Black Canyon Conspiracy Read online

“You sick bastard. What did you do to my brother?” Aiming the blunt end of the Taser directly at his midsection, she fired.

  The man fell to his knees, groaning, as she scrambled to her feet.

  “What are you talking about, lady? You’re crazy,” he bit out through grunts and clenched teeth, convulsing on the ground.

  Shaking off the fear gripping her, she snatched her handbag and ran to her car. She cursed, realizing some of the purse contents were on the ground. No way could she risk going back for them. Not with him there.

  She hopped into the driver’s seat, then closed and locked the door. Her fingers trembled, causing her to drop the keys. Scooping them off the floorboard, she tried to force a sense of calm over her.

  Fumbling to get the key in the ignition, her logical mind battled with reality. That had to be him, right?

  This wasn’t like before when she’d mistaken one of the garbagemen for her abductor. Or the time she’d been certain he was posing as a cable guy. Anyone who’d come close and roughly matched her abductor’s description had given her nightmares.

  The sheriff had been convinced that no one from Mason Ridge was capable of doing such a horrific act. He’d said it had to be the work of a trucker or someone else passing through because of the festival. The FBI hadn’t been so sure. They’d produced a list of potential suspects that had pitted neighbors and small-shop owners against one another. Personal vendettas had people coming forward.

  As the investigation unfolded, there was no shortage of accused. And a town’s innocence had been lost forever.

  Determined investigators had traced freight cars and truckers that had passed through Mason Ridge the night both her and Shane had been abducted. In the days following, they’d scoured known teen hangouts, drained a lake and even set off dynamite in the rock quarry. But they’d come up empty.

  They’d been reaching, just as she was now.

  Guilt hit at the thought she could be overreacting. She’d never actually seen the face of the man who’d abducted them all those years ago. Had she just nailed a stranger with her Taser?

  A quick glance in the side mirror said it didn’t matter. This guy wasn’t there to help with her groceries. The hooded man on the ground inched toward her, a menacing curve to his exposed lips, his body twitching.

  She turned the ignition again with a silent prayer.

  Bingo.

  The engine cranked and she shifted into Reverse. Her tires struggled to gain traction as she floored the pedal. Fear, doubt and anger flooded her.

  She checked the rearview again as she pulled onto the street. When she could be certain he wasn’t following her, she’d pull over and call 911.

  A few seconds later, she turned right onto the road and then made another at the red light, zipping into traffic at the busy intersection. A horn blared.

  Adrenaline and fear caused her hands to shake and her stomach to squeeze. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. A couple more turns, mixing lefts and rights, and she pulled into a pharmacy parking lot. She reached for her purse, remembering that half the contents had spilled out in the parking lot. Had any of her personal information fallen out? On the concrete? Right next to him?

  But it couldn’t be him, could it?

  Why would he come back after all these years?

  The festival? The radio show? Every year she mentioned her brother near the anniversary of his disappearance and got threatening letters at the station. The sheriff’s office followed up with the same result as previous years, no enthusiasm, no leads.

  Rebecca couldn’t write it off so easily, had never been able to. She scoured social media for any signs of Shane. Last month alone, she must’ve sent a dozen messages to people who matched Shane’s description. Although she still hadn’t given up, her results weren’t any better than the sheriff’s. But her resolve was.

  Maybe it was her own guilt that kept her searching. Or, a deep-seated need to give their mother closure.

  Rebecca rummaged through her bag, desperate to locate her cell, and found nothing. It must’ve fallen out of her purse. The sheriff’s office was nearby. She’d have to drive to the station to file a complaint against her attacker. She cursed. No way could she get there in time for them to take her information and then catch him. He’d be long gone, most likely already was. She fisted her hand and thumped the steering wheel.

