“Darci, wake up.”
The words seemed to come from a distance, hollow and faint, and she tried to tune them out. She was comfortable and content and wasn’t going to let anything intrude.
“Sweetheart.”
She turned away from the sound. Then a hand on her shoulder brought her instantly awake. She bolted upright with a gasp.
“Sorry I startled you.” Conner was on one knee, looking down at her, bathed in filtered moonlight.
She shook her head to clear it. “I fell asleep.” She was in the woods, exposed and vulnerable. But she’d felt secure enough in Conner’s presence to actually sleep.
“It’s eleven o’clock, and someone’s coming up the drive.”
Now that Conner mentioned it, she heard it, too, the crunch of gravel and the hum of an engine. He extended a hand and pulled her to her feet. A half minute later, a pickup truck appeared around the corner of the office building and continued its path away from them. It came to a stop near the Caterpillar backhoe. A moment later, a man stepped out.
Conner leaned toward her. “Do you know him?”
Darci squinted into the darkness. A half-moon shone from a cloudless sky, but it didn’t offer enough light for her to identify the man at that distance. “I can’t tell.”
The backhoe cranked up and a spotlight on top came on. Then it turned and started to crawl toward them. Less than a hundred feet from where they stood, it stopped and began to dig. Its claw-lined bucket plunged into the earth again and again, creating a mountain of dirt next to an ever-widening hole. Someone was getting ready to bury something—something big, based on the size of the hole.
She looked past him to the mounds in the distance. The mine extended for several hundred acres behind and to the right of the offices. But none of the mining work happened this close to the woods. Tonight’s activities weren’t related to the operations of P. T. Aggregates.
Finally the man stopped digging and shut off the backhoe. The spot stayed on. The door on the side opened, and he stepped down and lit a cigarette.
“Now do you recognize him?” Conner’s voice was a soft whisper. With the backhoe off, everything was once again wrapped in silence.
“Not at all.” He wasn’t an employee of P. T. He was a big guy with an air of toughness. As he stood with his feet planted wide, taking long drags on his cigarette, she hoped neither of them would have to tangle with him.
But maybe she already had. He was the right size to be the guy who had beat her up. And he was a smoker. Chances were good that if she got close enough to see his eyes, they would be a deep, vivid blue.
When another vehicle made its way up the drive, the backhoe operator flicked his cigarette onto the sand and ground it out with the sole of his shoe. He waited with his arms crossed as a car rounded the back corner of the building. Wiggins’s Mercedes.
Conner unzipped the pack, removed his video camera and set it to record. Wiggins pulled into a parking space, then got out and approached the other man. Conner followed his movement with the camera.
“They’ll be here in thirty minutes.” Wiggins’s words were terse. “You done?”
“I’m ready.”
Wiggins made a large circle around the hole, then began to pace, the cockiness that he always exuded conspicuously absent. What was wrong? Did he sense his days of freedom were coming to an end?
A half hour later, almost to the minute, another vehicle came up the drive. This one was much larger, sending a deep vibration through the ground beneath their feet. A large dump truck moved toward the backhoe and the two men standing there. It made a sharp right, then began to back toward the hole. There were no identifying markings, no company logo painted on its doors.
Leaving the truck running, the driver exited and walked the length of it to release a lever on its back. After he returned to the cab, the front of the dump bed began to rise, adding the hiss and whine of hydraulic pistons to the low rumble of the engine. The dump gate, hinged at the top, swung open and a dozen or so fifty-five-gallon drums rolled into the hole.
She cast a glance at Conner. He was still recording, capturing every detail. They had discovered at least one of Wiggins’s criminal activities. He was having toxic waste dumped at the mine. They had proof. Tomorrow they would turn the recording over to the police.
Excitement coursed through her, and the black cloud of worry that had hung over her for the past five weeks vanished, giving her a sense of weightlessness. It was almost over. In less than twenty-four hours, she could return home. Her parents and Jayden would be on their way back to Florida. And she would have her life back.
“Hey!”
