Page 97 of Losing Control

“Cole.” The voice he’d heard a thousand times answered. “I was just about to call you. I got here, and Dana doesn’t seem to be in the house. Her car’s still here, so I thought I’d take a look around. Did she say anything about visiting anyone in the neighborhood?”

The casual tone made Cole want to reach through the phone and rip the man’s face off. He was sick to his stomach at the realization of the demon masquerading as friend.

“Where is she, Tate? Just tell me she’s okay, and we can forget this whole thing happened.”

“She’s fine. Just fine.” He paused. “For now. You’ve put a spoke in my wheel, boy. I thought this game would play out successfully to the end, but now, you’ve spoiled everything.” He cackled. “Oh, not quite everything. I hope you’ll take good care of your Aunt Adele after I disappear.”

“Damn you, Tate.” He ground his teeth, digging for control. “Put Dana on the phone. Right now. Please.” Cole’s heart was beating so fast he thought it would leap out of his chest. He’d never known such fear or such rage.

“Sorry, she’s a little…how shall I say it? Out of it right now.” And then he began to sing. “There was a little girl, who had a little curl…”

And the call disconnected.

Cole raced to dispatch and grabbed the microphone from a startled Deke.

“Scott, come in. Are you still out there? Where are you? Where’s the chopper?”

At first, all he heard was static. Then Scott Clayton’s voice came crackling back to him. “We’re here, headed back to the office. So is the chopper. What’s up?”

“I know who our killer is, and he’s got Dana.”

“How do you know he’s got her?” Scott asked.

“Because I’m the one who sent the son of a bitch to her.” He explained in choppy sentences.

“Jesus.” Scott’s curse came through even with the static.

“I’m going to give you the description of a truck and my address. Tell the chopper pilot to hover over the area and see if he can spot it. Everyone else hear that?”

Four voices answered affirmatively.

“Here’s where I want you.” He laid out instructions for everyone. “Gaylen?”

“Right here, Cole,” the voice came back.

“I want you there, too. I’m outta here now.”

“On my way.”

Cole handed the microphone back to Deke. “Did you get all that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, then. You don’t budge from here. You’re our point of contact.” He was already racing for the door.

****

Dana’s eyelids felt so heavy it was an effort to open them. And something was making her dizzy and giving her a headache. She tried to rub her eyes, and when she lifted her hands, they were manacled.

She was in a truck, riding down an unfamiliar road, and wondering how she got here. She rolled her head slowly toward the driver, and everything came slamming back to her. The man who introduced himself as Cole’s uncle, Tate Bishop.

“My nephew sent me to make sure you’re safe.” He had smiled when she cracked the front door. “Did you get his message?”

“Yes. I just played his message back a few minutes ago.” She drew the chain from the lock and opened the door wider. “This was totally unnecessary but please. Come on in.”

She had greeted him warmly. After all, he was a member of Cole’s family. Then the familiar scent from long ago had drifted across her nose, and she stared at him, shocked. Turning away, she had tried to run, but he was on her in seconds and clapping a rag over her face. Just like the man had done twenty-five years ago.

He glanced at her now as she stirred. “I see you’re awake. Good, good. Sorry if my medicine offends you. I’ve had a skin condition all my life, and this is the only thing that keeps it at bay. Just my damn luck that I had to put some on today and you recognized it.”

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