Trust Me II, page 43
“Isn’t there anything you would like?” Creighton thought for a moment as he stuffed his mouth full of eggs.
“Honestly?” he asked watching her nod as she drank her juice. “I would really like an iPod like yours. It’s the one thing I don’t have and I’ve grown fond of your music. It would be nice to have it when I’m in the office or outside. I can’t use my phone because it interrupts the song when it rings.”
“Then I’ll get you an iPod. I’m sure there’s a newer generation than the one I have. Mine is a couple years old.”
“Then take the credit cards with you and have fun, but be careful; Sabrina loves plastic.”
“I have my own money,” she argued, walking their empty plates to the sink.
“We’ve been over this; my money is your money. I don’t know why that bothers you so much. You know how much there is, so use it, have fun with it, do all the crazy extravagant things you never allowed yourself to do before.”
“I like the idea of having more than I’ll ever use, I’m just not used to it. Don’t get me wrong; being able to buy anything and everything I want is wonderful, but I don’t want to lose myself in the process. I promise to get something though, perhaps a new pair of shoes, or maybe a pair of overalls.”
“Whatever you chose to buy, I want you to promise not to look at the price tag. Just enjoy yourself and don’t worry about the cost.”
“I’ll try,” she promised, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulled her closer to him. “I still have my own credit card, and before you yell at me, I have to use what’s on it so I can close out the account.”
“Just transfer it to the new cards, it’s not that difficult.”
“No, I want one last trip to the store as Sandra Dennis before I have to change my ID to Sandra Ashford. But I promise to spend an obscene amount of money,” she assured him as he opened his mouth to object.
“Wait until you see how much is still on it,” he winked. “When I transferred money onto your card for our trip to find Aryana, I made certain it was enough to last you for quite a long time.”
“How long?” she frowned, accepting the brief kiss he offered her before he turned and walked out the kitchen door with a wide smile.
“Enough to last you a few years at your former salary; just in case you decided to leave me once we reached Paris.”
Sandra shook her head behind him and smiled. Having money was really great, she’d be a liar if she denied that, but this man was filled with amazing and irritating habits when it came to spending. It was one of the most irritating traits he had.
Creighton left shortly before lunch with the promise of returning in time for supper, which left Sandra enough time to plan a nice supper for his family. They had done so much for them since they returned to Yorkshire, that she insisted on doing the cooking. She found her grandmother’s recipe for Yankee Pot roast and set out to begin the preparations.
Creighton had only been gone a few minutes and she already felt alone and frightened. His technical personnel arrived about an hour ago and the sound of drills against the bricks echoed through the still house as they ran wires and installed the equipment.
The smells of summer drifted in the open window and she couldn’t resist smiling. There was something very tranquil about the sounds and aroma of a farm; manure mixed with flowers, always made her feel like she had come home.
Taking the watch off and slipping it into her pocket, she began washing the potatoes, carrots and onions William and Creighton had dug up for her a few days ago. A flash of light caught her attention and she glanced out the window above the sink in time to see the small delivery truck pull into the driveway of her in-laws house.
There had been so many things delivered lately with Sabrina taking on the new project for the school uniforms, that seeing trucks come and go was nothing unusual. She had decided to stay in Yorkshire while she made her sample designs, which allowed her the use of her mother’s expensive sewing machine and serger.
Smiling, Sandra returned to her work at hand and placed the vegetables in a pan of cool water to soak, before turning around from the window and cleaning up the mess she had made of the counters. A loud bang sounded through the air and for a moment she thought it sounded like a gun shot, but then the drills began again and she rolled her eyes. She would never understand how men could make so much noise.
She took one of the carrots left over that she didn’t use for the supper and washed it before taking a bite out of the tip. Sandra placed the towel she had used to dry her hands off across the oven’s handle when the phone began to ring. She glanced at the clock; ten after two, it must be Sabrina. The girl insisted she wanted to go to town early enough to leave time for her to get some sewing in before supper. Sandra lifted the house phone from its receiver on the wall and smiled as she said hello.
“Sandra, I need you to come over here,” Sabrina said in slightly shaky tones.
“Is everything alright?” A frown replaced the smile as Sandra listened to the woman’s soft voice on the other end of the receiver.
“Fine, but I need your help. Please come over now.”
“Sure, just give me a minute to warsh up. Do you still want to go shopping?”
“Yes, of course, but please hurry.” Sandra felt a sudden rush of anxiety as she agreed and hung up the phone. There was something unusual and almost desperate in the girl’s voice that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She picked up the phone to call Creighton then quickly shook her head; she was just being overly paranoid without her husband there by her side. She had to develop a backbone sooner or later, might as well be now.
Sandra hurried up the stairs to the bedroom and gathered her wallet, making certain her old credit card was in place, combed her hair and slipped on a new pair of knee high boots she had purchased in Kansas and fitted her pant legs around the outside of them. She then tossed the watch on the dresser before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.
