barking dog, Rudker would have been aroused by her proximity. Walking with her hugged against him was strenuous and awkward. He had to take short steps and hold her weight with his arms. After a moment, his lungs hurt from the exertion.
As he reached his vechicle, a woman’s voice called to the dog. “Quiet, Maxie.” The woman’s presence was worse than the dog’s. Would she step out to see who was lurking?
Rudker stopped next to the car door and wondered how he would take his keys out of his pocket without setting Sula down. At that moment, her body stiffened and she began to squirm. Oh shit. She was conscious. The neighbor called to the dog again, sounding closer this time.
Rudker let go of Sula with one arm and grabbed for his keys. She twisted away from him and dropped to the sidewalk. Instinctively, he pushed a foot into her stomach to keep her from rolling away. He pressed his electronic lock and grabbed the back door handle. The car alarm wailed.
Jesus H. Christ. Rudker jerked open the rear door, then grabbed his squirming cargo. With an adrenaline- powered thrust, he heaved Sula into the back seat and slammed the door. As he turned, the neighbor woman opened her gate and peeked out to see who was making the horrible commotion.
Rudker quickly jumped into the driver’s seat. Shoving his key into the ignition, he silenced the alarm.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. I told you to kill her in the house.
“Shut up!”
Behind him, Sula moaned.
Rudker locked the doors and cranked the engine. He couldn’t believe he’d set off the car alarm. Everything had gone smoothly up to that point. It must have been the barking dog, working on his nerves. Fucking dog. He hoped it choked to death on its own abundent drool. He drove away without looking back.
His nerves felt like a bowl of snap, crackle, and pop. He hadn’t felt this charged since his college days, before he started taking meds. After a moment, he caught sight of the speedometer and realized he was doing forty in a residential area. He slowed and hung a left. If the neighbor had called the police about stranger danger, it was in his best interest to stay off the main thoroughfares and alter his course frequently. Rudker turned left again and began to hum.
Sula couldn’t get enough air into her lungs through just her nose. The lack of oxygen cut into her brain and made it hard to think. Still, she had to stay alert, to plan. She had to figure a way out of this. She couldn’t let the son of a bitch kill her and dump her body like trash. He was insane. How could she not have seen it?
The rig made a wild swing and Sula nearly rolled onto the floor. Her feet went over, but she managed to keep her torso on the seat. From that position she was able to get on her knees, then twist around and sit up. The activity made her head pound, reminding her of the blows she’d taken to her forehead and left ear. What did he have planned next?
Sula considered the vehicle door. It was most likely locked, and even if not, she didn’t think she could get it open with her hands taped behind her back. She twisted and pulled on her wrist binding, but it was as unyielding as ever. She decided her best option was to interfere with his driving, maybe make him crash and draw someone’s attention. She decided to head butt him from behind.
As she scooted forward into position, the Jeep made another sharp turn. Sula rocked sideways but managed to right herself. Rudker’s eyes caught hers in the rear view mirror. His were smiling. Sula looked away, so he would not see her intent. If she got the opportunity, she would kill the bastard.
As they passed block after block of dark houses, she tried to figure out where they were. Without streetlights, it was difficult, but that meant they were on a side street. She recognized a giant sequoia tree and knew they were traveling west on 20th Avenue. Rudker suddenly pulled into a driveway and stopped.
He crouched in the space between the front seats and faced her. Then he grabbed her shoulders with his huge hands. She tried to twist away, but it was futile effort. She was a hundred pounds lighter, wounded, and trussed. With a small push, he flattened her against the seat. Sula’s face pressed into the cool leather. She felt him groping around under her. He was looking for the seat belt.
Sula tried to roll toward the floor, but with her hands and feet bound, she had no strength. Rudker held her firmly in place. His hand came off her back long enough to loop the seat belt around her chest and snap it closed. Despair washed over her. She was completely captive and headed toward certain death.
Now that he had Sula bound and gagged in the back of his vehicle, Rudker knew he had to crystallize the rest of his plan. For the last few hours, he’d been operating on rage and impulse. He’d taken a few precautions about leaving evidence, but those were all common sense. The most important move was what to do with the body. He had already made the basic decision not to leave it in the house. Ideally, he wanted it to never be found. Without a body, there would be no investigation.
He drove slowly out 18th Avenue, thinking about his options.
The night belonged to him; the rest of the city slept, unaware and unconcerned. He could drive up Wolf Creek, take off down a logging road, and hike into the woods a half mile or so. How long would it take to dig a hole big enough? If he didn’t bury her deep enough, a wolf or coyote would eventually scatter her bones. If he didn’t go far enough off the road, a logger or hiker could stumble on the freshly turned earth in the middle of the forest.
Rudker hated going into the woods. His sense of direction was inadequate and he was easily disoriented without recognizable landmarks. He’d quit Boy Scouts rather than go camping, and he had never hunted or hiked anywhere. What choice did he have now? He didn’t want this body to turn up, ever. That was the best way to protect himself. Women disappeared all the time. Those who turned up dead were investigated. Those who didn’t were forgotten.
Soon he passed Bertelsen Road and Rudker realized on some subconscious level he was headed for Prolabs. Then it hit him. The construction site. The new factory’s foundation had been dug and the forms were built. Tomorrow or the next day, the cement trucks would roll in and start the pour. Piece by piece, the walls would go up. Whatever was in the ground underneath would stay there as long as the building remained. The whole area was freshly turned dirt. A grave site would not be noticed in the twenty-four hours.
Rudker laughed out loud. Sula would be buried forever under a factory that produced Nexapra. A fitting end for a naive fool. It had been a long time since he’d let anyone get the best of him, and this little bitch should never have tried.
Remember Charlie Long from eighth grade? He used to kick your ass, steal your math homework, and put his name on it. Maybe we should look him up and set things right.
Rudker laughed again. What a thought. To go back and get even with everyone who had ever crossed him. It didn’t necessarily have to be a violent revenge, just appropriately painful. Emotional or financial blows could be even more effective. He would start with Tara and give it some creative thought.
The tape across her mouth only covered part of her face and had not been pressed tightly. Sula discovered the more she wiggled her jaws, the looser it became. When her jaws got tired, she rubbed her face against the smooth leather seat. She started vigorously, but it made her head hurt and emitted tiny little squeaks that she feared would draw Rudker’s attention. She settled into a slow, steady rhythm. The movement was strangely soothing and helped keep her calm.
Sula still didn’t have a plan for what she would do when she had finally worked the tape loose. At the moment, bound and buckled the way she was, all she could do was scream. And screaming inside the vehicle was pointless. It would only earn another blow to her head and more tape across her mouth. She would wait until they reached their destination-wherever the hell that was-and watch for an opportunity.
After a while the combination of the motion and the pain made her nauseated. Stomach acid came up into her esophagus and scared her. Vomiting with her mouth taped could be suffocating. She held still and waited for the sick feeling to pass. The sense of being in the car and being scared and trying not to be sick brought back a vivid memory from her childhood.
Her family was on the way to the reservation to visit Aunt Serena. Dad was driving, mom was in the front next to him, and she and Calix were in back-singing, chatting, and counting cars of a certain color. Sula always picked red. She and her sister paid no attention to their parents’ conversation until they heard the tension. Then they half tuned in, picking up what they could while continuing their own chatter. Experience had taught them that becoming silent drew the tension their way.
Her parents argued about Daddy’s job. He said he had to quit. “It’s killing me,” he whined. Her mother was unmoved. She said “no” and “not again” and “we’ll starve.” Back and forth they went until Dad finally shouted, “I’ll kill us all, right here and now, and get it over with. It’ll be better than the slow death we’re living.”
