by Stacy Finz
“It’s not in here, or anywhere in her truck,” he said.
“Give me that.” Tiny swiped Raylene’s handbag and started sifting through it herself.
In her frightened state, Raylene couldn’t estimate how much time had passed since Drew had left. An hour? Ninety minutes? Something like that. She held out hope that when Harper didn’t show up home he’d come looking for her. Sneaking a glance, Raylene was surprised to find that Harper was holding it together. Stringy no longer had his arm around her, and she’d managed to put a half-foot distance between them. Raylene tried to communicate with her using her eyes.
When I say go, you run! Don’t look back, just get help.
Harper gave Raylene an imperceptible nod. Good girl. Now Raylene had to come up with something. What would Gabe or Logan do? Who was she kidding? They’d beat the living daylights out of all three of them. None of them appeared to have a weapon, and if it wasn’t for Harper, Raylene would’ve taken her chances by hightailing it out of there.
Tiny threw the purse at Raylene. “Where is it, bitch?”
“I told you, my boyfriend has it. Just let me call him and you can have it.”
Ferret looked at Tiny, and Tiny’s lips curved up in a sick smile that made Raylene’s blood curdle. “Fine. I’ll wait here with you, and these two will take your little friend to a secure location. She doesn’t go free until I safely have the map.”
No way in hell was Raylene letting the two men take Harper anywhere. Furthermore, she didn’t believe Tiny. Neither of them was going free, otherwise she and Harper would blow the whistle and the authorities would nab Tiny and her two friends while they dug for the gold.
“That won’t work,” Raylene said. “She and I stay together, that’s non-negotiable.” Probably not the best idea to challenge three psychopaths, but what choice did she have? She wasn’t leaving Harper alone with any of them.
That’s when she saw it. A pitchfork leaning against the wall next to the mounting block. How she’d missed it before, Raylene didn’t know. It was less than three feet away. All she had to do was stretch out her arm and grab it. But could she wield it against the others and hold them off long enough for Harper to get away? And did she have the stomach to actually stab someone with it? To assure Harper’s safety she thought she could…no, she knew she could. No one was going to hurt that sweet little girl. No one.
Stringy turned slightly to say something to Tiny and that’s when Raylene made her move. She lunged forward, clutched the handle of the pitchfork, and brandished it like a sword, jabbing it first at Stringy. Then she swept it through the air, thrust-and-parry style, at the other two.
“Run!” she shouted to Harper, who faltered at first, then took off out of the barn as fast as her small legs would carry her.
Ferret started to go after her, but Raylene stuck him with one of the prongs of the pitchfork, buying Harper more time. He yelped, which brought the other two to action.
All Harper had to do was make it across the road and to the first house she saw. Go, Harper, go!
With the three of them coming at her at the same time, it was difficult to keep them herded together inside pitchfork range. But in her desperation, she was able to swiftly sweep the pitchfork in wide arcs, jabbing at each one of them as they individually dove for her. Just a few more seconds, she told herself as her arms began to tire from the weight of the pitchfork and the constant motion. Just a few more seconds to help Harper get to safety, then she’d deal with the fallout.
She pierced Stringy hard enough to draw blood and tried to stick him again, hoping that if she could incapacitate at least two of them she could get away, too. It was a tactical error, because while she focused on Stringy, Tiny managed to move out of range, circling around like a pouncing tiger. Raylene pivoted to fend off Tiny, tripped over the mounting block, and went down with a hard thud, nearly knocking the wind out of her. The pitchfork went flying and suddenly there was a pistol pointed at her head. Where had that come from?
“Get up,” Ferret said as Stringy ran outside.
Raylene slowly rose, trying to catch her breath.
“She’s gone.” Stringy came in and threw Raylene against the barn stall. “You stupid bitch.”
“What do you mean she’s gone?” Tiny said. “She’s probably hiding in the trees. Go out there and look again.”
