Probably a satellite phone. “Anything else?”
“I got the plate off the van.” He rattled it off to Travis. “Gave it to the sheriff too.”
“Good job. Stay put. We’ve got help on the way.”
“I’ve got to get back there and keep an eye on her. I can’t let them hurt her.”
“Ryker—”
“Don’t tell me not to go.”
Travis understood the kid’s worry and his deep desire to make sure Heather was safe, but . . . Ryker would do what he was going to do. “I won’t. Just don’t let them see you, okay?”
“Not planning to.”
Ryker had hung up, and Travis vowed to buy the kid a phone that actually worked.
Gavin’s phone rang this time. “Yeah?” He looked at Travis. “Hey, it’s Caden.”
“Put him on speaker.”
When Gavin tapped the screen, the sound of helicopter blades pounded in the distance. “Can you hear me?” Caden asked.
“Loud and clear. What is it?”
“I just got word back about Steadman. He got out of prison about a month ago for forging checks. Big-dollar amounts too. He served three of a five-year sentence and got out on parole.”
Travis raised a brow. “So, why would he be going after Heather?”
“He’s not. When Heather was snatched, Steadman was meeting with his parole officer.”
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t hire someone,” Gavin said.
“We’re still investigating, and we’ll make sure without a doubt, but my gut says it’s not him.”
His gut. Travis had learned to trust it. Caden probably had too. “Then we need to figure out who it could be ASAP.”
“Agreed. See you soon.” He hung up and Gavin snapped his phone back on his belt. “How much longer?” Gavin popped four more ibuprofen and pressed a hand to the bandage covering his wound.
Travis could only pray the man was up to this chase. “Ten minutes.”
“Can you make it five?”
Travis barked a harsh laugh. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
The gunshots had stopped and Heather had scrambled to her feet, then pulled Ryker to his. “You’re going to reopen that wound,” she’d said with a gasp.
“You can fix it later if I do. At least you’ll be alive to do it.”
He had a point. She followed him, stepping where he stepped, stopping when he stopped. If she never saw a wooded area again, she would be okay with that. She listened, straining to hear. “I don’t hear him, do you?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean he’s not back there.”
Yet another good observation. “Do you know where you’re going?”
He gave a short, low laugh. “I’ve been hiding out in these woods since I was eight years old. You know. To get away from my old man. I’m more comfortable here than in my own house, so, yeah, I know where I’m going.”
And probably better than anyone who’d try to follow. But . . . eight? Her heart clenched, sorrow for the poor boy beating hard against it. “Okay then.”
“There’s a convenience store off the road. If we can get there, we should be all right.”
Convenience store. That brought back even more memories of slogging through the woods with Travis. Tears pricked her eyelids, but she refused to let them fall. “I’m right behind you.”
He touched her arm. “That convenience store that I’m aiming for is about another two miles or so. You okay with that?”
“I’d prefer an Uber, to be honest, but truly, I’m fine with anything that doesn’t involve being shot at.”
“I hear you.”
Relatively certain the men were no longer behind them, Heather focused on putting one foot in front of the other, grateful her head throbbed with only an annoying headache and not a full-blown migraine. “I absolutely hate hiking and running,” she muttered, “and yet, here I am again—hiking and running.” She glanced up as though she could see God peering down at her. “If you’re trying to teach me something,” she muttered, “I’m willing to learn.” Preferably from the comfort of her recliner, but— “Although, if you could just do it without woods and cold and the whole running-from-bad-guys requirement, I might get it faster.”
“Sorry, did you say something?”
She grimaced. “Not really. Just complaining to God. You can ignore me.”
“You think he’s listening?”
“Of course.”
“Interesting.”
Ryker pressed a hand against his side and pulled in a breath. Now there was something to complain about. His own father had stabbed him, but she hadn’t heard Ryker utter one whiny word. Not even with a stitched-up hole in his side. Shame burned a path straight to her heart, and she silently apologized to God and thanked him for sending rescue in the form of Ryker. Woods, cold, walking and all. It was much better than a warm prison with sketchy captors.
Time passed. A chopper swirled overhead, then disappeared. Hope flared. Could that be someone looking for her? But how? No one knew where she was. She shoved the despair aside and put one foot in front of the other. She also kept an eye on her rescuer. He seemed to be doing okay, but she was worried about him. “How’d you find me anyway?”
“My dad showed up at the clinic looking for me. I snuck out the back and wheeled my bike far enough away that he wouldn’t hear it start. I was heading for the sheriff’s office when I saw you guys drive past in your caravan. That was subtle, by the way.”
Heather grimaced.
“Anyway, I decided to follow you.”
Heather caught a glimpse of his pale face. Sweat beaded his brow. “Do we need to sit down?”
“No, we’re not too far away. So, I followed you and I saw the whole thing. I stayed out of sight when the shooting started, but when they grabbed you and shoved that hood over your head . . .” He paused. “Well, I couldn’t let them get away with that. When they took off, I went after them, but I hung back a ways to stay out of sight. I knew they’d be watching their rearview mirror.”
“You followed us to the cabin?”
