Now, as the big rig jerked to a stop outside the barn, she watched from her viewpoint by the darkened window, sucking in a sharp breath as the driver’s side door opened, and the Professor’s long frame emerged from the cab.
Keeping her eyes trained on his hated figure, visible in the stark moonlight that shone overhead, Skylar held her breath as he approached the door and fumbled with the key in the lock.
She prepared to tighten her finger on the trigger as soon as he came through the door, but he only opened the door a crack, then jogged back to the truck. Unbolting the trailer door, he unfolded the step ladder and climbed inside to get whatever cargo he’d brought home with him.
Skylar’s stomach squeezed at the thought of what, or who, might be in the back of the trailer. Her finger loosened on the trigger with the fear she might end up shooting one of the scared, drugged women the Professor often brought home with him.
The Professor reappeared and climbed down from the trailer, then turned back to drag a limp form over the edge and into his arms. He grunted under the weight of the motionless figure, shuffling toward the back porch, and mounting the steps with difficulty.
Shouldering open the door, the Professor dumped the body in his arms onto the kitchen floor. Moonlight streamed in, illuminating the woman’s slack face as the Professor turned back toward the trailer, oblivious to Skylar as she stood hidden in the shadows.
Aiming the gun at the Professor’s retreating back, Skylar forced herself to wait. He was too far away, and she couldn’t afford to miss what may be her only shot.
Expecting him to close and lock the trailer door, Skylar frowned when she saw him climb back up. When he reappeared at the edge of the trailer, she was shocked to see him struggling to drag another woman down.
Although he’d brought multiple women to the ranch on occasion before, they were usually compliant and restrained, and he rarely allowed them the opportunity to fight back as the woman on the edge of the trailer appeared to be doing.
Stepping closer to watch the Professor as he wrestled the woman off the trailer and onto the snowy ground, Skylar jumped when the woman’s scream pierced the frigid air.
She cringed, expecting to see the Professor pull out a gun and end the woman’s resistance on the spot. But instead he grabbed the woman by the back of her red coat and yanked her toward the porch.
“You’re gonna learn how to behave, girl,” he muttered as he shoved the woman through the door, causing her to trip over the prone body on the floor.
As he pulled the woman to her feet, and pushed her toward the hall, Skylar realized with a jolt of fear that the Professor was taking his captive to the saferoom, and that he would soon discover it was empty.
Holding the gun toward the two figures, Skylar stepped out of the shadows. The woman broke free from the Professor’s grip and looked up at the gun with scared green eyes.
A calm certainty descended over Skylar as she aimed the weapon toward the man who had ruined her life. The man who had killed every woman she’d ever known.
She pulled the trigger without hesitation, but the Professor lunged to the side just in time, and the bullet blew a hole in the kitchen wall. Raising the gun again just as the Professor jumped up and charged toward her, she closed her eyes and pulled the trigger a second time.
This time the Professor spun around and slammed against the kitchen table, blood immediately seeping out from the bullet wound in his shoulder as he moaned on the floor.
Walking to stand over him, Skylar again lifted the gun and aimed it at the Professor’s head. He lifted his hand in a feeble attempt to protect his face, and Skylar’s eyes fell on the glove that concealed his missing fingers.
“Don’t do it, Skylar,” the man said in a breathless voice. “I taught you better than that, girl.”
With cold determination, Skylar tightened her finger on the trigger. She stared down at the man who had taught her to show no mercy, and knew if she let him live, she would never be free.
“You taught me to kill,” Skylar whispered. “And to hate.”
Squeezing the trigger, Skylar closed her eyes and waited for the explosion. But the gun only clicked, and the room fell silent. A gloved hand fell over her wrist, and the man below her shook his head.
“I told you not to betray me, girl. Now look what you’ve done.”
Chapter Forty-Three
The Professor wrenched the gun out of Skylar’s hand and threw it to the side, surprised that there had been only two bullets in the Ruger’s chamber. Wincing at the pain in his shoulder, he began to struggle to his feet. He’d have to make an example out of Skylar if he didn’t want Veronica to get any ideas.
