Burned by Her Devotion (Rogue Vows Book 2) Page 9

  Carly moved toward the steps. Moonlight glinted on a piece of metal on the ground. A nail. She pretended to trip and let herself fall on one hip, concealing the nail in her closed fist.

  “Hurry up!” Cyndee grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. She shoved Carly toward Alex. “Get her inside.”

  The girl propelled Carly up three wooden steps. A pair of camp lanterns lit the interior. The cabin was small, with one main room that included a couch, queen-size bed, and kitchenette set up like a studio hotel room. A potbellied wood stove sat in the corner, and a door led to what Carly assumed was the bathroom. The furnishings and finishes were not like those of any hunting or fishing cabin she’d ever been in. Everything was new and sleek in a very non-Solitude, modern way.

  Carly’s gaze landed on the bed. Toby Black sprawled on his back, his hands and feet bound to the four corners of the bed. One leg was bent at a grotesque angle, obviously broken. Blood soaked a crude bandage taped to his head. His nose was swollen, and both of his eyes were black and blue. His eyes opened as they stopped in the center, but he blinked several times as if he couldn’t see straight. A thick gag kept him quiet.

  “Unfortunately the water and electricity aren’t turned on, but the river is just down the slope. Why don’t you get us some water?” Cyndee handed Alex two empty plastic soda bottles.

  “Okay.” Alex skipped out the back door.

  “Not much longer now, Toby.” Cyndee’s singsong voice lifted the hairs on Carly’s neck, as did the weird light in her eyes. “Not that you deserve any mercy after what you did to Chase.”

  “I told you, I didn’t kill him,” Toby said in a weak voice.

  “You confessed!” Cyndee screeched, her eyes glittering with insanity. “One more word and I’ll break your other leg.”

  She pulled up a chair and shoved Carly onto it, then bound her ankles to the wooden legs. Then she used another zip tie to fasten Carly’s hands to the ladder back of the chair. When she stepped back, her eyes gleamed with excitement.

  She ripped the tape off Carly’s mouth in one quick pull. The skin around Carly’s mouth burned. Cyndee’s step was light and she hummed as she unpacked Alex’s backpack. Carly watched her sort the items. The camp stove, small fuel canisters, matches, and toilet paper went in the center of the table.

  “What are you going to do?” Carly eyed the miniature, packable stove. But the cabin had a wood stove. Why would they need the portable cooker?

  “Detective Alex Gunn can’t end on a cliffhanger. It’s unfinished, but now that Chase is gone, how can that happen?” Two seconds passed in Cyndee’s dramatic pause.

  She tapped her fingers on the center of her chest. “I’m going to orchestrate the final episode of Detective Alex Gunn.” She stopped, as if waiting for Carly’s reaction.

  When Carly didn’t give her one, Cyndee frowned, then shook her head.

  “Alex.” Cyndee smiled. “There’s a bucket and a plastic tube in the back of the Buick. Can you siphon the gas from the ATV’s tank and put some in those?” She nodded toward a row of red plastic gas containers. “Make sure you leave plenty of room for fumes.”

  “Sure!” Alex sounded excited. She grinned at Carly. “You get to play Alex Gunn’s partner. You’re so lucky. I always wanted to be in his show. Now I won’t get the chance.”

  The last scene of the final episode of Chase’s show replayed in Carly’s head. The one in which his partner was blown up in an explosion.

  In a cabin.

  In the woods.

  Cyndee sat at the table. She opened the box of matches. After opening the multitool’s pliers, she began decapitating match heads. Once she had a pile of small red pellets, she crushed them to powder. Then she tore a long strip of toilet paper and began to fold it.

  Dear Lord, she was making a fuse.

  Carly’s heart stammered. Her gaze darted from Cyndee and her arsonist craft project to the small canisters of propane and the red gas container.

  She was building a bomb.

  Where is she?

  Seth stared at the area map on his dashboard computer. He’d worked hard to control his protective instincts over the past year, but he could feel the burn of rage working its way through his body. Yeah, he was a fucking caveman at heart. Since he and Carly had reconciled, he’d put a leash on that bad boy, at least as far as his mouth was concerned. He couldn’t always control the sometimes asinine and unreasonable thoughts that popped into his head, but he could damned well control his words and actions.