“Sort of. I lost them at one point and had to backtrack, trying to figure out which way they went. And, of course, my stupid phone wouldn’t work. Not in that area in this weather.”
At least it had stopped raining.
“Then how’d you find the cabin?”
“I made a gamble that they’d have a place fairly close by where they could hole up for a while. It was my only shot at finding you. If I was wrong, then I’d have to go find a signal and tell them the last place I’d seen the van.”
“But you didn’t give up. Thank you.”
He shot her a tight smile. “Anyway, I remembered this cabin community that was usually closed this time of year and decided to check it out.”
“There are a lot of cabin communities up here.”
“Yeah. I know. That’s why it took me so long to find you. I started driving through every one I came to, then decided to find the one that was the most isolated, because those guys would want as few witnesses as possible around. I spotted lights in four cabins. You were in number three.” He shrugged. “And really, in the direction they were going, there aren’t that many. Maybe six or so.”
“I owe you big time, Ryker.”
“Naw, you probably saved my life. I’d say we’re even.”
She laughed, a breathless sound that was borderline sob.
Just when she’d almost decided Ryker was delirious and leading her in circles, she spotted lights. Convenience store lights and the welcome blue lights mixed with red ones swirling in the parking lot. “Who called the cops?”
“I did,” Ryker said. “When I found you. At first, I told them to go to the cabin but decided we needed a backup plan. I told them if we weren’t at the cabin, we’d be here and to meet us. Guess they believed me.”
Tears swarmed her eyes and she blinked them back. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Come on.” He gripped her fingers and they ma
de their way through the rest of the trees to emerge at the side of the small building.
Heather noted Ryker pressing a hand against his wounded side once again. The sheen of sweat had turned into rivulets that snaked down his temples. That and his flushed cheeks attested to the fact that he was still one very injured kid.
And yet, he’d come after her.
She didn’t want to think about where she’d be if he hadn’t.
“Heather! Ryker!”
She spun. “Travis?”
He broke away from a group of officers and raced toward her, his gaze flicking between her and the teen at her side. “You guys are all right?”
Heather nodded. “Yeah. We really are. Mostly. Ryker needs to get back to a warm bed and finish healing.”
“I’m okay,” Ryker said.
Heather ignored him and waved a paramedic over. After giving quick instructions on how to care for him despite the fact that they knew exactly what to do, Heather let Travis slip a heavy blanket over her, then an arm around her shoulders.
“I think you probably need to follow your own advice.”
“I’ll rest when those guys are in custody.”
“They’re working on that as we speak.”
She nodded. “What about Gavin and Asher? Are they okay? I saw Gavin’s truck flip and—” She shuddered.
“Gavin’s fine. He’s here.”
She turned and scanned the organized chaos, spotted her friend in the midst of it, and let a wave of gratitude wash over her. “Did they get the guy who was shot?”
He frowned. “No, they don’t have anyone in custody yet. Caden’s here, though. He was assigned to your kidnapping. Now he’ll probably be chasing the kidnappers. I know he’s going to want to talk to you and Ryker.”
“Of course.” She paused. “And Asher? You didn’t say anything about him.” He hesitated and the fear returned. “Travis?”
“He was shot—”
She gasped and felt the blood drain from her face.
“But”—he hurried to say—“is recovering nicely. He should be fine in no time. Really. I should have led with, ‘Asher is going to be fine, but . . .’ Anyway, Brooke’s with him and he’s told us to find the guys who shot him.”
Heather rubbed a hand over her eyes. “Okay. Then I guess that’s what we need to do.”
“Ma’am, we need to get your statement, please.” An officer in his midthirties had slipped up beside her and now waited expectantly.
“Right,” she said, “of course. I just want to check on Ryker.”
“The teen who was with you?”
“Yes.”
The man’s brown eyes softened. “He’s being transported to the hospital as we speak.”
She hadn’t noticed the ambulance leaving. “He went willingly?” He was a minor. The hospital would have to contact his father, and she didn’t see him wanting that to happen.
“Somewhat.”
Heather caught Travis’s eye. “Will you call Dr. Colson and let him know where Ryker is?”
“I was just thinking I should do that.”
“Thank you.” She nodded to the officer. “I’m ready.”
“Let’s sit in the cruiser where it’s warm.”
That was fine with her. Once they were settled in the car, he opened his laptop. “All right. I’m Special Agent Hal Owens, by the way. I work with Caden.”
“I’m Heather.”
He smiled. “I know. Can you start at the beginning?”
Heather rubbed her head and started talking. Forty-five minutes later, she said, “The wounded one has a wife.”
Hal looked up. “How do you know that?”
“He told me so. He tossed me the pill bottle. Oh . . . here.” She dug it out of her pocket and, still wrapped in the toilet paper, passed it to him. “He said he kept them in his glove compartment because his wife gets migraines.” She rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I’m not sure that means anything, but it’s just one more random piece to add to this convoluted puzzle. And maybe there’ll be some prints on the bottle.”