Sensing movement behind him, the Professor turned just as Veronica grabbed a saucepan off the counter and swung it toward his face. The jarring pain sent him falling backward, and he released Skylar’s wrist to clutch at his bleeding nose.
"Come on, we’ve got to go now, before he gets to the gun rack.”
Skylar pulled on Veronica's arm, urging her toward the open door.
“But Tenley’s still here,” Veronica protested, shaking her head. “We can’t just leave her like this.”
Staunching the flow of blood from his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, Locke looked around for something to use to bind the bullet wound in his shoulder. He didn’t think the bullet had punctured a major artery, but his jacket was already soaked with blood, and he couldn’t afford to lose much more.
And he needed to get to the gun rack. If he had a working gun in hand, he could get Veronica into the saferoom, and give Skylar her due. Pushing himself into a sitting position, he grabbed the dishtowel off the stove and wrapped it around his shoulder, pulling it tight enough to make him gasp in pain.
“The Professor killed Astrid, and he’ll kill us, too,” Skylar insisted, rushing to the door. “Unless you want to end up in a hole in the ground, you better run."
Veronica hesitated, looking around the room for something else to use as a weapon. The Professor ignored her as he forced himself to his feet and staggered toward the hall.
Grabbing a lightweight rifle off the rack, he returned to the kitchen, enraged to see that both Skylar and Veronica were gone, and that the door stood open, revealing only the swirl of wind and snow in the dark night outside.
Tenley Frost lay motionless on the floor, and as the Professor moved past her, he wondered if the Fentanyl would kill her after all.
I should’ve only given her half a pill. Next time I’ll know better.
Stepping out onto the porch, he looked to the ground, his eyes following the footprints in the snow that led around the house toward the gate. The wound in his shoulder throbbed as he descended the stairs, and he gritted his teeth against the pain.
He wasn’t in any shape to be running around the freezing woods at night, and the girls already had a head start on him.
I think it’s time to go for a little ride.
Slinging the rifle over his good shoulder, he moved across the backyard toward the barn. The stiff wind and cold air revived him, and he began to move faster, wanting to get to the girls before they got into too much trouble.
My ungrateful daughter is just as bad as her traitorous mother, but it’s still my job to protect her. And to teach her a lesson.
Unbolting the big barn door, he threw it open and slipped inside, crossing to a bulky tarp in the corner. Throwing back the tarp, he gazed at the bright red Arctic Cat
He hadn’t had much of a chance to use it lately, but he’d kept the snowmobile fueled and ready to go just in case he ever needed to make a quick getaway.
The Professor had lived the last twenty-eight years looking over his shoulder, prepared for a SWAT team to descend on his doorstep at any moment. He’d purchased the ranch from a survivalist who’d built the original safe room as a shelter from nuclear war, natural disasters, or civil unrest.
Deciding he could put the underground room to better use, the Professor had soon changed it from
a safe haven that protected its occupants from outside dangers getting in, to a hidden cell that would keep the women he collected from getting out.
He’d always known someday he might be discovered, and that the authorities would try to lock him away in a cell much like the one he’d devised for his unwilling guests.
But the Professor had promised himself he wouldn’t be taken alive. He’d die before living like an animal in a cage.
Gritting his teeth against the shooting pain in his shoulder, he picked up the black helmet on the snowmobile’s seat and pulled it on, making sure not to let the face shield touch his throbbing nose.
He climbed onto the Arctic Cat and started it up, surprised to hear the engine begin to hum on the first try. Accelerating slowly out of the barn, he switched on the headlights and steered back toward the house, following the girls’ tracks in the snow.
The gate was wide open, and he cursed himself again for being too lazy to get out and bolt it behind him once he’d driven the semi through. After decades of doing everything right, he’d started making mistakes.