Stringy went to do Tiny’s bidding, leaving absolutely no doubt in Raylene’s mind that she was the boss of this rag-tag operation.
“By now she’s called the police,” Raylene said, hoping upon hope it was true. “You better leave before they get here.”
Tiny backhanded her again, and this time Raylene’s lip started to bleed.
“We’ve got to go.” Tiny took the gun from Ferret and poked the muzzle in Raylene’s gut. “You’re coming with us.”
Apparently, Stringy also realized that with Harper gone they were in deep shit, because he rushed into the barn, frantic. “She’s nowhere, man. We’ve got to move out.”
“We’ll take her truck.” Tiny waved the gun at Raylene, motioning for her to lead the way.
They got outside and Tiny held out her hand for the keys.
“I don’t have them,” Raylene said. They were in the purse Tiny threw at her but she was trying to stall, knowing that getting in the truck with them would be the kiss of death.
Tiny nudged her head at Stringy. “Find them in the barn.”
“Are you like her man slave?” Raylene asked, trying to create a division.
She got a sharp elbow in her side from Tiny. “Shut your stupid blond mouth.” Tiny turned to Stringy. “Go!”
Stringy trotted off and returned a few seconds later with Raylene’s fob.
“Get in the passenger seat.” Tiny aimed the gun at Raylene’s head. “You two ride in the bed and keep down.”
It was illegal to ride in the open bed of a pickup, and Raylene’s only hope was that Rhys or one of Nugget PD’s other cops would pull them over and she could scream the truck down. But the likelihood of that happening was next to nil. She presumed Tiny wouldn’t be driving Raylene’s truck down Main Street or taking any of the other major roads.
Tiny got in the driver’s seat, headed south past the turnoff to Raylene’s property, and hung a left on a winding county access road. Raylene didn’t think it had an official name, but everyone up here called it Dover Trail. It was a rarely used byway to Lake Davis; it usually washed out in the winter from rain, snow, and mudslides. There was nothing up here, as far as she knew. Maybe a few deserted trailers and a couple of fishing cabins.
Gabe would never think to look for her here, and the sad truth was the people who might wouldn’t care that she was missing. As soon as Tiny and company figured out that the map to Levi’s Gold was a useless piece of crap, they’d kill her and bury her body in the woods.
“How’d you know about the map?” she asked Tiny, who had one eye on the rearview.
“Did I ask you to talk? No. So shut the hell up.”
Raylene noted the outline of the gun in Tiny’s ratty pocket—the pocket next to the driver’s door. Her only hope was to make Tiny crash and, in the confusion, grab it. But before she could devise a workable plan, Tiny pulled off onto a dirt road that wound through the forest. Raylene had never seen it before. The road—you couldn’t even call it that—was in worse shape than Dover Trail, rutted so badly even her all-wheel drive bounced and hurled until Raylene thought her truck axles would break.
“Where are we going?”
Tiny’s fist connected with Raylene’s cheek so fast Raylene didn’t see it coming. “What did I tell you about talking?”
The woman was really starting to piss Raylene off. But her face throbbed so hard she kept her mouth shut. Tiny drove about a mile more, then skidded to a halt in front of a dense thicket of overgrown brambles. Other than that, there was nothing there b
ut trees. The two men jumped down from the truck and the gun appeared in Tiny’s hand again.
“Get out.”
Raylene did what she was told and tried to focus on her surroundings instead of the burning pain in her cheek. She thought she could smell the lake, but the trees made it difficult to see. There was more snow on the ground here than there’d been at Sierra Heights, but Raylene chalked that up to the area not getting much sunlight. It didn’t seem as if they’d climbed any higher into the mountains. By Raylene’s estimation, they’d driven less than fifteen minutes, and, given the rugged terrain, they couldn’t be far from where they’d started.
