“I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to call your mama now. I don’t think it’s fair for her to keep on worrying about you, do you? And here you are, stuffing my excellent pizza down your gullet.”
She gave another little laugh. He smiled as he dialed Gerald’s Loft.
When he had Joanna Backman on the phone, he said only, “She’s safe. She’s here with me, at my house. She’s eating pizza and playing with my pets.”
She didn’t say a single word. The cell cut off, and he could see her running out the door, maybe remembering it was cold here in Titusville at night and running back to get her jacket and her purse. She’d be here in under five minutes, he’d bet on it. He called Faydeen, asked her to start the chain of phone calls to alert everyone that the search was over, that the little girl was safe and sound. When he closed his cell, he saw Autumn was eating the last piece of pizza, stuffing it in her mouth. One hungry kid.
She suddenly dropped the pizza onto the paper plate and stiffened tight all over. He realized he’d spoken out loud. “What’s the matter?”
“You said his name,” she whispered. “How did you know his name? I only told Dillon his name.”
“You said his name. Why did you say his name?”
She was keening from deep in her throat. She shoved back her chair and slithered out of it. She would have run past him, but he managed to catch her. She fought him, tears streaming down her face, shaking, making that awful sound. Ethan didn’t think, he simply brought her up onto his lap and held her tight against him. He whispered against her hair, “It’s okay, sweetheart, I promise it’s okay.”
He heard a car drive up. He smoothed her hair back from her face. “I bet that’s your mama. Come on, sweetheart, don’t be scared, of anybody. I’ll hurt this Blessed if he comes anywhere near you, all right?”
“You don’t know, you just don’t know.” She was shuddering but no longer fighting him. He heard the front door open, heard Joanna Backman running, calling out, “Autumn? Autumn?”
Well, wasn’t that bright of him? He hadn’t even locked the front door. He said, “We’re in the kitchen. Come on in, Mrs. Backman.”
When she ran into the kitchen, she pulled up sharp. “Oh my God, what happened to her? What did you do? What’s wrong?”
He heard the growing hysteria in her voice and said very slowly, very calmly, “It’s all right. Autumn is afraid of this man Blessed. I’m trying to convince her I can handle anyone who tries to hurt her or you.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. She pulled her daughter out of his arms abd plastered her against her chest, rocking her back and forth, kissing her hair, her small face, and kept speaking, trying not to cry with absolute relief. The animals, strangely enough, hadn’t moved much, hadn’t dashed for his bedroom as they usually did whenever a stranger invaded the house. All three of them sat on the kitchen floor, as if nothing at all were going on.
Ethan said finally, “Would you care for some hot chocolate, Mrs. Backman?”
“Wha-what?” She looked at him, dazed, and pulled her daughter more tightly against her.
“I gave her hot chocolate. Autumn liked it, didn’t you, Autumn?”
The little girl pulled back in her mother’s arms. “It’s good, Mama, real good.”
“I used nonfat milk. To add balance, she had pepperoni pizza.”
Autumn said, “I’m sorry, Mama, but I had to keep them away from you, and I knew this was the safest place, even though you don’t trust Ethan. He fed me, Mama, and his animals like me too.”
“Thank you, Sheriff.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Backman.”
“I suppose you should call me Joanna.”
Ethan nodded. “Joanna, who is Blessed?”
She ducked her head down, her hair veiling her face. “We need to leave. I never should have come to Titusville, shouldn’t have waited for Tollie to come home. I’m an idiot.”
Big Louie came to his feet, barked once, and stared at Joanna. Ethan grabbed him, rubbed his rich, black coat. “That took you long enough, Big Louie. Calm down. Autumn’s just saying hello to her mama, so she’s currently tied up, dude. You’ve got to stay with me a little while.”
Autumn laughed.
Ethan said easily, “You won my pets over, Autumn. Did you feed them until they were your slaves?”
“Oh, no, I know better than that.”
He heard someone knock on the cottage door. Two sharp raps, a pause, then two more, harder raps. Both Joanna and Autumn turned to stone.
“It’s all right. I’ll be right back.”
“No, no, Sheriff, don’t go, please—”
“It will be all right. You two stay here.” Ethan pulled his Beretta as he left the kitchen. He called out, “Who is it?”
No answer.
He opened the front door—not terribly bright, he knew—but no one was there.
He called out again, walked to the edge of the porch, and stood quietly, his eyes adjusting to the night light. He heard no other sound excerpt the night wind whistling through the trees, the crickets, an owl, and then an answer from its mate.
He closed and locked the door, then walked back into the kitchen to see Ox, his senior deputy, a man he’d known for three years, holding Joanna back against him, his gun jabbed against her neck.
“Well, now, I surely do believe that’s far enough, Sheriff.” It was Ox, but Ethan had never before heard him speak in such a high, piercing voice. He felt gooseflesh rise on his arms.
7
AUTUMN WHISPERED, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
What did a little girl have to be sorry about? Ethan stared at Ox, knowing what he was seeing, not willing to accept that this manic voice he was hearing, this mad voice, was from the Ox he knew. He stood very quietly. “What’s going on, Ox? What are you doing? Put down that damned gun, you hear me? Let Mrs. Backman go and tell me what’s going on. Now.”
Ox turned his head to the side and spit on the tile kitchen floor. He pressed the muzzle of the gun harder into Joanna’s neck. “I don’t have much time, so put your gun on the floor, Sheriff, and kick it over to me. If you don’t, I’ll kill the bitch.”
“I’m not a bitch, you monster!” Joanna shoved her elbow back into his gut so fast Ethan barely registered what she’d done. Ox grunted, and she hit him again as hard as she could with that elbow. He screamed curses as she hit him a third time. He stumbled backward, yelling all the while at her, and raised his gun.
“Ox, look at me!” Ethan yelled, and brought up his Beretta. His heart dropped to his gut when Autumn kicked Ox in the shin, jumped up, and grabbed Ox’s flailing gun arm.
Ethan yelled, “Autumn, let go!”
But Autumn didn’t let go, she hung on for dear life. Ox jerked her right off the floor.
Jonnna yelled, “Let her go!” When he twisted toward her, Joanna kicked him in the crotch.
Ethan yelled, “Drop, Autumn! Now!” and the little girl dropped and rolled away. Ox screamed, his gun flying as he sank to his knees. Joanna yelled her daughter’s name even as she watched the gun skid across the tiles to bounce off a chair leg.
“Keep away from him,” Ethan yelled at Joanna. He grabbed Ox around his neck, jerked his head back, and
