Dead Right (Stillwater Trilogy #3)(91)
Author: Brenda Novak

“Have you known Ray since you moved here?” He tried not to imagine where all of this could end, with Maddy terribly hurt or even dead, and the Montgomerys in prison. No one had forced Clay to come forward with these pictures. Revealing them risked everything he’d been trying to hide, and yet he’d done it right away, for Madeline’s sake. Without them, Hunter would never have gone to Ray’s trailer, found the cat, found the pages from Barker’s sermons or known where to search for clues about where Madeline might be. Madeline would just have disappeared and no one would’ve known where to look.

That redeemed Clay in Hunter’s mind. He’d sacrificed himself for his stepsister. But there were those who might not view the past so kindly…

“I know him. But obviously not well enough,” Clay said. “Otherwise…”

He let his voice trail off, leaving Hunter to wonder what he meant. Otherwise he would’ve been able to protect Madeline? Or otherwise he would’ve made sure Ray could never hurt anyone again?

Here he was, with someone he was almost positive had been involved in a murder, and yet he considered Clay one of the most ethical people he’d ever met.

It was more than a little ironic. But he didn’t have time to consider all the nuances. He needed to concentrate, despite his fear and the various questions running through his head. The photograph he was examining showed the edge of a window cooler. It’d probably been taken in the office at the farm. Madeline had mentioned an air-conditioning unit being in the window at one time. Since Hunter had visited that very room, he could easily picture the setting. But that was it. There was no visible object to tell him anything more than he already knew, so he switched to another picture. “What’s Ray like?”

They passed a car and slipped in between two more. “Pretty nondescript,” Clay replied. “Always minded his own business before. Or so I thought. I felt sorry for him because of his daughter.” Clay shook his head as if he blamed himself for missing signs that no one else had seen. “I never expected him to be dangerous.”

“I don’t think anyone did.” Hunter pulled out another picture. This one had been taken elsewhere. He could see part of a desk in the background. “Where’s this?”

He handed it over, and Clay glanced at it while he drove. “At the church.”

“God, was there no end to his hypocrisy?” Hunter asked in disgust.

“No,” Clay said simply.

Hunter began to examine the third picture. It looked like it had been taken at the church, too. There was the same desk. But in this photo, Katie was performing a sex act on Rose Lee and Barker wasn’t in the picture at all. Hunter almost set it aside when he saw something near the edge that made him pause.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered.

“What?” Clay said.

Disbelieving, Hunter shook his head. “Your stepfather wasn’t alone when he tortured those girls.” He glanced over at Clay, but Clay didn’t return his look. The muscle that flexed in his cheek was his only reaction.

“What are you talking about?”

“I can see part of him in the corner of this picture.”

“Part of him?”

“His knee or something.”

“How do you know?”

“If you look closely, you’ll see that he’s wearing the same pants he had on in the other picture.”

“I saw a lot of skin, but no pants,” Clay said bitterly.

“They were on the bottom edge of that photo of him and Katie—down around his ankles.”

A scowl etched deep lines in Clay’s face; Hunter guessed it wasn’t easy for him to talk about these pictures. It’d be impossible not to think about what’d happened to his own sister—and what had probably occurred as a result. There was no telling how horrifying that must’ve been for a sixteen-year-old boy. “He’s in a lot of those pictures,” Clay said.

“I know, but in this one, he’s not close enough to be holding the camera since he’s in the picture—or his pant leg is, anyway. Someone else had to be taking it.”

Clay’s eyes, hard and glittering, were finally riveted on Hunter’s. “You think Ray would do that to his own daughter?”

Hunter set the magnifying glass aside. Mad-dy, it’s your dad-dy. Spread your legs for me, okay, baby? You’re the one I wanted all along.

The idea of incest excited Ray Harper.

“Yes.” Staring straight ahead, Hunter watched the little dash lines in the center of the road. They flew past in a blur, but not fast enough. What was Ray doing to Maddy?

He could only hope the deputies from the sheriff’s department had already found them. He’d called to check, but a woman with a nasal voice had said, “We’re looking into it.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

When Madeline regained consciousness, the cabin was completely silent. She sat still for several seconds, listening—and praying that the officers from the sheriff’s department hadn’t left. She was feeling slightly more clearheaded, could even move a little. But they were gone. As far as she could tell, she was alone.

How long had she been unconscious? The thought of Ray returning sent a spurt of fear-induced adrenaline through her blood. If he wasn’t here now, he’d be coming soon. Surely, he hadn’t planned to be gone very long. Which meant she had to get out of the closet, out of the cabin and somewhere safe. Right away.

But how? Ray had retied her hands and feet. Although he hadn’t connected the rope between them, forcing her into a crouched position as he had before, her hands were behind her, where they weren’t much use. And she was so terribly weak…

Fighting the effects of whatever drug he’d given her, she managed to wriggle into an upright position. The blankets on top of her felt like a thousand pounds of wet sand, weighing her down, burying her. They were so heavy she almost couldn’t move. But she had no choice. If she didn’t take action now, she might not get out alive.

She used her head to push the bedding from side to side until she could feel the cold air of the cabin on her skin. Then she took a few seconds to suck fresh air into her lungs, trying to clear her mind and bolster her strength.

The collar and gag made it difficult to breathe, and she had to mentally override a constant sense of panic. But the sudden chill after the heat of her own breath against the blankets helped.

Freedom. She had a chance. If she hurried. But it was so dark she couldn’t see anything. Even after she slid open the warped closet door with her shoulder, she couldn’t distinguish even the general shape of the furniture.