Sara dug a hole eight inches deep. “Did you hear a phone ring?” she asked, looking up.
“No.” Linda Mae cocked her silver head to listen. “But then my hearing’s not the best.”
Sara went back to work. She turned the plant out of its pot and centered the root ball in the hole. As she patted the earth down, she imagined that she heard the phone again. “Kendal?” she called, thinking that her son could answer it. Eric’s mother had brought him home about an hour ago.
“Boo!” he said, jumping out from behind the tree trunk.
“Oh, my goodness!” Sara put a dirty hand to her chest. “Where did you come from?”
He grinned at her, obviously proud of his stalking capabilities. “You didn’t even hear me,” he boasted.
“No, I didn’t. I guess you’re getting good at walking like Chase.”
The sound of a vehicle coming up the driveway had her glancing over her shoulder with pleasure that she couldn’t squelch. It had to be Chase, who’d been gone for hours. But the maroon sedan that eased out of the tree line was unfamiliar. A trickle of foreboding had Sara coming to her feet. “Let’s go inside,” she said. “Someone’s been trying to call, I think.”
Grasping Kendal’s hand, she hurried for the front door, aware that Linda Mae was following them with a puzzled expression. On the steps to the front porch, Sara looked back, telling herself she was overreacting. The skinheads were being dealt with today, and Garret would never find her here. She and Chase were both certain of that.
But then the glare that sat on the car’s windshield lifted as the sedan passed beneath the pecan tree, and suddenly Sara could see the driver clearly. His height made him instantly recognizable. So did the pinched, angry look on his face as he bore down on them.
Oh, merciful God, it’s Garret. He’s found us!
While one part of her insisted that she only had to stand her ground and reason with him, another part of her whispered the need to flee and flee quickly. They were well beyond the point of reasonable conversation.
“Quick, honey,” she said to Kendal. “Out the back door and into the truck.”
As they raced through the kitchen, she could hear Garret addressing Linda Mae, who’d parked herself on the front steps, hindering his entrance.
The truck was in the barn today, but the barn doors stood open. “Run,” Sara urged, and they sprinted across the backyard, out of Garret’s sight. She indicated for Kendal to clamber through the driver’s side door. He did, grabbing his seat belt and locking it into place, his face ghostly pale. Sara spared a glance for the buck rifle, which was mounted to the gun rack behind her. God forbid that she might actually have to use it!
With fingers that shook, she turned the key.
The engine rumbled to life.
Flooring the accelerator, she shot out of the barn and around the house, where Garret stood menacing Linda Mae, his gaunt cheeks mottled with rage. They both looked up, astonished to see Sara roar by, flinging up dust and gravel.
Watching in her rearview mirror, Sara saw Garret run for his car. She accelerated, gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles ached.
She tried to wake herself from what was surely a nightmare. This couldn’t be happening. Just when she was certain that her life had started anew and the past would never find her.
With an ice pick of fear stabbing him in the chest, Chase noticed the dust hanging over the driveway as Hannah braked beside Linda Mae Goodner. The woman stood before the house, wringing her hands, eyes wide with fright. She stepped over to Chase as he lowered his window.
“Where’s Sara?” he barked.
“She took off in the truck with Kendal—”
“How long ago?”
“Five minutes, maybe. Hurry! That man is chasing them!”
With a nod, Chase signaled to Hannah to turn around.
Linda Mae stepped back, and Hannah flew into reverse, flinging the Mustang 180 degrees to point it in the right direction. Cannard, who sat in the backseat with his knees to his ears, gave a hoarse screech.
“Hold on there, cowboy,” Hannah warned him. “Where are we going, Chase?”
“I don’t know.”
Would Sara have had the sense to drive into town, headed straight for the police station? Or would she automatically take the route she’d traveled several times now, away from Broken Arrow, toward the Muskogee Turnpike?
“Left or right?” Hannah asked him when they came to the head of the driveway.