Half way down the stairs she paused and turned around. She hated wearing watches, but Creighton was so insistent that she keep this one on that she felt guilty leaving it behind. She hurried back up to her bedroom, picking up the expensive item and fastened it on her wrist before leaving the room again, snatching her sweater from the hook behind the back door.
Clark and Harvey were busy helping set up the surveillance equipment when she stepped down off the porch, petting Max who lay on his chain near the oversized dog house. She waved to the men who waved back and continued walking toward the house across the road. There was an ache inside her that she could not name; an odd feeling of impending doom that nearly made her stop and return home. She looked at the clear blue skies and shook her head softly; it was the same feeling she would get when the air changed in Kansas, but this was England. They didn’t have tornadoes here…did they?
She tried to shake off the strange tingling as she continued to walk; she was being ridiculous, she scolded herself. Just because her husband wasn’t by her side didn’t mean she couldn’t go about her day in some sense she had before she met him.
Sandra opened the front door and walked in, the knot in her stomach made her feel nauseated and she was certain it had nothing to do with the baby. It had been days since she threw up, but it was so strong that she placed her hand over her abdomen as she turned the corner into the kitchen.
Her step faltered and she came to a sudden halt, her eyes wide and her throat instantly dry. Standing behind the counter with his hand around Sabrina’s throat, a gun to her head was Konrad Bachmeier, back from the dead. He smiled a rotting-tooth grin at her and sniggered.
“Now that the main attraction is here,” he said in a heavy accent. “We can get the party started.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Let her go,” Sandra said gently, but strong enough that she actually felt very proud of herself. All the lessons her grandfather had taught her over the years came into play; stay calm, remain in control of your emotions, don’t show your fear. They all came rushing back to her in a flood of consciousness.
“But I like having her this close to me,” Bachmeier said, his tongue slithering out of his mouth like a snake as he ran it slowly up the side of Sabrina’s face. The girl closed her eyes and whimpered softly, unable to move away as he tightened his grip on her throat.
“What do you want?” Sandra asked with a sharp tone. “Where are Emma and William?”
“Don’t worry about them, they won’t be interrupting us. I’ve taken care of them and soon I’ll take care of you. But first, we’re going to take a little ride. See that bag on the chair?” Sandra turned to where his eyes darted and looked at the dark blue, very dirty, back pack sitting on the chair William always sat in.
“Inside you’ll find three sets of handcuffs,” he continued. “Get them and bring them here.” Sandra hesitated only for a moment as he pulled the hammer back on the pistol. She stepped to the bag and rummaged inside feeling a damp piece of cloth, something soft and soggy like an old sandwich and finally the items he indicated. She pulled her hand out and saw the smear of blood on her fingers and had to fight the urge to drop the handcuffs; her stomach jerked with fear and disgust at the thought of what or whose it may be as she wiped her hand on the side of her pant leg.
“Cuff one of your hands to this one,” he continued. Sandra did as she was told, feeling slightly relieved when he eased the hammer back down with his thumb. She slipped one side of a pair of handcuffs onto her left hand while securing it to Sabrina’s right wrist.
“Good, now we’re going to walk out to that truck outside and if you think of making any noise, I’ll blow this one’s brains all over that pretty yellow shirt of yours.” Sandra clenched her jaw but said nothing as he released his grip on Sabrina’s throat and took the other two pairs of cuffs. She looked very pale as though she was about to faint and Sandra reached instantly to a glass of water on the counter.
“Go!” he snarled at her, but she only looked at him through angry eyes.
“She needs a drink or she’s going to pass out.” Sabrina took the glass with her free hand and sipped the water for a few seconds.
“Enough, hündin,” he shouted causing Sabrina to jump and drop the glass to the floor where it shattered. “Start walking or I’ll end this right now.” Sandra wrapped her sister-in-law’s hand inside hers for support and turned around, walking slowly to the door. Once outside, she glanced across the yard in hopes of seeing Clark or Harvey, but there was no sign of them. They must have gone back inside the house.
Bachmeier opened the side door to the back of the truck and shoved Sabrina in, her hand jerking Sandra forward. She caught herself before falling on her face and turned around glaring at the man who smiled his yellow grin at her.
“Put this on your other hand and secure it to the side panel,” he ordered her, handing her another of the cuffs. Sandra climbed into the back of the truck, sitting on the bench seat hidden from sight. The back of the truck was a typical delivery-style van with no back windows to peer out. She did as he instructed and reached her hand already secured to Sabrina toward the door, bringing her sister-in-law’s arm to stretch across the span of the seat.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered and watched the tear fall down Sabrina’s cheek. “It will be okay.” Sabrina tried to smile but failed miserably, her bottom lip quivering with fear. Once the cuff was secure to a rod that ran along the side of the truck’s interior, they sat on the seat and waited while Bachmeier slipped the last cuff around Sabrina’s free wrist. He smiled again, a sickening laugh escaping his mouth as the aroma of bad breath filled the small space between them.
“Now that’s what I call a pretty sight,” he said. “Two whores tied up and ready for some fun. Too bad we don’t have the time.” He closed the door and walked up to the driver’s side, slipping a delivery cap across his dirty hair before he climbed in behind the steering wheel.
