Hell's Highway Page 11

  “About damn time, Hank,” the man said. “You couldn’t have called?”

  Andrea stood still as the two men approached each other between the two rumbling trucks. She put her hands on her hips and smiled broadly.

  “We doing double duty? It’ll cost you more,” she said to her target.

  “Jesus, Hank, you still picking up fender lizards?” The man looked at her and shook his head. “No thanks, honey.”

  “Where you parked?” Hank asked.

  “Bay Twelve.” He tipped his dirty hat at them. “See you next round.”

  Andrea’s arm was squeezed hard as Hank Waters led her away. She turned back, confused, as the other man got in the truck in Bay Four—with her tracking device—and drove away.

  Oh fuck.

  “I can’t hear a goddamn thing, Rowan. Clean it up,” Cameron said.

  “I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do. The engines are too loud.”

  “This is not helping us,” she said.

  “Okay, they’re on the move, pulling out. I’m putting it up on your screen now.”

  Cameron took a deep breath, then started the truck. “Eric, you copy?”

  “Yeah. We don’t have a fancy console like you have but it’s up on our phones.”

  “Stay behind me,” she said as she drove slowly through the parking lot, her eyes darting between the red dot flashing on the animated map and the trucks surrounding them.

  “Don’t follow too close,” Reynolds said.

  “I won’t,” she murmured as she pulled onto the highway, letting the big rig in front of her gain some speed. “Signal is strong, Rowan. Good job.”

  “Okay. I’m overriding our feed with Andrea’s. It’ll run continuously, but you can talk over it now.”

  A few seconds later, Andrea’s voice could be heard.

  “What’s your name, sugar?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Well, I just like to know what name to scream out,” she said.

  Cameron smirked. “She’s a natural.”

  “Henry. But they call me Hank. What’s yours?”

  “You can call me...Candy.”

  This time Eric laughed. “I win,” he said, referring to the names they’d tossed out for Andrea to choose from.

  “Candy? I like that.”

  “So, where are we heading? I’m used to doing my business right away, you know what I mean?”

  “I got a place. I don’t like the truck.”

  “Yeah? So where’s my two hundred bucks?”

  “I’m good for it. Don’t worry.”

  “Baby, I’m not worried. My legs don’t spread for free.”

  Reynolds chuckled beside her. “She’s good. You think this is our guy?”

  “It sounds like it. But something’s not right. It’s too easy.” She tapped the wheel, keeping an even distance between her and the truck they were following.

  “You know, I used to be married,” Andrea said. “I wasn’t always in this line of work.”

  “But you like it, right?”

  “Baby, I’ll make it good for you, don’t worry.”

  “I ain’t worried.”

  “I would like to know where we’re headed though.”

  “Why so curious?”

  “I don’t want to get too close.”

  “Too close?”

  “My husband was a gambler. When we lived in Vegas, he lost everything. Our savings. Our house. I left his ass and moved to LA but I couldn’t find work.”

  “You got a job now.”

  “Yeah, and I’m good at my job, baby, don’t you worry.”

  “I bet you are. I can’t wait to find out.”

  “I just get nervous now whenever I’m heading to Las Vegas. Bad memories.”

  Cameron frowned, her gaze going to the red dot on the monitor heading steadily toward Los Angeles.

  “What the hell?”

  “What?” Reynolds asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Didn’t you just hear what she said? Rowan, activate the tracking device on her watch.”

  “What for? We have a strong signal already.”

  “Just do it.” She took a deep breath, her chest tight. She waited only seconds for the monitor to change. “Son of a bitch,” she murmured.

  They were following the wrong truck.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Eric, stop that goddamn truck and find out where the hell our guy is,” she said as she slammed on her brakes, causing horns to honk around her. She bounced across the median, barely conscious of Reynolds beside her. Her hands were tight on the wheel, squeezing painfully as they bounded across the highway, now heading east instead of west.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to get us killed?”

