Desiree Holt

Hide and Seek


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      Right, Devon. Make this into some big deal. A lousy phone call. Probably just some wrong number and they were too embarrassed to say anything.

      Maybe. She was not someone given to flights of fancy or premonitions. If anything, she was solidly grounded and practical to a fault. Only nothing had felt right to her since she walked in the front door, and the phone call had just added to the feeling of unease. She had a sudden need to get out of there, be with noise and crowds. Her stuff could wait until later. Right now she needed to be with people. A lot of people.

      She had just headed out of the kitchen when the phone rang again. With a mixture of impatience and dread she picked up the receiver.

      “Hello?”

      Silence again.

      “Listen. Whoever you are, either talk to me or I’m hanging up. If you call again, I won’t be here.”

      She slammed the receiver back in the cradle. That did it for her. She needed to get out of here and find Sheri right away.

      Her stomach chose that moment to grumble, reminding her she also needed food. She’d left Tampa two hours ago with only a large Starbucks in her stomach, and said stomach was now sending her signals. She remembered the housekeeper kept the fridge and the freezer stocked with basics so she could just fix herself something if she wanted to. But the eerie feeling wouldn’t let go.

      Sheri had said to call or come by as soon as she got into town, and right now seemed like a very good time to do that. Going straight to the police station seemed the best thing to do. She’d feel better seeing Sheri, anyway. Maybe she could help Devon put her feelings in perspective. The police had gone over the house thoroughly. Surely if something was out of whack, they’d have found it and told her. Something besides the jacked alarm system.

      I’m just letting my mind play tricks on me. That has to be it.

      Okay. That was it. She was getting out of here for a while. She’d head right for the police station and try to find out where things stood. She should have gone there right away. And she wanted to know what the latest was with the Coast Guard. The whole thing was still so unreal to her.

      She walked through the house to the garage, still carrying the golf club and peeking around doors and walls. And feeling like an idiot. She found the extra remotes for the garage door and grabbed one, then hurried back through the house and out the front door. Without understanding why, she checked three times to make sure the front door was locked. She also looked carefully around as she got into her car, as if expecting to see someone peeking at her from behind the garage or one of the many massive trees that dotted the place.

      Damn. If reporters might be hanging around, she’d better get that alarm fixed in a hurry. Anyone could get onto the property if they wanted to.

      She wasn’t easily frightened but the whole situation spooked her. Maybe she should stay in town at the B and B until she figured out if she was needed for anything. Still, she’d be damned if she’d let anyone chase her out of her father’s house.

      Seacliff Road was sparsely populated, the homes built much farther apart than those in town. There was only one house on the road past her father’s and after that was a dead end. The lack of traffic made her nervous, as did the thick growth of trees that lined the side opposite the houses. Probably no one was lying in wait for her—where had that thought come from?—but she’d feel a lot better being part of a crowd. She kept looking in her rearview mirror.

      “Just in case,” she whispered.

      But in case of what? Besides, who even knew she was in town? She was letting the entire situation spook her. What she needed to do was get into town and talk to Sheri face-to-face. Once she got a better read on the situation, she’d settle down. At least she hoped she would.

      Just as she came to a slight curve in the road she glanced in the rearview mirror and her heart nearly stopped beating. A black SUV that seemed to have come out of nowhere rode her bumper. Oh, God! Doing her best not to panic, she gripped the wheel and pressed down harder on the accelerator, but no matter how fast she went the car kept pace with her.

      She navigated the next turn, hoping she could pick up a little speed and put distance between her and whoever this was. But then she felt a jolt as the SUV hit her rear bumper, just enough to scare her. Her engine was built for economy, not speed, and no matter how hard she pressed the accelerator she couldn’t seem to outrun the vehicle riding her back end. Praying for someone to show up and help was useless. This was a thinly populated road where half the residents were snowbirds. Getting help right now was in the region of impossibilities.

      In the next moment the other vehicle bumped her again, much harder, causing her car to lurch to the side. Suddenly she was losing control, no matter how she wrestled with the wheel, and she veered off the road. She came to a stop in the deep ditch that ran alongside the road. The SUV bumped her once more before it pulled up and stopped in front of her at an angle, blocking her even if she could move.

      What the hell?

      The first thing that popped into her mind was Vincent Pellegrino’s so-called one-car accident. Was this what happened to him? She was equal parts scared and pissed off. Scared because it was obvious whoever this was meant her no good. Pissed off because her day just kept going downhill and she was sick of it. She grabbed her cell phone, but dropped it because her hand was shaking. By then a man had climbed out of the SUV and was instantly at her side of the car. Another man appeared at the passenger side, boxing her in.

      The one next to her knocked on her window, startling her so she dropped her cell phone again. She reached down to get it but the man on the driver’s side banged on her window once more.

      “Open the window,” he barked in a harsh voice.

      She shook her head, double-checked to make sure the doors were locked, and reached down again for her phone. The next thing she knew something hit the passenger window, hard. The window cracked and shattered into what looked like a million pebble-sized chunks that flew across the seat. Startled, she let out a little scream and pushed back as hard as she could against the seat.

      The man on the driver’s side knocked on her window again.

      “If you don’t want me to break this one, roll it down,” he growled.

      Devon shook her head. She knew she should probably be cowering in fright, except that wasn’t her style, even in a dangerous situation. Surely someone would come along on this road, right?

      She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them, the man on her side knocked on the window again and held up an iron bar.

      “I’m not going to kill you, bitch.” His voice was a low monotone, slightly accented. “Not yet. This was just to get your attention. Next time it could be your legs. Tell me where he is and I’ll leave you alone.”

      “Please. I—”

      “Do you hear me? Where has he gone? When you talk to him, tell him we’ll be happy to have you as our guest until he shows his face. We know where to find you.”

      Devon slid her gaze from one to the other. The two men looked as if they’d kill her before breakfast and still eat a hearty meal. She opened her mouth but no words came out. She pushed back against her seat again as the man on the right started to reach through the broken window to unlock the door.

      At that moment a four-door pickup zipped around the curve behind them and slowed, the driver obviously spotting the tableau on the side of the road. The truck passed both of their vehicles, then pulled over across the road and stopped. Was this backup for the two men already bent on terrorizing her or could fickle fate be sending her a savior?

      * * * *

      Logan Malik slammed on his brakes. On the right-hand side of the road, a car leaned into the ditch, a black SUV parked in front of it. Two men stood on either side of the car, and he could see the window on one side had been smashed out.

      Logan’s instincts, created from long experience, told him they