Beneath Blackwater River Leslie Wolfe (me reader txt) 📖

The name on the display read, DEPUTY HOBBS.

“Yeah,” Hobbs said, taking the call with a morose voice. The call had probably interrupted something.

“We need your help,” Elliot said, then continued, without waiting for any confirmation. “I know you hang out with Herb Scott. You guys drink together almost every night.”

“Well, it’s after hours, and I don’t think it’s anyone’s—”

“I don’t care what you do or don’t do with him,” Elliot said coldly. “I need you to think back and tell me if you know of a place where he would go to if he were hiding or in trouble.”

Silence filled the car, heavy, only the background noise from Hobbs’s end of the line disrupting it, small children playing, a dog barking.

“Think really hard,” Elliot said, this time his tone deeper, almost menacing. “Your reply right now will either save your career or guarantee you a stint in jail when Scott kills his wife, and you could’ve stopped him.”

“All right, all right,” Hobbs reacted, then muttered an oath. “Jeez, Detective, it’s not like we don’t work together, for Pete’s sake. We’re on the same team!” He cleared his throat, then said, “Scott’s got a fishing cabin on the lake, right by Blackwater River mouth.”

By the time Hobbs had finished giving the directions, they were already rolling, Elliot driving faster than she’d ever seen him, burning rubber at every tight curve on the winding, mountain road that led to Silent Lake.

When they were closer to the cabin, Elliot switched off the flashers and the siren, then killed the headlights. He turned onto a path through the woods, keeping his speed unnervingly slow, his only source of light the setting moon and the stars. Within 100 yards, they saw it.

It was a small dwelling built out of round logs, probably oak, that had been weathered off-black by the passing of seasons. Two small windows flanked the door, cracked and dilapidated, but still serving their purpose. Thick trees surrounded the cabin, their barren crowns touching above. Wind rushed through them with a sinister whistle, while their fallen leaves rustled on the ground, being swept away toward the lake by merciless gusts.

The lights were on in the small cabin, and they could see movement through the windows, Scott mainly, but Kay believed she saw a glimpse of Nicole.

She was still alive.

“You up for this?” Elliot asked, then called for backup and an ambulance using his phone, not sure if Scott was monitoring the police radio.

She checked her weapon, then racked it and climbed out of the SUV. “Let’s nail the son of a bitch.”

“Backup’s eight minutes out,” Elliot said. “We should wait—”

At that moment, Nicole’s shriek ripped through the silence of the woods.

In perfect sync without a single word spoken among them, they rushed to the door and took position on either side of the entrance, weapons drawn, ready to fire. Elliot kicked the door open, then entered, checking the room. Nicole was on the floor, bleeding, and Scott had just disappeared through the narrow hallway toward the back of the cabin.

Kay followed right behind him, scanning every inch of the room, ready to fire. Elliot signaled her he was going to check the other rooms, while she could stay there with Nicole. Giving him a thumbs up, she crouched near Nicole, urging her to keep quiet.

She’d taken another beating. Her lip was swollen and cracked, smeared blood staining her chin. A new bruise was forming on her right cheekbone, and her clothes were torn and dirty, as if he’d stomped his boots all over her.

Keeping her eyes riveted on the door that led to the back of the cabin, Kay whispered, “How many other rooms?”

“Two,” Nicole whimpered, “and a bathroom.” She swallowed hard while her eyes glistened. “You came for me.”

Kay nodded. “Any other exit?”

She shook her head in a silent no. “Jacob?” she whispered, her voice riddled with pain. “I’m so sorry.”

Kay hesitated. “In the hospital.” She pressed her lips into a tight line, then raised her index finger to her mouth, willing Nicole quiet. There would be time for that later.

Scott was trapped in the back of the house, and she had no way to warn Elliot there was no other exit. But she could draw Scott to her location, where she was perfectly situated to ambush him, weapon in hand, taking cover behind a small sofa.

“Nicole,” she whispered, “I need you to trust me.” The poor woman nodded, blinking away tears. “Call Scott. Tell him the cops are gone, looking for him in the woods or something.”

She shook her head violently. “No, no, please don’t make me,” she whimpered. Blood started oozing from her broken lip.

“If you ever want to be free of him, you have to trust me.”

Nicole stared at her for what seemed like ages, but Kay held the woman’s gaze, reassuring her without words. Then Nicole nodded and drew breath.

“Herb? They’re gone,” she called out. “I told them there’s a back door and they believed me.”

Kay held her breath, carefully listening for any sound, a squeaking floorboard, a footfall, anything. Only silence, and Nicole’s shallow, rapid breathing.

“Will you forgive me now?” she pleaded, sounding convincing, at least to Kay’s ears. “I know it’s my fault, but, please, baby, I’m begging you, let’s go home.”

Someone was approaching, footfalls so stealthy Kay sensed his presence more than heard him coming. Then Scott appeared in the doorway, his shirt stained with sweat and Nicole’s blood, his eyes bloodshot, his gun aimed at Kay’s chest.

She hesitated a split second, thinking Elliot might’ve been behind Scott somewhere, and he could catch the bullet intended for Scott. That hesitation was enough for his bullet to be fired before hers. And hers missed.

Kay shrieked and fell to the ground, the pain in her shoulder so fierce it felt as if she’d been shot with red-hot liquid metal. She shifted her weapon to her other hand and turned to find Scott, but he’d vanished, the door to the cabin