ONCE LOST Read online

  He said, “The cops who’ve been watching over Riley’s house have been killed, right here in Riley’s house. Shane Hatcher was here. He did it. Now he’s on the loose, and it looks like he’s on some kind of murderous rampage.”

  “Jesus,” Blaine murmured.

  Bill hoped Blaine wasn’t about to panic.

  But Blaine sounded clear-headed as he spoke.

  “So Gabriela’s coming over to my place. What about Riley’s kids? Are they safe?”

  “They’re in school.”

  “That’s not what I asked. Are they safe?”

  Bill felt a jolt of alarm.

  That’s a damn good question, he thought. After all, Hatcher surely knew that they were in school.

  Was that where Hatcher might strike next?

  It was a mind-boggling, horrifying possibility.

  Bill thought hard and fast.

  He quickly remembered something that Riley had casually mentioned at one time or another. Because Riley was away so often, she’d given Gabriela a lot of her own parental prerogatives and authority.

  Bill said, “Gabriela’s going to be there any minute now. Drive her to the school, and she can pull Riley’s kids out of school. Take them all to your house. Then none of you go anywhere. Have you got that?”

  “Yeah,” Blaine said. “Bill …”

  Bill could hear hesitation in Blaine’s voice.

  “What is it?” Bill said.

  “I’ve got a gun,” Blaine said.

  Bill shuddered slightly. He knew that Blaine was trying to reassure him that he could keep everybody safe. But from long experience, Bill found the idea of a civilian trying to play the hero to be anything but reassuring.

  “You won’t be needing it,” Bill said.

  He ended the call, hoping he was right.

  Meanwhile, there was plenty that he needed to do right here and now. He had to get in touch with the Fredericksburg police and also the FBI.

  He decided to call the FBI first.

  They needed to know that their stakeout had ended in a tragedy and that Hatcher was at large, probably in Fredericksburg.

  He punched the FBI number into his cell phone.

  CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

  Riley’s instincts were telling her loud and clear that she needed to search the coach’s house. With a girl missing and in danger, she knew she had no choice but to follow her gut. There wasn’t time for anything else.

  She parked her car in the driveway, walked up to the house, and rang the doorbell.

  She didn’t know whether the coach and his wife would be at home. She hoped not. But if either Renee or Judd came to the door, she knew exactly what to say.

  She’d apologize abjectly for the trauma she’d put them through, and promise that nothing like that would ever happen again.

  It would be humiliating, of course, and it would leave Riley’s purpose unfulfilled.

  She breathed a little easier when nobody answered the door.

  She took out her lock-picking kit and opened the front door.

  As soon as she stepped inside, she saw something amiss.

  One of the big living room chairs had been moved.

  Riley walked across the carpeted floor. On the other side of the dislocated chair was a gaping square hole in the floor.

  It was an open trapdoor, its lid folded back. She could see stairs leading downward.

  A basement! Riley thought.

  When she and Jenn had searched the place yesterday with Sinard and the others, they’d all believed that the house had no basement. There were no signs of one.

  But now she knew better.

  Standing above the entrance, staring into the dim light below, Riley couldn’t see much except for a concrete floor with rugs scattered on it.

  But as she listened carefully, she heard something.

  Something or someone was moving about down there. She also heard what sounded like a girl’s voice, muffled and moaning.

  Amelia’s down there! she thought.

  And so, Riley was sure, was the coach.

  And the coach must know that Riley was here.

  He couldn’t have missed the sound footsteps on the floor above him.

  What should she do now?

  She considered calling down, identifying herself and announcing that he was under arrest.

  But what if he used the girl as a hostage? Perhaps he was already holding her with a gun to her head.

  Riley made a decision. She drew her own weapon and charged down the stairs.

  At the bottom was girl lying on a rug on the floor. She was tied up, her mouth was taped shut, and her face was badly bruised.

  And standing over her, smiling that charming smile of his, was the coach.

  She aimed her gun at him, and said, “Judd Griggs, you already know who I am. You are under arrest for …”

  Riley was interrupted by a sharp blow to the back of the head.

  She fell dizzily to her knees, and her head whirled round as she still clutched her gun.

  Before she could put her thoughts together, her head took another blow.

  This time the gun flew from her hands and the world became dim and blurry.

  *

  Blaine and Gabriela hurriedly went through the process of picking up kids from two schools. During the drive back to his house, his passengers bombarded him with frantic questions. He said as little as possible. He made a point of not mentioning Shane Hatcher. They were all scared enough as it was.

  Besides, his head was buzzing with questions of his own—and he had no one to answer them.

  The direst question was …

  How safe will they all be in my house?

  All he knew about Shane Hatcher was what Riley had told him.

  And what Riley had told him was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

  It had sounded to Blaine as if Shane Hatcher had the mind of a brilliant chess player, always thinking several moves ahead, anticipating his opponent’s every move.

  Would Hatcher guess that Riley’s family might seek safety in Blaine’s house?

  It seemed like a distinct possibility.

  As soon as Blaine arrived at home and got everyone inside, he shepherded them all through the door that led down to his furnished basement.

