No Escape
Page 42

Keith grabbed the remote. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s see what’s on.”
“I don’t want to watch any stupid TV. I want you to stop lying to me. Where is Grant?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s got a date,” snapped Keith.
Isabelle sat there in shock. Not because she thought Grant was out with another woman. She knew he wasn’t so cold he’d leave her sitting in a hospital while he went and had a good time. She was shocked because of the hateful way Keith was acting. That wasn’t at all like him. “You don’t like Grant, do you?”
“He’s a user. A womanizer. You never should have slept with him.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“He’s not good enough for you, Isabelle. He never has been. I don’t know why you’ve carried a torch for him so long.”
“He’s a good man. Caring. Selfless. Honest.”
“Apparently not so honest if he’s lying to you about where he is.”
“The only reason Grant would ever lie to me would be to protect me.” Which begged the question what was he protecting her from that kept him away.
A greasy sense of unease crept up her spine. Something was wrong. Grant would have been here by her side otherwise.
So would Dale.
Grant’s evasiveness finally made sense, and Isabelle felt herself start to shake with panic. “Where is my phone? I need to call Dale.”
“You heard Grant. Dale is studying. You shouldn’t interrupt him. Let’s watch TV.”
“Give me the damn phone!”
Keith blinked in shock. “Dale is fine. Don’t worry.”
He knew something. Isabelle could see it in the way he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “You know what’s going on. Tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“You’re lying.”
Keith closed his eyes in frustration, then finally said, “Grant went to find Dale.”
“What do you mean ‘find’ him?”
“Please, Isabelle. You shouldn’t become stressed right now. Your body can’t handle it. I don’t want you to suffer.”
Isabelle grabbed Keith’s shirt and jerked him hard toward her so they were eye to eye. “Tell me where my son is. Now.”
Keith gently pried her hand away from his shirt. She was too weak to stop him. “I’m sorry. Wyatt has him.”
Panic took over her body, making it hard to breathe. Her vision receded until everything looked far away, gray and fuzzy. “God, no.”
Keith eased her back on the bed with gentle, insistent hands. “It’s going to be okay, Isabelle. The police are looking for him. So is Grant. Dale will be fine.”
“Dale is far from fine. Wyatt is a murderer.”
“And now that he’s kidnapped Dale, he will be put back behind bars where he belongs. This will all be over soon.”
She had to do something to find him. She couldn’t just lie there. She had to find her son.
Isabelle threw back the covers and slid out of bed. Her head spun, but she ignored it, keeping a hand on the bed to steady herself.
Keith grabbed her shoulders. “Get back in bed. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“No, I’m going to hurt you if you don’t let me go.” She jerked her arm away and grabbed the bag of clothes Grant had brought her. Thankfully, he’d not only brought pajamas, but also something to wear home tomorrow.
Isabelle slid the panties and jeans on under her hospital gown, heedless of Keith there watching her dress. The IV was going to have to come out before she could put her top on, so she started to pull at the tape holding it in place.
“At least let me get a nurse to take that out so you don’t damage your vein and bleed all over the place.”
She wasn’t worried about a little blood. She was terrified of what would happen to Dale. He was so angry at his father that he might do or say something that would set Wyatt off. What if Wyatt hurt him? Beat him and left him for dead in some deserted area? What if Dale was too weak to get help? Or worse, what if Wyatt didn’t bother to hold back and killed Dale outright, like he had the others? He could do it. Isabelle was sure he was both physically and emotionally capable of murdering his own son.
Isabelle couldn’t let any of that happen. She needed to find Dale. Help him. She couldn’t sit by and do nothing, not when she was the one who was supposed to protect him and keep him safe.
“Fine,” she told him just to get him to leave the room.
The moment he was gone, she pulled the IV out of her arm and used the tape to hold a wad of tissue against the wound. She was already dressed and out of the room before Keith came back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Dale thanked God that the men’s room at the little convenience store they stopped at was for one person at a time. He flipped on the light and locked the grimy door behind him.
With shaking hands, Dale powered on his cell phone—which seemed to take forever—and dialed Grant. Maybe he should have called the police, but he didn’t have time to explain his parental situation before Wyatt would become suspicious. Grant already knew what was going on. He could call the police.
“Dale. Are you safe?” asked Grant.
Dale kept his voice low so it wouldn’t carry through the flimsy door. “Yeah. I’m at Donny’s Gas Up, right outside of Rolla.”
“Donny’s Gas Up. Outside of Rolla,” repeated Grant, as if for the benefit of someone else nearby. “Stay there. Police are on the way.”
“I don’t know how long I can stall. I’ll try.”
