According To Plan Part 15

"I don't like it, but alright. Keep your cell phone charged and call me if you want to talk."

A block away, in a rusted out van with Beryl's Plumbing emblazoned on the side, a man sat huddled with a pair of headsets on. Good thing he'd installed the bug a few years ago, otherwise he'd have no idea how to locate her. Time was of the essence if he was going to get ahead of her.

Where the heck was Shelby?

Tank bit back a curse. He'd gone to her office and neither she nor Polly was there. A quick drive by their house turned up negative and her Aunt's Austen-Healy Sprite wasn't in the garage either.

Where was she?

Tank prowled around Polly's house until he found her enjoying a coffee out on the terrace. She sat in an oversized wicker chair on the shaded porch which overlooked her wild and colorful gardens. Rolling hills spread out before the cool, fragrant room. Polly looked up and smiled as he joined her.

"Want some coffee?" She reached for the carafe on the table.

"Sure, thanks." He pulled up a chair and grabbed a croissant out of the basket. "I stopped by the office this morning."

Polly paused, mid sip. Carefully she placed her cup back onto the saucer.

"Really? It's closed."

Tank stirred sugar into the rich, fragrant brew. "I know and I went by Shelby's place."

"She's not home, either."

His patience was wearing thin. "I realized that when I stopped by."

"Do you want anything else?" She gestured toward the plate of m.u.f.fins.

Tank tilted closer to her chair. Polly sat as still as a mouse hoping the cat wouldn't see her. "I don't need any m.u.f.fins, and I don't need more coffee. I don't need anything else you might offer in the way of food. What I need is Shelby's whereabouts. Mind sharing? I know she wouldn't go anywhere without telling you."

Polly turned and looked him square in the eye. "I promised her this morning at the office I wouldn't tell you where she'd gone. Believe me when I say she's safe and will come back in a week."

Frustrated, Tank sat back in the chair. "I love her, Polly."

"I know."

Polly was silent for a few minutes, her gaze centered on the far corner of her garden, or maybe even beyond it. Tank twisted sideways to see what she was looking at, but after the trimmed hedges surrounding the garden there was nothing but pasture and a dense forest skirting the edges. Deciding Polly wasn't really looking at anything, Tank asked, "What are you thinking about?"

She sipped her coffee and then, smiling slightly into her cup said, "I was debating whether I should sell that little hunting lodge in the forest. Daddy always keeps it well stocked with supplies, but n.o.body goes there anymore and that's too bad because there's this huge fireplace, just begging to be used. But, it's too isolated. Why, anyone could get into it if they knew the key was under the tin can at the corner of the wood pile."

Polly finished her coffee and stood, glancing at her watch. "Oh my, will you look at the time. I'm going to be late for my manicure appointment. I've got a whole week of pampering scheduled, what with the office closed."

She turned on her heel and as she swayed into the house she called back over her shoulder, "Take lots of bug spray."

Tank sat staring after her. Bug spray? What was all that nonsense about the cabin? Who cared if it was isolated, with no one around? Why would she tell him where the key was? Wasn't that the object of hiding it, so no one would find it and use the place? His mind clicked a few more times and then the corners of his mouth spread into a huge grin. Thank you, Polly.

He'd name their first daughter after her.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

The first warning should have been the huge log across the road. I stopped the car and got out to a.s.sess how heavy it was and if I could move it by myself.

The second warning should have been the convenience of a truck approaching so soon after I'd stopped. But with my mind on the tree, Tank and everything else, it pa.s.sed by without one little red flag popping up.

I couldn't see the driver as he'd already jumped out of his truck, but he called over, "Hang on. I've got a rope." Grateful for the unexpected help, I turned back to the tree and tried to figure out where the best place would be to winch it to the truck. That was when I noticed the base of the tree wasn't broken, but neatly sawn in two.

Finally the two red flags got my attention, but it was too late. An arm clamped across my shoulders, pinning me against his chest and a foul smelling cloth was thrust in my face. I struggled and then nothing.

Tank finished packing and was headed for his motorcycle when his phone dinged indicating a text message. Anxious to get to the cabin he thought about ignoring the persistent dinging, but it was too ingrained in him to make sure it wasn't something vital.

His stomach went into free fall when he read the message from Liz.

Regis has posted bail and had been released that morning. Surveillance showed he spent some time in a plumbing van, but after that the agent lost him. When they located the van they discovered recording devices and realized he had a bug in Shelby's office.

