Janey
“Logan?”
He climbs into the trailer and smiles his familiar charming boy smile; innocent and eager to please. Except, he’s not so innocent, is he?
My mind is still sluggish, trying to process all the puzzle pieces that suddenly tumble into place. Flashes of moments in time. Mental screenshots of events, interactions, encounters, all clearer from this new perspective.
I feel ill, suddenly recognizing the friendly smile he shows me as something infinitely darker. More sinister.
“It was time, Janey,” he says benevolently.
The fact he’s using my first name instead of the customary, “Doc,” sends shivers down my spine. It suggests an intimacy that exists only in his mind, and that in itself is terrifying.
“I’m not sure I understand.”
If I’ve learned anything from watching crime shows on TV, it’s to keep your assailant talking. Keep reminding them you’re a living, breathing human being. Christ, I hope they’re right.
“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” he says in a gentle voice that fills me with dread. “You don’t understand, which is why you’ve forced me to take extreme measures.”
He reaches out and I can’t stop myself from flinching as he strokes the raw skin on my wrist with his fingertips.
“Look at what you made me do,” he mumbles, almost like he’s in a trance.
Then suddenly he grabs for my hair and yanks my head back, his face so close to mine, I can feel his erratic breath on my skin. He looks angry, his eyes almost black with rage as he bores them into mine.
“I admired you, looked up to you. I trusted you!” Spit hits my face as his fingers tighten in my hair. “But I should’ve known better. In the end, you are all the same; dishonest, deceitful sluts pretending to be purer than the driven snow.”
Then just as abruptly as he grabbed me, he lets me go, barking out a bitter laugh.
“But we know you’re not, don’t we? Spreading your legs like a dog in heat for men who aren’t worthy of your attention.”
He raises his hand, index finger pointed, and slowly taps the tip to my nose.
“You disappointed me, but I’m not ready to give up on you yet.”
I freeze when I see him pull a syringe from his pocket, pulling off the cap with his teeth. I have no doubt it’s another dose of ketamine.
“Please,” I find myself pleading before I can stop myself.
That seems to please him, as that boyish smile creeps back over his face.
“It’s a miracle drug. But you know that, don’t you? The perfect tool to control animals of all kinds. I learned that in college.” The look on his face morphs into something more predatory. “But I’ve found ingestion takes too long to take effect. Injection gives much better results. Easier to control the dosage, not so messy, and faster.”
It’s almost like he’s seeking my approval, wanting me to acknowledge how smart he is. But I can’t bring myself to stroke his ego. I’d rather try and keep him off balance.
“What about Lacey?” I find myself asking.
I remember Ewing mentioning she’d had a piece of a broken needle embedded in her neck, implying she’d been able to struggle. It may not be wise to poke the bear, but I’ll try anything to keep him from jabbing that needle into me again.
His face turns beet red.
“What about her?” he snarls.
“She wasn’t so easy to control, was she?” I taunt him.
“That wasn’t my fault, she showed up on her damn horse. I lost the element of surprise when I had to get her down first.”
I almost laugh. It’s unbelievable to me he is able to come up with a reason to blame his victim, but I guess that’s the earmark of a psychopath; a total lack of responsibility.
Another trait would be the illusion of superiority, a grandiose sense of self. Psychopaths can be prone to boasting, which is something I hope to capitalize on if I can.
All those hours of watching crime shows on TV may come in handy after all.
“What about the first girl?” I have to think hard to remember her name. “Maggie Aldridge?”
He actually chuckles.
“Textbook, but you’re wrong if you think she was my first.”
My God, how many have there been?
“How did you meet her?”
Almost distracted, I notice him fitting the cap back on the needle as he leans casually against the side of the trailer. As if he’s settling in to tell his story.
“At a private party I was dragged to by my parents. She was a server for the caterer. I was bored, so I ended up spending some time talking with the girl. She’d mentioned she liked hiking and was planning to try the trails near the Swede Mountain Lookout. She invited me to come.”
Again, he easily shifts the responsibility to his victim. She invited him to come, as if what happened to her after was of her own doing.
“I bet she never saw it coming.”
His smile is back, as if he’s fondly remembering the events.
I suppress a shiver.
“Of course not,” he brags. “And if it wasn’t for my father’s buddy walking his dogs and seeing me come down from the trail, no one would’ve been the wiser.”
From the sneer in his voice, I can tell he’s not a fan of his father’s friend.
“Buddy?” I repeat.
“Phil Jericho,” he clarifies, scrutinizing me as I process the shock of hearing that name. “The bastard used it to force me into helping him. How do you think you ended up with the job at the rodeo? You didn’t think that was an accident, did you?”
“Me? Why? Why would he want me?”
“You’re a woman, you’re easier to control,” he states matter-of-factly, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Instantly my hackles go up and I react without thinking.
“I guess you were both wrong then,” I snap, regretting it instantly when I see the change in his features.
“The only thing I was wrong about was that asshole tagging along with you,” he says through clenched teeth. “He almost caught me trying to get that damn pinto back in the trailer, but I nailed him good.”
“And yet he’s the one who found Lacey,” I remind him, irrationally defensive.
“Right,” he drawls, a triumphant smirk on his face. “And isn’t that gonna be the death of him when they find his ex-girlfriend murdered and the vial of ketamine she was shot up with at his house.”
