Her heart galloped as she quickly lowered her lashes, so it'd appear she was still asleep, as she surreptitiously studied her surroundings. She was in a sparsely decorated bedroom. Another quick scan of the area confirmed she was alone.
A little of her tension eased, and a soft moan escaped as she attempted to move, every muscle in her body complaining from the accident, and the fall she'd taken when her abductor tackled her. Shelly touched her sore cheek, finding it puffy and hot to the touch. She probably sported one hell of a bruise.
Is Stan okay? Had this bastard gone back and hurt him before abducting her? Fear sat in her stomach like a vat of boiling acid. She had to get out of here. The thought of Maggie growing up as an orphan—the way Shelly had—lit her up with fury.
No way was she allowing that to happen. She needed to get the hell away from this freak.
Locking her jaw, she didn't make another sound as she slowly stood, fighting against the dizziness that made the room shimmer and sway like rising mist on a hot rainy day.
Her gaze fell to the end table next to the bed and she spotted the picture the freak had taken of her and Maggie from her apartment. Scowling, she picked up the frame and removed the photo, tucking it into her back pocket. No way was she leaving it behind.
Finally collecting herself, she closed the short distance to the window and peeked through the curtain. Her stomach sank when she saw a thick wall of trees. Moving to the opposite window, she realized they appeared to be in a forest, with only an overgrown path for a car to travel on.
How secluded is this property? If she managed to escape, what would she find on the other side of the trees? How far would she have to run to get help? Did it really matter? She couldn't stay here.
She gulped down the fear trying to overwhelm her, and quietly unlatched the window to open it.
"Going someplace, sweetheart?" an amused voice asked from behind her.
Shelly let out a little scream and spun around, raising her hands up in defense. The man from the photo leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. A chest nowhere near as impressive as Stan's, she noted.
His complexion pale, his appearance soft, weak even, as though he sat behind a desk all day or something.
Her eyes narrowed. If Stan ever got hold of this guy, he'd annihilate him. Hell, if Shelly got the opportunity, she could probably take him out herself.
Some of her fear eased.
She wasn't helpless. There had to be a way out of this mess. Concentrate. Maggie needed her, and she wouldn't let her daughter down.
Sensing her defiance, the man lost the smirk and a scowl slammed across his face. A face that looked so much like her sweet baby it made her chest ache. Any lingering doubt that he wasn’t her daughter’s biological father disappeared. The similarities, undeniable.
Shelly asked the burning question on her mind. "What do you want with me?"
He didn't miss the tremor in her voice she'd been unable to control, and his tense posture relaxed. Probably believed he had the upper hand again.
Keep dreaming, asshole, she thought as her mind scrambled to find a way of escape. She didn't see anything she could use as a weapon.
Straightening, he continued into the room. "Let me formally introduce myself." He stopped directly in front of her, lifting one hand as if to touch her face. Shelly flinched back, and his nostrils flared. "You might not remember me, Shelly." Heat entered his eyes. "We met at a party and had a very nice time—”
"You drugged me," she spat, her fingers digging into her palms to keep from scratching his eyes out as anger swept through her.
"No, that's not what happened at all. You seemed stressed, so I gave you a little something to help you relax."
What game was he playing? She hadn't blanked out after only two sips of her beer. There was no doubt in her mind he'd roofied her drink. She opened her mouth to tell him exactly where he could go.
Shelly snapped it shut before saying anything.
Play along with him for now . . .
She cleared her throat, locking down her emotions. She needed to keep her mind sharp, anger wouldn't save her. "That still doesn't answer what you want from me. Why have you been following me, trying to hurt me?"
"I would never hurt you, Shelly." Again, he lifted his hand to her face.
She jerked away. "Don't touch me."
His hand fell back to his side. "Fine. For now. As my wife, you'll eventually have to get used to my touch."
"You're crazy. I'm not marrying you." Okay, so maybe not the best way to stay on his good side. She just couldn't stand the thought of him touching her.