Chase surveyed the asphalt in either direction. He lowered his window and sniffed the air. “Right,” he said, detecting a trace of exhaust fumes left by an oil-burning vehicle.
Hannah accelerated to sixty in mere seconds, flinging the occupants of the car against their seats.
Chase forced himself to consider the worst-case scenario: The truck was slow and easy to overtake. Garret could pass her, force her to stop, walk straight up to her, and shoot her dead.
If he had a gun.
If he was that unbalanced.
On the other hand, the truck was built like a tank. If Sara had the nerve to do it, she could slam into Garret’s car and just keep on driving. Come on, baby. He knew she had more gumption than she gave herself credit for.
“Let’s get a chopper in the air,” Cannard suggested, his voice slightly higher than usual. “Once the truck’s spotted, we’ll get troopers on the road and pull this bastard over.” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket.
Chase nodded, grateful now that they’d brought the detective with them. “Thanks,” he said over his shoulder. “Take the highway east,” he added to Hannah.
He had to brace himself as she took the ramp on two wheels.
Almost immediately, he had reason to doubt his decision. The traffic ahead of them was sparse, and the land stretch flat for miles, but he couldn’t see the back of the Silverado.
He must have made a sound of suffering or pain because Hannah put her hand on his arm. “We’re going to get her back, Westy,” she said, as steady as a rock.
He thought about the young girl who’d lost her parents this morning. Life was unbelievably indifferent when it came to who should live, who should die.
That thought reminded him that Sara’s mother had barely sounded alive when she called Chase to warn him of Garret’s approach. Snatching up his cell phone, he dialed her number, only to find the line still busy.
Which meant that Rachel was either dead or unconscious.
He busied himself in the next few minutes making calls to ensure that emergency vehicles were bearing down on her home in Dallas to check on her.
In the backseat, Cannard was also on the phone, choreographing a roadblock with the Wagoner police, into whose jurisdiction they were headed. “Chopper’s in the air,” he relayed to Chase and Hannah.
Chase felt the tension in him building, a nauseating mix of fear and rage. Emotion never factored into his missions. But this wasn’t a mission. This was personal.
Snatching the SIG from the holster on his thigh, he extracted a fresh magazine from his ballistic vest and exchanged it for the one that was no longer full.
Hannah glanced at him sidelong. “You can’t shoot him, Chase. Not unless he’s threatening Sara’s life,” she warned.
He slid the new magazine into place and secured it with a satisfying click. His promise to Sara hadn’t been an idle one. Garret was a terrorist, no different from the hostiles Chase targeted for a living. He might not have orders to take him out, but that wouldn’t stop him from killing him, not if he dared to harm a hair on Sara’s head.
Sweat slid down Sara’s spine as she edged her speed even higher. Her stomach roiled. Every muscle in her body was clenched in fear.
Garret has found me. He’s right behind us. Oh, God.
“Where’re we going, Mom?” Kendal asked.
She wanted to console him, but she was too shaken to make up a lie. “I don’t know, honey,” she admitted, licking her parched lips.
She glan
ced in the rearview mirror at the maroon sedan, still pacing her, regardless of her increased speed. There were only a few other cars on Highway 51, and certainly no police anywhere—of course not.
As was his custom, Garret was keeping her guessing, savoring her helplessness. She wondered what his plan was—to pursue her until she ran out of gas?
She glanced at the gas gauge with its needle showing three quarters empty. That wouldn’t take long.
Oh, dear, why hadn’t she driven in the other direction, straight to the BAPD Police Headquarters? Now she could only hope to arrive at Wagoner before her fuel ran out, and even then, she had no idea where to find the police there.
Kendal dared a peek over his shoulder. “He’s still behind us,” he moaned.
“I know, sweetheart.” Every nerve in her body, every drop of adrenaline was aware of his threatening proximity.
The whopping of a helicopter’s blades crept into her consciousness. With a leap of hope, Sara searched the sky. And there it was, an official-looking chopper hovering over the highway ahead of them.
Yes, I’m speeding! Look at me!
