Retriever Ransom

Chapter Fourteen

I waited crouched in the snow outside that cabin for at least ten minutes, needing to make sure the mayor had well and truly gone before I headed back through the woods with Cujo.

"What's next? What's next? I'm ready for the next part,” he begged, panting happily as he led me across the frigid February landscape.

I had to admit that he made a far more motivational partner than the crabby tabby I usually worked beside.

“That’s a good question," I told him. "I still haven't decided. What do you think?”

Honestly I was torn. Should we confront the mayor with what we know? Or would it be better for me to call my news anchor mom so she could break the story and expose this scandal to the public? She'd definitely be happy to have such a juicy story. The network execs would be, too. They might even extend her coverage region over something like this.

Cujo stopped walking and stared up at me with his light blue eyes. "I don't care what you do. We found the culprit. It's up to you to navigate the intricacies of human propriety. Not me.”

"Uhh....sure," I said in defeat. "Thanks for the help."

"Don't mention it," he yipped.

We walked silently through the woods for a while, neither having anything to say to the other. When we'd almost reached the clearing on the other side, my phone let out a series of high-pitched chirps.

"What was that?" Cujo asked in a panic. "That didn't sound good."

"Relax. It's just my phone." I pulled it out from where it had been wedged in my pants pocket and saw a missed text and two missed voicemails from Nan.

I listened to the first message. "I don't know where you are, Angie dear, but take cover. Mark’s headed back your way."

The next voicemail was much the same. Although it definitely would have been nice to have advance warning, it was probably a good thing my phone hadn't chimed and given me away while I was spying through the cabin window.

I tried returning Nan’s call to let her know I was okay, but the phone just rang and rang without stop. Meanwhile Cujo and I crept closer to the edge of the forest. I was so ready to get back into the warmth of Nan's car and hoped she'd be nearby and waiting for us.

"What's that?" Cujo asked again.

I turned but saw nothing—nothing except a gloved fist flying straight toward my face. It made contact, crunching my nose and forcing me down into the soft snow below.

Cujo growled, sounding more like his namesake than ever.

"Who’s there?" I called, rubbing stars from my eyes, only to be kicked in my side for my efforts. The fresh wave of searing hot pain distracted me from all else.

Cujo lashed out with a snarl, and my attacker screamed in pain. I assumed he had landed his bite. I definitely didn't envy whoever had been on the other end of those giant teeth.

A large thud sounded nearby, and Cujo yelped in response.

"Get out of here, you stupid dog!" I heard someone yell, still too delirious from pain to determine whether the voice had come from a man or a woman.

And then I was alone with my attacker.

Cujo's familiar pant receded, leaving me to handle the assailant all on my own.

"Get up, Russo," he commanded, yanking me to my feet by my hair. A man. Definitely a man, and a strong one, too.

Everything hurt so bad I couldn't help but cry out. "What do you want? Leave me alone!"

"We already told you what we want, but you couldn't keep your nose out of our business,” the man told me, but I couldn’t make any sense of it.

"Again," another voice added. This one seemed to belong to a woman.

"You're coming with us,” the man said, yanking me again.

Everything looked as if it were under water or part of a mirage. I strained to make out the features of either thug, but one them pushed a soft knit skullcap onto my head and yanked it down over my eyes.

"You move that, you’re dead," the woman said, and I knew better than to test her on that.

"March," the man said, pushing me from behind. The woman walked just before me.

We turned around and headed back through the woods toward that lonesome cabin. Was this how I died?

Marching blindly through the cold at the hands of an unknown pair who hated me enough to kidnap me? Not just once, but twice now?

I had no doubt in my mind that this was the same duo that had abducted Mags just a month earlier at the Holiday Spectacular downtown. She said they called her Russo and warned her to keep her nose out of their business, just like these two were doing with me now.

What did they have to do with the mayor and his missing golden retriever, though? I'd already seen that he'd taken the dog himself. That neither of them had ever been in any real danger.

Yet here I was, blindfolded and being marched to an unknown end. My bones rattled from the icy cold. My heart hammered with fear—too bad it wasn’t quite enough to get me warm.

If I ran, I wouldn't get far—not with these two around and with my vision already so disoriented, whether or not I was blindfolded.

And if I stopped moving, who knew what they would do to punish me?

This left no option but to comply, so back to the cabin we went.

Sometime later they shattered the window, then unlocked the door and shoved me inside. The warmth of the fire immediately put me at ease despite the ongoing danger.

My kidnappers whispered hurriedly between themselves before finally tugging off the cap that had blinded me.

Marco the golden retriever stood nearby, his tail covering his privates as he whined questioningly. "Who are you?" he asked in a friendly yet fearful voice. "Why have you come to my playhouse?"

I wished I could answer him, but I still didn't know who my attackers were or what they wanted. I had to play it safe. So I addressed them instead, hoping Marco would understand.

"Why are you here? Why am I here? What do you want?" I asked the questions in rapid fire, my jaw throbbing from where I'd been hit, blood gushing from my nose into my mouth. It was probably broken for all I knew. Maybe Mags could teach me a makeup trick or two if I even managed to get out of this alive.

But now I saw clearly that the first of my captors was a woman in her mid-fifties with elegantly coiffed hair and an expensive looking jacket. She seemed familiar, though I couldn't exactly place her.

The man stood in front of the fire with his back to us, saying nothing as he let his partner make an attempt to answer my questions.

"You already know who we are. Why you're here has yet to be determined. What we’ll do with you... Huh." She laughed but didn't bother finishing her answer.

I swallowed down a nervous lump that had formed in my throat. Were they really crazy enough to kill me? For what? Sure I'd put a few bad guys behind bars in my time as a PI, but—

"What are you thinking, Russo?” the man said, turning toward me suddenly.

Oh. This face I knew very well. His wrinkled skin had been pulled taut from an apparent cosmetic surgery. The white hair and strong jaw, though, looked the same as ever.

"Mr. Thompson?" I asked as all the pieces began clicking into place. Could it really be my former boss, the partner at the law firm now headed by my boyfriend, Charles Longfellow, III?

"The very same," he said with a hideous smile.

"Why would you do this?" I squinted my eyes and willed myself to see anything but the horrible scene unfolding right before me. “And shouldn't you be in jail?"

He chuckled again, this time bitterly. "You don't do a very good job following up on your cases. Do you think they were going to hold me because some lady got hurt by her cats? No. My lawyer got me out of that one with a slap on the wrist and an accidental death decision. Minimal time served. Now I'm back, and I'm not leaving again. “

It still didn’t make sense. “But what do you want? Why come back here? Why follow me?"

"You think we followed you?" the woman asked, shaking her head. "Think again. You just happened to show up."

"I don't understand."

"What's new," Thompson sneered. "You were a lousy paralegal, so it makes sense that now you're a lousy P.I."

I wouldn't just sit here and take this abuse, both physical and mental. My time with Thompson had been served. That wasn’t my job anymore. Now I was my own boss.

As far as I was concerned, he could spend the rest of his life behind bars. It's what he deserved, and it's what I would make sure happened.

Just as soon as I figured out how to get away.