His stomach cramped at the thought of Regis knowing Shelby would be at the cabin, alone. Tank dropped his duffel bag on the manicured lawn and raced for his motorcycle, praying he'd get to the cabin before Regis. No way would he lose her a second time to him.

He gunned the engine and gravel sprayed everywhere as he tore down the drive and sped off for the only road leading in to Walker Lake. As he came around a corner, a dirty white truck almost side swiped him before correcting its course and continuing on.

"Idiot," Tank muttered. He leaned into the next corner, took the left fork and then the next right turn onto a slightly overgrown road leading to the cabin. He'd gone maybe two miles when the sight before him stopped his breath.

Aunt Tillie's vintage car sat parked in front of a downed tree. There was no one sign of Shelby. He parked the bike and ran to the car. Shelby's purse lay on the front seat, her keys in the ignition.

He touched the hood of the car. Still warm. He looked around. There was no indication she'd gone into the woods and it was eerily silent. It didn't take long to see where the tree had been cut and in the sandy soil it was obvious some kind of struggle had occurred, as footprints were clearly visible.

The truck! The one he pa.s.sed on the highway. It had to be Regis, headed back into town. Regis couldn't go to his home, so where would he take Shelby? And was she still alive?

The thought of turning my head had bile flooding my mouth. I swallowed it back because some kind of tape covered my mouth and my hands were tied behind my back. I'd choke to death if I didn't get a handle on the fear.

The memory of being attacked by the stranger near the cut tree and the foul smelling cloth rushed back. Carefully I a.s.sessed the situation. By the look of the room I was on a bed in a cheap motel room.

The guy hadn't tied my legs. Which was good, but he'd removed my shoes and stripped off my pants. Relief flooded me. At least he hadn't raped me. Yet. If I had to run, I didn't care if I was only in my panties. My father had drummed into me that modesty had no place in my vocabulary when it came to survival.

Pushing through the nausea, I tried to sit. It was at that moment I heard the card lock on the door activating. Falling back on the bed, I pretended I was still out cold.

My attacker had his back to me and he dragged a suitcase in behind him. His build was familiar and I closed my eyes again when he started to turn, but I'd caught a glimpse and it was enough for me to know his ident.i.ty.

Regis.

When did he get out of jail, and what was he planning? He moved around the room and I risked opening one eye just a sliver. He'd thrown the suitcase on a table and opening it, brought out duct tape and rope and laid them beside the suitcase. My heart rate tripled when he rummaged in a plastic grocery bag and brought out a tin of lighter fluid.

Now what? I could probably roll off the bed, but I had no way to open the door with my hands tied behind my back.

Without turning, Regis said, "You have awakened. Excellent."

How'd he know? Like he could read my mind he said, "Your accelerated rate of breathing alerted me to your conscious state."

He faced me and frowned. I shrank into the mattress when he approached the bed.

"No, no, no. That will not do. I need you to be like this." He pulled me up by my armpits until I sat propped upright against the pillows. I tensed, ready to kick him the first chance I had.

He antic.i.p.ated and said, "Do not do anything ill conceived, or I will be forced to confine you to the bed."

If I was tied to the bed, I couldn't run. I hated him and hated this situation, but for now, all I could do was glare while he fussed with my hair. Satisfied everything was placed how he wanted, he trailed one thin finger down my cheek and I flinched when he went so far as to caress the outside of my breast.

I twisted away at the touch. He hauled me back into a sitting position.

"Do not make me hurt you," he admonished in his whiny, nasal voice. "I do not want to hurt you. I love you. All I have ever wanted was to touch you. You never let me touch you like you let him."

And you never will, you sicko. I wished I could telepathically tell this pathetic piece of garbage how much I loathed him. The bed dipped when he sat beside me, his hip touching mine. He skimmed his hand across my belly, moving upward and I sucked air in through my nose when he cupped my breast through the tee shirt and bra.

"This will not do. I need to feel your skin."

He slid off the bed, rummaged through his suitcase again and with a flourish, brought out a huge carving knife.

A sick smile twisted his face as he came back toward the bed. "This will do the job. Please do not move. I would not want to accidentally mar your beautiful skin while I remove your articles of clothing."

I began to hyperventilate and couldn't drag in enough air through my nostrils. My clothing had become the least of my worries. Why would he be carrying around such a huge knife? Regis approached the bed and craziness shone through his beady little eyes. Why hadn't I told Tank I loved him? I didn't want to die with that being my last thought.

As he tore up the highway in the same direction he'd seen the truck traveling, Tank looked down every side road and checked parking lots of diners, hotels, and motels. The longer it took to find them, the harder it would become. Sunset was only an hour off and then, in the dark, it'd be like finding a needle in the proverbial haystack.