  “Go down there and stay put,” he said. “I’ve got to go get something. I’ll join you in a minute.”

  April was looking at him, wide-eyed with fear and perplexity.

  “But why, Blaine?” April asked. “What’s going on?”

  “I’ll explain everything later,” Blaine said.

  Jilly crossed her arms and frowned indignantly.

  She said, “I’m not going anywhere until you tell us what’s going on.”

  Blaine felt a surge of impatience—and also a surge of authority that took even him by surprise.

  He grabbed Jilly firmly by the arm.

  “You are going down there, young lady,” he snapped. “And so are all the rest of you. I’m in charge right now. You’ll do exactly as I say. And I don’t want to hear any more out of you.”

  The group stared at him with their mouths hanging open. Then they silently nodded and moved almost herd-like down the stairs.

  Blaine shut the basement door and locked it.

  He dashed upstairs to his bedroom closet and fetched the locked box where he kept his gun. He took out the gun, snapped open the cylinder, and loaded it with six bullets.

  He shuddered a little as he did so.

  He’d never fired this gun anywhere except at the firing range.

  He’d never even loaded it here in his own house.

  His actions felt weird and dreamlike.

  Is this really happening? he wondered.

  The gun felt strange and foreign in his hand, as if he’d never handled it before in his life.

  He left his bedroom with the gun and dashed down the stairs.

  Then he heard the violent sound of breaking glass.

  He whirled and
saw that the sliding doors leading to his back yard had been shattered, its shards scattered in all directions.

  Wading through the glass and looking straight at him with an evil smile was a large African-American man. He was swinging a heavy chain at his side—the chain he must have used to break the glass.

  Blaine had never seen him before, but he immediately knew who it was.

  Shane Hatcher.

  Like a consummate chess player, Hatcher had indeed anticipated that Riley’s family would seek safety here.

  In fact, he’d probably anticipated it before Blaine had known it himself.

  Struggling against fear, Blaine backed up toward the wall, pointing the gun at Hatcher. He was holding the weapon properly, just as Riley had taught him. Even so, it was all he could do to keep his arms from shaking.

  Hatcher stepped slowly toward him, swinging the chain in a threateningly casual manner.

  Hatcher said, “Blaine Hildreth, I presume. Riley’s new beau. Odd, I pictured you as … well, more formidable, I suppose. Riley’s taste in men is rather a mystery to me.”

  Hatcher seemed amused by the sight of the gun in Blaine’s hand.

  “Have you ever killed a man, Blaine?” he said. “I’ve found it very easy to do—quite enjoyable, actually. But other people tell me that it’s not so easy. In fact, many people can’t bring themselves to do it at all.”

  He moved closer to Blaine, swinging the heavy chain in full circles now. The end of the thing was now whirling just a couple of feet from Blaine’s face. If Hatcher took another two steps it would strike him.

  “My guess is you are one of those people who can’t do it.”

  Hatcher’s words echoed in Blaine’s ears. It truly did feel terrible and unnerving to point a gun at another human being.

  No, he couldn’t imagine himself pulling this trigger.

  Despite the impending danger, he just couldn’t.

  But there’s another way, Blaine realized.

  He shut his eyes and imagined he was at the shooting range.

  He’s a target, he told himself. Just a paper target.

  Sure enough, he could see the target clearly in his mind’s eye.

  He felt the familiar kick of the weapon as he blindly fired one shot … then another … then another.

  *

  Riley struggled against losing all consciousness.

  I can’t, she told herself. I can’t.

  She’d surely wind up dead if she passed out.

  Painfully, she lifted her head. As her eyes began to focus again, she could see her assailant standing over her holding a wooden board.

  It was Renee, the coach’s wife.

  Impossible, Riley thought.

  Was she hallucinating?

  But no—that horrible expression on the woman’s face was all too real.

  And for some mysterious reason, it was all too familiar.

  Riley asked herself …

  Why did she recognize that expression?

  From where and when?

  Then she flashed back to last night, when she had tried to get into the mind of the killer.

  She’d felt her own face take that shape—an expression of murderous hatred.

  But even so …

  It doesn’t make sense, Riley thought.

  As she tried to pull herself to her feet, Renee gave her a swift kick in the belly, knocking her back again.

  Riley lay gasping for air. Her consciousness was wavering again.

  Renee Griggs knelt down beside Riley, peering closely into her eyes, her expression twisting with pure evil.

  “Why, look here, Judd!” she said in a purring voice. “Look at the little gift that just dropped into our hands!”

  She gripped Riley’s chin in her hand, turning her face back and forth as if examining it.

  Renee said, “You know, little lady, when I met you yesterday, I didn’t take you for my husband’s type, you were too old and too strong. But now that you’re here … so weak and helpless and all … well, I’m looking forward to seeing what he’s going to do to you. I’ll sure enjoy finishing you off afterwards.”

  At last, the horrible truth finally came clear to Riley.

  Judd Griggs was the rapist, but he’d only been acting at Renee’s bidding.

  Renee was the true killer.