  “Rowan, how far out?” she asked, ignoring Reynolds.

  “Based on their speed and—”

  “Just give me a guess.”

  “Twenty-three point four miles.”

  “Twenty-three point four miles,” she repeated. “Great,” she murmured as she sped up, passing cars at an alarming speed. She almost felt like they were flying down the highway. Judging by the grip Reynolds had on the dash, they were. “You’re turning white, man.”

  “Not funny,” he said.

  “You don’t talk much, do you?”

  “You talk too much.”

  “Just trying to get to know you, baby.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time for that.”

  “Yeah? I hope it’s soon. I don’t normally do this, you know.”

  “What?”

  “Travel. Most just want it in their rig.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m different. I think you’re going to like it.”

  “Hey guys,” Eric said, drowning out Andrea’s conversation. “Got the truck. Tag team drivers. They switched trucks in Barstow. The truck Andrea is in is heading to Vegas on I-15.”

  “Eric, find out everything he knows about our guy. Then find out who manages the trucking company. We need to know who the hell Henry Waters is. Copy?”

  “We’re on it.”

  “You know, those guys work for me, not you.”

  “Shut up, Reynolds.”

  She glanced at her speed as she neared a hundred, thankful the traffic wasn’t too heavy. She passed another truck, then glanced at Reynolds.

  “Sorry. I know they’re your team. But Andrea is mine.”

  “I know you’re worried. We’ll get there. If you don’t kill us first.”

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  “What does it look like? I’m taking your purse.”

  Andrea swallowed down the panic she was feeling, trying to stay in character...praying Cameron was not still following the other truck.

  “Baby, why do you want my purse?”

  “Shut up.”

  “What did I do?” Her eyes widened as he opened her purse.

  “Well, well. A gun.” He flicked on the overhead light in the cab, taking the gun out. “Take off your jewelry.”

  “What’s wrong with you? You’re scaring me. I think I want you to stop.”

  “Too late for that, pretty lady. Now take it off.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re a cop, that’s why. You probably have a bug on you. Now take it off.”

  She tried to laugh. “A cop? Why do you think I’m a cop?”

  “I can smell it. Now do it. Put it in the purse.”

  He waited—watching—while she removed the watch and earrings. She couldn’t hide the watch from him, but she needed to hide the earring with the mic. Their plan was unraveling quickly, and she needed to hold on to something linking her with Cameron. She felt real fear for the first time as his soulless eyes watched her.

  “You don’t want to do this,” she said as she dropped the watch in the purse, then made a show of taking off her earrings.

  “Oh, I do want to do it,” he said. When his eyes turned back to the road she stuck the earring under her garter belt, then drop
ped the other one in the purse. “And I’m going to love to fuck you. I’ve always wanted to fuck a cop. And I’m going to fuck you until you bleed.”

  “Goddamn bastard,” Cameron said between gritted teeth. “Rowan, how far are we?”

  “His speed is slowing. They’re eight miles ahead.”

  “Jesus, that’s too far.”

  “What are you doing? You can’t just throw my purse away.”

  “I just did. Now shut up.”

  Cameron and Reynolds both looked at the monitor, seeing the red dot stop moving, while the green, indicating her truck, crept closer.

  “Rowan, talk to me,” she said.

  “She’s obviously still got the earring on her.”

  “Can you locate her with that?”

  “No. Not...not with what I have. I mean, I could try but it would take...could take an hour. The best I can—”

  “We don’t have an hour. Give me something,” she said quickly, interrupting him.

  “Okay, based on his average speed of sixty-eight, I can calculate their distance from where our tracker stopped. We should still be able to locate the truck.”

  “He’s got a place, he said. That means he’s getting off the highway.” She pounded her fist on the steering wheel. “How the hell did he make her for a cop?”

  “Serial killers are not dumb,” Reynolds reminded her. “They’re calculating. Meticulous about details.”

