Chapter 8

Morning brought more freezing rain with it. Dr. Abigail Caine turned off the heater in her vehicle as she glanced at the Glock 17 sitting beside her on the passenger seat. She'd purchased the weapon the day before at a garage sale in a rural city even smaller than Genesis Valley. While she owned a couple of legally purchased weapons, she found that buying one or two untraceable guns was always a good thing.

She increased the volume of her radio as she watched the rather quiet Staggers Ice Creamery building. Laurel currently worked like a good little public servant safely in her office, so Abigail pulled out of the parking area and drove away down Jagged Rock Road and through the town of Genesis Valley. That insipid reporter, Rachel Raprenzi, came on the radio with The Killing Hour , detailing once again the arrest of the mayor's wife. Abigail smiled and turned the volume up even more.

She'd worked on an annual fundraiser with Teri Bearing, and the woman was truly a pain in the ass. She always had a clipboard, check marks, and no problem letting everybody else do the work. The woman had also been a little too nosy about Abigail's life.

The idea of her being handcuffed and fingerprinted was a delight. The woman drank like a fish. Stupid people bothered Abigail. Her own IQ blew off the charts and always made her the most intelligent person in any room. However, Laurel remained a question mark. Was it possible that her half sister had a higher IQ? Abigail chuckled. Of course not. Her phone dinged, and she pressed the button on the dash. "Dr. Caine."

"Dr. Caine, this is Dr. Rudolph from Northern Washington Technical Institute. Where you work."

She rolled her eyes and tapped her red-painted nails on the steering wheel. "What can I do for you, Richard?"

"I'm wondering why you canceled your Computational Neuroscience class this morning," he snarled. "In addition, I believe you have a cognitive science upper division class this afternoon."

She drove out of the city hub toward unincorporated land, noting the snow-laden branches of the pine trees around her. When would winter end? "I have my neuroscience students working on projects." She fully intended to teach her afternoon class in person on campus. "I don't believe I asked for your input on my syllabi or schedule."

He cleared his throat. "May I remind you that I'm your boss?"

She chuckled. "May I remind you that you had an affair with a seventeen-year-old coed two years ago?"

Heavy silence hung over the line. "If you think I'll allow you to blackmail me any longer—"

"Stop it, Richard." She did not have time for his nonsense. "Just think of the headlines and piss off." She ended the call. As the best teacher at the institute, her students often reached glorious careers. Her neuroscience students actually currently worked on several important projects, and she'd given them the day to do so.

Of course, protecting Laurel came above all else.

Abigail turned down another snowy winter road. Laurel didn't appreciate the effort Abigail expended, but someday she would. The woman was a fascination. They looked similar enough to be twins, although Abigail had at least four inches of height on her sister.

Unfortunately, Huck Rivers kept getting in the way. Someday it would just be Abigail and Laurel touring the world. Thinking of the things she could show her sister delighted her. Of course, Laurel needed to get on board. The baby would help. The baby would be a little genius like them, and Laurel would require Abigail's help.

She pulled down the long drive of the Genesis Valley Community Church, unsurprised to see two vans overloaded with heavy equipment and satellites parked near the front. Their father planned a megachurch, no doubt, so he could make millions. She appreciated his quest for money because with money came power, or at least freedom. Yet, he deserved neither.

She drove halfway down the drive and pulled over to see him emerge from the church and check the vans, shaking hands with the men who stepped out. It was quite unfortunate he hadn't died when she'd repeatedly stabbed him last month. She had had him close to meeting his maker when Laurel had intervened and saved his life. That was one wrong for which Laurel should pay. How could she have saved that bastard?

Abigail shook her head.

As if sensing he was being watched, her father looked up and spotted her. An expression crossed his face that she couldn't quite read. He said something to the men and then walked toward her, wearing a heavy down jacket that no doubt protected his chilly heart from the even colder wind. His bald head had to be freezing, however.

She took great pleasure in the thought and rolled down her window.

He arrived while the men behind him unpacked the many satellite dishes. "Abigail, what are you doing here?"

She smiled. "I'm checking on things. I know what you're up to."

He looked back at the workers. "Yes, I'm going to save souls across this great land of ours."

"Oh, please. You don't care about souls; you care about coffers."

He smiled, and an unwilling chill wandered down her back. "Don't forget I can always suddenly remember who tried to murder me a short time ago."

She waved a hand in the air. "I wouldn't, but you feel free to do what you must."

"I always do." His chin lowered.

She looked away. "I've been keeping an eye on my sister and her friends. What a coincidence it is that Walter Smudgeon and Ena Ilemeto won a two-week trip to the Caribbean."

"Did they?" Zeke asked. "I know the church had a raffle, but I was unaware who won. I don't handle that kind of thing any longer. Pastor John would be the person to talk to, and I believe you have his phone number."

"I surely do," Abigail said. "Yet today, Nester Lewis, Laurel's genius computer guru, rushed off to Seattle. Apparently, a truck barreled into his sister during her morning jog.

Zeke's eyes widened. "That's horrible. I will certainly add her to my prayers."

"You're attempting to isolate Laurel," Abigail said. The idea of Zeke driving to Seattle and running over the computer genius's sister showed impressive dedication. "She won't turn to you even if she's all alone. You need to understand that salient fact."

Zeke wiped rain off his head. "My dear daughter, the imagination you have. I had nothing to do with the raffle, and I certainly haven't been to Seattle to hit anybody with a truck."

She hadn't been keeping a close enough eye on him. "We'll see about that. I'm not a big believer in coincidences."

"Neither am I." Zeke stepped away from her vehicle. "However, like many of my parishioners, I am a big believer in fate."