Tiny jabbed her in the back, indicating that she should follow Stringy and Ferret, who had disappeared through a break in the brambles. There was an old blue Chevy Impala parked in front of a shack so rundown Raylene was surprised it was still standing. Stringy opened the front door, and it was just as bad on the inside. Exposed siding where electrical wires poked through, floors that had been eaten down to the foundation by critters or termites, and a ceiling where you could see daylight.
Despite the cabin’s condition, the trio had made themselves right at home. An open can of Vienna sausages sat on a three-legged table and a couple of bedrolls lay on the floor. There was a pile of equipment in the corner, which included her pickax.
“Sit.” Tiny pushed her into a folding chair.
Ferret swiped the can of sausages off the table as if Raylene, in the midst of fearing being murdered—or worse—would find them so overwhelmingly irresistible she’d gobble them up. The idiot should be more concerned about the pickax. It wasn’t a match for the gun, but she could do some real damage with it—if she could only reach the handle.
“We need those numbers,” Tiny said, and Raylene squinted with confusion. “Did you hear me, Blondie? We need the numbers.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I already told you, my boyfriend has the map. He can drop it off, or meet you somewhere with it.”
This time, Tiny pressed the muzzle of the handgun into Raylene’s forehead. “You’re not listening, Blondie. We’re not calling your boyfriend. Give us the numbers.”
“I honestly don’t know what numbers you’re talking about.”
“The numbers on the fucking map.” Stringy pulled Raylene out of the chair and slammed her against the door. “We know you got to it before we did. We spent all night digging, wasting our goddamn time, and I’m sick of freezing my ass off in this piece-of-shit shed. So stop dicking us around and give us the damn numbers. By now you’ve memorized them, so stop with the ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ because we both know that you do.”
Suddenly, she remembered the chicken scratch at the bottom of the map, the scrawl she and Gabe had thought were meaningless doodles. But what did that have to do with anything? Longitude and latitude? Some sort of a location key?
“All I have is the map my father left me. If you say there are numbers on it, I believe you. But I never paid any attention to them. Even if I had them, the authorities are looking for me. They’ll stake out the property where the gold is; you can’t go back there without getting caught. Your only hope is to let me go.”
Tiny laughed. “Either you’re a good actress or you’re the dumbest blonde I ever met.” She pushed Raylene back into the chair and stuck her face so close their noses were almost touching. “We already have the gold, we just need the numbers. We couldn’t find them in the ground where they were supposed to be buried with the map. So give them up. Now!”
“What do you mean you have the gold?” Raylene didn’t care. At this point they could have everything she owned as long as she walked away from this alive. But she was so confused she didn’t know how to help herself.
“Enough of this bullshit,” Stringy said, and belted Raylene in the side of the head. “I’m going to keep hitting you until you give us the numbers. When I get tired of that, I’m going to start shooting. First your toes, then your fingers.”
He slugged her again, this time so hard it knocked her out of the chair. She was starting to feel dizzy and nauseous, like maybe she had a concussion.
“All right, all right.” She held her head. “I’ll give you the numbers, but you have to give me some kind of guarantee that you’ll let me go.”
Stringy pulled his foot back. It was the last thing she saw before everything went black.
Chapter 21
It amazed Gabe how fast everyone had come together to organize, but he was afraid it wasn’t fast enough. According to what he’d learned from Harper, Raylene’s captors hadn’t done anything to hide their identities. As soon as they learned Raylene didn’t have the map, they’d have no further use for her. Gabe knew what that meant, and it made him shudder. He’d never felt more powerless than he did now.
The worst part was they could be anywhere. He figured they had at least a forty-minute lead time, and no one knew what direction they’d gone. Their only hope was that they’d stayed in the area.
“We’re trying to locate her position through the GPS in her truck,” Rhys said. “Unfortunately, it’ll take a little time.”
“We don’t have time.” Gabe felt his shirt sticking to his back. It was thirty degrees out and he was sweating. Extractions were his specialty, but for the first time in his life the stakes were so high he was filled with a paralyzing fear. “Let me talk to Harper.”