  If her on-air mention of Shane hadn’t rattled any chains, the media might have. Every year before the festival the local paper ran some kind of article referencing Shane’s disappearance. This year being the fifteenth anniversary had brought out the wolves. A reporter had been waiting in the parking lot at work two weeks ago, trying to score an interview. He’d said he wanted a family member’s perspective. She’d refused and then gone to the sheriff to ask for protection. Again, they did nothing to stop the intrusion, saying no laws had been violated.

  Even Charles Alcorn, the town’s wealthiest resident, had reached out to her. He’d helped with the search years ago and said he’d like to offer assistance again. What could he do that hadn’t already been done?

  This time, the sheriff’s office couldn’t ignore her. They would have to do something. The attack was concrete and too close for comfort. The man had shown up out of nowhere. She’d been so focused on getting away that she hadn’t thought to see if he’d retreated to a car. A make and model, a license plate, would give the sheriff something to go on.

  Her best chance at seeing him behind bars, overdue justice for her brother, had just slipped away. If that was him, a little voice inside her head reminded.

  Did he have her cell phone? A cold chill ran down her back.

  Wait a minute. Couldn’t the sheriff track him using GPS?

  Anger balled inside her as she drove the couple of blocks to the sheriff’s office. What if they didn’t believe her?

  She hadn’t physically been there in years, and yet she could still recall the look of pity on Sheriff Randall Brine’s face the last time she’d visited. His gaze had fixed on her for a couple seconds, contemplating her. Then, he’d said, “Have you thought about getting away for a little while? Maybe take a long vacation?”

  “I’m fine,” she’d said, but they both knew she was lying.

  “I know,” he’d said too quickly. “I was just thinking how nice it’d be to walk through the surf. Eat fresh seafood for a change.” Deep circles cradled his dark blue eyes and he looked wrung out. She’d written it off as guilt, thinking she was probably the last person he wanted to see. Was she a reminder of his biggest failure? Then again, it seemed no one wanted to see her around. “We’ve done everything we can. I wish I had better news. I’ll let you know if we get any new information.”

  “But—”

  His tired stare had pinned her before he picked up his folder and refocused on what he’d been reading before she’d interrupted him.

  Rebecca had wanted to stomp her feet and make a scene to force him to listen to her. In her heart, she knew he was right. And she couldn’t depend on the sheriff to investigate every time something went bump in the night or a complete stranger reminded her of him.

  Somehow, life had to go on.

  Heaven knew her parents, overwrought with grief, had stopped talking to each other and to their friends. Instead of real conversation, there’d been organized searches, candlelight vigils and endless nights spent scouring fields.

  When search teams thinned and then disappeared altogether, there’d been nothing left but despair. They’d divorced a year following Shane’s disappearance. Her dad had eventually remarried and had two more children, both boys. And her mother never forgave him for it. She’d limited visitation, saying she was afraid Rebecca would feel awkward.

  After, both parents had focused too much attention on Rebecca, which had smothered her. There’d been two and a half years of endless counseling and medication until she’d finally stood up to them. No more, she’d said, wanting to be normal again, to feel ordinary. And even though she’d returned
to a normal life after that, nothing was ever normal again.

  Although the monster hadn’t returned, he’d left panic, loneliness and the very real sense that nothing would ever be okay again.

  Since then, she’d had a hard time letting anyone get close to her, especially men. The one person who’d pushed past her walls in high school, Brody, had scared her more than her past. He’d been there that night. He’d stepped forward and said she was meeting him to give him back a shirt he had to have for camp so she wouldn’t have to betray her friends. Her mother had never forgiven him. He’d been the one person Rebecca could depend on, who hadn’t treated her differently, and he deserved so much more than she could give. Even as a teenager she’d known Brody deserved more.

  Separating herself from him in high school had been the right thing to do, she reminded herself. Because every time she’d closed her eyes at night, fear that the monster would return consumed her. Every dark room she’d stood in front of had made her heart pound painfully against her chest. Every strange sound had caused her pulse to race.

  And time hadn’t made it better.

  She often wondered if things would have turned out differently if she’d broken the pact and told authorities the real reason they’d been out.