Grant’s voice was calm and sure, and it somehow helped Dale to find his own confidence. “You do what you can. We’ll do the rest. I want you to stay on the line so we can track your cell phone, okay?”
“He might hear it.”
“I’ll mute it on my end so he can’t hear anything we say. All you need to do is hang on.”
Dale could do that. Help was on the way. Isabelle trusted Grant, and that was good enough for him to do the same. “Okay. I gotta get back out there or he’s going to start getting suspicious.”
He put the phone in the pocket of his letter jacket to keep it close at hand. If he wasn’t able to stall long enough for the police to show up, at least he’d be able to drop clues about which way they were going. The police would be able to follow them.
This was almost over. Within hours, his dad would be back in jail and out of his life for good.
Wyatt pounded on the door. “Hurry up in there.”
“I’m coming. Just a sec,” said Dale. He flushed the toilet and ran water in the sink just in case Wyatt was listening.
Dale opened the door, and Wyatt handed him an armload of bottled soda and snacks and a wad of small bills. “Pay for this while I go. Meet me by the car.”
“Do you mind if I get a cup of coffee?”
“Yeah. Whatever. Just be quick.”
Dale turned to go, but Wyatt stopped him, grabbing his arm hard enough that it hurt. Dale took the pain without letting it show on his face. He didn’t want to give his old man the satisfaction of seeing his pain.
“Don’t do anything stupid, son.” Wyatt lifted up the front of his shirt enough that Dale could see the metallic gleam of the handgun shoved in his waistband. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt.”
Dale’s vision narrowed until there was nothing else but that gun. There was no question in his mind that Wyatt would use it. He would. He’d probably enjoy it, too.
Dale swallowed hard, trying to make room to speak so Grant could hear Wyatt was armed. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t shoot anyone.”
Wyatt clamped a hand hard over his mouth. “Keep your voice down, boy, and get your ass back to the car.”
Dale nodded, and Wyatt shoved him away hard enough that he stumbled. A bottle of soda fell to the floor and rolled away. Dale scrambled after it, making note of which one it was. Who knew when a spewing bottle of soda might come in handy as a distraction.
The bathroom door slammed shut, and Dale carried his food to the front counter. “I want a cup of coffee added to this,” he told the woman at the register.
Her nametag read “Liz,” and she looked like he pictured a grandma should. She had short gray hair that she probably had styled once a week by a woman she called a beauty operator. The lines on her face were deeper around her mouth, telling him she’d shared a lot of smiles in her lifetime, and she wore a sweatshirt inviting people to ask her about her grandkids.
Dale didn’t. He simply went to make himself a cup of coffee and prayed she’d live long enough to tell the next customer about them.
“Oh, sweetie,” she said, “that coffee is old. Let me make you a new pot.”
Dale was torn between wanting to stall like Grant had told him to and wanting to get Granny Liz out of harm’s way. In the end, it wasn’t really a choice. “No, thanks. I like the old stuff better.”
She wrinkled her nose in distaste but shrugged. “You young kids sure have your own way of doing things. My grandson, Trent, is the same way—eating things I wouldn’t feed to a skunk.”
Through the window, Dale saw a Missouri highway patrol car pull into the parking lot. Two policemen got out.
From the back of the store, Dale heard the bathroom door open.
“You go ahead and get your coffee,” said Granny Liz. “I’ll ring you up.”
Dale didn’t know what to do, so he tried to pretend everything was fine. He wasn’t being held against his will by his gun-toting ex-con father. He was just picking up some snacks for the ride home.
The sweat drenching his palms proved him a liar, but he ignored it. He knew if he so much as looked toward Wyatt, he’d be able to tell that Dale was working against him.
The electronic doorbell chimed as the cops walked in. “Evening, Liz,” greeted one of the officers.
“Hi, Sid, Anton. I was just about to fix a fresh pot of coffee. Interested?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They sounded so casual that it had to be a coincidence they were here. Surely these couldn’t be the police Grant said were coming. No sirens. No lights. These men didn’t even have their guns drawn.
Granny Liz came over to where Dale was adding sugar packets to his coffee one at a time. He’d lost count of how many he’d used, but it didn’t really matter. His nervous stomach would never settle down enough for him to actually drink the stuff.
“Excuse me,” said Granny Liz. “Mind if I scoot in here and make some fresh coffee?”
Dale’s mouth was too dry to speak, but he nodded and shuffled to one side.
“That’s enough sugar, son,” came Wyatt’s warning voice from behind him. “We gotta get back on the road if we’re going to make it home in time for your sister’s birthday party.”
That lie jarred him just enough that he actually flinched. Hot coffee sloshed over the side of his cup, burning his hand.
Dale gasped and jumped back, shaking drops of coffee from his skin.