Immediately he spotted the footprints in the snow. Two sets. Leading to the barn.
He darted that direction.
Empty. It was empty.
That was when he saw the tire tracks leading through the field.
There was no way Felicity’s car could follow them through an open field. He’d get stuck in no time.
He ran toward Felicity’s sedan and hopped inside. He had a Plan B.
That field followed the river, and this road followed parallel to the river for a considerable distance. Maybe he could track them this way. The driver had to exit the field sometime.
How could this have happened? Brody should have checked the house before Felicity walked to her bedroom. But he hadn’t thought anyone would be here, and Felicity had rushed off before he could stop her. He should have known better.
Just what was so special about that key? He needed to find out—after he found Felicity.
He grabbed his phone and dialed Joshua’s office. He told his friend what had happened, and Joshua promised to put everyone on the search. He would call in the State Police and police from the surrounding communities as well.
Brody came to another road that cut through toward the river and turned there. He followed the lane, trying to move quickly but carefully on the slick surface.
His angst deepened with every tire rotation. This road was even farther from the state- and county-maintained highway, and it wasn’t anywhere close to being cleared.
His heart pounded in his ears, and his grip tightened on the wheel. This had to be where the gunman had gone with Felicity.
Dear Lord, watch over her. Protect her. Don’t let that man harm her.
Like Andrea.
He didn’t purposefully add that part to his prayer, though he was sure God heard him anyway.
Memories tried to attack him, to consume him, but he couldn’t let them. He had to stay focused.
Where exactly did this road lead?
As if to answer him, it turned by the river and began following alongside it.
Ahead, he spotted a clearing. Was that . . . the highway?
He let out a deep sigh and barely resisted jamming his hand into the steering wheel.
It was the highway.
That meant that whoever had snatched Felicity could be anywhere by now.
Felicity’s hands continued to tremble. Where was this man taking her? What was he planning to do with her?
All she could think about was the gun that he kept pointed at her. That meant he was driving in these conditions with only one hand on the steering wheel. She wasn’t sure which made her more nervous. Actually, she was. It was the gun. That gun had the capacity to claim her life.
The thought wouldn’t leave her.
If only she hadn’t dropped her purse when he grabbed her. Her own gun had been inside.
She needed to use this time wisely. Maybe see what information she could get out of him. See if she could figure out where he was taking her. After all, her cell phone was still shoved into her back pocket. If she was able to get away, she could use it. Call for help.
Call Brody for help?
No. She mentally shook her head. She didn’t have his number. And just because he’d tried to save her once didn’t make him a savior.
She had to rely on her instincts and intelligence right now. For a moment—and just a moment—she wished she had a higher power to call on.
She wished she could trust God, just as her parents had. They’d had such a deep faith.
And look where it had gotten them. They’d died a tragic death.
She was better off relying on herself.
Okay, Felicity, what do you know at this point? The man was wealthy, based on his jewelry. He was also educated, based on his college ring. His solid build made her think he took care of himself. His accent revealed he was from Australia. His tan indicated he liked to be in the sun.
“Where are you taking me?” Her words squeaked out, making her fear evident.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“What’s so important about the key?”
He glanced at her. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Why would I?”
He let out a half-snortle/half-laugh. “I’ll let you figure it out.”
She glanced down and saw a bag at her feet. Files full of papers scattered from it. There were maps, as well as pages and pages of handwritten notes, a laptop computer, and a metal detector.
“Okay, what does the key go to?” Her fingers dug into the armrest as the countryside blurred past her. “Can you tell me that?”
How was Brody? Was he still locked up? What if no one found him and he starved to death?
She tried to cast the thought aside. After all, she had bigger worries to focus on right now. Like her own survival. If she got out of this, then she could go back and help Brody.
“For someone who’s supposedly so brilliant, you’re not very smart,” the man said.
His comment stung. It came too close to the truth. What good was it to be intelligent if that very intelligence failed you when you needed it the most? Like right now. Like three months ago.
“I really have no idea what’s going on here. I just moved here a couple of months ago.”
“You don’t know who you are, do you?”
She fought a sigh. Why did he keep going in circles?
“I’m Felicity French. My parents were both teachers. I’m an only child. My family has roots in this area.”
“Now you’re getting somewhere. What kind of roots?”
“The normal kind. Plantation owners, at one point in our history. Grew tobacco and cotton. I think my grandpa owned a market of some sort. Nothing remarkable.”
He only grunted.
“Maybe we can work on this together,” she said, the idea suddenly hitting her. This could be her way of saving herself. Of course, she’d never want to really align herself with this man. But if it could buy her some time . . .
“You really think you can help me?” He turned off the main highway onto another street, this one much more secluded, with trees on either side. She preferred the highway. Though there weren’t a lot of people around because of the weather, at least there had been some others. Out here, there were only so many possibilities. So many bad possibilities.