* * *

After a shitty day, darkness without any moon pushed against her home's windows as if trying to get inside. Teri Bearing finished the last drop of inexpensive sparkling blush wine, her head swimming and irritation filling her every pore. Her husband was such a complete asshole. It wasn't her fault she'd gotten pulled over two nights before. It had been the officer's fault. He'd been a complete dick, just wanting to make some point about her, and maybe get his name in the paper.

Pushing away the bottle, she walked over to her wine rack to find it empty. She had stayed at home by herself, hiding away from reporters who'd staked out her front lawn until finally they'd given up and gone away. That was lucky—she couldn't have anyone following her tonight.

That hag, Rachel Raprenzi, had taken delight in streaming The Killing Hour with images and actual recordings of the arrest. Rachel had caught Teri actually assaulting that stupid Fish and Wildlife officer.

Her youngest son was staying the night with a friend, and she'd told Saul she had made plans to spend a couple days at a spa in Seattle. He'd stormed out at the news. No doubt he was out playing poker and getting drunk. He had no right to be so angry with her. He'd barely spoken to her since he'd bailed her out. She could not believe this.

It would be a true pleasure making that Fish and Wildlife officer's life a living hell, but that joy would have to wait. Tonight, she needed companionship. Love. Adoration. Maybe some fucking fun in the snow. She'd dressed carefully, showing her best attributes. Her pants were pressed, pink linen and her sweater white cashmere. She wore pearls in her ears and at her throat because she was the mayor's wife, damn it. They'd regret hurting her like this. All of them.

Yanking on her boots and a long wool coat, she grabbed her handbag before hurrying out to her car. She didn't have far to go. Pausing, she darted back inside to grab a knit cap to cover her hair and a scarf to protect the bottom of her face. The reporters had given up, but she didn't want to take any chances.

Muttering about men in general, she ran to her vehicle, backed out of the drive, and hit the mailbox. Damn it. She had told Saul not to put it there.

Grunting, she put the car in Drive and moved forward before backing into the street again. The car slid on the ice. Her head swam, but she took several deep breaths. She was fine and a better driver than any of them.

She slowly made it out of their subdivision and then turned onto the country road. She swerved and corrected, her car sliding across ice.

A vehicle behind her rapidly closed the distance. Morons shouldn't be driving this time of night. Blinding lights filled her mirror, and she blinked. What a jerk. She pushed the mirror out of the way and sped up.

The vehicle behind her sped up as well. She could barely see. She slowed down. Fine, they could just pass her. The driver behind her hit the brakes and slid.

She laughed and increased her speed. If they wanted to play, she'd play. The truck sped up again, and the lights blinded her. Jackass. She hit her brakes.

The vehicle slammed into her. She spun wildly around and came to a pause, rage boiling through her. She opened her door, already screaming at the motherfucker who had dared to hit her.

A blur of motion came from the other vehicle and hit her so fast and so hard, she flew back against her car. The attacker punched her several times, and she shut her eyes, lifting her hands up to protect her face. Pain roared through her head, and her hat fell down her shoulder. The attacker grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the vehicle.

The world went dark as unconsciousness stole her away.

* * *

Teri came to with her hands bound behind her back and a blindfold over her eyes. Jerking awake, she tried to move, but she was in some sort of container in a moving vehicle. One bouncing over potholes.

Scrambling to remove the blindfold, she failed and started screaming until her throat hurt. Finally, she gasped. "Let me go. Don't you understand? Do you know who I am?" She gingerly turned onto her side, her knees up to her chest.

The enclosure was too small for much movement. Her fingers, secured behind her back, touched some sort of rigid metal wire. Was she in a box? She moved her head, again trying to dislodge the blindfold, and again failing. The driver breathed evenly in the front seat. She was in the back? "You have to let me go. I won't tell anybody," she whimpered.

No answer.

She pleaded and threatened for a good five minutes until they rolled to a stop. Her heart thundered in her ears. The vehicle remained in idle, and she heard a door open and shut. Then silence. She instinctively knew she was alone.

A door opened, and a rush of cool air burst against her legs. Metal clattered and then strong arms grabbed her hips and yanked her out of the crate. She flew down and fell on hard ice, her hands tied painfully behind her back. She tried to struggle, and but her attacker grabbed her hair, pulling her over rocky, icy ground.

Bruises flared to life along her body, and she flailed, fighting, trying to scream. A rough rag was instantly shoved into her mouth. She tried to spit it out, material lodged down her throat. She started to gag.

The freezing cold bit into her, and her pants tore on the icy ground. Then her attacker released her hair, and she fell, hitting the back of her head, her fingernails digging into the ice at her back. She groaned and tried to roll to her side.

The sound of ice cracking filled the night, and she jerked. What was happening? A person grunted, and more ice cracked, the sound deafening.

She shivered from the brutal cold and tried to kick her legs out, rolling onto her butt and then kicking wildly with her feet. Her boots glanced off the ice, and she tried to crab walk away. Her fingers had gone numb, and her body was following suit. Then rough hands grabbed her shoulders again and pulled her in a different direction.

She fought wildly but couldn't get anywhere.

Her attacker ripped the gag out of her mouth and then tossed her onto her stomach, where she slid down at least a foot over rough ice. Pain pounded through her ribcage. She shook her shoulders wildly, trying to pull her hands free of the ropes. The scent of pine filled her nose. Her body shuddered from the cold.

A hard hand on the back of her head then shoved her down. Glacial water slammed against her face, and she opened her mouth to scream, gulping down ice and freezing cold water. She struggled and tried to spit it out, her body convulsing. That brutal hand pushed her farther down, and she jerked her head up, fighting to breathe, only to have her head hit the underside of the ice.

Pain ripped through her skull.

She swallowed more water, coughing and convulsing, until her limbs became too heavy to move. Her lungs froze. Darkness, when it came this time, felt warm.