  Probably not. She was just second-guessing herself again. None of the kids had been involved.

  Once Shane had been discovered following her, they’d broken up the game and gone home. Nothing would’ve changed.

  Rebecca refocused as she pulled into a parking spot at the sheriff’s office. By the time she walked up the steps to the glass doors, she’d regained some of her composure.

  The deputy at the front desk acknowledged her with a nod. She didn’t recognize him and figured that was good. He might not know her, either.

  “How can I help you?”

  “I need to speak to the sheriff.”

  “Sorry. He’s not in. I’m Deputy Adams.” The middle-aged man offered a handshake. “Can I help you?”

  “I need to report an assault. I believe it could be connected to a case he worked a few years ago.” She introduced herself as she shook his hand.

  The way his forehead bunched after he pulled her up in the database made her figure he was assessing her mental state. Her name must’ve been flagged. He asked a few routine-sounding questions, punched the information into the keyboard and then folded his hands and smiled. A sympathetic look crossed his features. “I’ll make sure the report is filed and on the sheriff’s desk as soon as he arrives.”

  Deputy Adams might be well intentioned, but he wasn’t exactly helpful. His response was similar as she reported her missing phone.

  Not ready to accept defeat, she thanked him, squared her shoulders and headed into the hot summer sun.

  Local law enforcement was no use, and she’d known that on some level. They’d let the man slip through their fingers all those years ago and hadn’t found him since. What would be different now?

  She thought about the fact that her little brother would be twenty-two years old now. That he’d be returning home from college this summer, probably fresh from an athletic scholarship. Even at seven, he’d been obsessed with sports. Maybe he still was. A part of her still refused to believe he was gone.

  Rebecca let out a frustrated hiss. I’m so sorry, Shane.

  What else could she do? She had to think. Wait a minute. What about her cell? If her attacker had picked it up, could she track him somehow? Her phone might be the key. She could go home and search the internet to find out how to locate it and possibly find him. And then do what? Confront him? Alone? Even in her desperate state she knew that would be a dangerous move.

  Could she take Alcorn up on his offer to help?

  And say what?

  Would he believe her when the sheriff’s office wouldn’t?

  She needed help. Someone she could trust.

  Brody? He was back from the military.

  Even though she hadn’t seen him in years, he might help.

  If she closed her eyes, she could remember his face perfectly. His honest, clear blue eyes and sandy-blond hair with dark streaks on a far-too-serious-for-his-age face punctuated a strong, squared jaw. By fifteen, he was already six foot one. She couldn’t help but wonder how he’d look now that he was grown. The military had most likely filled out his muscles.

  When she’d returned to school after a year of being homeschooled, kids she’d known all her life had diverted their gazes from her in the hallway when she walked past. Conversations turned to whispers. Teachers gave her extra time to complete assignments and spoke to her slowly, as if she couldn’t hear all of a sudden. Even back then, the pain pierced through the numbness and hurt. She’d felt shunned. As the years passed, she realized no one knew what to say and she appreciated them for trying. She got used to being an outsider. Her tight-knit group of friends had split up. She’d figured they were afraid to be connected with her or just plain afraid of her.

  Not Brody. He’d stopped by her house every day after the incident even though her mother refused to allow him inside, especially after he’d stepped forward. It had been easier to take the blame than to admit why they’d really been out that night—to play Mission Quest. They’d had good reasons to lie, too. First of all, they weren’t supposed to be playing that online game, let alone sneaking out to meet up with strangers to capture their friends’ bases. And then there was the sheriff. He’d been looking for any excuse to bust their best friend Ryan’s older brother, Justin, the guy who’d let them into the game in the first place. If they didn’t cover for him, the sheriff would go after Justin like an angry pit bull. It would be his third strike and a one-way trip to a real jail. No more acting-out-against-an-abusive-father juvenile stuff. He’d be shipped off for good if their dad didn’t beat Justin to death first.

