Tucker’s phone rang. “Excuse me,” he said, standing and walking into his bedroom.
Maryn also stood and walked around, looking at the artwork he’d chosen to display. She was shocked to see one of her friend, Alyssa’s, photographs on the wall. This man liked Baldacci novels and A.A.’s photography. Of course, Alyssa was now married to Beckham Taylor, but she still did her artwork under A.A. Maryn was beginning to think that Tucker was too good to be true. Why had everyone made him out to be a social cipher and a jerk?
Tucker was still talking in the other room, something about a grizzly bear on the property which had entered through the river. It sounded like the guard dog, Johnson, was monitoring the situation. She shivered. She’d never seen a bear except for at the zoo, but they still gave her nightmares. Taking Tucker up on his offer to stay inside this safe, beautiful house sounded better and better.
She paused at an antique roll top desk nestled against one wall. She wanted to open it in the worst way. Curse reporter instincts. She’d promised Tucker she wouldn’t reveal anything she learned in his rooms, so what would it hurt to look?
Unable to resist, she made sure Tucker wasn’t looking, and slowly lifted the cover. Photos were scattered over the desk, all of them snapshots of beautiful children near a cave entrance. The scenery was brown, possibly desert. They appeared to be of Arab descent. Maryn wondered what the connection was to Tucker. She picked up a picture of a darling boy, who couldn’t have been more than eight or nine. Turning the print over, she read, “Murdered by Lieutenant Tucker Shaffer.”
She gasped and dropped the picture like it was a hot ember from the fire. Her heart thumped louder and louder. Had she really seen that? It couldn’t be true. Tucker seemed like such a nice guy.
Leaning back, she spied Tucker inclining against the four-poster bed with the phone to his ear. Maryn picked up a snapshot of a teenage girl with flowing black hair and a beautiful smile. She slowly turned it over and the same words were written in bold marker, “Murdered by Lieutenant Tucker Shaffer.” Her eyes darted over the pictures, ice rubbing along her spine. There were at least half a dozen of the pictures. He couldn’t possibly have… killed all these children?
Cold fear pricked at her neck. She needed to get out of this house. “Okay, girl,” she muttered to herself, “play it cool and then make a quick exit. He’ll never know.”
Setting the picture down, she grabbed the top and started rolling it down. It squeaked. She gasped and moved it slower, saying a quick prayer for help. She noticed the silence a split second before she could feel his breath on her cheek.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” he asked, his voice a low growl.
Maryn released the desktop, whipped around to face him, and tried to back up, but she was pressed into the desk. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to see. I was just looking around. They were sitting right on your desk.” She hated that her voice squeaked but her throat was closing off.
He leaned into her space, his dark eyes snapping. “Did you find what you were looking for?” he repeated.
“I-I think I need to go.”
“Screw the bad publicity,” he snarled. “You think I’m going to let you leave now? Tell the whole world about what a monster Tucker Shaffer really is?” His lips curled into a feral grin. His brown eyes had turned black and cold.
Maryn’s breath was coming in short bursts. He wasn’t touching her, but she felt like she was standing in the shadow of a calculating animal and he was going to lash out at any second. Being mugged last summer was less terrifying than the look in Tucker Shaffer’s eyes. How had the warm, friendly man morphed into this beast?
Without thinking, she stomped on his foot with the heel of her red boots. He cried out, probably more in surprise than pain. She ducked under his arm and sprinted out the door. She ran down the three flights of steps without looking back to see if he pursued. Mr. Braxton was in the office and glanced up in surprise when she yanked the front door open.
“Ms. Howe?” He hurried into the foyer. “Where are you going? There’s a bear and—”
“I’ll take my chances,” she muttered, flying down the front steps and ignoring whatever else Mr. Braxton was trying to say. Her little red rental car was still sitting there in the circle. At least they hadn’t moved her car and kept her prisoner. There was something very wrong with this house and the people inside.
