“Mike, where the hell were you? You were supposed to be watching the lots, making sure she didn’t get snatched.”
“I have been. I’ve been out front. One of the staff came out, said you were looking for me. I went inside and saw the commotion. No one knew where you were, so I figured there was trouble. I’m sorry I let you down.”
“Never mind that now. Where’s your car?”
“Right here,” Mike said, and pointed to a silvery gray Oldsmobile. “I was going to—”
Paul cut him off. “You drive. Go out that way,” he instructed, pointing to the exit. “We’re following a car that I think took Torie.”
He redialed Tibbet as he flung himself into the passenger seat, and they peeled out after the phantom car.
“He’s got her, I’m following.”
“Who? Who is it?” Tibbet demanded.
“I don’t know,” Paul snarled. “Turn, turn,” Paul ordered Mike as they got to the light. They squealed through on red.
“Where are you?”
Heading north on Kelly Drive along the river. We just left the Bradshaw Mansion. I’m with the guy I hired for tonight,” he said.
“Shitty hire if he let somebody get Torie.”
“Agreed. The tags are—” he began, then turned to Mike.
“R-S-A-three-two-five,” the bodyguard snapped, taking the turns on the winding road with competent speed.
Paul relayed to Tibbet.
“Okay, keep me posted. There’s a black and white on the way to intercept. I’ve notified the park rangers as well, but their patrol’s in another area. I’m en route. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Hurry.”
Paul dropped the phone into his lap and searched the night.
“There!” he shouted to Mike. Faint taillights off a side road betrayed the other car’s direction. They’d been pretty close; it must be him.
He prayed it wasn’t kids out for a little nookie in the backseat. They searched for a way to follow, and passed the overgrown entrance to a rutted road.
“Stop,” Paul insisted, pointing to the road. “There.”
“Got it,” Mike grunted as he cranked the wheel to turn the car onto the overgrown drive.
A faint dust cloud was the only other clue that anyone had gone that way.
It was enough. It had to be enough.
“Tibbet, you still there?” Paul picked up the phone.
“Yeah. Black and white’s closing in on your location.”
“We’re turning off onto a dirt road. There’s nothing marking it, but I saw taillights. I’m pretty sure it’s him.”
“Wait for the black and white.”
“No. He’s got Torie. I can’t. I just can’t.” He let Tibbet’s protests fade into the background as he focused on the bumpy, pockmarked, and narrow way. Mike doused the lights as he rounded a bend.
It was his worst nightmare.
Torie in her glorious dress, with her blond hair cascading over her shoulders, was silhouetted in the glare of the other car’s headlamps. The shadows concealed her kidnapper, but it was obvious that she was afraid. She wobbled where she stood, and he heard an indistinct shout of anger.
“Go back to the road, flag down the cops,” Paul ordered.
“I’m trained—” Mike began.
“Shut up. I think I know this guy, and I have a chance to talk him out of this. I hope. You don’t. Go back, make sure the cops find the damn road.”
Reluctantly, Mike agreed, and like a ghost, he disappeared into the darkness. When Paul tried to slip out of the car the same way, the sound of the door opening gave him away.
“I’ll kill her, Paul. I know it’s you. Only you would have come looking. You’re such an idiot. Get over here, and let me do it properly and kill you both.”
He sprinted to her side, as well as he could in the patchy light, turning his ankle as he did. He stood in front of her, blocking the gun he could see. It was steady, held firmly in the gloved hand of Melvin Pratt Jr.
“Are you okay?” he asked her, reaching back to grip her hand.
“Woozy,” she slurred. “He drugged me. Horrible taste. I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Quit bitching,” Melvin ordered. “Now kneel. I want to get a clean shot.”
“No.”
