Kidnapped

Wincing, she reached for the edge of the tape. His skin was cool to her touch. She pulled quickly, saying, “Sorry!” as it came free.

His jaw dropped, but he didn’t say anything, just lay there open-mouthed. She bent closer but could feel no warm breath, no sound. In rising panic, she pressed her ear to his bare chest. It was cold and still-no heartbeat.

As she backed away in horror, she saw the swelling at his temple, the Beretta NEO on the floor.

Genie screamed, a sound from somewhere down inside her chest that came out loud and long and terrified.

“He wasn’t expecting it, of course,” Cleo said from the doorway.

Seeing Genie’s shock, she laughed. “Go ahead, scream again.”

Genie closed her mouth, her lips trembling, and locked her knees to prevent her legs from giving way beneath her. She looked at the Beretta and kicked it beneath the bed. As she did so, she tucked her hands in the deep pockets of her jacket and found the handle of the knife.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Cleo said, leaning against the door frame. “You didn’t try to pick it up and shoot me with it. Could it be that you’re the one who emptied the gun? See, Roy-I know you call him your dad, but did you know he had your real father killed?”

“Shut up, you liar!” Genie screamed.

“I’m probably the first person to tell you the truth in five years, and you call me a liar?”

She walked into the room. Genie backed away from her.

“But I digress,” Cleo said. She smiled at Genie, then reached back and ran a finger along Dad’s face. “He looks surprised, doesn’t he?”

Genie edged toward the door.

“I wouldn’t try it, if I were you,” Cleo said. “Even if I gave you a head start, I could outrun you and do just what I did to dear Roy. Your best bet is to keep me happy. I like you better than the boys, you know. I think you have promise. I do think you might have what it takes. Maybe I’ll keep you for my own little girl, teach you, the way I was taught.”

Genie felt sick to her stomach.

Cleo was watching her now. She reached into her pocket and pulled out tattered pieces of paper and scattered them over Dad’s body, like flower petals. “Take, for example, writing this letter. I hate that bitch Irene Kelly, but not every girl would have thought of this.”

Genie’s eye caught the changing colors of the lights in the panel near the bed. She prayed to God that the boys weren’t coming back. She had to distract Cleo.

“How do you know Dad-uh, Roy-killed my father?”

Cleo laughed. “Killed your father? Oh no. I killed your father.” She stared at the body on the bed. “Both of them. Took them by surprise. Roy wasn’t expecting me to hit him with an empty gun. Stu

Genie took a chance. “So you know we found the other two guns, too?”

Cleo’s smile grew sly. “The one in the desk and the one in the closet, yes. I suppose you found the one in the closet when you put your coats away. The other when you were looking for stamps?”

Genie nodded.

“What else have you found?”

“An envelope,” she answered, as if she didn’t know about the gun in the kitchen.

Cleo paused, listening. Genie still heard the sound of the engine of the SUV, idling outside.

Cleo looked at the alarm lights. “Goddammit!” she shouted, and rushed toward Genie.

Genie turned and ran for the stairs.

CHAPTER 57

Wednesday, May 3

3:28 P.M.

SAN BERNARDINO MOUNTAINS

WE worked our way down the drive quickly but carefully. We heard the SUV idling in front of the cabin before we caught a glimpse of it. We didn’t want to risk getting shot by Cleo, but we also didn’t want to helplessly watch as Genie was driven away by Roy and Cleo.

“Maybe she’s in there, hurt,” Caleb said anxiously.

“The sheriff’s will be here in a few minutes.”

“That could be a few minutes too long.”

“We need to have some strategy,” I said.

He looked over at me. “Like what?”

“I’ve been thinking about that booby trap. Maybe we could somehow get Genie out, keep Cleo and Roy in, and then somehow set the booby trap so that it turns the whole house into a kind of prison cell until the sheriff’s department gets here.”

“Sounds good,” he said, and kept moving forward.

I wasn’t so satisfied, because we hadn’t worked out the whole “Genie gets out, they stay in” part, but I didn’t have any solid suggestions to make.

We were still some distance from the cabin when we heard the scream-a child’s high-pitched scream, a sound of utter terror. At that, we stopped being so cautious.

It wasn’t until we were at the open door of the cabin that we heard voices-Cleo’s and Genie’s-and hesitated, just for a moment, aware that neither of us had any kind of weapon.

Then we heard Cleo yell, “Goddammit!” and heard ru

Caleb was ahead of me, charging toward the struggling pair. Genie had pulled a knife out of her jacket and made a stab at Cleo, who blocked with her forearm and got cut into the bargain. Although Cleo screeched, she didn’t seem to be hurt much, and took hold of Genie’s wrist in a hard grip. Genie dropped the knife, but by that time we had made it up the stairs, and Caleb kicked it out of range-it fell over the edge of the small landing and down into the living room. Caleb kept coming, and Cleo shoved Genie toward his feet. That sent both Genie and Caleb sprawling-and nearly caused me to fall on top of them. Caleb landed awkwardly, trying to avoid hurting Genie, and in the next instant Cleo delivered a vicious kick to Caleb’s ribs.

That bit of mea

We didn’t fall down the stairs so much as slowly and painfully roll and scrabble over one another until we reached the bottom, followed by Genie, who was the only one of us to get back on two feet at the same time. All of us were shouting, scratching, and swearing. Cleo caught hold of the banister, and while I pried her fingers loose, Caleb tried to keep her from kicking me.

She bucked and twisted and we rolled a little farther, changing positions. Now I tried grabbing the banister to keep myself from being squashed-this time Cleo pried my fingers loose, and she tried bending them backward until Caleb got hold of her neck and her attention went to him.

No rules applied-we all pulled on arms, legs, hair, and clothing. A sharp jab to the cut Genie had made on Cleo’s right arm could be counted on to cause her to lose her grip and scream at us, but all the blood made her arm slippery. She landed a hard jab of her elbow in my face. I saw stars and felt blood stream over my mouth and chin, briefly went dizzy enough to wonder if I was going to be sick all over her, but I didn’t loosen my grip on her.

Genie contributed furious kicking whenever she got a clear shot at Cleo, which wasn’t often, and some biting, but she quit that after she got me by mistake once.

We rolled off the stairs and onto the living-room floor. Nobody had the breath to do more than grunt or moan. We bashed into furniture and walls, backing up, going at it again. Cleo fought halfway free and pulled us toward the kitchen. She fell beneath our combined efforts to tackle her. She kicked and clawed at me, I kicked and clawed back. I could feel her tiring, although she still struggled. Caleb and I managed to get up to her shoulders at the same time, and we flattened her beneath our combined weight.