Page 38 of The Last Straw

“I’m Bethie. You’re just like me,” she said.

“No. I think you’re much prettier,” Wyrick said.

And then the mother appeared and took her daughter by the hand.

“We’re so sorry Bethie bothered you. Our baby made a mess and we didn’t realize she’d left the table.”

“On the contrary,” Wyrick said and winked at Bethie. “This might just be the single best thing that has ever happened to me.”

The little girl giggled, and then they were gone.

Wyrick was suddenly aware that she’d let down her guard in public, and now she wouldn’t look at Charlie, or anyone else. But when he laid down some money and stood, the silence of the room wrapped around her like a hug as they left.

Even after they were in the car and back on the beltway, she had nothing to say. She was suddenly so tired, and a little sad, so she leaned back and closed her eyes.

Charlie felt her withdrawal and honored it, knowing something beyond the obvious about that child had triggered her in a very deep way.

By the time they reached the office, Wyrick was all business again and went straight to her desk.

“I’m going to see if I can find blueprints for the property.”

“If you can, send all of it to me. I’ll compare the specs. If there are any secret rooms or passages, they should show up in the blueprints from the renovation.”

Wyrick went to work, while Charlie went to his office.

The whole time Barrett Taylor was being arraigned, he had a bad feeling about the outcome. His lawyer, Marsh Fielding, had filled him in earlier about Jade Wyrick’s video, and that Jeremiah Raver wasn’t answering his phone. All Barrett kept thinking was, if he’d done what he’d come here to do, none of this would be happening. His failure had caused a landslide.

After the charges were read, he pled not guilty. But despite the lawyer’s pleas on his behalf, the district attorney’s claims that the evidence against Taylor, coupled with his priors and the charges filed, made him a flight risk.

The judge denied bail.

Barrett Taylor was sent back to jail to await a trial date.

It wasn’t what he wanted, and it definitely wasn’t what Jeremiah Raver had wanted. The Dallas media had already picked up on it, and on the bounty Wyrick had put out on the men coming after her. It only made the story bigger. The Church of The Righteous had finally gotten media attention, but not in a good way.

Sonny was recovering slowly from his near emasculation, but at least he could walk now. His dick was still purple and sore, and it hurt to pee. He just hoped he’d be back in working order when he healed. And the scratches Rachel had put on his chest were scabbing over.

He wasn’t messing with her again. She’d turned out to be a big disappointment, and it was time to move on. She was feverish before. Maybe by the time he went back she’d be dead, which would save him the trouble of killing her.

But he wasn’t quite up to speed strength-wise, and so he decided to wait at least another day or so, until he knew he was strong enough to move the body. He also knew she’d be hungry, but so what. She could die on an empty stomach as easily as on a full one, and it served her right.

Rachel had no idea how long she’d been in the dark. She’d stayed awake until fever took her under, and now she was in and out of consciousness. The cut on her throat was swollen and too sore to touch, and her body throbbed with every heartbeat.

She dreamed her mother was with her, whispering in her ear to stay strong. Sometimes she thought she could hear Millie talking just outside the door, but no matter how hard she screamed, Millie never heard her.

Other times she dreamed the doorway was open, and imagined Sonny coming at her in the dark, but she didn’t have any legs, so she couldn’t get away.

In her more cognizant moments, she had enough sense to get up and feel her way to the sink to drink. She could live a long time without food, but not without water, so staying hydrated became her conscious focus.

She lost the knife, and spent frantic moments trying to find it, before she passed out. When she woke up again and couldn’t see, she thought she’d gone blind, and screamed. It took a few moments before she remembered, and then she started crying.

“Please, God, please let this be over. Either let me die, or send someone to find me.”

Eight

Wyrick spent a good half hour looking for blueprints and then realized time was not on their side. There were records of blueprints, but none of the really old ones were online, and even if she found the location of the ones for Detter House, requesting the copies would take days.

She was frustrated with the red tape and lack of online availability when it dawned on her that the current owner might be able to help, so she sent a text to Wayne Dyer requesting the owner’s name and phone number.

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