“Gabe, she told us everything she knows.” Rhys paced the floor. Every one of his officers had been called in, including Jake. Despite Jake’s issues with Raylene, he hadn’t balked at working the case.
It was a small-town department, but Rhys and his people were pros.
“Chief.” Connie popped her head into Rhys’ office. “Clay and Lucky are in the lobby. They want to head up a search and rescue. What do you want me to tell them?”
“Send them back.”
Rhys waited for them to file in and closed the door. “I appreciate your offer, fellas, but this is a police operation.”
“I thought I’d take the plane up and see if I can spot her truck.”
Gabe knew Clay was a former Navy fighter pilot and owned a couple of planes. He was all for the idea. It was better than nothing, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass about protocol—not when Raylene’s life was in danger. “I think he should do it.”
“What happens if they hear Clay buzzing around, spook, and do something rash?” Rhys didn’t have to say what he meant by “rash.” Gabe knew.
“Look, because of Raylene, my stepdaughter’s safe and sound. I can’t sit around doing nothing.”
Lucky nodded. “I was thinking a couple of us could go out on horseback, search the hard-to-get-to places in the backcountry. Flynn’s already getting the trailer ready.”
“This isn’t a lost hiker,” Rhys said. “These are dangerous people.”
“We can handle ourselves.” Lucky pushed off the door. “Knowing Raylene, she’s mouthed off enough that they can’t wait to get rid of her.”
Gabe got in Lucky’s face. He needed to punch something, and Lucky had just made himself the perfect target. “You think that’s helpful, asshole?”
Lucky held up his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s my way of dealing with a stressful situation. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t care what happened to her. She tried to make amends by selling me her property for a song and I told her to go to hell. This anger I have…I’m letting it go.” He let out a breath. “Let’s find her.”
Gabe didn’t know what Lucky was talking about, and frankly he didn’t care. They were wasting time in Rhys’ office. “I’m out of here.”
“Where you going, Gabe?” Rhys tried to block him. “You’re just planning to aimlessly search for her?”
“Better than sitting around here with my thumb up my ass. What about the backcountry where you first spotted them—we’re all on th
e same page that it’s the same people, right?”
Rhys and Jake nodded. “I’ve got Wyatt out there and Sloane on the other side of Sierra Heights,” Rhys said.
“Sounds like a good enough spot to start.” He headed out and Clay caught up with him.
“We can cover more ground in my plane.”
“Works for me. Is it at your ranch?”
“Nervino. Want to follow me?”
“Let me swing by L&G first and grab some equipment.” A chute, because he wasn’t waiting for Clay to land if and when they spotted Raylene’s truck.
Twenty minutes later he was at the airport, boarding Clay’s Piper Cub. Clay used the antique plane to scan the mountains for his cattle. It was a sweet aircraft, and under normal circumstances Gabe would’ve liked to spend more time checking it out.
Unlike most planes, the Cub’s seats were tandem instead of next to each other. The captain piloted the aircraft from the back seat, another idiosyncrasy.
Clay started the engine outside from the prop, pulled blocks away from the front tires, and wedged himself inside the cockpit before taking off. Gabe presumed Clay had worked out a flight plan before Gabe got there with his gear.
From the front, he had a bird’s-eye view of the mountains and valleys. But, like the cliché went, spotting Raylene’s truck would be like finding a needle in a haystack. There were a lot of pickups in these parts.
“Any ideas where we should start?” Gabe asked. Clay was the local; presumably, he’d know the best hiding places.
“I say we work from Sierra Heights, south. It’s a lot of territory to cover, but that’s where I’d go if I needed to lay low.”
“Roger that.”
They flew low, about two thousand feet above ground. That was the beauty of a Cub, and probably why Clay had chosen it for ranch work.
“Thanks for doing this,” Gabe said. Clay wasn’t a member of Raylene’s fan club either, but he was a standup guy.
