5

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

Skylar clung to her cellphone as she stumbled around trees and through thick underbrush. She’d wanted to avoid the authorities until she talked to Uncle Winston about the stolen money, but circumstances left her little choice. She hadn’t seen Cowboy exit the building, but he could be close. He could have his sights on her now. In the thick maze of pine, oak, and maple trees, she probably wouldn’t see him approach until it was too late.

“I’ve been kidnapped. I mean…I was kidnapped. I got away, but I don’t know exactly where I am.”

“What’s your name?”

“Skylar Hart.”

“I see you’re calling from a cellphone. Does it have GPS capabilities?”

“I don’t think so. It’s an older, basic model.” She’d meant to upgrade a few months ago, but keeping up with the latest technology wasn’t high on her priority list. Besides, until now, she hadn’t needed her cell for anything other than calling or texting.

“All right. We’ll see if we can trace your cell signal. Meanwhile, tell me what you see.” The woman on the line spoke in a clear, concise manner.

“I’m in the woods. On the outskirts of Forest Lake, I think.” But that didn’t mean they’d be able to find her. It could take days to narrow the search area without a clear starting point. “I wish I could tell you more.”

“Where were you taken—” The woman’s voice cut off mid-sentence.

Skylar checked the phone. The signal had been lost. “No. Not now.” Her stomach plummeted, but she forced her legs to keep moving. Using her cellphone’s screen as a light source, she searched for higher ground hoping to reconnect.

A breeze stirred, rustling leaves and cooling the air. She tugged her jacket closer but the thin material did little to ward off the cold. Weather forecasters had predicted the temperatures to dip to the mid-fifties but it felt much colder. Shivering, she maneuvered her way up a hill. Protruding rocks and winding tree roots hindered her efforts, but with time, she reached the top and checked again for a signal.

No service.

Disappointment rushed through her. She needed a direct connection to civilization; she needed to know someone besides Cowboy was looking for her. She’d find another summit and try again. Which direction should she take? She spun in a circle, but shadowy trees obstructed long distance views. Which way had she come from?

Lord, please help me get out.

Branches cracked. Her heart stammered. Could be an animal, perhaps a deer, but she couldn’t be certain. She sprinted in the opposite direction hampered by bound wrists and limited light. The terrain dipped into a ravine, and dead leaves created a slippery hazard. She lost her footing but managed to stay upright.

On the next rise, Skylar slowed and caught her breath. She readjusted her purse and regained composure. Lifting her phone to check for a signal, she jumped when an incoming call sounded. Her heart leapt with newfound hope. A number she didn’t recognize showed on the caller ID, but she didn’t hesitate to press the connect key. “Hello? I need help. I’m lost in the woods.”

“I can help you. But you’ll have to let me.” A man’s voice sounded—but not just any man’s voice—his voice.

Goose bumps spiked. She hadn’t spent much time with Cowboy, but she’d recognize his tone anywhere. Distinctive. Soothing. Seductive.

What?

The man intended to bury her—probably in these very woods—and she thought he had an alluring voice? Her unbidden thoughts must be stress related. Nothing about the man could be trusted: not his subtle reassurances, not his words, and certainly not his voice.

“Ms. Hart? Are you there?”

Ms. Hart? Why bother with formalities? How had he gotten her number, anyway? Flustered, Skylar punched the disconnect key, and then pressed the keys for 9-1-1 again.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your—?”

“I called a few minutes ago.” Skylar cut through. “We were disconnected. He called me. He has my cell number.”

“What’s your name?”

She must have connected with a different operator. She gave her name and explained the situation. “He’s hunting me.” She checked the perimeter. No signs yet, but his voice had sounded clear as if little distance separated them. “If he finds me…” She allowed the rest to go unsaid—no further explanation needed.

“Skylar, I want you to remain calm and listen,” the operator instructed. “We were able to triangulate your approximate position using cell towers. Looks like you’re about thirty miles northeast of Forest Lake. We’ve dispatched patrol units to look for you, and we’re organizing a search and rescue team. They will be setting up a search grid. Stay where you are until they locate you.”

Skylar shook her head as if the operator could see her. “I have to keep moving. I’m not safe here.”

The woman paused. “OK. There are several streams in that vicinity. If you come across one, follow it. You’ll eventually find a road.”

“All right.” She surged ahead. Perhaps she’d find a tributary beyond the next rise. An incoming call beeped through. She checked the ID. Cowboy’s number appeared, and her pulse rate spiked. “The man I told you about is calling me again.”

“Don’t panic. Answer the call.”

“What?” Her quick breaths showed as white puffs in the crisp air. “You can’t be serious.” The operator was supposed to be on her side; her link to humanity and all that was right with the world. Then again, her world had been tilted since she’d seen Uncle Winston’s savings account balance at zero. Had that only been a few hours ago?

“The more we know about your abductor the better the chances he will be apprehended. Talk to him, Skylar. Pay attention to background noises and note any distinctive characteristics of his voice.”

