blame her. After all, he’d made her crash her car, and he probably sounded like a total nutcase—explaining how he and Jordan were holding her fiance prisoner. Hell, he was lucky she didn’t back up and mow him down.
What she’d said about Moira baffled and worried him. Why had she asked if they’d tied up Moira in the basement, too? And what was that about an e-mail with Moira’s photo? He had a feeling Moira was no longer lost in those woods and that something far more terrible had happened to her.
The more he wondered about it, the faster Leo sprinted along the roadside. It seemed he’d been running forever. He thought for certain he would have reached that store by now.
It had been almost an hour since he’d left Jordan asleep in the house—with that man who could be a murderer. Even if the guy was tied up and locked in the basement, Leo couldn’t help worrying. He also wondered if he’d given his buddy too many pills. Would the police have to pump Jordan’s stomach when they got to the cabin— or would they be too late by then?
Up ahead, Leo saw a pinpoint of light on the bleak, dark horizon. He thought it might be the store in the distance. But then the light disappeared. He pushed on, though his throat was dry and his chest hurt.
Then he saw the light again, peeking through the trees, closer now. Leo realized it was a pair of headlights. The vehicle came around a curve in the road, and the twin lights became brighter.
Leo slowed down and waved his arms over his head. He told himself not to run in front of the car like an idiot.
Directly above those approaching headlights, a red strobe went on. It was a cop car. Its siren briefly wailed as the vehicle veered onto the shoulder. Leo heard gravel crunching under the tires as he staggered forward a few more paces. The squad car stopped directly in front of him.
Leo let his arms drop to his sides, and he managed to smile and nod at the patrolman. He couldn’t quite get his breath yet. His vision was a little blurred, but he could see the cop stepping out of the driver’s side. “Thank you!” he managed to gasp. “Thank you for stopping!”
“So what’s going on here, hotshot?” the cop asked, swaggering toward him.
Leo recognized the deputy. “I was—I was trying to get to the store to call you guys,” he explained. It hurt to talk because his throat was so dry. He still couldn’t get his breath. He leaned forward and put his hands on his knees. “My car got a flat a few miles back. Listen, I wanted to—I wanted to tell you earlier when you came by the house, but I couldn’t….”
“Tell me what?” the deputy asked.
At last, Leo got a few good breaths. “My friend Jordan and I—we have that guy you were looking for. He’s tied up in the basement of the cabin.” Hands still on his knees, he glanced up at the cop to see his reaction.
Stone-faced, the deputy stared back at him and said nothing.
“Jordan thinks he’s the one who killed his mother,” Leo said, straightening up. “And I have to tell you, I think he’s right.” Leo took a few more breaths. He explained to the cop everything he’d just told Susan Blanchette a few minutes ago. He said how he didn’t want anyone to get hurt, so he’d drugged his friend. “Jordan conked out pretty quickly,” he said. “I was just so worried he’d use that gun. Anyway, I put him to bed upstairs. In fact, I’m wondering if maybe I gave him too many pills….”
“What about the gun?” the deputy asked.
“I hid it,” Leo said. “That was almost an hour ago. I—”
“So let me get this straight,” the cop interrupted. “You have Allen Meeker bound and gagged in the basement of the cabin, and your friend’s upstairs—unconscious and unarmed.”
Leo nodded. “I wanted to make sure when the police arrive there, nobody gets hurt.”
The deputy cracked a tiny smile. “Well, you did a good job, kid. You’ve made it really easy for me.”
Leo smiled back at him, then leaned forward and set his hands on his knees once again. He drew a few more breaths—and started to feel normal.
“What did you say your name was?” the cop asked.
“Leo,” he said, still bent over.
“Well, thanks a bunch, Leo,” he heard the cop say.
Leo looked up in time to see the cop reaching for his nightstick.
“What are you doing?” Leo asked. “Wait—”
But he didn’t get another word out.
After that, everything turned dark again.
She saw the turnoff for Cedar Crest Way up ahead.
Susan squirmed restlessly behind the wheel. Something in the car had been rattling ever since she’d plowed into that tree. But all her dashboard indicator lights—fuel, battery, and temperature—looked okay, and she didn’t see any smoke wafting from under the hood, so she tried to ignore the rattling noise. Similarly, she’d been trying to ignore the notion that Jordan’s friend had been on the level with her a few miles back.
She’d passed his abandoned car—with its emergency flashers going—on the shoulder of the road a few minutes ago.
Part of her still felt horrible for leaving him stranded. But it would have been incredibly foolish to give him a ride. How could she trust him? He’d admitted he and his friend had abducted Allen. What was to keep him from attacking her?
He’d said Allen was tied up in the basement, and Jordan was asleep. She might have turned around and gone back to Rosie’s and phoned the police once more. But why—so she could talk to the operator again? And she was no longer sure how reliable the deputy was. She had to see for herself if Allen was really at that cabin.
Susan switched off her headlights as she turned into the driveway. Then she slowed down to a crawl. White- knuckled, she clutched the steering wheel and kept looking for a little break in the trees and bushes on either side of the drive. Up ahead, she could see the cabin. There weren’t any other cars in the driveway.
Susan noticed a clearing on her right. She veered off the drive and wound around some bushes and trees until she figured the car couldn’t be seen from the driveway. The motor made a weird wheezing sound as she switched off the ignition. She hoped it wasn’t an indication that the car might not restart.
Fishing the pellet gun from her sweater pocket, Susan climbed out of the car and quietly closed the door behind her. She glanced at the front of her Toyota—and the dented bumper. The license plate was mangled and precariously hanging to one side. Otherwise, the car really didn’t look too bad. Jordan’s friend had been telling the truth about that.
She shivered in the cold night air. Clutching together the front of her cardigan, she crept to the edge of the wooded area lining the driveway. She studied the quaint, two-story brown-shingle cabin. A light shone in the second floor window—and it looked like some outside lights were on in the backyard, too. One side of the house stood in the shadow of a towering elm tree. Some tall, wild bushes nestled against the other side. Their branches swayed in the breeze. Susan noticed a light in the basement window behind those shrubs.
She wondered if it was true. Was Allen really tied up in that cellar? Could it be that all this time he’d been their prisoner? Meanwhile, she’d convinced herself that he’d had a secret, sordid agenda for this trip, that he was devious and untrustworthy. She’d even let herself get interested in another man—a stranger, practically. What the hell was wrong with her?
Susan imagined how awful the last few hours had been for him, held captive by two teenagers—maybe three, if the girl was in on it. And one of those teens suffered under the insane delusion that Allen had killed his mother. Susan remembered what Tom had said—how Jordan had actually hurt one of those innocent men he’d attacked, and he’d only been a little boy at the time. Jordan’s friend had mentioned they’d tried to get a confession from Allen. He hadn’t explained exactly how they’d gone about that.
All at once, a loud crash came from inside the Prewitt cabin. It gave her a start.
Susan looked for some movement inside the house, but saw nothing.
Weaving around trees and shrubs, she silently made her way toward the side yard. She raced across the driveway, hoping no one spotted her for those few fleeting moments she was out in the open. But she stumbled across something on the gravel. It rolled across the driveway and clattered against a rock. Susan quickly regained her footing and ducked amid the bushes alongside the house. Catching her breath, she reached for the metal object she’d kicked. It looked like the head of a rake—with thick pointed prongs.
Jordan’s friend had said he’d gotten a flat. Had he run over this thing with his car?
Another loud crack reverberated from inside the house.
Susan dropped the hunk of metal and crawled toward the basement window.