  “She played it right,” Cameron said. “Right down to the damn garter belt.”

  “I think that might have been it,” Reynolds said. “New clothes. Hookers don’t have new clothes.”

  “Oh come on. The man’s not going to know whether the clothes are new or not.”

  “Attention to detail, remember. Something must have clued him in.”

  “What are you doing? Why are you turning?” Andrea asked.

  “Shut up.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “I think you know where I’m taking you. You owe me a fuck, remember?”

  “Look, you don’t want to do this.”

  “I said shut up.”

  The slap they heard and Andrea’s soft cry afterward was deafening in the silence that followed. Cameron tried to keep it professional, she tried to think of it as any other mission, but her heart wouldn’t let her. Her body was tense, aching.

  “Goddamn it, Rowan. Talk to me,” Cameron said. They had just passed the marker where Andrea’s purse had been thrown.

  “Based on his speed, still seven miles ahead of you.”

  “Pull up a map. Show me a satellite.”

  “Will you watch the road,” Reynolds said as she zipped around a slow-moving car. “I can check the map.”

  “He was turning. Do you see the road to the right that heads to the Nevada border?”

  “Yeah. See it.”

  “I think he turned off the highway,” Rowan said.

  “You think?” she asked tersely.

  “Okay, there’s a private road to the left, about a mile down. It looks small though,” Rowan said. “Can an eighteen-wheeler make it down something like that?”

  “I see it,” Reynolds said, pointing the monitor. “Any dwellings?”

  “Yes. There’s a building of some kind,” he said. “It’s at least a half mile off the highway.”

  “Anything else?” Cameron asked. “We need to be sure.”

  “There’s another road, about a mile farther,” Rowan said. “But based on my calculations, I don’t think they were that far.”

  “You better be right,” she murmured, her rigid gaze fixed on the highway. “Get us some backup,” she ordered. “And an ambulance.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Andrea winced as he grabbed her arm, pulling her roughly across the seat and out of the cab. She nearly twisted her ankle as the high heels folded under her. Catching her balance, trying to formulate a plan, she found herself staring into the barrel of the gun he’d taken from her purse.

  “That way,” he said, motioning to what appeared to be a long-abandoned shack. “I want you alive, but don’t think I won’t shoot you.”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She dealt with victims her whole career, never once truly understanding their fear. Right then, at that moment, she felt it deep in her soul. She listened absently at the whir of traffic, thinking they were a good half-mile away from the highway, maybe more. She wondered if Cameron was rushing to find her.

  Surely she was. Andrea knew she had time. He liked to play with his victims. She shivered, thinking of all the things he would most likely do to her. She was beginning to understand it all. He grabbed his victims and drugged them, holding them here most likely while he finished his route. Then he would come back and have his fun. He could hold them here for days. If his truck route stayed the same, he could stop in anytime he liked without causing suspicion.

  She nodded slowly, turning toward the building. Her police training told her to try to disarm him but she hesitated. Surely Cameron was coming for her. What if she couldn’t disarm him? She wasn’t Cameron. She wasn’t trained in martial arts, she wasn’t as strong. If she failed, he might indeed shoot her. Or worse. No. She had to play this out. This was the plan. So she walked on, feeling him close behind her, imagining she could feel his foul breath on her neck. Imagining she could hear Cameron coming for her.

  “Stop.”

  She did as she was told, waiting. She heard keys jingling, then the barrel of the gun touched her back as he reached around her to unlock the door. He pushed her inside, not bothering to turn on any lights. She squinted into the darkness, seeing little.

  “This way.”

  Again, he unlocked another door and shoved her inside. She blinked several times as a bright light was turned on. What she saw made her gasp. A bloody table complete with shackles for arms and legs, a countertop lined with needles and vials. She turned quickly, flight instinct taking over, but he was prepared. She registered the electric shock in her neck, was conscious enough to recognize the Taser before her limbs gave way.

