The house had the feel of being lived in. She saw a kitchen off to her left, a short hallway leading to the front room to her right. Except for the pounding of her heart, the house was still and quiet.

“Open the door in front of you,” Tammy said from behind.

Annie looked straight ahead. She knew where the doorway must lead—most certainly down to the basement.

It did. When she opened the door, she saw a flight of wooden steps leading into darkness.

Tammy reached to the wall beside the doorway and flicked a switch, flooding the basement with light. The pistol prodded Annie forward.

“Downstairs. Move it.”

Annie took the first step cautiously, her mind whirling in an attempt to devise a way out of this deadly situation. But Tammy was cautious. The woman stayed well back as Annie descended the stairs, the gun now prodding the back of her head.

Thirteen steps down and Annie touched the cold concrete floor. She looked around. The basement was almost empty, as though its owners had just moved out, or perhaps new ones about to move in. A furnace sat silently in the far corner, waiting for winter. An empty set of shelves stood to her right, more to her left.

Across the room, near a darkened window, sat a lone chair, remnants of yellow, nylon rope still clinging to the wooden arms, another short piece kicked to one side. Still more was coiled into a ball.

Someone had been tied to that chair recently and Annie knew who it was. Tammy Norton’s own husband was surely held in this very room until the unfeeling woman saw fit to work him into her plans, resulting in his brutal death. And then the scheming woman planted a piece of the rope in Rocky Shaft’s vehicle along with blood from the victim.

And now, Annie was headed for that same fate, one she was determined not to submit to.

The killer pushed Annie forward, then stepped aside and pointed to the chair. “Sit there,” she demanded.

Annie sat, her arms on the armrests, looking up at the unfeeling woman.

“It’ll soon be over,” Tammy said, a smirk on her face.

Annie glared defiantly. “It’ll soon be over—for you.”

The woman laughed. “I doubt if you’ll be so brave when the end comes.” She picked up the coil of rope and peeled off several feet, being careful to stand well back from her captive, the gun never wavering. “Wrap your arms behind the chair.”

Annie did as she was told, and the woman moved behind, tying the cord firmly to both wrists, and then to the chair. The cord bit into Annie’s wrists and made her shoulders ache.

Tammy wrapped the stout cord around Annie’s chest and the back of the chair several times, tying it in a solid knot to each armrest.

The ball of rope rolled and spun, unraveling from the coil as Annie’s ankles were tied firmly to the chair legs. The rest of the cord was wrapped around and around, until finally, Tammy knotted the tail and stood back, smugly admiring her work. “That should hold you long enough.”

“It should hold me until the police come,” Annie said. “And then you’ll be the prisoner.”

Tammy gave a short laugh. “I admire your pluck, but unfortunately you’re dead wrong. The police have no clue what’s going on. All their efforts are aimed toward that poor sap, Rocky Shaft.”

“We’ll see,” Annie said.

“Oh. And I sent your husband a text message before I trashed your phone. I assume he was happy to hear you were fine and on the way home.”

Annie’s face flushed with anger. The woman was devious and covering herself well.

Tammy took a step back. “You can scream all you want once I’m gone. Nobody will hear you.” She stepped to the bottom of the stairs and turned back, her foot on the first step. “I shouldn’t be long, and you’ll be safe here until I return.”

Annie watched the woman climb the steps and the door at the top of the stairs closed. A lock slid into place and she was alone.

The room was still, and only the sound of Annie’s breathing disturbed the deathly quiet that surrounded her.

Chapter 48

Friday, 11:15 a.m.

JAKE STOOD IN the living room of Tammy Norton’s house and stared out the front window, deep in tortured thought. All around him, investigators studied, photographed, and documented every detail of the house. Everything would be closely scrutinized and examined.

Hank and King were undertaking a thorough search in other rooms, hunting for evidence pointing to the location of the fugitive. City wide, patrol officers kept a watch for all dark-blue 1996 Ford Probes in an effort to apprehend the kidnapper.

Tammy’s face would be shown on every news broadcast, part of the exhaustive search now underway.

The woman would be caught. Jake had no doubt about that, but with Annie as a hostage, he was in anguish over the possible outcome.

Jake turned from the window as Hank came into the room. The cop’s face was somber as he shook his head slowly. “Nothing turned up,” he said. “King is still searching.”

Unsure what to say, Jake took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“I’m convinced Rocky Shaft is connected to this somewhere,” Hank said. “I’m going to the precinct, and I’ll give him a good grilling. He might know where Tammy Norton is headed.”

Jake nodded. It seemed like a long shot, but at least it was something.

Hank touched Jake’s arm. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I think I’ll stay here. See if I can come up with an idea.”

Hank turned to leave. “I’ll let you know if I get something solid.”

“Thanks,” Jake said, as Hank hurried toward the door. The cop disappeared outside. Jake turned back to the window and watched as Hank ran to his vehicle, jumped in, and sat the portable flashing lights on the roof of the car. The siren sounded as he pulled from the curb and sped up the street.

Jake rubbed his hands through his hair and sat on the edge of the couch. If Tammy had fled and taken Annie with her, then his wife was probably still alive, and would be as long as the abductor found her useful. Jake shuddered to think what might happen at that point, but he was hopeful of finding her in time.

But time is useless without a plan, and Jake found it difficult to come up with a clue as to where to start looking first. He felt helpless in a hopeless situation.

King was in the living room now, rummaging through the papers in a desk beside the fireplace. Jake went over and stood beside the desk, watching.

“Just looking for any idea where Mrs. Norton is,” King said without looking up. “She might be holding Annie hostage somewhere.” He pulled out a drawer and examined some file folders closely, then rifled around in the top drawer, filled with pens, paper clips, and knickknacks.

“But if she doesn’t know we’re onto her,” Jake said. “She might not be so careful. I hope she has no idea they’re looking for her vehicle.”

“Let’s hope you’re right,” King said, as he closed the final drawer and straightened his back. “There doesn’t seem to be anything helpful here.”

Jake left the room and went into the hallway. Investigators worked in the kitchen, the bathroom, and the bedroom, their faces grim as they went about their painstaking task.

Jake’s cell phone rang and his heart missed a beat. It was Annie! “Where are you?” he almost shouted.

“Hello?” came an unknown voice from the phone.

Jake’s heart dropped. It was a man’s voice, speaking low and hoarse.

“Who’s this?” Jake asked.

“It’s Bob. Bob Langley,” the gravelly voice said. “I saw someone toss this phone into a dumpster.”

“A dumpster?”

“I was going to keep it. It looks to be in good shape, but I got to thinking, so I called the first speed dial number and here you are.”

Jake’s mind whirled. “Where are you?”