She depressed the accelerator farther, and the old motor sputtered, forcing her to ease off the gas.
Please help! She kept one hopeful eye on the bird. If she lived to feel Chase’s embrace, just one more time, it would be enough.
In her distracted state, she blinked at a road sign that flashed to her right. Had that just read STATE POLICE? Was there a state police building out here, in the middle of nowhere?
“Honey, did you see that sign we just passed?” she asked, as a cold sweat filmed her skin.
“It said the name of some state park,” Kendal answered, giving her a fearful look.
“Park? Are you sure it didn’t say police?”
“I don’t know,” he wailed. “We were going too fast.”
The exit rushing toward them wasn’t marked at all.
At the last instant, Sara took the tight-turning ramp that swept them off the highway. Behind her, she heard the squeal of tires as Garret, presumably, changed lanes to follow.
Sure enough, there he was, shooting onto the narrow country road she’d put them on.
What have I done? Sara thought, eyes widening as she swept them over the rural terrain. There was no sign of any state police anywhere. She’d put them on a country road, and she couldn’t turn back, not without pulling in a driveway to perform a U-turn.
The beating of a helicopter’s rotors had her searching the sky again. Like a guardian angel, the chopper hovered several hundred feet overhead. Relief wrestled with terror. For whatever reason, she was being watched. Surely a state cruiser would descend on her, making it less likely that Garret would make his move.
But the only other car on the road was Garret’s. He pressed closer, surging toward her bumper, then backing away. She could see him, smiling a rather nasty smile as he taunted her, like a cat toying with a mouse.
Without warning, the blacktop under her tires gave way to gravel. Sara’s hopes faltered. Oh, God, she wasn’t on a dead-end road, was she? The steering wheel grew slick under her sweating palms.
Up ahead, she could see a fork in the road, forcing her to choose one direction over another—a deserted farm, or a trek into the woods.
Not wanting to stop for any reason, she chose the latter, and gravel gave way to dirt as they shot into a sparsely wooded forest.
She could see a lake now, flashing blue through the screen of trees. The helicopter disappeared from sight, but she could still hear it.
The road stretched, long and straight, with no glimpse of a public building anywhere. She roared down it, tires jiggling over ruts, driving faster than she’d ever dared to drive in her life. But then the truck engine sputtered, making her heart stop. It resumed a normal roar, but then it sputtered again. She could feel them decelerating.
“Carburetor’s clogged,” Kendal said in a strangled voice. He reached for the glove compartment where Chase kept the injection cleaner.
Not that it would do them any good right now. Sara kept a heavy foot on the pedal, but the engine continued to falter.
Please. Oh, please. We can’t stop here.
Garret’s car was practically on her bumper. She could see him smirking, his eyes glinting as he sensed her plight. To her horror, he eased into the oncoming side of the road and started to pass her.
As the trees to her left thinned, offering a breathtaking vista of the lake, Garret overtook them. Sara glanced at him fearfully. She couldn’t see his face, but she could see the handgun lying on the seat next to him. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she’d always known that he was capable of murder.
It was that knowledge that had paralyzed her for so long.
But not any longer.
With a cry of denial, she wrenched the steering wheel sharply to the left and veered into his path. The heavier truck rammed into the smaller car. Metal scraped over metal, and the car’s tires dropped into a ditch on the far side.
With a roar, the sedan leapt out, becoming briefly airborne as it shot between two hickory trees and dove, slow motion, toward the water.
Splash! Sara gaped with amazement as the front half crashed into the lake.
In the same instant, her engine quit. The truck rolled to a stop, and she and Kendal were left with nothing to do but watch Garret’s car sink into the astonishingly deep water at the lake’s edge.
In just seconds, all that remained visible was the back fender, sticking out.
Stunned by the results of her actions, Sara stared at the bubbles frothing up from the sunken vehicle. On some level, she was aware of the helicopter, hovering now over the lake, its blades agitating the surface farther out.
The bubbling by the shore abruptly ceased. Sara loosened her petrified grip on the steering wheel.
