Page 76 of Chilled
Brenna refused to answer. Instead, she assessed her options, which were very few with a gun pointed at her chest.
“Four! That’s how many. And why?” He didn’t wait for her response. “Because I’m smarter than all their degrees put together. Smarter than you and the freakin’ FBI. Isn’t that right? The great criminal investigator Brenna Jensen couldn’t figure it out. And you didn’t think I was good enough to marry your sister. Well, the hell with you.”
He swung out to snatch Brenna.
Dropping into a crouch, she lunged for his gut. If she couldn’t get around him to get out, she’d go through him. But he was heavier than she was, and when she hit him, she felt like she’d hit a brick wall.
Stan staggered back, quickly regained his footing and slammed the butt of the pistol down onto her temple.
Squiggling light worms and bright stars swirled through her vision. Brenna struggled to remain alert to fight back against the crazy man her sister had married, the man who’d killed four women and who would kill her as soon as she passed out. Another crushing blow turned her world black.
When Nick skiddedsideways onto Nodak Street, he dodged another car packed to the rooftop with everything one family could load into one vehicle.
He’d broken every speed limit and driven a few yards on a sidewalk to get from the station to Stan Klaus’s house in less than five minutes.
Stan’s truck stood in the driveway, and the house looked normal, almost peaceful. Yet, deep in his gut, Nick knew he hadn’t imagined the danger to Brenna. Stanley Klaus had something against her, and he wouldn’t stop short of murder to inflict his revenge.
Only Nick would be there to stop him. He had to be there. Brenna needed him, and he needed her.
As soon as he slammed the shift into park, he leaped from the car and raced to the doorway.
“Stan already left,” a woman called out from the driveway next door. “Saw him with his suitcase, loading up in a black SUV. You just missed him. He can’t have been gone more than five minutes.” She shoved a stack of blankets and pillows into the back seat of her Suburban.
Nick pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit 911. “Did Stan leave alone?” he asked the neighbor as he waited for the call to connect.
“Yeah,” the woman said. “He helped Alice with her mother and the kids. They left about half an hour ago. Well, I better get moving.” She hurried into the house for her next load.
The 911 dispatcher answered, “Riverton Police Department what’s your emergency?”
“This is Special Agent Nick Tarver. Put out an all-points bulletin on the black SUV belonging to Agent Brenna Jensen. The suspected serial killer, Stanley Klaus, is driving it.”
“Roger,” the dispatcher said.
A jolting image of Brenna lying unconscious on the floor in Stan’s house flashed into Nick’s mind. He forced himself to jog toward the house, dread tugging at his heart. Brenna couldn’t die. After the past few days, he knew he wanted to get to know her better, take her on a real date and sit with her in front of a blazing hearth, sipping hot cocoa.
The door was slightly ajar, as if Stan had left in a hurry and had no intentions of returning. Nick raced through the house, but he couldn’t find even a trace of Brenna, Stan or anyone else.
How had he gotten Brenna past the neighbors without alerting them?
The woman next door had said he’d loaded a suitcase. Had he packed Brenna in the suitcase and wheeled her out without anyone the wiser?
Where would he have taken her?Think, Nick.
He had no idea. Nick wanted to howl his frustration. Instead, he climbed into his car and headed back to the station, his heart dragging lower than his knees.
Fightingher way back to consciousness, Brenna opened her eyes. She had to blink several times to make sure her eyes truly were open. The darkness was so complete, not a glimmer of light penetrated.
Her knees pressed into her chest and her face rested against what felt like canvas. The steady vibration beneath her could only mean she was inside a vehicle. But where? In the trunk of a car or the rear of her Jeep, since she’d parked in the driveway?
When she tried to move her hands, rubber-coated wire dug into her wrists. She'd bet money it was Ethernet cable. When she tried to stretch her legs out, she couldn't. Stan must have stuffed her into a box...or the suitcase he'd laid out on his bedroom floor.
Hot and short on air, Brenna struggled to loosen her bonds, only managing to make them tighter. A hard knot pressed into her side, and she shifted her weight off it. Her cell phone! If she could get to the phone, maybe she could call for help.
Tugging the edge of her jacket with the tips of her fingers, she inched the pocket closer. After several attempts, she managed to pull the phone free, praying no one would call her. If she were in the back of the SUV, Stan would hear the ringing and take the phone away from her before she could get help. Her best bet was to get hold of someone and try to whisper her location.
Then the thought dawned on her. Zipped into a suitcase, she had no idea where she was.
Precious minutes passed as she tugged at her jacket until she finally wrapped the tips of her fingers around the cell phone. Pressing her finger against one side button and her nose against the opposite side, she managed to activate the screen with the SOS button on it.