Did she think she could help him? “I don’t know. I got the key, didn’t I?”
He was quiet a moment before chuckling. “Someone as pretty as you . . . I wish you could help. But unfortunately, sweetheart, this isn’t a job for someone like you.”
“What are the maps for?”
His chuckle quickly faded. In fact, it died on the spot. “That’s not for you to know.”
He grabbed the bag and tossed it into the back seat before she could see anything. It was too late. Her mind was already working and formulating.
“You’re looking for something,” she muttered. “Something that that key fits into. Most likely something valuable.”
“What if I am?”
“It’s probably in this area. And it’s old. There are quite a few old buildings around. The Newbold-White house, plus a few others. Of course, if you thought that key fit into anything there, you would have most likely just tried to bulldoze your way into it. You wouldn’t have waited to do it nicely.”
The man’s mood grew darker by the moment. He obviously didn’t appreciate her deductions, yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“So I’m going to venture to say that whatever you’re looking for is hidden. You don’t know where it is. That’s why you have those maps—some of which are old.”
“You need to stop.” His words held a menacing growl that silenced her.
Her brain kept on going, though.
What was he looking for?
She swallowed hard. He was a relic hunter, wasn’t he?
Brody had said he’d been on the river right before this storm hit the area. Could that have been connected with this madness? Was som
eone with only money in his or her gaze stupid enough to go out into the water in weather like that? If he thought the prize at the end was valuable enough, he might.
But what kind of relic?
She glanced down again, moving only her eyes. There was still one folder down there, sticking out from under the seat. What was in that folder? Finding out might be her only chance of surviving this.
She moved her foot and shuffled some of the papers. A picture slid from the pile.
She glanced at the man beside her and noticed he was focused on the road and not on her.
Moving carefully, she used her foot to pull the paper out some more. Her throat went dry.
It was a copy of a diary of some sort. She couldn’t make out the words, but it looked old.
Before she could snoop anymore, something hard came down on her head. The last thing she remembered hearing was the man muttering, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Chapter Fourteen
When Felicity woke up, white surrounded her and bitter cold seeped into her bones.
She sat up with a start.
Where was she?
Her breathing instantly became labored, but the chill in the area burned her lungs with every intake of air.
Her hand hit the ground, and ice made her fingers tingle.
Snow.
She was in the snow.
In a snowdrift left by the plows that had pushed down the street.
She looked up.
She was outside. There were no buildings around. Only a pine tree not terribly far away. A gentle rain melted the landscape and soaked her to the bone.
Her head throbbed something terrible.
That’s right. The man hit me.
He must have shoved her out of the car and into this snowbank.
She looked in the distance. The sun was beginning to sink. Soon it would be dark. And she’d never survive out here in the cold all night. The moisture had already invaded her clothing.
Her phone! She still had her phone.
But who could she call? Maybe her aunt was right. She should have gotten to know some people in town. Could she even get a signal to call 911?
Her fingers, once tingly, now felt numb. She managed to tug her phone out. As she did, she climbed—or fell—over the snowdrift. A small road waited on the other side. At least that was what she would guess based on the pattern of the snow. There were hardly any tread prints there, which made her believe no one probably used this very often.
She took another step, and her leg slipped into icy-cold water.
A ditch, she realized. She’d stepped into a ditch. It must be warm enough that the frozen water had melted enough for her to sink through.
She managed to pull her leg out, but her foot tingled with impending numbness.
Her hope of someone driving past and finding her shouldn’t be fed. As night fell, fewer and fewer people would venture out because they’d fear the roads freezing again.
She managed to get her cell phone screen on. It took several tries because her cold fingers weren’t registering on her touch screen. When she finally got it open, she saw that she didn’t have a signal.
Her heart fell.
No!
She sucked on her lip a moment and realized she needed to start moving. It was the only way she was going to get out of this alive.
How long had the man driven down this road before he’d knocked her out? She tried to remember, but everything felt like a blur. Maybe ten minutes? But ten minutes of driving was entirely different than ten minutes of walking. That same distance would put her out well after the sun set. Her legs were already numb. She couldn’t feel her nose or ears.
But the longer she stood here thinking about it, the less traction she was going to get on this. She’d walk until she found a signal. She had no other choice.
Her feet sank into the snow on the road. As soon as they sank, they slid, going in opposite directions. This time, Brody wasn’t here to catch her.
It was just as well. She needed to learn to depend only on herself. Depending on other people had gotten her into trouble before. She didn’t want that to happen again.
Yet there was a part of her that longed for it. That longed to be connected. To have community. To have people to watch her back—to really watch her back, not just pretend like they were.
Ricky.
Had he ruined her for the rest of her life? She didn’t want to believe that. Yet he had made her more cautious, maybe to an extreme.
He’d stabbed her in the back after months of a tumultuous relationship. She should have seen the writing on the wall.
