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When he stepped into the room, Hayley wanted to scream. Partly from terror and partly from rage. She managed to keep herself together, though. He shut the door behind him and turned the lock. He smiled at her. “Hello, Sarah.”
In the bright light of day, it was easy to see how she had failed to recognize him when he’d rung the doorbell. He’d lost weight. A lot of it. And put it all back on in the form of muscle. His face was more chiseled than it had been before. His hair was several shades lighter and his eyes were now blue, not brown. Upon closer inspection, his nose was crooked, she hadn’t recalled that before. She noted with no small amount of satisfaction that someone must have broken it. She hoped whoever that was felt at least some vindication for having hurt him before they lost their life at his hands.
As she was studying him, he frowned. “Well, it seems your inability to recognize me made it much easier to take you. But I have to say it hurt my feelings, Sarah. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you.” He moved a step closer and Hayley backed up until she was pressed against the wall.
Now he wasn’t just frowning. His eyes grew dark as he assessed her coldly. “Did you miss me, Sarah?” he asked.
Hayley’s breath caught and her eyes darted to the window.
“Did you miss me?!” he shouted.
She flinched and brought her attention back to him. She licked her lips nervously. It would be smarter to placate him. To tell him ‘yes’. But she couldn’t imagine doing it. She was here now. Nothing could change that and something closer to rage than fear started rising inside her. Oh she was afraid. Anyone would be. But if she was trapped and going to die, she was going to keep as much of herself as possible.
“No,” she told him.
His face contorted and he took a step toward her. She gasped and shrank back but couldn’t go anywhere. Thankfully, though, he caught himself and stopped just a few feet away. “It’s him, isn’t it?” he demanded.
Hayley knew enough to know that no answer to that was the right one, so she remained silent.
When she thought he was going to lash out at her again, he merely sighed. “You’ll forget about him soon enough,” he declared as though it were already fact. He smiled at her again. A sleek, predatory smile that made her want to vomit. He reached into his pocket and then stepped toward her again. She tried to move away but he reached out and caught the silver chain linking the two handcuffs. Her heart nearly pounded out of her chest as he unlocked restraints. He pocketed both the key and the cuffs.
“Now,” he said calmly. “Take of your clothes so we can begin.”
Hayley didn’t take time to think about all her possible options. She chose the one that sprang into her mind first. She shoved off the wall and broke into a dead run for the door.
**********************
Chris had made it back to Rapid City in record time. By the time he got back to his house, two police cruisers were parked outside. He sprang out of the vehicle and ran up the steps. Inside he found Doc and Easy facing a third, older man in an officer’s uniform. Chris dismissed the officer with a mere glance and looked at Caleb. “Doc,” he said. It was pretty much a command.
“They found the state police cruiser in an alley downtown,” Caleb announced. “No sign of either of them. Or the Trooper. Trooper’s from Pierre, has no reason to be in Rapid City. He went missing on shift last night between the badlands and the capitol.”
Tex came in through the front door and took up a position next to Chris.
The older officer cleared his throat. “But we have no reason to believe the disappearance of Trooper Reynolds is any way connected to this girl. Who we don’t even have confirmation of being missing.”
His tone was snide and his air was haughty and for a moment Chris was about to unload on him until he realized that he recognized him. Chris stifled an inward groan. Lieutenant Harlan Rawlins. For some reason he’d always had a hard on for what he considered “trash” in “his town.” Chris could admit that he’d been born poor white trash but to Rawlins, color wasn’t important. White trash, brown trash, red trash, at least the man didn’t discriminate.
But Chris had been away from Rapid City for almost a decade and when he’d returned to start his custom bike business, he was no longer trash. If Rawlins, whom he hadn’t seen in over ten years, had been keeping an eye on him since his discharge from the army, Chris had been too busy building his business to notice.