  It was called being an adult.

  But tonight, with his worst nightmare coming true, control was a tightrope made of razor wire. He wanted to jump the fuck off that thing. Thinking about something bad happening to Carly sent a blast of physical pain through him and returned him to a place where rational thought didn’t exist.

  Phil lowered his cell phone. “Kenny called in their last location at nine twenty. They were checking the site where the Airstream was found.”

  Seth shoved the car into gear and took off, flipping on the lights as he roared out of the truck stop. On the main road, he jammed the gas pedal down. The car responded with a burst of speed that couldn’t be fast enough. Miles of dark road crawled beneath his tires. A mile from the site, he shut off his lights and cruised to a stop behind the SPD car.

  They got out of the vehicle. Seth drew his weapon. Phil did the same. With a nod Seth led the way down the dirt road. A flashlight would give away their approach, so they jogged in the dark.

  A faint moan drew them to the side of the road. Seth clicked on his flashlight and pointed the beam into the underbrush. An ugly black shoe gleamed in the light. Cop shoe. Seth moved the light along the body. “It’s Kenny.”

  Phil waded into the brush. “He got cracked on the head.”

  Seth knelt at Kenny’s side. Blood matted his hair over his ear. Kenny moaned again. His head turned from side to side.

  Seth touched the cop’s chin. “Kenny! Can you hear me?”

  Kenny’s eyes opened. He stretched them wider, then blinked, as if trying to clear his vision. “Seth?”

  “What happened? Where’s Carly?”

  “Don’t know.” Kenny’s forehead crinkled. Then his eyes saucered. “Shit. It was Cyndee Sykes. She got Carly?”

  Seth ground his teeth in frustration. “We think so. Where are they?”

  Kenny shook his head and winced. He reached up to touch his head.

  Seth stopped him. “What do you remember?”

  “We found the girl. She’d been waiting for her mother.” Kenny swallowed. “Carly didn’t want me to spook the kid, so I hung back while she talked to her.” His gaze met Seth’s. “I never took my eyes off her for a second, I swear.”

  “I know you didn’t.” Seth bit back his raging impatience. “Just help me find her.”

  “Kid wanted to bolt, but Carly was talking her down.” Kenny’s gaze went flat. “I guess I was so focused on Carly and the kid that I didn’t hear Cyndee sneak up behind me. Next thing I knew, my head exploded, and I was on the ground. I did get a look at her, though. Cyndee was dressed like Catwoman or a ninja or something out of a movie. Tight black pants and shirt. Black boots.”

  “Do you know where they were going?” Seth asked, already getting to his feet.

  “Before I blacked out, I heard her say something about a cabin. Said it wasn’t far from here.”

  “Let’s get him to the car.” Seth moved to Kenny’s shoulders. “We need to find Carly. Get on the radio and see if anyone knows about a cabin near here.”

  “Got it. I’ll call for an ambulance too.” Phil reached for the radio on his shoulder.

  “No,” Kenny said. “I’m going with you guys. I can stand.” He accepted Seth’s outstretched hand.

  Seth eased him to his feet. When Kenny’s knees buckled, Seth dragged the wounded cop’s arm over his shoulders and supported his weight. The three of them made their way back to the car. He deposited Kenny in the backseat, then stood in the mi
ddle of the road.

  Where is Carly?

  He had the ridiculous notion that if she were nearby, he’d know it. Clearly he’d been hanging around his mother-in-law far too much. He got back into his car and opened the map on his dashboard computer again while Phil stood just outside the car and talked on the radio.

  “What about the O’Rourke resort?” Kenny asked from his prone position on the backseat.

  “What about it?” Seth glanced over the back of his seat.

  “It’s not far from here,” Kenny said.

  “I think the construction crew would notice a random person occupying one of the cabins.”

  “Andrew Reynolds showed up to help search for Alex this afternoon. I overheard him tell Carly that the project was on hold due to a construction delay.”

  Seth checked the map. O’Rourke’s was approximately two miles from the clearing. “So there are a bunch of cabins out there with no one in them.”