“Any and all pieces are good.” He continued to type, stopping when Caden rapped on the glass. Hal lowered the window. “Caden. Good. I’m going to email you the statement shortly. It should be in your inbox when you’re ready to read it.”
“Thanks, Hal.”
“Sure thing.”
“And Ms. Fontaine will need to work with a sketch artist. She saw them.”
“I saw one of them,” she said. “The other one was just a blur.”
Heather climbed from the agent’s car, shivering when the wind hit her in the face. She ducked her head against another gust as Travis walked up.
“Ready to work with the sketch artist?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to leave until I know Ryker’s going to be okay. If it wasn’t for him—”
“He’s going to be fine,” Travis said. “He’s going to stay with the doc while he heals.”
“What about Ryker’s father? What if he decides to go after him again?”
“Ryker told them that the stabbing was an accident. That he was carrying the knife, tripped, and fell on it.”
“I’m not surprised at the lie.” How many times had she done the same thing as a teen? Like she’d told Ryker, she’d lied to her friends, her teachers, strangers on the street. If it had served her purpose to lie, she’d done so.
“We could tell the truth, but it’s Ryker’s word against ours. The good thing is, the sheriff’s a smart man. He didn’t buy Ryker’s story and let me know he’d be watching Mr. Donahue—along with having his deputies do a lot of drive-bys. If Donahue steps out of line again in the slightest way, he’ll find himself behind bars.”
Well, that was something anyway. “I’m okay with him being behind bars.”
“Yeah. That’s the best-case scenario. I also left my number with them and told them if Ryker needed anything, they could call me.”
Her heart stumbled a beat and she hugged him. “You’re a good man, Travis Walker.”
Now, she needed to get herself—and her emotions—under control before she made a complete fool out of herself. Then the terror of the last few hours rolled over her once more, and she decided she didn’t care. She hugged him tighter, felt his hands on her shoulders. A sob ripped from her in spite of her effort to contain it.
“Let it go, Heather,” he whispered against her ear. “It’s okay to cry. I’ve got you.”
“I don’t cry,” she muttered against his chest.
“Okay, then don’t. But I’ve still got you.”
And the dam broke. She let the tide of fear and worry and sheer exhaustion release in a torrent of sobs. And true to his promise, Travis simply held her. In fact, having Travis hold her was the only thing keeping her from shattering into a million pieces at his feet.
She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but she finally got her weeping under control, took one more shuddering breath, then stepped back and wiped her face. “Thanks.”
His hand swept her hair away from her face. “It’s okay, Heather. You needed to do that.”
“I know. I’m mortified, but thanks.”
A chuckle rumbled from him, but the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You can lean on me any time.”
His words warmed her and chilled her all at the same time. Her leaning on others had gotten Asher shot. That weighed heavy on her, and she vowed to do her best to let the others help but find a way to keep them from harm as well.
Unfortunately, she had no idea what that looked like.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
“Where were you?” Donnie Little demanded. “Everything went exactly like we planned, and then you don’t show up?” He pulled the knit cap from his head and raked a gloved hand through it. If his nerves got any tighter, they were going to implode. Why had he thought hooking up with this person was a good idea? Because he’d been blinded. Stupid and blind.
“I couldn’t.�
�� A huff and a sound that reminded him of a low growl. “I can’t believe this. If you’d grabbed her at her house that night, none of this would be an issue.”
Donnie scoffed. “Well, that didn’t work out, did it? The plan was to snatch her when the opportunity arose. So, that’s what we arranged. An opportunity. Which I thought went relatively well for being a last-minute thing. Only Sam got shot—which was not planned—and then you don’t show up? That’s not what we agreed on. That’s not how everything was supposed to go down.” The silence on the other end of the line nearly sent Donnie’s rage through the roof of the small, nasty bathroom twenty minutes from the little town he wished he’d never heard of. “Well?” he demanded.
The person’s throat cleared. “Look, I’m sorry. I had a situation that I couldn’t get out of. And who shot Sam?”
“The boyfriend she was riding with.”
A pause. “Is Sam okay?”
“No, I don’t think he is.” Sam was the least of his worries right now.
“Okay. Okay. Let me think.”
For the next thirty seconds, Donnie listened to pacing and muttering. Finally, the person said, “Why couldn’t you just keep her there? A few more hours wouldn’t have hurt.”
“Are you not hearing me? She escaped and called the cops! There weren’t supposed to be cops involved.” He breathed in and pressed fingers to his burning eyes. “She saw our faces. My prints—and Sam’s—are all over that cabin, of course. It’s only a matter of time before they track us down, and I don’t need this.”
“Will you relax? You had the hood over her face, right? She couldn’t see where she was going in the van. She won’t be able to tell anyone where you were holding her, so no need to worry about prints.”
“Are you really that stupid?” he snapped. “They’ll search this area until they find it. And she ran from it, so she may have a pretty good idea how to lead someone back to it.”
“It’s pitch-black outside. She was panicked, not thinking clearly. Her only goal was to get away from you. I really don’t think you have to worry about her being able to lead anyone back to it.”
“This isn’t good. In fact, this is very, very bad. You messed this up and now I need you to fix it.”
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