He could put out an A.P.B., but he all he had was a vague description of an older model, white truck with one headlight missing. Screeching to a halt, he swerved around and sped into the parking lot of the Lazy Daze Motel.

The very last parking spot, beside a minivan, held a truck that looked a lot like the one he'd pa.s.sed. Tank hid his bike behind the motel's dumpster and approached the door directly opposite the parked vehicle. The lights were on in the room, but everything was silent, not even the background noise of a television filtered out. There was no way of knowing if Regis was in there with Shelby, although this was the most logical room for them to be. No one would see him drag a person in, as it was at the end of a very long row of rooms.

He stopped. A man's voice could be heard talking in the room. Sounded like Regis. He hesitated until he heard a loud thump and the man screamed. "I said do not move! You did not have my permission to move!"

Tank didn't wait another second. With a well-placed kick, the door blew open and in one sweeping glance he saw Shelby rolling off the bed onto the floor, her mouth taped and hands tied behind her back. When Regis swiveled toward the door, Tank saw the carving knife in his hand.

Time slowed as Tank feinted left, then rolled right, reaching for the gun tucked in the back waistband of his jeans. As Regis moved to his right, falling for Tank's fake out, Tank pulled out the gun and squeezed the trigger.

Regis halted and the knife clattered to the floor. His expression registered surprise as he looked down at his chest. At first there was nothing but a tiny hold, then a dark red stain spread across his sweater vest. It only took seconds, but he looked back at Tank, sank to his knees and crumpled to the ground.

Tank kept the gun trained on Regis while he kicked the knife away from the now lifeless hand. When he was sure Regis was dead, he rushed to Shelby who was still trying to kick away from Regis. Her tee shirt was cut down the middle and one bra strap had been sliced through.

Tank picked her up, sat on the bed with her in his lap and cradled her.

"I couldn't lose you again." He said, rocking them both. He wouldn't let go, ever. If he had his way, she'd never be out of his sight again.

Shelby wiggled until he looked down at her. Big blue eyes stared up at him, over the industrial green tape covering her mouth.

"I forgot about the duct tape. I'm sorry, sweetheart." He peeled back the tape, wincing with her as bits of skin came off with it. "Oh baby. I'm so sorry."

"My hands," Shelby croaked.

Hours later, after police and E.M.S. had cleared us, Tank and I watched the ambulance drive away with the body of Regis. Even with a warm woolen blanket covering me, I couldn't stop the shivers rippling through my body. That would have been me if Tank hadn't arrived when he did. Tank must have seen me shaking, because he drew me against his chest and rubbed my back with long, soothing strokes until the shivers abated.

I turned into his shoulder and tears p.r.i.c.ked the back of my eyes. Too much had happened. My coping mechanism was shutting down. How many shocks can a body take anyway? I'd almost been kidnapped by Big Boss. Regis tried to blow my head off and then the sick pervert chloroformed me and who knew what he'd have done if Tank had been even one minute later. Visions of the lighter fluid had my imagination racing.

"Take me home." I mumbled into his chest.

"Polly's offered to drive you back to her place."

Polly had arrived shortly after the police. We all agreed I shouldn't be alone tonight, as I couldn't stop shaking and was continually on the verge of tears. But, when I realized I could have died and hadn't told Tank I loved him, I needed to be with only him.

"No. Just you and me."

Tank pulled me in tighter. "Back to our place?"

I nodded my head, burrowing deeper into his chest. If I could crawl inside his skin, I would. I needed to be close to him.

"Anything you want darlin', I'd give you the moon if you asked."

If I squeezed any harder, I'd crack his ribs.

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed midnight when we finally stepped through the front door of our house. Polly insisted Tank use her car and fluttered big green eyes at a cute young trooper who jumped at the chance to drive her home.

It was surreal. My purse, keys, and car were back on the road to the lake and Tank's bike was at the motel. But all that didn't matter. We were alive and at our bedroom door. Now would be a good time to tell Tank I loved him.

Resolved to speak the words no matter what, I turned and froze. His face grim, he stalked toward me. Recognizing that dangerous glint in his eyes, I backed into the bedroom.

"Do you-?" I gulped, "Do you think this is a good idea?"

"This is the best idea I've had in months."

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" I demanded, noting that I sounded excited and breathy. No small wonder. If he didn't tear my borrowed clothes off, I'd to do it for him.

"I almost lost you."

"But, you didn't. I'm here, and I'm safe."