  “Yep,” Kenny said in a stronger voice.

  Seth leaned across the seat and yelled at Phil, who was standing in the open passenger door. “Phil!”

  Phil slid into the seat and Seth filled him in.

  “Let’s go and see.” Phil fastened his seat belt. “What about Kenny?”

  “We take him with us.” Seth wasn’t waiting one more second to find Carly. “We can’t leave him here by himself.”

  “I’m fine. I want to see this through. This is my fault.” But Kenny didn’t lift his head. “Let’s just go.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. Cyndee is highly unpredictable.” Seth drove, and Phil updated dispatch on their plan. Luck was on their side, finally. Several cars were nearby, still searching for Toby.

  Please, please let Carly be all right.

  Fifteen minutes later Seth parked next to the entrance to the resort. The buildings loomed dark in the night sky. The additional deputy cars parked behind them. Everyone had come in dark and silent, no lights or sirens to tip off Cyndee to their arrival.

  “I’ll get one of the others to drive you to the hospital.” Seth said over the seat to Kenny.

  “No,” Kenny protested. “You need every man here. I’m fine. I need to see this through, even if I’m just a bystander.” Kenny’s face was marshmallow pale, but determination and guilt shone in his eyes.

  Seth understood both of those emotions. “If you think you can get into the front seat, you can be our command post.”

  “I can do it,” Kenny said, his voice growing stronger. Phil helped him change seats. Then Seth and Phil gathered with the four additional deputies on the shoulder of the road.

  The resort was expansive, with one large main lodge and dozens of smaller buildings. The moon lit their way. Seth, Phil, and the other deputies crept through the main compound and passed the newly rebuilt lodge. Scanning the area, Seth saw nothing that didn’t belong. They split off into three pairs. One pair headed for the main lodge. Another veered off toward a group of storage buildings clustered on the opposite side of the clearing.

  Seth and Phil headed toward the rows of guest cabins closer to the river.

  The sound of a door opening and closing drew them up short. They turned toward the sound, weaving their way between two cabins.

  There!

  A light flickered in one of the windows. He nudged Phil’s arm, but his partner had already seen it. They moved closer, slipping around the corner of the building.

  Seth sidled along the exterior and pressed his back to the wood siding. With a quick turn of his head, he peered around the very edge of the window.

  His heart froze at the sight.

  Two chairs had been placed back-to-back. Carly was tied to one. In the other Toby was slumped, unconscious. The only thing holding him in the chair was a rope around his chest. His face was beat to shit, his leg clearly broken.

  There was something under Carly’s chair, but Seth couldn’t see what it was from his angle.

  “Can you see what’s under the chair?” he whispered to Phil.

  Phil gasped. “She’s reenacting the last scene in the season finale of Detective Alex Gunn.”

  “Shit.”

  “It looks like a bomb,” Phil confirmed.

  And Carly was sitting right on top of it.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Carly wiggled her hands. Her wrists were crossed behind her back. One zip tie bound her hands together. Another connected the first zip tie to the back of the chair. If she could cut the tie around her wrists, she’d be free. She worked the nail to her fingertips.

  Do not drop it.

  She began to scrape the point of the nail against the plastic. The sharp tip slipped and poked her in the wrist. She kept going.

  Behind her, Toby moaned.

  Carly suppressed the rise of bile in her throat, remembering how callously Cyndee had dragged him out of the bed. His broken leg was useless. She’d made him hop across six feet of floor. His face had gone the pale gray of unbleached flour. As soon as he’d sat down, he’d passed out.

  She poked a hole in the plastic strap and tested her bonds. Still secure. She gauged the length of the fuse Cyndee had made with twisted toilet paper and crushed match heads.

  How long would it take to burn?

  And how big would the explosion be? Carly had no idea how much propane was in the six small cans, but the blast didn’t need to be that large. Cyndee had stacked the arson deck by surrounding the propane cans with four gallon-size gas containers. The containers were tilted so the spouts pointed at the small bomb. Cyndee was smart, and she’d honed her fire-starting skills. The cans contained only a small amount of liquid. Gasoline didn’t explode. Gas fumes did.

