Ray couldn’t reach Larry, Graham or Willow on their cell phones, even from the landline. He tried Ginger’s cell, and wasn’t surprised when he got no answer. Probably no signal. Steve hadn’t returned from the grocery store, so they had no vehicle. He found Preston on the roof deck, sprawled in one of the chairs, staring toward the sun as it disappeared past the horizon.
“I think we have a problem,” Ray said.
Preston frowned up at him. “What’s wrong?”
“The police never called Larry.”
Chair legs scraped against wood as Preston rose slowly to his feet. “What do you mean? You think he lied about the call?”
“Someone might have called him, but the police told me it wasn’t them. They don’t have anyone in custody, and never did.”
A shadow of fear darkened Preston’s eyes. “Willow and Graham are with Larry. Do you think Fenrow might have made the call to get Larry away from the house?”
“Only if he knew how to contact us,” Ray said.
Preston held his gaze. “If he saw us leave the hotel this morning, he could have been watching our cars all day. He could’ve tailed us here.”
“Ginger’s on the mountain trail with the girls,” Ray said. “You try to reach Steve and get him back here ASAP.”
“Since there’s no cell reception, how could Fenrow have reached Larry?”
“Larry didn’t say, but he probably called on a landline. It would be easy to find the phone number, since the owner’s name is on the mailbox.”
Preston followed Ray to the stairway. “I’ll have Helen call the store and ask them to page Steve.”
“Good. We need a car. I’ll go find Ginger and the girls and get them back to the house.”
“Is there anything we can use for a weapon?” Preston asked. “We’re helpless here.”
“Not for long. The police are aware of the situation, so I expect them soon. We can’t panic. I could be jumping to conclusions, but I don’t want to chance it.”
“I’m checking inside for some kind of weapon, and I’ll follow you up the trail.”
Ray hurried back down the steps and ran to find Ginger and the girls.
Lucy crouched on her knees beside Brittany and tried to see through the briar stalks. All she heard was Brittany’s soft, frightened breathing and the rush of wind in the trees. The wind was getting stronger, and the sun was almost down. Here in the shadows she could barely see Brittany’s face.
Maybe Aunt Ginger had already beaten the man up and was looking for them. But if she was, she’d be calling for them. Best not to move or make noise until she heard Aunt Ginger’s voice.
The man was Rick Fenrow. Lucy was sure of that now. She could close her eyes and see the shape of his nose and chin, the straight cheeks, flat and ugly. He was the man in the window.
She reached down and rubbed Brittany’s head. It would be okay. It would all be okay. They had lots of people who loved them now, who wouldn’t let anything happen to them. They didn’t have that before, and that was why Mama died.
The wind raced through the trees, whistling, twisting, whirling. The storm.
Lucy had never been afraid of storms. She liked to watch the movement of the trees, hear the sound of thunder, like people clapping their hands far away. She liked to feel the first splatters of rain on her cheeks, and smell the air.
A thud startled her. There was a scrape of rocks nearby. Brittany caught her breath, and Lucy pressed her fingers over her sister’s lips. Be quiet.
She peeked through the briars, and nearly screamed when she saw the man’s legs, jeans dirty, tennis shoes brown instead of white.
“I see you,” he called softly, and then he laughed.
Ray knew nothing could be worse than the terrifying images within his own mind as he ran up the trail. “Ginger!” he called, “where are you? Time to come down. Lucy? Brittany? Can you hear me?” The wind whipped his voice away. The trees seemed to lunge at him, dipping and swirling.
He could no longer see the house through the trees, as he had followed the curve of the trail up and around the northern slope of the mountain. From where he stood, he saw that the trail followed the edge of the mountain up a series of switchbacks.
Ginger would never have taken the girls over anything that looked dangerous.
“Ginger!” Where had they gone? Maybe another trail branched away from the main one, and they had explored it. Whichever way Ginger had taken them, she should be on her way back by now…in fact, he should have run into the three of them long before now.