  She’d abducted this girl while Judd was in jail, confident that he’d soon be free.

  Riley summoned her strength and tried to shove Renee away.

  Renee grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the floor.

  To Riley, the room seemed to spin around her.

  Then she heard a familiar voice behind her.

  “Drop that board! Drop it or I’ll shoot!”

  It’s Jenn, Riley realized.

  But the woman still hovered over her, raising the board as if to slam it against Riley’s head with a final, fatal blow.

  A shot rang out, and the board clattered to the floor. With a yelp of pain, Renee collapsed onto Riley.

  Ignoring the pain in her head, Riley struggled out from under the thrashing woman.

  She scrambled toward her gun.

  In another instant, Riley was standing and pointing the gun at the woman who lay at her feet.

  Renee was moaning and clutching her thigh, which had been grazed by the gunshot.

  Riley glanced over her shoulder and saw that Jenn was already putting the coach into handcuffs.

  “Good shot,” Riley said. “Thanks for not hitting me.”

  Jenn smiled back at her.

  “Glad to oblige,” she said.

  She felt wobbly but completely in control now. She stooped and deftly handcuffed Renee Griggs.

  Then she hurried over to the Amelia Stack, who lay moaning desperately. Riley untied her and removed the tape from her mouth as gently as she could.

  The girl let out a wail of horror mingled with relief.

  Riley held her close as she began to weep more quietly.

  “It’s all over,” Riley told her. “You’re safe now.”

  As Riley rocked the girl in her arms, she heard Jenn talking on the phone.

  “Chief Sinard? I need an ambulance at Coach Griggs’s house. We also need your prisoner transport van. That’s right, we’re making arrests … two of them.”

  Riley could hear a note of deep satisfaction in Jenn’s voice.

  Riley smiled.

  She felt exactly the same way.

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

  Bill drove as fast as he could manipulate his car through traffic. After the local cops had arrived at Riley’s home, he’d tried to call Blaine several times but had gotten no answer. He figured that even without the siren and lights of an official car, he could reach Blaine’s house as fast as a 911 call would get someone there to check things out.

  What the hell’s going on? Bill wondered.

  When Bill pulled up in front of Blaine’s house, it didn’t look like anything was amiss, at least not from outside.

  He parked his car and ran to the front entrance. But ringing the doorbell and pounding on the door didn’t get an answer either. And the door was locked.

  Bill’s heart was pounding now, and he was seized by massive waves of guilt and self-doubt.

  Had he made a fatal mistake by asking Blaine to pick up Gabriela and Riley’s kids?

  Had he sent them right into a trap?

  He drew his weapon and dashed around the house to the back entrance. There he saw a shattered glass sliding door. A trail of blood led out of the house and across the back deck.

  Bill scrambled up onto the deck and ran through scattered shards of glass into the house.

  Blaine was sitting slumped over and motionless in a chair.

  Is he dead? Bill wondered.

  But as Bill approached, he saw that Blaine was shivering all over.

  Blaine was holding a gun in his hand and he was in an apparent state of shock.

  Bill put his own gun away and gently removed the weapon from
Blaine’s hand.

  “What happened here?” Bill asked. “Where are Gabriela and the kids?”

  Blaine slowly lifted his head, looking dazedly surprised to see Bill.

  “They’re downstairs,” he said. “They’re safe. I …”

  He fell silent, as if trying to remember exactly what had happened.

  Finally Blaine said, “It was Hatcher. He came here. I shot him … I think. The next thing I knew he was gone.”

  Bill glanced back at the trail of blood that led out back.

  He said, “Yeah, you shot him, all right. Any idea how many times?”

  Blaine shook his head.

  “I fired three shots. I didn’t see …”

  His voice trailed off again.

  Bill patted him on the shoulder.

  “You did good,” Bill said.

  Blaine looked into Bill’s eyes.

  “I didn’t know if I … I didn’t think I …”

  Then Blaine smiled a little.

  “But I did it,” he said. “I did what I had to do.”

  Bill felt strangely moved. It only took him a moment to realize why. Bill had experienced exactly the same feeling the first time he had used deadly force out of necessity. It wasn’t pride exactly—it never felt good to shoot anyone. Even so, it was a sort of deep gratification at learning about one’s own capabilities, grim though they might be.

  In his guilt at having shot an innocent man, Bill had entirely forgotten that feeling.

  Now he was glad to be reminded.

  Maybe I can be myself again, Bill thought.

  He went to the basement door, unlocked it, and opened it.

  “Come on up, everybody,” he called out. “You’re all safe.”

  Gabriela, April, Jilly, and Liam all crept cautiously out of the basement.

  “What has happened here?” Gabriela asked.

  Bill said, “What’s happened here is …”

  For a moment, he found himself at a loss for words.

  Finally he smiled, pointed at Blaine, and said, “What’s happened here is … you need to thank this guy for saving your lives. He can tell you the details.”

  Gabriela and the kids clustered around Blaine, bombarding him with questions. Blaine was starting to come out of his state of shock, and he started trying to explain all that had happened.