She already knew his voice, too well. “He has a slight southern accent. Authoritative, like he has the right to be in command.” Hearing his deep tones again would stretch her nerves to their limit. “I’d rather not speak to him.”

“This is important. We’re doing what we can to find you. In the meantime, find out what he wants.”

“I know what he wants. He wants to kill me.”

The phone blipped again. Cowboy was waiting.

“Skylar. Anything you can find out could be vital to his arrest and ultimately his conviction.”

Having the man locked away sounded like a plan she could live with. Having all three men put away would be even better. She’d seen their faces, but would a description be enough for the police to track them down? She didn’t know Cowboy’s real name, and Aston and Ike could be using aliases. The authorities would most likely need more information than she could give them.

Wishing she had thought to memorize the van’s license plate number, Skylar conceded. “All right. I’ll talk to him, but I won’t promise for how long.” Steeling her nerves, she switched calls. Once certain they were connected, she asked, “Why are you calling me again?”

“I want to keep you alive.”

That would be nice. Too bad he was lying. She cleared her throat, raised her voice to convey a confidence she didn’t feel. “You want me to live? Then don’t kill me. Problem solved.”

“I’m not the one who wants you dead.”

“You could’ve fooled me.” Skylar continued walking. Her vision had adjusted to the dim light, but without the cellphone screen shining before her she had to proceed with caution.

“Trust your instincts.” His tone lowered. “While we were in the van, you sensed that I’m different than the others, didn’t you?”

She’d thought she had detected compassion, but that was before he volunteered to dispose of her.

“I’m not like them. I want to help you,” he added.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know, but I hope to change that. Look up. Find the moon. Keep it to your right shoulder. If you don’t have a reference point you could walk in circles.”

The forest canopy obscured the night sky, but she caught glimpses of the moon between branches. She could use it to guide her, but Cowboy might be leading her straight to him. She could go the other way, but what if he anticipated her thoughts?

Unsure which direction to take, she stopped. Lord, what should I do?

In the quiet moment, a steady, manmade rumbling caught her attention. An engine? Could be a vehicle. Was she near a road? She rushed forward and her foot collided with a rock. Her toes screamed in pain, and she cried out.

“Are you all right?” Concern etched Cowboy’s voice.

“If you must know, I stubbed my toes.”

“Take it slow and watch your step.”

“Why would you care if I snapped a bone in two? It would make your job easier. Why won’t you leave me alone?”

He exhaled. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

He didn’t answer, but it was just as well. Skylar had enough to worry about. Her toes throbbed. Her fingers were frozen. She hadn’t eaten in hours, and she felt lightheaded. Worse yet, the engine sounds had dissipated.

“Look for a sharp rock.” Cowboy’s voice again. “Use it to cut the zip tie and release your hands. It’ll be easier for you to walk without constraints.”

Good point. It wouldn’t hurt to try. Skylar used the cellphone screen to illuminate the rocky terrain. She found an adequate stone, set down the phone and sawed the plastic. The rock scraped skin but the zip tie began to wear thin. She continued to strip the plastic until it broke apart. Relief washed over her as she rubbed her wrists.

Picking up the phone, Skylar continued her trek. “We both know that I can identify you and your buddies. Why are you pretending to help me?”

“Aston Barnes and Ike Mayhew are not my friends.” Cowboy’s calm voice dipped low, as if seducing her into believing him. “And, I am not a threat to you.”

“You work for them.”

“Things aren’t as they seem.”

“Then why don’t you explain?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

“Try me.” What looked like twin headlight beams flashed, some distance away, disappearing as fast as they’d come. Skylar stilled, peering through darkness. Again, the lights speared the night, showcasing a winding mountain passage. Relief and excitement spurred her forward. “On second thought. You’re right. I wouldn’t believe you. Goodbye, Cowboy.” She disconnected and ran toward the approaching vehicle. Still about two hundred yards ahead, she could make it. She had to.

Jesus, help me. She panted for breath as she dodged trees and found what looked to be a deer path. With the underbrush cleared, she was able to double her speed. She sprinted through the forest, clasping her purse tight. She reached an opening, found the paved road and burst onto the asphalt.

Skylar waved arms high overhead. “Over here!”

A silver sedan slowed, stopping about fifteen feet away. A sense of accomplishment swept over her. She’d found help. But Cowboy could’ve seen the car, too. He could be headed in her direction. She glanced over her shoulder. Was that a shadow moving within the trees?

No time to approach the driver and explain circumstances. No time to think. Skylar aimed for the passenger side. The seat was vacant. She yanked open the door and climbed in. Warm air circulated in the small space, cocooning her in a welcoming embrace.

Skylar closed the door. “Thank you so—”

Dashboard lights illuminated Cowboy’s rugged face.

Breath rushed from her lungs. Impossible. He was behind her in the woods.

But he wasn’t. He was here, his gaze delving into hers with single-minded determination as he pressed a button, engaging the door locks with a definitive click.