Chapter Ten
Steve felt a shiver of fear as the question was thrown at him. If his captor discovered that he wasn't Peterson and had no idea what she was looking for, then it would be all over. He felt little doubt that she'd kill him immediately, and then he wouldn't be in any position to help his father. It was obvious that whatever she was looking for was something she was prepared to kill for, and she'd go back to the cabin if he couldn't think of something to stop her. He thought quickly, wishing his mind was a little clearer.
"Maybe you should ask whoever gave you the information about me. How on earth would I know why?" Steve tried to sound nonchalant.
"Maybe you shouldn't be so smart," The woman's mood changed swiftly and Steve wasn't prepared for the sudden blow to his already bruised face. Seeing stars again, and trying not to be sick, he took a few moments to regain his equilibrium.
Steve swallowed hard. "You're not going to get anywhere if you knock me out," he sputtered.
"Probably not, but it sure makes me feel better," She'd calmed down again, but Steve didn't like how she was looking at him. "I think it's time you showed me where you've buried the stuff. But I think you and I have to come to an understanding." Steve flinched back as far as he could as she leaned over and breathed into his face. He tried to ignore the twine cutting into him. She was right about one thing – it was indeed a torturous material. "If you try to trick me, or if you try to escape, you will regret it deeply. I won't kill you quickly, I'll make you suffer badly first." Steve gasped as she grabbed the twine and pulled it, so that it cut even further into him. "Do you understand?"
Steve could only nod his head quickly. As the twine was released, he sighed with relief. He made no effort to move as she cut the twine holding him to the tree. He held himself in place as his ankles were also untied.
"I'm sure you'll understand if I keep your wrists tied," she said almost in a conversational manner. "Come on!" She hauled him up roughly. Steve staggered as he was pulled into standing position. After hours of being tied, he felt numb, and his knee protested the weight being put back on it. He shook his head gently, trying to clear the fog which was clouding his mind and trying not to cause more pain.
"Let's go!"
*
Mark stared at the bullet damage wondering how he could have missed it before. His usually agile mind was blank as he grasped the implications. He couldn't comfort himself with thinking the solution was simple anymore—it was clear his son had met with big trouble. The ransacked cabin, the drops of blood, now the bullet damage. The fact that Steve didn't have his gun with him indicated he hadn't gone anywhere willingly and he tried to keep the rising panic under control, telling himself his son was a grown man, a tough cop. Even tough cops bleed, was the unbidden thought. He tried to control his fear and to come up with a feasible explanation as to what had happened. But his mind was blank—except for one thing. He was too aware of the fact Steve shouldn't have been up here alone—he should have been here. A car driving up the track interrupted his thoughts and he ran to the door. If it was Steve, he swore he'd make it up to him. He raced outside—it wasn't Steve, but it was an anxious looking Jesse and Amanda.
"Any word?" Jesse asked, but even as he spoke he could tell by Mark's appearance that Steve hadn't appeared.
"What are you doing here?" Mark was astonished to see his two friends there, and he also realized just how long he must have been in the cabin. It must have been hours, but he'd completely lost track.
"Are you kidding, Mark? We came just as soon as we got our shifts covered." Amanda came and hugged Mark who accepted the hug gratefully. "What have we got?"
They walked back into the cabin; Mark feeling grateful again for the unstinting support he received from his friends.
"It shouldn't have happened…" Mark spoke softly.
"What do you mean?" Amanda asked gently.
"I should have been here with him. He's my son…and he's now missing because he planned a vacation with me and I didn't even come…." Mark whispered, looking at the bullet hole again.
*
Steve was ready to collapse by the time they reached the lake. One thing the woman had correct was her assessment of the sun – it had indeed grown hotter. It was hard to believe that the night had been so cold and stormy, for the sun was now beating down hard on him. But she was a relentless captor and he was forced to keep going. He'd long since lost all track of time and it was only his strong will which kept him going, but even his determination was fading as his strength started to wane. He looked blearily at the lake as they approached it. There were quite a few boats.
"Okay, my friend, where is it?"
Steve looked blankly around. He had no idea what to do.
"Don't mess me around, I can hurt you, and will do so." She turned around and touched his bruised face. "You don't seem too sure of yourself. Maybe I'll have to start thinking you really aren't Tom Peterson! You're not, are you?"
Steve pulled away but she held him easily. "I am, but I just need to remember…"
"Remember! You can't remember where you buried it? I'm afraid I just don't believe you! I should never have listened to you in the first place. You just don't mislay a package worth millions of dollars!" The woman's mood changed rapidly and she pulled him down towards the lake. "You better start talking! Who the hell are you!"
Steve was unprepared for the sudden push that caused him to fall into the shallows of the lake. The pain that shot through his injured knee and the cold water revived him slightly and he pulled himself back but a rough hand pushed his head under the water. Just as suddenly his head was pulled back up, leaving him choking and gasping.
"Now who the hell are you!"