  “Jesus Christ, where’s the fucking road?” Cameron yelled.

  “Almost there,” Reynolds said.

  “One more mile,” Rowan said.

  Cameron’s hands were sweating, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. The only sound from Andrea’s mic was of him dragging her, and then the sound of chains. There was a rustling sound and her gut told her he was removing her clothing. There was static, then deadly silence. He’d apparently found the mic.

  It seemed like an eternity—the last few miles. She was driving as fast as she dared. Reynolds was right. They would be of no help to Andrea if they had an accident, but her fear was real. She was terrified of what he was doing to Andrea...what he was going to do.

  Andrea shook her head, still feeling numbness in her right shoulder. She tried to move, then felt the chains digging into her flesh. She was cold and only then did she realize she was naked. She lifted her head, her eyes wide. An IV was in her arm, a clear liquid slowly dripping. Oh, dear God.

  “Welcome back,” he said as he inserted a needle into a vial.

  She blinked several times, fear blocking any sound from her throat. She shook her head again, trying to clear her mind, trying to focus.

  “I learned something in prison,” he said as he smiled at her. “I was a good boy. I got to work in the infirmary. You learn a lot in sickbay,” he continued. “How to give shots. How to properly set an IV.” He laughed. “What drugs do what. That kind of stuff.”

  She yanked hard on the chains, crying out in pain as her skin tore from the force.

  “I got you now, don’t I?” He laughed again. “But what am I going to do with you?” He ran his hand up her leg between her thighs and she flinched. “I must say, compared to the others, you look mighty good. Fresh.”

  “Take your hand off me,” she managed.

  “I’ll do what I please,” he snarled, grabbing her breast roughly and squeezing hard until she
cried out.

  She strained against the chains, trying to pull away, only to have him squeeze harder. She relented, biting her lip until he finally released her.

  “Oh, yes. You’re going to be fun to fuck. I might keep you a little longer than the others.” He gave a sickly laugh. “Of course, I like to fuck them dead too.” He threw his head back and laughed harder. “Oh, yes indeed I do.”

  She groaned as he raised the syringe, showing it to her, the needle glistening in the sharp light.

  “Do you know what this is?”

  She shook her head.

  “I think you do. You want it fast and quick? Or do you want it slow? Slow...drip by drip.” He waved the syringe in front of her face, her eyes following its jerky movements. “Slow. I think slow,” he said.

  “No,” she whispered, finally turning her head away. She tried to fight it but she couldn’t. The last thing she saw was a bloody rag on the floor before her world went black.

  “Hold on,” Cameron said as she turned sharply, her tires squealing as she left the highway and bounced onto the dirt road that shot out into the desert. A horn honked behind her but she hardly noticed, her only focus was Andrea as she sped down the bumpy road.

  “There.” Reynolds pointed. “There’s the truck.”

  Her headlights flashed across the truck and she skidded to a stop, not even taking the time to kill the engine. She had her weapon drawn as she raced to the door.

  “Protocol, Ross,” Reynolds called after her. “This is a crime scene.”

  “Fuck protocol,” she snapped. “That’s my partner in there.”

  She kicked the door with all of her force, the old wood splintering as the lock broke. She leaned against the wall in the darkness, motioning for Reynolds to take the opposite. She held up one finger, then another, then moved along the wall, seeing light pouring out from beneath a doorway. She pointed and he nodded. She hesitated at the door, so afraid of what she’d find inside. Then, with a deep breath, she brought her foot up, kicking in the door easily. Her eyes swept the room, finding an empty kitchen, save for a lone table and two chairs.

  “Goddamn,” she muttered, then turned, hurrying back out into the dark hallway. “Reynolds? Anything?”

  He snapped on his small flashlight, shining it along the wall until they found another door. There was no light seen under the door and she stood by it silently, listening, but there was no sound from within. She stepped back, one powerful kick opening the door. The air left her lungs when Reynolds’s light flashed across Andrea’s body.