Maybe I really am getting to old for this. Maybe I should just sell the ranch and retire down in Florida for good.
He allowed himself a half-smile at the thought, guessing the folks down in Willow Bay had had enough of him already. Hopefully by now they were finding Ling Lee’s dead body, and realizing they’d need to find another candidate for mayor.
He’d have to contact Diablo as soon as he’d taken care of the girls. He’d have to make sure the man had fulfilled his part of their bargain. Otherwise he really would need to go back down to Florida and finish the job himself.
Gliding over the powdery snow, the Professor let his eyes roam over the bare trees as the headlight lit up the forest beyond. A soft hoot and a flutter of movement in one of the trees proved to be a gray owl, its eyes blinking in the moonlight as he passed by.
He settled back on his seat and circled back the way he’d come, searching again for tracks in the snow. Veronica and Skylar were out there somewhere, and he had no doubt that with a little perseverance he would find them, and he would bring them home
Chapter Forty-Four
Hunter had never seen so much snow, and he’d never been so tired. But according to Ling Lee’s phone, he and Deputy Santino were only a mile away from the location where Veronica’s phone had last been detected. And although the signal had gone out again, Hunter knew they had to be close. He wasn’t about to give up now.
“Try again,” Santino said, nodding to the phone in Hunter’s hand. “See if you can pick up something, because it looks like we’re out in the middle of nowhere, and I’m not sure where to go.”
For the last hour they’d driven down lonely roads lit only by the moonlight overhead, not knowing where they might end up, and who might be there waiting for them.
Reloading the Find My Phone app, Hunter watched anxiously to see if the dot that represented Veronica’s phone would show up on the map.
After leaving the rest stop in Kentucky, they’d followed the signal off and on through Missouri, Iowa, and South Dakota, taking turns driving, and slowly making up time, and getting closer and closer to Locke’s truck.
Neither of the men had been surprised to find themselves crossing the Montana state border into Big Sky Country, and they suspected they were nearing their final destination.
Afterall, Astrid Peterson had been abducted in Montana, and Locke most likely had acted on an opportunity that presented itself close to home.
The killer’s compulsion to get revenge on Ling Lee had taken him all the way down to Willow Bay, but now he’d turned tail and was running back home. If they were lucky, they would find him before he could go to ground and hole up in his lair.
“I don’t see a signal,” Hunter muttered, his eyes on the phone. “From the looks of it we’re close to the Bitterroot Valley, but I can’t see any houses or buildings on this map. Just a bunch of trees.”
A sudden light in the forest ahead flashed across the windshield, then disappeared behind another cluster of trees.
“What was that?” Hunter asked, staring out the Chevy’s window into the icy forest. “Were those headlights?”
Santino lifted his foot off the gas, letting the Tahoe roll slowly down the road, while they both kept their eyes glued to the trees. They almost drove past the little road leading off into the forest, but another flash of light drew their attention just in time.
“There it was again. Someone’s down there,” Hunter said, pointing to the narrow road. “And there’s track marks in the snow.”
Glancing down at the phone in his hand, it took Hunter a minute to realize that the dot for Veronica’s phone was back on the map. It was so close to the dot for the phone in his hand, that the two dots were almost touching.
“She’s here,” Hunter said, his voice cracking. “Her phone is to the north of us just up that way.”
They both looked toward the dark road, then at each other.
“You ready for this?” Santino said, his eyes suddenly cautious. “I thought I’d have time to pull together a team before going in after him. I mean, I still could. It might just take a while.”
Hunter shook his head just as a gunshot sounded in the dark beyond, followed by a high-pitched scream.
Stepping on the gas, Santino steered the SUV down the little road, keeping the vehicle at a steady speed to avoid slipping on the icy surface. Hunter kept his eyes glued on the phone screen, his heart pumping faster as he saw they were getting closer to Veronica.
“Hold on!” Santino shouted, stepping hard on the brake to avoid a white gate that swung back and forth in the wind.