My stomach clenches painfully at hearing Britt is dead, and it has me lashing out.
“They already did, and guess what? No one believes JD did it. You failed.”
In a flash he’s on me, yanking the cap off the syringe with his teeth and trying to jab it in my neck. But I’m not going down easy, twisting and kicking, fighting with everything I have.
Sadly, it’s not enough, as I feel the needle puncture my skin and my world goes black again.
JD
“You’re better off going in on foot.”
Jackson’s voice fills the cab of Ewing’s cruiser.
We followed the road around Flower Lake and are now stopped on the shoulder. Just ahead is the turnoff onto a driveway we waited for the drone to scope out first.
“You’re sure the trailer is there?” I ask for confirmation.
“Affirmative. I see two structures, a cabin and some kind of large shelter behind it. It’s covered with camouflage netting and branches, but I’m able to see the trailer tongue poke out. A black truck is parked in front of the cabin.”
“Any movement?” Ewing asks.
“No.”
“We’re going in,” I announce, running out of patience as I reach for the door.
“Like hell you are,” Ewing grumbles, grabbing my arm to hold me back.
“We’re two minutes out with all necessary equipment,” Jackson reminds me. “Hold off and you can go in properly decked out. You’re no good to Janey if you go in blind and he mows you down.”
I grind my teeth, hating that he’s right. At least if I have earbuds, I can get directions from him through the drone’s eyes. The Matrice is relatively silent, and can hover under the cover of trees, remaining virtually invisible.
“Fine,” I concede.
Ewing finds a spot to pull his cruiser off into the trees and we both get out of the vehicle to wait for the others to arrive.
“Keep your cool,” my father warns me as we trudge through the dense underbrush side by side ten minutes later.
Easier said than done. I can’t help think of all the things that could be happening to Janey during these precious minutes that keep slipping through my fingers. I can barely contain the rage flowing through my veins.
Pa, Jonas, Bo, and Jackson showed up in my old truck, while Sully and Fletch stayed to load up the horses and take them back to the ranch. They brought communication equipment, weapons, ropes, extra batteries for the Matrice, and a medical kit. I hope like hell that last item won’t be needed, but I’m grateful Bo brought it, just in case.
I’m lead with Pa, Ewing is right behind us, and Bo and Jackson right behind him. Jonas has taken over control of the drone and is feeding us directions.
It’s hard to see where we are in relation to the dirt driveway. It would’ve been easier to follow it, but there’s no way to know if the guy set up a few game cameras by way of surveillance. The military-style netting Jackson saw at least suggests he’s taking precautions. Better we stick to the trees, where we can move undetected.
“The cabin about two hundred feet up ahead at eleven o’clock,” Jonas warns in our ears. “Go to hand signals.”
Pa stops us a little farther along and points up ahead. I catch a glimpse of a roofline.
The plan is to use the trees for cover as we go around the back of the cabin. There we’ll split off in two pairs and approach the property from opposite sides. At this point, we don’t know whether Janey is kept in the trailer or was moved into the cabin. But Jackson will find a perch in a tree, where he has a good shot at anyone going in or coming out of either structure.
We move even more cautiously now, keeping an eye on the cabin as we circle it.
“Stop!” Jonas suddenly orders. “Movement. Go low.”
Pa motions for everyone to get down. I try to maintain a visual of the cabin while staying out of sight.
“He’s on the move. Coming around the side now. He’s carrying chains.”
I’m barely forty feet away, looking at what Jonas is describing; the kid I’d pegged as harmless, hauling a coil of chains to the shelter at the back of the property. I’m suddenly convinced that’s where he’s holding her, and the chains give me an odd sense of relief.
You don’t chain up dead people.
It also presents me with an opportunity. What’s he going to do with his hands full of heavy chains when he’s caught by surprise?
I move on instinct, fast but silent, like my grandpa taught me when he took me hunting back when I was a kid. Ignoring Jonas’s muffled cursing in my ear, I sense, more than hear, my father right behind me. Still pretty spry and light on his feet for a man his age.
There are fifteen feet of clearing from the edge of the trees to where Logan Osborne is heading toward the trailer. It takes him long enough for me to get within a few feet of him before he hears me coming.
But it’s too late, he tries to turn, but I’m already launching myself at him. I catch him mid-turn, tackling him to the ground where he lands face-first. Then I haul my fist back and my mind blanks out.
“You got him, Son. He’s down, ease up.”
I find myself with my arms pinned to my sides, my father behind me, holding on fast while Ewing slaps the cuffs on Logan, who is not moving.
Then my eyes snap to Bo, who is approaching the shelter.
“Wait!” I yell, wrestling from my father’s hold. “Let me go in first.”
He holds up until I catch up with him. The ramp is down but the interior is cast in dark shadows. I have to squint to get my eyes adjusted to the dark.
“Damn,” Bo mutters beside me.
At the front of the trailer, I see her twisted body, her weight hanging on her arms which are bound to the crossbar above her head. I rush to her side, lifting her to take some of the weight, while Bo pulls out a knife and cuts the zip ties off her wrists.
It’s not until she slumps in my arms as my ass hits the floor, I question if she’s even alive.
But then her eyes flutter open.
“There you are.”