Emma knelt down to hug the dog, and let out a shuddering sigh. “Here I go again, making excuses for her. But just hearing her call me ‘Emmie’ … I—I guess I should pity her more than hate her.” Emma buried her face in Beaker’s neck. “She missed so much not being here to watch Michael grow up.”
Emma considered stopping at the high school and picking up Mikey before heading to Bangor. He deserved to see his mother, and truth be told, she wasn’t sure she was emotionally strong enough to face Kelly alone. “No, that wouldn’t be fair to Mikey,” she muttered into Beaker’s neck, stifling a sob. “He deserves this reunion to be right here, in his home, where he’ll have some sense of control.”
Emma finally stood up, brushing away the tears streaming down her face, and took a deep breath. So Kelly wanted to talk, did she? Well, by God, she would talk to all of them, Ben included. She intended to drag her sister back here kicking and screaming if she had to. “Come on, Beak. We’re going for a ride.”
She blindly strode to her truck, and Beaker jumped up on the driver’s seat ahead of her. He stood in her spot, whining, not letting her in the truck.
“I know you don’t want me going anywhere, Beak, but I have to go get Kelly.”
The dog whined, not budging an inch. Emma ended up pushing him over and scooting behind the wheel despite his protests. “If you don’t want me leaving you here, you better hush up and sit down. It’s a two-hour ride.” Emma started the truck and backed it out of the yard, spitting gravel as she headed for the main road.
The dog scrambled to remain upright. “It’s okay, Beak.” She pushed him into a lying position. “That’s a good boy. You like riding. Just relax and watch out the window.”
Emma took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and slowed the pickup to a safer speed. She was contemplating various ways to approach Kelly when she rounded a curve and had to slam on the breaks to avoid running into Wayne Poulin.
Great. Just what she needed right now.
Unless Kelly had called him, too, and he’d been on his way out here to tell her?
His truck had obviously broken down. The hood was up and he hadn’t even gotten it off to the side of the road. He was standing by the driver’s door, his hands on his hips and his beady little eyes narrowed against the dust.
Emma shut off her truck and stared at him through the windshield. A growl rattled low in Beaker’s chest.
She wasn’t getting out of the truck. Wayne Poulin had a two-way radio, just like everyone else, and could call for a tow.
He walked up to her door and Emma rolled down the window just enough to speak to him.
“I need a ride into town,” he said without greeting.
He certainly didn’t sound as if Kelly had called him. “I’m in a hurry, Wayne. And I’m headed in the opposite direction. I’ll send someone back—”
He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a gun, which he aimed at her face. Beaker’s low rumble escalated to a vicious growl as he tried to crawl over Emma’s lap and put himself between her and the danger.
Wayne moved his gun in Beaker’s direction. “Settle him down, Emma, or I’ll shoot him. I’m going to climb in the back, and you’re going to move your truck into the trees to your right. Don’t start it until I’m settled. Understand?”
Holding on to Beaker’s collar and pushing him down in the seat beside her, Emma nodded. Wayne scaled the side of her truck and crouched behind her. Beaker nearly tore her hand off as he strained to face the threat.
“It’s okay, Beak. Take it easy,” she said, watching Wayne in her mirror.
He tapped on the glass with the barrel of his gun. “Start the truck and go slowly,” he said. “Don’t try anything, or I’ll pull the trigger.”
She believed him. She’d never trusted Wayne, and she certainly didn’t doubt the man was mean enough to shoot her or her dog.
The question was, why?
Kidnapping her didn’t make sense, so why was he pulling this stupid stunt?
Emma started the truck and put it in gear, letting it idle its way into the woods.
“That’s far enough. Now shut it off,” Wayne ordered.
She did as she was told and sat there, staring straight ahead, one hand on Beaker to keep him calm. She was afraid that as soon as she opened her door, all hell was going to break loose.
“Now get out.”
Very firmly, Emma commanded Beaker to stay. The dog whined in protest, his hackles still raised, his eyes never leaving Wayne as he moved to her door. Emma opened the door and tried to scoot out and keep Beaker inside.
His gun poised, Wayne pulled her door all the way open.
Beaker lunged.
So did Emma.
The gun went off and she heard a yelp as all three of them fell to the ground. She dove for Wayne just as he was taking aim at her dog again.
“Run!” she screamed, kicking at Beaker as she tried to get the gun.
Wayne pulled the trigger again right next to her ear, deafening her to the point of pain. An outraged snarl erupted from Beaker as he darted for the safety of the bushes. Wayne fired again. There was no yelp, only the cracking of branches as the dog fled.
Emma lay on the ground on her back, holding her left shoulder. She didn’t know which hurt more, her ear or her old wound.
“I’ve got three bullets left, Emma. Give my any more trouble and I’ll use every one of them on you. Now get up,” he said as he hauled