He kept talking as if she hadn’t spoken. "I stopped into Club Vortex one night and recognized you."
Shelly remained quiet, wanting him to keep talking. The more she knew, the better she could defend herself, and it kept him from focusing on her.
"I followed you home," he continued. "That's when I learned I had a daughter again."
"Again?" The question popped out before she considered whether it was wise or not to ask it. She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.
He continued without missing a beat. "After my wife and daughter died, I didn't think I could go on. Then I found you." His gaze leveled on her. "I knew then we were meant to be together. You, me, and our daughter."
No way this nutjob would ever get near Maggie. She'd kill him first. Trying to stall, she asked, "Why did you shoot at me?"
She realized she'd asked the wrong question when his expression went postal.
"I shot at your boyfriend. I considered getting rid of him months ago because he was in my way. Fortunately for him, you broke off the relationship before I had to." His furious stare pierced her. "Then he came back."
Shelly tensed, expecting to see his fist coming at her, so she tried to change the subject.
"What happened to your family?" He'd seemed calmer when he talked about his wife and daughter. If she could form some kind of connection with him, maybe she could talk him into letting her go.
A look of intense pain flashed across his eyes, his gaze becoming unfocused. "It was an accident. Two Christmases ago, we left a party and picked Katy up from the sitters. I—I only had a couple drinks . . ."
She glanced past him, at the open door. Could she get through it while he was lost in his thoughts?
"I didn't see the light turn red," he continued. A shudder shook him, as sweat broke out on his forehead. "They died instantly, and I barely survived." He reached up and pressed two fingers against a scar she hadn't noticed that started at his temple and ran into his hairline.
Shelly knew it was now or never. Who knew what this freak had in store for her. She bent her knees, leaning forward and rushed him as he continued to stare off into space. Before he had a chance to defend himself, she rammed into his stomach and sent him crashing into the wall behind him.
She darted out. Fortunately for her the front door was unlocked, and she threw it open and ran outside as he bellowed her name.
They'd already checked out his home in Lakewood, with no luck. Bob was on the phone right now with Dave, who'd also managed to track down a rental property the man owned, outside of Denver.
"Thanks, babe," Bob said, "you may have just saved our girl’s life." He tossed his cell phone on the dash. "Dave's notifying the police. It’s not too far, if you take the bypass, we should be able to get there in under an hour."
Resting his elbow on the bucket seats, Stan stuck his head up front. "Get off the freeway before rush hour kicks in."
Duke nodded, maneuvering around traffic and onto an off-ramp, before shooting Bob a quick glance. "What'd you learn?"
"Appears this idiot killed his family in a drunk-driving accident. Had a little girl about Maggie's age. He was in a coma for months, and when he came out of it he apparently had some brain damage."
"How'd you get his medical record?" Duke asked.
"Easy," Bob said. "It's all part of his criminal record. Shelly's not the only woman he's stalked since he recovered."
Stan shot him a quick glance. "No?"
"Nope. Last year a woman he'd dated filed a restraining order on him after he broke into her house. Seems not only was he stalking her, he was also hanging around outside her daughter's grade school. He agreed to counseling and entered a residential treatment center for traumatic brain injuries in order to stay out of jail."
As Stan’s mind spun with all the ways this nut could harm Shelly, worry was a moveable, breathable force inside him. "Go faster," he demanded, raking his fingers through his hair.
Duke expertly maneuvered around cars until they reached the bypass, then he floored it.
A little over half an hour later, as the sun began to set over the mountains, they turned onto a rocky dirt road that would lead them to Bartlett's property.
It was the longest ten minutes of Stan's life as Duke raced across the rough road as fast as he could without shaking the car apart, as a tense silence reigned inside the vehicle.
Hold on, Shelly, I'm coming . . .
Shelly attempted to calm her racing heart as footsteps pounded behind her. Darting to the left she ducked down behind a wide tree and clapped a hand over her mouth, holding her breath as her stalker, whose name she still didn't know, raced past her.
