"Everything's going to be okay," she murmured, to keep her as calm as possible. But Zoe wasn't at all sure everything would be okay. Sammie was ill. She needed help and she needed it fast.
What could she do? Zoe struggled against the rope that bound her, as she had since Colin had dragged her in here, but the slightest movement caused excruciating pain in her injured hand, which had swollen to a monstrous size. The rope cut off the flow of blood and the swelling had grown worse, but it was her jaw that hurt the most. Colin had kicked her in the face. She remembered that now.
No wonder she'd lost consciousness....
"Sammie? You okay, baby?" she murmured.
Her daughter's breathing was shallow.
"I'm...okay, Mommy," she whispered.
Zoe had to concentrate so she wouldn't pass out again. Using the less damaged side of her face, she nuzzled her child's forehead. It was a blessing just to be able to touch her. "I'm so grateful to be with you."
"Even...here? Like this?" came the soft reply.
"Even here."
"I love you, Mommy."
Zoe breathed deeply, willing herself to remain lucid for Sam's sake.
Ignore the pain. Hang on.... She had to come up with a plan, do something, before it was too late.
"I love you...too," she said and then the door swung wide and slammed against the inside wall.
Chapter 37
"W hat the hell is taking so long?" Jonathan shouted into the phone.
He'd been traveling for nearly three hours--this was his sixth call to the Chester Police Department--and they still hadn't visited the rental house.
"What do you think, buddy?" came the police chief's irritated response. "That I can pull the address out of my ass?"
"Nothing quite so spectacular. You've got Tommy Tuttle's name, address, employer and phone number. Maybe it's just me, but I'd probably call and ask him how the hell to get to his cousin's place. Did that bright idea occur to anyone in the past three hours?"
"I don't want to talk to some smartass private detective," he said.
Jonathan could tell the man was about to hang up and hurried to stop him. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? It's just...I know what this guy's capable of."
There was a moment of silence, during which Jonathan sensed the police chief wavering. Ultimately, he didn't hang up, but his tone was pretty damn defensive. "We've been working in conjunction with Sac PD ever since the call came in, okay? And they've been doing all they can to get the information we need. They just found Tommy Tuttle five minutes ago. He wasn't at work, where he was supposed to be. He was at some triple-X
movie house in Del Paso Heights. That's not the type of place you announce you're spending the afternoon. And it's definitely not the type of place where a man cares whether or not he's getting a call, even if he has his hands free to answer it."
Jonathan rubbed his face. "I get it. I didn't mean to offend you. I'm just...freaked out. This guy has no conscience."
"I understand that. A woman and child are in danger. I sent three squad cars the second I got the location, and I'm heading over in a fourth.
We should be there any minute."
"Where's there? Can you give me the address?" Jonathan asked. "I'm just pulling in to town. I'll be right behind you."
The chief hesitated. "Maybe you should let us handle this one."
"Now that Tommy's available, I can get hold of him, too, Chief."
"Fine," he said with a sigh and recited the address. "But you'd better stay out of our way or I'll have your ass thrown in jail right along with his."
Colin had a knife in his hand. The shadow of it loomed large against the wall. Zoe was afraid Sam would see it, wanted to shield her from the terror. But she didn't need to. Her daughter was no longer responding.
"Colin, don't do this." Zoe kept her voice low as she watched him advance. "Sam needs a doctor. Do the right thing for a change and get her some help."
"Now you want a favor?" he said. "After you busted my nose?" He kicked her in the leg. It wasn't a full-force blow; it was more to make his point. But the damage he'd already done to her jaw made any jolt so painful spots began to dance before her eyes.
"Would you rather I'd hit your wife?" she gasped.
He didn't answer.
"Come on, Colin." Zoe licked her lips, drew enough breath to speak again. "You can have me, do what you want with me. But first you have to let her go."
"She can't leave even if I do let her go. And I don't want you anymore.
You've always thought you were too good for me. But you're no better than my sister or my mother. I don't know why it took me so long to realize that. I want my wife. I want to go home."
"Then go home, Colin. Leave us here to die and go." Zoe didn't much like that option, but at least it would buy her some time--time to continue working at the ropes, time for Jonathan and the police to find them.
"Shut up," he snapped. "My head hurts too much to listen to you."
"But--"
"Shut up!" Squatting next to them, he grabbed Sam by the hair and put his knife to her throat.
Sam came to long enough to open her eyes, but she didn't fight him or cry out. She didn't look like she had the energy.
Her gaze settled on Zoe in a silent good-bye, and Zoe's heart began to pound harder. "Not her, Colin. Kill me instead. Please!"
"I'm not letting you off that easy," he said. "She's what you love. So she's what I'm going to take from you."
With an agonized scream, Zoe fought the ropes, struggling to stop what she had no power to stop. Then she squeezed her eyes closed because she couldn't bear to watch. She thought it would all be over, that Sam would be dead in an instant. But then a gun went off somewhere near the doorway, and it was Colin who dropped.
The deafening blast seemed to echo for several seconds as Colin lay writhing on the floor. "What the hell?" he cried.
Zoe blinked, once, twice, three times. She expected a man in a uniform, or maybe Jonathan, to be standing in the doorway. But it was neither. A middle-aged woman with an attractive haircut and dark, tortured eyes slumped against the wall.
"God, that hurts!" His breath coming in short gasps, Colin rolled over to see who'd shot him and started to laugh. "It's you," he said, the words as bitter as any Zoe had ever heard. "My own mother. Who would've thought you'd trouble yourself to come all the way from L.A.?"
Petite and well-groomed, Tina Bell could've walked out of a Nordstrom ad, except that she wasn't carrying a fashionable purse to match her shoes. She was holding a pistol. "I came as soon as Sheryl called me."