The truck roared to life and slowly pulled out of the driveway, then turned and headed down the road. Sandra glanced out the front windshield and gasped, seeing Creighton’s sleek black car drive past them. Bachmeier glanced through the rear-view mirror to her and narrowed his eyes, but said nothing about it as he continued to drive at a leisurely pace.
“Hey Crey, Andrew,” the man’s voice said on the other end of the small black phone.
“Hello Andrew, what can I do for you?” Creighton asked with a smile, turning down the radio so he could listen to his brother as he drove toward London.
“We’ve heard back from the Paris detectives investigating the crash. There were three bodies found in the wreckage and after extensive dental exams, they were identified. Bachmeier was not one of them.”
“What the hell do you mean he wasn’t one of them?” Creighton snapped, setting the phone in the docking station on the dashboard.
“There was a second prisoner put on the van at the last minute,” Andrew continued. “He and the two guards were identified, but nobody else was in the van. He was there when it left the jail but not when the crash happened. One more thing, the van tires had been shot out; that’s what caused the accident. They are still trying to determine what caused the fire.”
“Stone,” Creighton said with a growl. “He had to be the one to help him.”
“That’s our conclusion as well.”
“Damn, it all makes sense. Stone did the killings, but where does Bachmeier fit into it?”
“My theory is, Stone learned about Bachmeier’s connection to you and his capture in France. He disappeared from England around the same time. I think he made contact somehow with Bachmeier and arranged to help him escape.”
“That means he’s the one…” Creighton turned the car around in the middle of the street, ignoring the angry drivers who honked at him.
“Where are you now?”
“I’m on my way back to Yorks. I was going to London, but considering this, the problem at the office will have to wait.”
“What problem?”
“The warehouse was broken into last night, but the police don’t think anything was stolen. I was on my way there to talk to them…” his voice trailed off as he began to piece together the events that had begun to unfold before him. Everything began to make perfect sense; the vandalism, the pranks, the warehouse.
“I’m on my way, get back there as quick as you can. I’m calling mum and dad.”
“I’ll call Clark. At least he’s there with Harvey so I know the place is secure.”
“We’ll meet up there, be careful.” The phone clicked off as Creighton touched a button the screen.
“Clark,” he said and the phone instantly dialed the number indicated, ringing once.
“Clark here,” the deep voice on the other end of the phone said.
“It’s me. Where’s Sandra?”
“She went to your parents’ house a few minutes ago, why, is there a problem?”
“Yes,” Creighton growled. “Bachmeier is still alive and on the run. Get over there and make sure she doesn’t leave. I’m on my way home.”
“Right away,” the voice said as Creighton pushed the button to shut the phone off. He felt irritated and angrier than he had in weeks as he slammed his fist into the steering wheel.
How could he have been so stupid; he had allowed himself to be fooled and taken from their home, leaving Sandra vulnerable and available for anything to happen? He knew now the warehouse was a diversion, a way of getting him out of the way so the path to his wife was clear.
Creighton turned onto the road that led to their home and saw the van driving toward him. Another of Sabrina’s deliveries, he thought. At least he knew all was well for now. What he needed to do was get them all on a plane and out of the area until that bastard was caught. He would put out a reward for his capture, a large reward, which would make anyone who saw him, even those who may be hiding him, eager to turn tail and call the police.
As he pulled the car to a halt in front of his parents’ house, he saw Clark hurry to the porch, waving him in. Creighton jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs in one leap. He hurried into the kitchen find his parents sitting at the table, a dirty old backpack sitting on the floor beside his father’s feet. Creighton frowned as he finally registered his father holding a bloody rag to his shoulder.
“I’m alright son,” William said, his face slightly paler than he had hoped it would be.
“What happened?” Creighton insisted, accepting the tearful hug his mother gave him.
“I was out at the barn when Bachmeier ambushed me. He forced me back up here by gunpoint and into the house. I tried to fight him, but he shot me. The bullet went straight through so there’s no real damage, just some muscles and tendons. He forced your mother to get some rope from his bag,” he kicked the dirty back pack away from him as if it was a filthy animal. “He made her tie my hands behind my back, then he tied her to me and locked us in the cellar.”
“I found the blood when I came to check on Sandra and followed it to the door,” Clark said.
“Where is she?” Creighton asked in a fearful whisper.
“He has her and Sabrina,” Emma said through the sobs.
“The van,” Creighton said, remembering the delivery van that left when he pulled up. “A white van was leaving when I came in. Find that damned van!” Clark got on the phone immediately and ran out the front door, meeting Harvey at the end of the driveway. The sound of tires squealing could be heard through the quiet house as Derek shouted from the entrance of the house, running through the foyer to the kitchen.
“What the hell?” he asked, looking at his father.
“Bachmeier has Sandra and Sabrina,” Creighton said in a tone filled with venom and anger.
“Oh my God, how? I thought he was dead?”
“Andrew called me to say that the bodies found in the van were those of the two security guards who were escorting him and another prisoner back to England.”