They had been playing a deadly game of cat and mouse for what seemed like forever, and her body, already battered and bruised, was weakening. Her legs trembled as she slowly straightened and carefully moved in the opposite direction. Hopelessly lost, she had no idea if she was moving toward the road or further into the forest where her body would never be found,
Grief filled her chest as she glanced behind her, picking up her pace. I'm sorry, Magpie. What would happen to her baby girl when she was gone? Would Stan make sure she was taken care of? Maybe one of his sisters would adopt her. That seemed reasonable, knowing the kindness of his family, and a little of her heartache eased.
You’re not dead yet, her mind shouted, don't give up. Run!
She pumped her legs faster, realizing she was heading uphill now. Her steps faltered. Surrounded by mountains, Shelly realized she should change course or she'd end up on a cliff bluff with no means of escape.
"Shelly," the man shouted, heading in her direction. "There's no place to go. Stop now and I promise not to hurt you."
Like she believed a word out of his crazy mouth. She ran faster, holding her arms up to protect her face against the branches as she carved a path through the thick foliage. The blood dripping down one cheek indicated she was already scraped up.
A short time later, chest heaving with exhaustion, Shelly's worst fears came true. Her heart broke as she stared out over the yawning precipice in front of her, with nowhere to go except back the way she'd come. Back toward the very monster she'd been running from.
That's when she saw it, a car traveling up the road below her. Duke's car.
Hope flared inside her, and she whispered Stan's name like a prayer, then screamed loud and long. Moving near the edge, she waved her arms like a wild woman, letting lose with another piercing scream. The car braked to a stop, then took off, tearing up the rocky road. Even from this distance, she could see the gravel flying as it careened around a sharp corner and disappeared from sight.
Hold on for a little while longer.
Stan’s coming . . .
Stan couldn't see Shelly's face, but even from this distance he'd heard the terror in her screams. She'd appeared so tiny standing on the bluff, so fragile against the forest backdrop. One slip, and she'd tumble down the rocky slope to her death.
He kept his eyes glued to the rock-face, searching for a clearing, however small. "There has to be a way up," he ground out between gritted teeth, white-knuckling the door handle in preparation of leaping from the car.
"There." Bob pointed off to the right, a couple hundred yards in front of them. A slope appeared to have been cleared as a trail of some sort, slightly overgrown, it still looked passable.
Duke brought the car to a careening halt and they all jumped out.
Shelly ducked down behind a large boulder when she heard her abductor yelling her name, threatening her, as he crashed through the trees and into the clearing not too far from where she hid. Fear crawled up her throat and her body shook no matter how hard she tried to control it. There was nowhere to go. Only the steep drop-off behind her, and the narrow passage where he now stood.
The sound of footsteps heading in her direction indicated she was fast running out of time. As soon as he reached the boulder, he'd spot her.
She glanced furiously around, hoping to find a weapon of some kind. Spotting a large rock, she palmed it. Her body tensed in preparation of the approaching danger.
The guy isn't that big. She should be able to take him.
Maybe.
Do I have a choice?
No. She wasn't going to just stand there while this freak hurt her. Muscles braced, Shelly rose into a crouch. And waited. Hopefully, he didn't have a weapon on him. She hadn't noticed one back at his cabin, though she knew he owned a gun.
Footsteps drew closer. Her abductor’s harsh breathing indicated he was fatigued from chasing her, while she'd had a few minutes to rest, giving her an advantage. She had to act now, before he was able to gather his strength.
Do it for Maggie. For Stan . . .
Her little pep talk was exactly what she needed to shove down her fear, and let her frustration and anger rise to the surface. She'd just found happiness, and this bastard wasn't going to take it from her.
His shadow fell across the path in front of her, first one foot, then the other as he came abreast of her hiding place.
He glared down at her. "You shouldn’t have run—"
Before he could finish the sentence, Shelly snapped to her feet and swung the rock against the side of his head, and he fell back on his ass.
Not wasting a second, she dashed around him and took off at a run as his raged-filled snarl exploded behind her.