The sharp word shattered that newfound serenity and sent shards of panic spiking through her. She shifted her gaze back to the men. All activity had ceased. Wiggins stood with his arm outstretched, index finger pointed in their direction. The backhoe operator stood next to him, eyes scouring the woods. The door to the dump truck swung open, and the driver dropped to the ground. He, too, joined the others.
Darci swayed as terror crashed down on her.
They had been discovered.
* * *
Conner lowered the camera, panic scattering his thoughts. They were outnumbered three to two. And more than likely, at least one of the men was armed. People who did their business under cover of darkness usually were.
Without taking his eyes from Wiggins and his cronies, he reached for Darci’s hand. If they ran, the men would hear them and be on them in moments. But if they stayed where they were, they would be sitting ducks. The record light on the camera, as small as it was, had given away their position. He needed to call 911.
But there was no time. Wiggins moved toward them, the other men flanking him.
“Turn over the camera, Tucker, and no one will get hurt.”
Conner squeezed her hand. Wiggins was a liar. As soon as he had the evidence in his possession, he would kill them both.
He stuffed the camera into his jacket pocket. “Run!” His command was a sharp hiss.
Darci didn’t hesitate. She jerked her hand from his and sprinted away, her path carrying her deeper into the woods. He stayed right on her heels. Heavy footsteps sounded behind them.
Wiggins’s girth would hold him back. They could easily outrun him. But the truck driver looked to be in excellent shape. The backhoe operator was huge, like a grizzly. But grizzlies were deceptively fast.
A shot rang out, and pine bark peppered his right cheek and arm like shrapnel. That was too close. They had a chance of outrunning the men, but not their bullets.
Then Darci stumbled in front of him and went down with a thud and a grunt. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t change direction, couldn’t even take a panicked leap over her. One foot caught her body, and for a half moment, he went airborne. Then he, too, hit the ground. Nicki’s too-large shoes. He should have brought her some that fit.
The footsteps grew louder. He held up a hand, motioning her to stay still. They couldn’t run now. The men were too close.
“Stop.” The command came from either the truck driver or the backhoe operator.
The forest fell silent, except for some rustling in the distance, probably Wiggins bringing up the rear.
“Listen.” It was the same voice as before.
“I don’t hear anything.”
“That’s my point, you idiot. They’ve stopped running.”
Conner tried to still his breathing and sent up a silent prayer. Darci was likely doing the same. As long as the men didn’t pass too close, the underbrush would help conceal them, even though it wasn’t as thick as in the summertime.
A flashlight beam swept the area, passing right over their heads, and Conner flattened himself against the ground.
“Get your tails in gear.” Wiggins had almost caught up to the others and wasn’t happy to see them idle. His tread was heavy, and he wheezed as he walked.
The same man who had called for the halt answered. “They’re close by. We’d probably hear them if we didn’t have Sasquatch lumbering through the forest with us.”
Wiggins countered the insult with a threat. “If you let them get away, you’re going to wish all you had to deal with was Sasquatch.”
He now stood with the other men, all of them only twenty feet away. The glow of a cell phone illuminated Wiggins’s face, then disappeared as he pressed it to his ear. Conner’s own phone was still in his pocket, if he hadn’t broken it during his fall. As desperate as he was to make that 911 call, he didn’t dare try.
Finally Wiggins spoke. “You’d better get out here. Your girlfriend just videotaped everything.”
Conner didn’t miss Wiggins’s sneer on the word girlfriend. Who was he talking to, Fuller?
Wiggins spoke again, this time louder. “I’m giving you one more chance to give yourself up, Tucker. Give me the camera, and I’ll let you walk out of here.”
Conner waited. Darci wouldn’t fall for it. She was too smart.
“Fine. Have it your way.” The cell phone came out again. Several seconds passed in silence before Wiggins spoke again. “Go get him. We need some insurance.”
Go get who? An answer tried to weave its way into his mind, but he shut it out. Jayden was with Darci’s parents. They would have arrived in North Carolina hours ago.
Unless they never made it out of Levy County. Or maybe Wiggins’s men followed them to Murphy, just in case they needed to pull that card. A sick sense of dread settled over him. If anything happened to Jayden, it would kill Darci.