  Justin had cleaned up his act. And he deserved a second chance. Besides, it was no surprise that he’d taken a wrong turn in the first place with a father as cruel as his. The real miracle had been that Ryan hadn’t followed in his older brother’s footsteps.

  Even though it would have meant turning on their friends, Brody had visited Rebecca in the middle of the night to tell her that she didn’t have to keep the pact. Ryan would understand.

  But Justin didn’t have anything to do with Shane’s disappearance. And there was no reason to screw up another family.

  Shaking off the memories, Rebecca slipped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. She put the car in Reverse and tapped the gas a little too hard.

  An object flew forward underneath her feet. She hit the brake, bent forward and picked it up. Her cell. It must’ve fallen out when she was rushing into her car earlier.

  A mix of relief and exasperation flooded her as the thought of tracking her assailant via her phone disintegrated.

  It was too early to give up hope of finding him this time.

  She couldn’t do it alone. Brody had bought the old Wakefield Ranch. Rumor said he’d become a warrior overseas. Would he help? Could she reach out to him after all these years? How hard would it be to get his phone number and find out?

  Rebecca pulled into another parking spot and thumbed through her contacts. Her finger hovered over Ryan’s number. They hadn’t spoken in years, but she figured it wouldn’t hurt to reach out to him. She sent a text message to him, unsure this was his number anymore. It didn’t matter. It was worth a try. He still owed her one for helping to protect his brother.

  The text came thirty seconds later with Brody’s information.

  Seeing it, needing to reach out to him, made this horror so much more real. And her heart pitched when she thought about facing him again.

  * * *

  BRODY FIELDS LEANED against his truck. The call from Rebecca Hughes had dredged up old feelings best left buried. He’d almost ended the call without finding out what she’d wanted. Except he couldn’t do that to her. It was Rebecca. The sound of her voice had stirred up all kinds of memories. Most of them w
ere good.

  He’d known her since they were kids, but they’d been teenagers when he’d fallen for her. There was so much more than her physical beauty that had drawn him in. She’d been the only female Brody had ever trusted and allowed inside his armor after his mother had betrayed the family, stolen money from the town and then disappeared.

  The mental connection he’d shared with Rebecca had been beyond any closeness he’d experienced. Looking back, maybe it was the loner in him that could relate to her isolation.

  When she’d pushed him away and said she’d never loved him, it had hurt worse than any physical blow. Soon after, she’d left for college, and then eventually moved to Chicago. He’d been the most surprised to learn that she’d moved back to Mason Ridge.

  For a split second, he’d hoped she’d called for old times’ sake. Then, he remembered what day it was—the anniversary of Shane’s disappearance—and he knew better.

  The conversation had been short. She’d told him what had happened and requested to meet face-to-face at The Dirty Bean Coffee Shop. He’d agreed, ending their exchange. The place was on his way home. Driving to the meeting point had taken ten minutes.

  The pale blue sedan parking next to his truck had to be hers.

  Knowing she was about to step out of her car and he was about to see her again hit him hard. How many times had he secretly wished he’d run into her in the past few months? Where’d that come from?

  Hearing that her abductor had returned hadn’t done good things to Brody’s blood pressure. He wouldn’t refuse her plea for help. And a little piece of him hoped he’d figure out if her case and the memories were the reasons she’d rejected him all those years ago. He’d been a boy back then. Helpless. A lot’s changed.

  He’d grown up. Survived his mother’s betrayal of his family and the town. Served his country. Gone on to become a leader of an elite-forces team. Spent time with a lot of interesting women. To be honest, not all of them were interesting, but they were smokin’ hot.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his hands under his armpits.

  The first thing he noticed as Rebecca exited her vehicle was her jean-clad long legs and red boots. His body instantly reacted to seeing the woman she’d become. There were enough curves on her lean figure to make her look like a real woman. She still had the same chestnut-brown hair that fell well past her shoulders in waves. She’d be close enough for him to look into her light brown eyes soon. Were they still the color of honey?