Small Town Justice(58)

Wheeling in the long dirt driveway of her childhood home, she saw the skeleton of the old house for the first time since the fire. Most of the left side downstairs seemed to have collapsed but the bedrooms on the right still stood, as did the base of the porch.

This was it. There was no turning back now. Whatever forces were in motion would have to be dealt with. She could do this. She must. The most important little boy in the world was counting on her.

She killed the engine, then quickly opened the truck door, purposely sitting in the cab under the dome light long enough to be identified. Since the kidnapper was expecting Shane and the late sheriff’s papers, she needed him to see who she was rather than arbitrarily shoot anyone who was a stranger.

“Assuming I am,” she muttered, raising her hands over her head as soon as she slid out of the pickup. The more she thought about the voice on the phone, the more she felt it matched that of the crooked judge. Adding his reference to being judge and jury, she was convinced this kidnapper would recognize her on sight.

“It’s me. Jamie Lynn Henderson,” she called toward the dark, forbidding structure.

The only illumination was what was reflected from the truck’s headlights and a half-moon partially obscured by drifting clouds. Normally, the night didn’t frighten her but this one was different. She’d seen one man die already.

Don’t think about that, she ordered herself. Think about things that will help. That will make you stronger.

It wasn’t necessary to cast about for the right incentive. It came to her complete and ran through her mind as if she’d practiced it.

“‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want...’”

Jamie placed one foot on the bottom step, then the next. “‘He makes me to lie down in green pastures...’”

She crossed the porch. Approached the open door. Passed through. “‘He leads me beside still waters...’”

“Stop right there!” The gruff order echoed through what was left of the old house and raised the hackles on the back of her neck.

All doubt vanished. It was Randall, all right. And he sounded as if Marsha’s assessment of his mental state had been correct. His devious mind had become unbalanced, making him far more dangerous than a rational man would be.

“I came to negotiate,” Jamie Lynn shouted up the staircase.

Some might have called the resulting noise laughter. To her, it sounded like the evil cackling of the three hags in her college drama club’s performance of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. There was no humor in it.

“‘He restores my soul...’” She took two more paces, pausing at the foot of the familiar staircase.

“I should shoot you where you stand,” the madman yelled.

A dark shape loomed on the landing above her. “If you do, you’ll be sorry. Don’t you want to know what I’ve discovered? It’s very interesting.”

“Where are Colton’s papers? Why didn’t you bring them?”

“Because I don’t have them,” Jamie Lynn replied.

“Then what good are you to me?”

That was an excellent question, proving that the judge retained a portion of his capacity to reason, even if he was acting irrationally.

“Shane and I are...” She hesitated to lie, yet how far from the truth would it be if she referred to a romantic relationship? For her part, there certainly was one. What Shane did or didn’t feel had never been discussed.

“We’re in love,” Jamie announced. “If you take me, he’s sure to listen and give you whatever you want.”

“I don’t need you. I’ve got his kid.”

Jamie’s heart leaped, her pulse pounding. “And his mother?”

“Yeah. Her, too.”

In the ensuing silence she was certain Randall and everyone else could hear her heartbeats. She certainly could. They echoed in her ears and drummed in her temples.

Finally, the captor called, “Okay, come on upstairs. But no tricks. I’ll shoot the hostages if you try anything.”

Climbing slowly, her hands raised, Jamie heard the wooden steps creaking under her weight. They had been noisy for as long as she could remember, yet had never felt quite this spongy. Perhaps the fire had undermined them.

The shadow gave way as she closed the distance. He was close enough for her to attack and perhaps push over the railing, but where was Kyle? What about Marsha? There was no reason to risk her life until she could see them and decide what course of action would be best, yet the urge to leap at him was strong.

Randall cackled. “I can see you plotting, lady. It’s in your eyes, in the way you move.”

“You can’t see my eyes. It’s too dark.”