If Wiggins didn’t kill her first. He sent up another prayer.
“Listen up.” Wiggins was in commander mode. “You two spread out, keep looking. I’m getting the dog.”
Conner’s breath hitched as a new fear gripped him. Wiggins was coming back with Genghis. Although the pit knew him, he didn’t know Darci. But if commanded to attack, it wouldn’t matter whether the dog knew him or not.
The two men moved away, deeper into the woods, as Wiggins backtracked. Over the next several minutes, the crunch of dried leaves sounded all around them, gradually fading. The men were combing the forest for them.
Conner raised himself to a crouch and pulled out his cell phone. He couldn’t call 911 without being overheard. But he could send Hunter a text and pray with everything in him that the officer had his phone on him. Concealing the light as well as he could with his jacket, he keyed in the message—At mine. SOS. Send help. He would attempt the 911 call later.
He rose without making a sound, then helped Darci to her feet. Since the men had moved farther ahead, their best bet would be to go back the way Wiggins had, then head for the road. If they could make it to his bike, they could escape.
They retraced their steps, moving more slowly than they had earlier, more concerned with stealth than speed. Actually, they needed to be concerned with both. Soon Wiggins would be back with Genghis. God, please let us reach the bike first.
A deep, menacing bark pierced the still night, putting some speed in his step. The barking grew closer, then became frenzied. Genghis had smelled them, or maybe heard them. He was hot on their trail.
Conner stepped over a downed tree and bent to tuck the camera into a fork. If they escaped, he would bring the authorities back with him to retrieve it. If Wiggins caught them, he would use it as a bargaining chip.
Stealth forgotten, he grabbed Darci’s hand and bounded through the woods, pulling her along. A minute later, the trees disappeared, and they skidded to a stop at the edge of the road.
Conner looked both directions.
His heart fell.
They had missed his bike by a good quarter mile.
* * *
Darci’s heart pounded and her breath came in gasps. Her ribs still hurt from the beating Wiggins’s men had given her last night.
But she’d pushed her body to the maximum of what it could endure. All for nothing. They’d reached the road, the bike was nowhere to be seen and the dog would be on them within moments.
Headlights moved toward them, and hope sparked inside her. Maybe they could flag down the driver and be gone before Wiggins and the dog emerged from the woods.
But Wiggins had called Fuller. And he’d told him to get out there. What if it was Fuller behind the wheel?
The vehicle sped toward them, then screeched to a stop. It was a silver SUV. The driver’s window lowered. Doug sat at the wheel.
Relief washed through her, so intense her knees almost buckled. “We need your help. I don’t have time to explain, but—”
Her own gasp cut off her words as realization slammed into her. “No.”
She shook her head and took a step backward, pulling Conner with her.
The man with the raspy voice. It wasn’t Fuller. It was Doug. The call Wiggins had made was to Doug.
She spun around in time to see a huge pit bull emerge from the woods, straining at its leash. Fangs glistened in the moonlight.
Wiggins appeared a moment later. “Heel.”
The dog lunged toward them, almost pulling Wiggins with it. Low growls rumbled in its throat, punctuated by vicious barks. The dog’s chest was massive, its jaws powerful. If Wiggins let go of that leash, she and Conner would be torn to shreds.
Wiggins gave the command again and the dog stood down. With the beast now under control, Wiggins put the leash around one wrist and pulled out his phone. The run had left him gasping for air, but he managed two short sentences. “Come back in. I’ve got ’em.”
When she cast a glance over her shoulder, Doug was still inside the vehicle, his mouth set in a grim line. Was it coldness she saw on his face? Determination?
Or was there a battle going on behind those dark eyes, a decision to make, whether to side with her or with Wiggins?
No, she was grasping at straws. When offered a choice between doing for someone else and taking care of number one, Doug’s course of action was always the same. He would never give up his wealth or his freedom, even in exchange for her life.
“Get in, both of you.” Wiggins’s words cut across her thoughts. He had pocketed the phone and stood ten feet away, with a pistol aimed at them.
Darci complied and started to slide across the seat to make room for Conner. Pain pierced her right side, and she gasped.