Maryn slipped on the snow and went down hard. Her elbow and knee slammed onto the wet pavement. She hauled herself up, limping and sliding the remaining steps to her car, these cute boots were not made for snow. She peered through the thick snow, waiting for a grizzly bear to rip her apart. Not sure if she was more scared of a real grizzly bear out in this forest, or the beast of a man inside the house. She chanced a glance up, up to the third story. Tucker Shaffer stood at the window. Thank heavens she couldn’t distinguish his expression through the snowstorm, and double thank heavens he wasn’t chasing after her.
Yanking her door open, she stumbled into her car and hit the lock button. The trees and falling snow all gave the illusion of peace, looking like a stinking Christmas card. Maryn shuddered. There was no peace in this place and the sooner she got out of here the better. Her hand shook as she pulled the keys from her pocket and started the car. She put the car in gear, pressed the gas pedal too far to the floor, and squealed down the driveway.
She could barely see through the thick flakes covering the windshield and her wipers had no hope of doing their job. Something flashed through the trees to her right. It couldn’t be the bear, could it? She shuddered, the sooner she got out of Satan’s lair the better.
Her terror had her gripping the steering wheel and coaxing the car into faster speeds. Rental cars out of Idaho Falls had to have good tires, right? They had snow in that place six months out of the year. Greatest snow on earth and all that bunk or… wait, was that Utah? It didn’t matter. All she had to do was keep the car on this nice asphalt driveway and then hopefully get through the gate. What if the gate was locked and didn’t open automatically? Oh, heavens. It had looked pretty strong. Could she ram it? She shook her head. If she couldn’t get through the gate, she’d climb it and run down the main road until someone came along to help her. She could call the police and get some help. Duh! The police. She pulled her phone out of her pocket.
A deer came out of nowhere. Maryn screamed. She yanked the steering wheel to the left with slick hands. Panic clawed at her throat as the deer stared into her headlights with his huge eyes.Please don’t let me kill him, she prayed.
Her car squealed off the road and Maryn’s stomach dropped as it cruised down a slight embankment. A tree loomed in front of her. “No,” she cried out, trying to correct, but it was too late. The tree smacked the front of her car with a loud bang. The seatbelt caught her, yanking at her chest then the airbag slammed her back against the seat.
Coughing out the dust, Maryn sat stunned for a minute. She tried to beat the airbag out of her way and it slowly deflated. Reaching around and jamming the gearshift into reverse, she pressed down on the gas pedal, but sadly the wheels just spun and squealed in protest. She gunned it from drive to reverse for several minutes with equally frustrating results. This was not good.
Where was that dang phone? She must’ve dropped it when the airbag blasted into her. Pushing the annoying balloon of plastic out of the way, she groped with her fingers along the floor until she finally connected with slick metal and held it up.
Please, let me be able to get some help.No service. Not even one blasted bar. She sighed with disgust. Just what she needed. She’d only had one bar as she drove into this cursed place and the storm was probably wiping out any signal. Dropping the phone back into her jacket pocket, she evaluated her options. Stay and wait for Tucker to find her, stay and wait for a bear to eat her, or be a tough woman and hike her butt out of this nightmare?
The snow had already covered her car. She couldn’t even look outside and see if the bear, Tucker Shaffer, or the guard dog were hunting her down. She shivered and turned on the windshield wipers, feeling marginally better when she could at least look at the tree that had squished her rental car.
She had to be close to the gate. No matter how cold and wet it was outside, she wasn’t parking her tush here any longer. The bear was supposedly on the property and she was like a sitting duck in this wrecked car. Plus, there was no way she was facing Tucker again. If she could get through the gate, she’d be rescued. She would flag someone down on the main road and be safe at her hotel within an hour. Soon she’d be drinking hot cocoa, talking to Alyssa on the phone, and laughing about how crazy this all was.
What would she tell Alyssa and James about all of this insanity? Remembering the fabulous first impression she’d had of Tucker made her wonder if she would include anything about those photos and his psycho-man reaction in her article. She’d promised him she wouldn’t share anything about the third floor, and she always kept her promises, but that was before he went crazy on her. She shook her head. Who cared about the stupid article right now? All she wanted was to get away from this snowy purgatory.