  When the small bomb ignited, the fire would spread to the gas cans.

  Carly and Toby would go up in a ball of flames.

  She worked the nail against the plastic again. She missed, and the point cut her skin. Blood welled, making her grip slippery. She fumbled the nail.

  No!

  Catching it in her other hand, she breathed.

  Keep trying.

  Humming the Detective Alex Gunn theme song as she worked, Cyndee made her final preparations.

  “Are you almost ready, Mama?” Alex asked from the doorway.

  “Almost.” Cyndee smiled, the sweetness of her expression attesting to her madness. She pulled a cell phone from her pocket. “I want to record this for my storyboard.” She snapped some still pictures. “Now a video.”

  The nail punched through the zip tie, and Carly felt the strap loosen. Finally. She slipped her wrists free, but she was careful not to change the position of her hands. Her attack had to be a surprise. And she didn’t have much time. She couldn’t wait until Cyndee set the fire and left the cabin. That fuse could burn in a couple of seconds, and Carly wouldn’t be able to get herself and Toby out in time.

  Clammy sweat broke out on Carly’s back. She would get only once chance. It would all be about the timing.

  “Try to act terrified.” Cyndee walked closer, getting a close-up of Carly’s face.

  Now!

  Carly launched herself at the woman, wrapping her arms around her waist and tackling her. The chair fell over. Carly’s shoulder sang as she hit the floor. Cyndee squirmed out of Carly’s grip. Hampered by the chair, Carly kicked it around until the zip ties slipped off the bottoms of the legs. Then she was free.

  “How dare you!” Cyndee screamed, scrambling backward.

  Carly went after her, getting hold of a fancy black boot and hauling the tiny woman across the floor. Levering Cyndee’s foot by the toes and heel, Carly flipped her over onto her stomach and placed a knee in the small of her back, pinning her.

  “You’re ruining everything!” Spit flew from Cyndee’s mouth.

  Anger flared to life behind Carly’s sternum. The woman was mentally ill. Delusional. But try as she might to rationalize Cyndee’s motivations, Carly failed.

  Epically.

  And her rage had nothing to do with the way Cyndee had treated
Toby or the fact that she’d kidnapped Carly.

  Carly’s animosity reached back to Friday night, when Cyndee had lit a fire in the grange while Brianna and Carly’s mom had been inside.

  Though Carly had seen plenty of females who hadn’t been born with any maternal instinct, this time was different. This time she couldn’t view the act with the professional objectivity she needed to do her job.

  This time it was personal.

  Cyndee kicked and bucked and yelled obscenities.

  “Stop!” Carly jammed her knee harder into her spine.

  Cyndee kicked the gas cans. They toppled over. Gasoline poured from their spouts. It ran along the floorboards and soaked Carly’s pant legs.

  If Cyndee’s feet hit those propane tanks hard enough . . .

  That was a chance not worth taking.

  Carly funneled her anger. She grabbed a fistful of pretty blonde hair, lifted Cyndee’s head, and smashed her face into the floor. Blood spouted from Cyndee’s nose.

  The woman went quiet, a stunned expression in her eyes.

  Keeping the pressure of her knee firm and the grip in Cyndee’s hair tight, Carly inhaled a deep breath.

  Her lungs ached as she sucked in air, but the sting of gasoline in her nostrils gave her a fresh burst of adrenaline.

  They needed to get out before the cabin went up in flames.

  She glanced around, looking for something to restrain Cyndee. Her gaze landed on Toby, slumped helplessly in the chair.

  There was no way she could get them all out. Carly might be able to run out the door, but if she released Cyndee, the crazy woman would certainly light the fire. Carly couldn’t leave Toby there to die. Where was Cyndee’s phone? Carly scanned the floor and spotted it on the other side of the room, too far away to reach.

  Cyndee moaned and stirred, her legs scissoring.

  Gasoline fumes intensified in the closed space, and panic crawled through Carly’s insides.

  How was she going to get out of this?

  The door burst open and Seth barged in, his gun drawn.

  Thank God.

  “Don’t shoot!” Carly called, her voice as unsteady as the rest of her. “We’re doused in gasoline.”