No time to panic. He needed to keep looking. They couldn’t have—
He caught sight of a bright blue patch up ahead, at the edge of the first switchback. It was the color of Ginger’s backpack.
“Ginger!”
It didn’t move.
He ran.
Lucy pressed her fingers against Brittany’s lips. Don’t speak. He may not really see us. Maybe he’s faking.
“You might as well come out,” the man said. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He sounded calm. Normal.
Lucy knew he wasn’t normal. She wished she was as big and strong as Graham, then she wouldn’t have to be afraid.
“I didn’t come here to hurt you,” the man said.
She gritted her teeth. He was a liar. He had hurt Aunt Ginger.
Brittany started to cry softly, and Lucy tapped her lips again, rubbing her head. Be quiet. It’s okay. I’m here.
“I need something from you girls, and I can’t let you go until I get it.” His voice carried loudly over the wind, as if he didn’t know for sure that they were crouched nearly at his feet.
She peered up at his hands. She couldn’t see farther, because of the thickness of the bushes. He didn’t have a gun in his hand. Maybe if they ran they could get away. Maybe Brittany could get away.
“You see, I knew your mother. She and I were friends, and we collected some information about an evil person who was hurting a lot of other people.”
Lucy lowered her mouth close to Brittany’s ear. “Don’t listen to him,” she whispered very softly. “He’s—”
“Your mother knew who those people were, and she had some pictures that were mine. I was going to turn them in to the police.” He took another step closer to them. Brittany tensed. Lucy pressed her down. Don’t move.
“She told me you were helping her hide the pictures.”
No way!
“You want the police to get the people who really killed your mother, don’t you? They got the wrong person the first time.”
The wind stirred the briars. One poked Lucy in the shoulder. She gritted her teeth at the pain.
Brittany leaned closer to Lucy, and Lucy whispered, “Get ready to run when I tell you to. Go down the road.”
Brittany shook her head.
Lucy tapped her hard on the shoulder. “Do it.”
A sound rose over the whistle of wind, and it grew louder. It was a siren somewhere below them.
The man took a step closer. He pushed some of the briars aside, then jerked his hand back with a grunt. “We’re out of time. You’re coming with me now!”
Lucy shoved Brittany. “Go! Get away!”
The hand came down on Lucy’s backpack. She screamed.
“Now! Hurry!” she cried, then turned and bit the man as hard as she could.
Ray’s lungs burned, sweat dripping from his face as he took the final curve and saw that the blue swathe of color was, indeed, Ginger’s backpack. Ginger still wore it.
She lay collapsed at the edge of the trail. No, please no. This can’t be happening!
She lay half on her side, and shadows fell over her face. Purple shadows, unnatural in the twilight.
“Ginger!” He ran and fell to his knees beside her. Those shadows were made of blood and dirt…and blue smudges that looked like bruises. Her shirt was ripped, her throat bruised and swollen.
“Ginger, come on, wake up. Don’t do this to me!”
He gently grasped her shoulders. “Ginger?” He bent low over her face, but could hear nothing over the wail of the wind and a siren in the distance.
He grasped her jaw and opened her mouth. When he bent close, he could feel the warm moisture of her breath.
She was breathing. He pressed his hand to the side of her face, then reached for her carotid artery to see if she had a pulse. “Ginger, please. Wake up.”
Airway good. Breathing good. Circulation good. Her neck looked as if she’d been choked. Her face looked purple in places, as if someone had beaten her…or as if vessels had ruptured from the choking.
He looked around them. “Lucy! Brittany!”
The siren grew louder. He palpated Ginger’s neck for possible damage, felt her head for signs of concussion, then looked up the side of the mountain.
What had happened here? Ginger would never have tried anything dangerous with the children, so these injuries couldn’t be from a fall.
Someone must have found them here and attacked…Ginger had fought. But where were the children now?
The wind eased for a few seconds, and the siren died. That was when he heard the scream.