“There’s a house up there,” Hunter said, his mouth dry with fear and hope. “Come on, let’s go. I see a light on.”
Santino hesitated, then flipped off the Chevy’s headlights.
“If we can see their light, they’ll be able to see ours,” he warned. “And I don’t think we want to announce our arrival. Besides, the moon’s pretty bright. I think I can see where I’m going.”
Driving slowly toward the big house, Santino saw the track marks from the road continued through the gate and around to the back of the house. Opening the console between them, he took out a heavy handgun and held it out toward Hunter.
“You familiar with one of these?” the deputy asked as Hunter took the weapon from him. “It’s loaded and ready to go, so be careful.”
“Veronica’s been teaching me how to shoot,” Hunter said, gripping the handle of the Glock. “This is a lot like the one she has.”
Santino pulled out the gun in his holster and checked it, then put his hand on the door.
“Okay, on a count of three I’ll get out and head up to the back door. You cover me from here. If it’s clear, I’ll signal you to join me.”
Hunter nodded, not sure he knew what to do, but anxious to get in the house and see if Veronica was there, and if she was still alive. His pulse pounded in his ears as Santino opened the Chevy’s door and stepped down into the snow.
Watching with bated breath, he kept his eyes on Santino’s lean figure and dark hair as the deputy scurried across the dark yard and onto the porch. Looking around, Hunter could see no movement, and no sign that anyone was in the house, or the barn beyond.
Seconds ticked by, and just when Hunter was starting to fear something had happened to Santino inside the house, the deputy motioned for Hunter to join him on the porch.
The cold air hit Hunter like a slap as soon as he opened the door and jumped to the ground. Bending his head down, he ran through the snow to meet Santino, who kept his gun at the ready and his eyes darting around the yard.
“Come on, get inside,” Santino muttered, looking over Hunter’s shoulder. “It doesn’t look like Locke is here, but-”
Hunter stopped short as he saw Tenley Frost sitting on the kitchen floor, her face deathly pale as she shivered under her navy-blue coat. Looking up at him with glassy eyes, Tenley tried t
o speak.
“I think she needs some water,” Santino said, picking up a mug off the counter and holding it under the tap.
Kneeling next to Tenley, the deputy held the mug to her mouth, letting her take several small sips before she pushed it away.
“My daughter,” she whispered. “Where’s my little girl?”
Hunter’s heart squeezed at the look of fear in Tenley’s eyes, but he managed a smile, glad that he’d gotten the message from Nessa that Ling Lee was safe, and that Avery Lynn was being cared for.
“Your little girl is fine,” Hunter said, sensing Santino growing impatient beside him. “But we’re trying to find Veronica. Wasn’t she with you and Donovan Locke?”
Tenley’s eyes widened in fear at the name and nodded.
“He was here,” she said. “I pretended to be asleep so he would leave me alone. He ran out after them.”
Heart pounding at her words, Hunter forced himself to keep his voice calm as he exchanged a look with Santino.
“Them? Was there someone else with Veronica?”
Giving a stiff nod of her head, Tenley began to cough. Santino handed her the mug, and she managed to grip it with trembling hands and bring it to her lips for another sip.
“A girl he called Skylar. She shot him.”
Motioning toward the wall, Tenley shivered again at the sight of the bullet hole and the blood on the floor.
“And then they ran away, and he…he went after them.”
Tenley’s voice broke, and she looked to the door.
“He might come back. He has a gun. Lots of guns…”
Hunter crossed back to the door, but before he could open it Santino put his hand out, holding it shut.
“Locke’s injured, and he's armed," Santino said with a heavy sigh. "There’s no telling what he’ll do next. I think you should stay here and guard Tenley. Locke may come back before I do.”
Shaking his head in protest, Hunter glared at Santino.
“No. I didn’t drive across the whole damn country to sit in here while Veronica’s out there,” he said, putting his hand on the doorknob. “Now, get out of my way.”
Her Winter of Darkness Page 25
