrified. But she’s furious too. Did you see her expression right before the video cut off?”

  Colton blinked, her reaction definitely not what he’d been expecting. “No.” He cleared his throat. “I guess I didn’t.”

  “The knife came down and the video cut off. This person wants to torment us.”

  “Well, he’s doing a pretty good job,” Colton muttered.

  “Yes, but I don’t think Meg’s hurt. Yet.”

  “Why?” Dominic asked, his expression intrigued, curious. Intent.

  Jillian lifted tear-soaked eyes. “Because if she were dead, the person wouldn’t have stopped the video. Whoever it is just wants to torture us awhile longer. Meg has to stay alive for that to happen.”

  Colton processed her words. “Yes,” he whispered. “You’re exactly right.” His respect for his wife just tripled.

  “Which means we have to find her. Now.” Jillian’s voice trembled on the last word.

  Hunter cleared his throat and all attention focused on him. “We’ve asked to view the security footage at the bank. You want to go with us?”

  “Of course,” Colton said.

  Jillian placed her cup on the end table near the recliner. “I’m going too. Just let me get my coat.”

  “Hon, I probably shouldn’t even be going. They won’t let me work Meg’s case, but I’m going to be there as much as possible.”

  “I’m going. I can’t sit here doing nothing. If you don’t let me ride with you, I’ll simply drive myself.”

  “Jilly—”

  Her gaze didn’t waver from his.

  He nodded. “Any luck with her friends?”

  “No. Heather saw her talking to the coach as she left the gym, but didn’t see anyone weird hanging around.”

  Heather. A teammate and friend. “What about Tanner? Did Heather see him?”

  “She said she didn’t. What about the coach? Did you find him?”

  “No. He’s still missing.”

  Jillian’s face crumbled. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Where could she be?”

  Colton went to her and pulled her close. “We’ll find her. We will.” He didn’t know if he was saying the words for her benefit or his, he just prayed the Lord would see fit to fulfill them.

  9

  Meg twisted against her restraints. She had to get loose. Never had she wanted to throw herself into her mother’s arms like she did at this very moment. In order for that to happen, she had to find a way to escape.

  Escape. Escape. Escape.

  The word raced through her mind like a mantra.

  Her captor had left after taking a hunk of Meg’s hair and uncuffing one hand so she could eat. The other hand remained chained to the ring in the cement wall. An apple and a jug of water sat within reaching distance. Meg hesitated and wondered if it was drugged. She picked up the apple and sniffed it. Smelled fine.

  She did the same with the water. Also fine. She took one bite of the apple and waited. When nothing happened, she scarfed the rest down, then went to work. She studied the metal bolt screwed into the wall. No amount of pulling or yanking had separated it from the cement. However, the chain that had been screwed to the bolt had a large screw, long enough to poke through the other side. And it had a very sharp point.

  It was awkward and hard, but desperation drove her. Using the pointed end of the screw, her teeth, and her fingernails, she tore apart the hard plastic jug. She cut herself several times. Deep gashes that made her wince. But she kept going until she had what she needed.

  Now to get out of the cuffs.

  She worked on a piece of the tough plastic until she had it shaped into something she could use as a key. She pushed it into the end of the cuff and worked it. Turned it one way and then another. Sweat dripped into her eyes. Time passed and her desperation grew. She cried, she prayed, she refused to give up until finally she heard the click.

  And the handcuffs opened.

  Immediately she went back to the plastic and used the screw on the chain once more to work and cut until she had a large piece from the side in the shape of a triangle. Sharp edges. She rolled two of the ends over and wrapped the fingers of her free hand around the cylinder. She held her crude weapon and felt her pulse pound.

  She went to the door and felt along the edges. No handle on the inside, just a keyhole. Her hands ached, her head throbbed. Terror grabbed at her and she pushed it away. She didn’t have time to be afraid. She had to get out.

  And then she heard the footsteps.

  10

  Jillian stood and stared at the bank’s video footage. Tanner Brant stepped forward like he had all the time in the world. He didn’t bother to hide his face from the camera or have the decency to look ashamed that he was getting ready to deposit his blood money.

  She wanted to reach through the screen, wrap her hands around his scrawny neck, and squeeze. And keep squeezing until Meg’s location erupted from his lips.

  But she didn’t. She stayed still, stayed quiet, and just watched.

  “When was this taken again?” Hunter asked.

  “Day before yesterday.” The bank president, Rebecca Wade, pointed to the date in the corner.

  “Sorry, didn’t see it,” Hunter mumbled.

  “You could see it if you’d put your glasses on,” Colton said, his tone mild and only faintly rebuking.

  “Don’t need ’em.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Jillian didn’t take offense at their bantering. She’d been married to Colton long enough to know it was simply a stress reliever. They were scared for Meg. Their worry showed in the tension along their shoulders and jawline, the tightness around their eyes, and the way they kept looking at one another and frowning.

  She didn’t want to imagine what could be happening to her child at this very moment. She didn’t want to think that Meg could be hurting or begging for her life. What she wanted was to find the person responsible and—

  “All right, we’ve got a lead.”

  She jerked her gaze to the screen. “What?”

  Colton reached back and squeezed her fingers. “There’s someone in the car with Tanner.”

  “Can you see who?”

  “No, but we’ll get the FBI on it and see if they can enlarge the image, get us a face to run through the software.”

  “I’ll send it to be processed as soon as possible.” Dominic’s phone rang. He held it to his ear and lifted a brow. “Thanks, I’ll pass it on.”

  “What?” Jillian pounced.

  “Tanner Brant wasn’t a seventeen-year-old kid.”

  Colton straightened and narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I had a background check run on him. Turns out hi
s name is Tanner Green from Atlanta, Georgia. He’s twenty-seven years old with a record as long as your arm.”

  “What’s he doing posing as a high school kid?” Colton exploded.

  “What was he doing posing as Meg’s friend?” Jillian whispered.

  11

  Meg scrambled to the door and took up a position of defense, the homemade weapon held ready. She swallowed as the footsteps stopped outside the door. The key rattled in the lock.

  The door swung open.

  Meg waited, every muscle quivering. Waited for her kidnapper to step foot inside the room.

  “I have a gun, Meg,” the voice said. “Do you think your piddly little weapon is going to be a match against a bullet?”

  Meg froze. “How did you know?”

  “You think I don’t have a camera in here? You think I’m not watching every little move you make?”

  Meg’s stomach quivered. A sob rose in her throat. She shot a glance toward the shackles now dangling from the cement wall. She couldn’t let herself be caught and chained up again. She just couldn’t. “I’ll fight you. I’ll let you shoot me, I don’t care, but I’m not going to make it easy for you to keep me here.”

  “What about your mother, Meg?”

  Terror sliced through her. “What about my mother?”

  “What if she were to join you? She’s quite distraught, you know. And your father, well, he’s just in a really bad way. He keeps searching and searching for answers, for your location. And he’s waiting for you to contact him, to tell him you need help. But you won’t, will you?”

  Meg’s ears perked. The low voice had risen at the end of the short tirade. She thought she recognized … something. An inflection, the way her captor pronounced a word. “Leave my parents out of this.”

  “But honey, they’re the reason you’re in it. Now,” the voice turned colder. And deepened once again. “Throw that silly little weapon down and move out of the way.”

  Meg hesitated, tightened her grip, focused on all of the self-defense training her father had drilled into her. As long as no one was spraying knockout fluid in her face, she could take care of herself. Her throat tightened as her fear level tripled, but she pictured her parents, her family, and their worry. She lifted her chin. “Come make me.”