Doug studied her in the soft glow of the dome light. His eyes narrowed. “What happened to you?”
“Ask Wiggins.” She pressed her hands into the seat to move toward the center and winced.
Anger flared in Doug’s eyes, and he charged from the truck. “What did you do?”
Wiggins snorted. “What you wouldn’t.”
Darci’s gaze bounced between her ex and her boss. Doug was self-centered and egotistical, but she’d never known him to be a crook. So how did he get mixed up with someone like Wiggins?
Conner’s hand slid behind him and reemerged with his phone. Hope surged through her. If he could call 911 while Wiggins and Doug were outside the vehicle, they might have a chance. He’d already texted someone. But she’d been too busy running for her life to ask him about it.
Keeping the phone between them, he swiped the screen to unlock it. But that was as far as he got.
“Come on.” Wiggins angled his head toward the vehicle. “Let’s get these two back to the mine.”
Conner slipped the phone under his leg. Her own was of no use to them. When they fled, she’d left her purse lying on the blanket, both phones inside.
Doug sighed and stepped into the driver’s door opening. “All right. Get in.”
Wiggins headed toward the back of the vehicle, and Doug turned in the seat. His gaze locked with Conner’s and narrowed. Darci tensed. The chances of Doug helping her, however slim, would probably be better if Conner wasn’t with her.
The door behind them opened, and the dog heaved itself in. Within seconds, hot breath brushed the back of her head and panting filled her ears. The dog was no threat now. It had been commanded to stand down. But having those razor-sharp teeth so close to her neck kept her on edge.
The door slammed shut, and Wiggins made his way along the passenger’s side. Conner would have no opportunity to call 911 now. And they wouldn’t get help from anyone else. Not a single car had passed.
Wiggins heaved his bulk into the seat and turned, training his weapon on them. “Don’t even think of trying anything.”
When they pulled into the drive leading to the mine, headlights were moving toward them. Someone was leaving. She watched the vehicle draw closer. Its headlights were too high and widely spaced to belong to the pickup. It was the dump truck. Apparently the driver didn’t have the stomach for whatever was going to happen next. Or didn’t want to be a witness.
She stared at the back of Doug’s head. He was the father of her child. There had been strong feelings between them at one point. Maybe he still felt something for her. But in the end, it wouldn’t matter.
Doug drew to a stop near the backhoe, and Wiggins stepped from the vehicle.
“Get out.”
Conner slipped his phone into his front pocket and slid from the Escalade. After helping her to the ground, his eyes locked with hers. This gentle, caring man had done everything in his power to keep her safe, and she loved him for it.
He leaned forward to brush a kiss on her cheek, letting his mouth linger close to her ear.
“I texted Hunter.” His words came out in the softest whisper.
And they endeared him to her even more. Their situation was as bleak as it could be. But he wanted to give her hope.
“Stand over there.” Wiggins made a sideways swipe with the gun. Doug had gotten out of the truck, too, but Genghis was still inside.
Conner took her hand, and they moved away from the hole. The backhoe operator had just about finished filling it in. In a few more minutes, he would be ready to level it out, leaving behind no evidence of what had gone on over the past hour.
Wiggins pointed the gun at her head. “Hand over the camera.”
“I don’t have it.”
He released a sigh and shook his head, as if he was dealing with a troublesome child. “It looks like we’re going to have to do this my way.”
Still holding the gun, he once again pulled out his phone. After a swipe and a couple of touches, he put it to his ear.
“Darci here needs a little motivation.” A devious smile curled his lips. “Oh, yeah. That’s good.”
He touched the screen again and turned the phone toward her. At first she didn’t hear anything. Then there was soft whimpering.
Dear God, no. Please don’t let it be Jayden.
The whimpering faded, and a female voice came through the phone, weak and quivery. “Hello? Sweetheart?”
Recognition slammed into her, dropping her to her knees. Her chest constricted, and the steel bands worked their way higher, her throat tightening until she could no longer breathe.
She knew that voice. And she knew those whimpers.
Wiggins’s men had found her parents and Jayden in North Carolina.