Garret was gone. Under the water.
But not for one minute did she believe he was dead.
She turned to seize the buck rifle off the gun rack.
“Mom, no!” Kendal cried, guessing her intent.
“Stay here, sweetheart,” she said, scarcely recognizing her own voice, she sounded so ferocious. “Lock the door and don’t unlock it again unless I tell you.”
“Please!” He clung to her, sobbing with fright.
“Do as I say!” She peeled his hands loose and locked the door as she climbed down from the truck. Raising the butt of the rifle to her shoulder the way that Chase had taught her, she thumbed the safety and stepped cautiously toward the lake’s edge, finger crooked over the trigger.
Fallen leaves crunched beneath her feet, though she couldn’t hear them for the beating of the helicopter’s rotors.
Straddling the tracks of Garret’s tires, she raked the murky water for any sign of him. She could just make out the shape of the car in the water’s bluish depths.
Beneath the choppy surface, everything appeared still.
The hope that Garret was dead began to ease the crushing weight of fear.
But then, there he was, head bursting through the water as he gasped in air. Startled, Sara stumbled back. She stepped into the rut left by Garret’s tires. She slipped, falling hard. The rifle discharged at the sky before falling uselessly on top of her.
Paralyzed with terror, Sara could only watch as Garret rose from the water, looking like a sodden scarecrow. Water streamed from his black suit as he trudged toward her, murder blazing in his dark eyes, teeth bared, and blood running in a bright red stream down the side of his nose from the cut on his brow.
“You think you can kill me, bitch?” he rasped, closing the distance between them.
Sara grappled with the gun, but with her hands muddied, her fingers slipped, and it was too late. He wrenched the rifle from her grasp, tossing it toward the water’s edge. “Get up!” he snarled. He seized her by the hair, hauling her to her feet.
She kicked at him, causing him to tighten his grip. In desperation, Sara peered pleadingly at the helicopter. She could see a s
hooter positioned in the open doorway, aiming a mounted gun at them, but with Garret holding her so close, the man didn’t dare to shoot.
Locking an arm around her throat, Garret backed them toward the truck. “You think you’re so smart don’t you,” he snarled in her ear, as they moved away from the lake’s edge. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you? I found the e-mails that you sent to your real mother. I should have guessed that you came from trailer trash.”
She had to keep him away from the truck. Away from Kendal!
But her feeble attempt to dig her heels in only cut off her airway, making her cough and gasp. He backed her to the driver’s door and pounded on it. “Open the door!” she heard him snarl to Kendal.
“No!” he cried in a terrified voice. “Go away, I hate you!”
“Open it, or I’ll kill you both.”
I’m going to die here, Sara realized, fighting for breath. Already spots were swimming before her, flitting like butterflies among the leaves of the trees around them.
But then a flash of red caught her eye. Garret saw it, too. He swiveled abruptly to stare down the road.
It was a car, Sara realized, hope giving her renewed strength. And not just any car. Hannah’s red Mustang was coming toward them. And—oh, please, God—if her eyes did not deceive her—that was Chase in the passenger seat! He’d never let her die.
But then Garret groped in his pocket, and, to her horror, he produced the gun she’d glimpsed earlier. He thrust the cold, wet barrel of it against her temple.
And the Mustang came to an instant halt.
Chapter Seventeen
“Stop,” Chase commanded, and Hannah did, breathing an expletive that she’d picked up from him.
He didn’t need her to tell him what was on her mind. He had eyes. He could tell that the scene in front of them looked like a classic setup for a double, if not triple, homicide.
One look at Sara’s face and he could tell that the fucker was choking her—not enough to kill her, just debilitate her. He had a gun to her head, and she was beyond terrified. Kendal, meanwhile, was staring out the truck window behind him, witnessing something that a child should never see.
“Let me talk to Garret,” Hannah promised, with far less confidence than she’d spoken earlier. “I can’t believe he’s resorting to this.”
Time to Run Page 19