They’d met through her job at Cupperdine University in Raleigh. He was a guest lecturer for one of the classes, and, boy, was he a charmer, not only with his polished good looks but also with his intelligence.
She’d rushed to talk to him afterward, and he’d surprised her by asking her out. Two months later she was working for him. A week after that, they were dating.
She shook her head to clear the memories. Each step felt like she was slogging through quicksand. But she was making progress.
She paused and looked back at the pine tree.
That couldn’t be right.
She hadn’t even passed it yet.
It didn’t matter. She’d keep moving.
She held up her cell phone again.
Still no signal.
Maybe she should rest beneath that pine tree until someone found her. The idea danced around in her mind, playing with her, teasing her, tantalizing her.
It seemed like such a nice alternative to walking through this ice-cold snow. Maybe she could curl into a ball and keep warm. Maybe, even if someone found her in the morning, it would be okay. Maybe she could survive out here at night.
No, get a hold of yourself, Felicity. You know that’s not true. You need to find help. Now. You don’t have any time to waste. Stay out here all night, and you’ll get hypothermia and probably die. Your aunt will be the only one who comes to your funeral.
Her breath came out in frosty sheets in front of her. She had to keep moving. Every step she took felt like she was lifting a hundred pounds. While walking through sludge. In a freezer.
Dear God, I wish I still believed You could help. That You cared. But You took my parents from me.
She raised her cell phone in the air, checking for a signal.
She had service! There was only one bar, but it was better than nothing.
She blew on her fingers a moment, trying to warm them, before hitting the button to call her aunt.
Please, Aunt Bonny. Don’t be crazy. Just answer. And listen to me. And get help. Please.
Her aunt answered on the first ring. “You calling to check on me? You wanna play chickenfoot again, don’t you?”
“Aunt Bonny, I need your help. I’m in the middle of nowhere. I’m going to freeze to death if you don’t send someone.”
“What are you talking about? You been drinking?”
“Aunt Bonny, you know I don’t drink. Now, please . . .”
The tease left her voice. “You are serious, aren’t you? Where are you?”
“I don’t know. We went down the Highway 17 and then turned a couple of miles past the barbecue place you’re always talking about.”
“The Bulkhead? Left or right?”
She closed her eyes a moment. “Left.”
“Do you see anything?”
“Nothing except a pine tree.”
“Well, how am I going to send help your way?” Her screechy voice grated on Felicity’s ears. “You don’t even know where you are.”
“Please, Aunt Bonny. I have no idea. I just need help. Please. I’ll keep walking toward the highway.”
“Don’t hang up. I’m going to run next door and use Margie’s phone. Stay on the line.”
“Yes, Aunt Bonny.”
Felicity took another step. Then another. Tried to hold onto the phone.
Her head still hurt. Pounded. W
armth was a distant memory. Something that couldn’t be obtained. Even her bones ached. Her bones ached so badly.
She had to wait for her aunt.
Wait.
She took another step.
The phone fell from her fingers, she realized.
She couldn’t feel her hands.
Her legs buckled.
And she disappeared into blackness.
“Brody, Bonny Pasture just called.” Joshua’s voice blurred across the line. “Said Felicity called her. She’s out somewhere a few miles past Bulkhead Barbecue. On the left. By a big pine tree.”
Brody’s back went ramrod straight. After borrowing a truck from Joshua, Brody had been driving on back roads for the past two hours, praying for a clue as to where they might have gone. But he’d come up with nothing. Nothing.
“Thanks.” Brody carefully turned the truck around on the icy road. Rain had started again—fat, juicy drops that were helping to melt the snow. That would help make the streets safer, but it could ice up again tonight when temperatures fell again.
“I’m sending some men out that way,” Joshua said.
“I’ll help you look too. I’m on my way there now.”
“It’s getting dark. She can’t stay out there all night.”
“I know.” Brody had thought of that. The good news was that she wasn’t with the man anymore, but Aunt Bonny hadn’t said what kind of condition Felicity was in. Had she been shot? Hurt in anyway? Or had the man simply dumped her somewhere?
He didn’t really like any of the possibilities. But she was alive. He had to hold onto that.
Using the directions Joshua had given him, he started in her direction. There were several streets that could fit the description, though. Which one was Felicity down?
He didn’t like the idea of her being out there in the snow.
She had mentioned an old pine tree? There was a tree out there that had claimed more than cars in accidents as they’d sped around the corner. Could that be the place? He remembered it well because his friend had totaled his car in high school.
He wanted to speed down the road, but he stopped himself. Conditions were getting tricky again. The road was slick. It was hard to see, and hardly any street lamps illuminated this area.
Something dark was in the middle of the road. He gently pressed his brakes and watched as the object grew closer and closer.
Wait Until Dark: Carolina Moon Series, Book 3 Page 9
