Allison squirmed against the rough stone wall of the deserted cottage.
Except for the blaze in the fire pit, there was no light in the single room of the hut. But it showed enough to reveal the cruel, menacing faces of her abductors. They were strangers, and, though she had heard them refer to one another as Cabot and Lombardo, the names meant nothing to her. Logan’s name, however, had come up once or twice.
They had grabbed her in the courtyard behind the house, hustled her out through the gap in the hedge, shoved her into the backseat of a car, and driven her here. They were about half a mile from the moor, as close as any automobile could get to it. The old cottage had not been occupied for years, and though so many of them were alike and it was difficult to see, she was sure this was the same hut where she and Logan and Fergie had taken refuge. Now, it seemed it had become Allison’s prison.
She shivered, as much from fear as from the descending cold of night. An icy wind had started to blow down from the moor, stirring up the stagnant air of the last several hours, portending a new storm.
“Cold, little lady?” asked the man named Lombardo gruffly, but not without a flicker of genuine concern.
Allison nodded, but she would never tell them she was also scared. Oh, Lord, she prayed, please give me courage. I need you now more than ever!
Lombardo slipped off his jacket and laid it roughly over her. She knew she should acknowledge the gesture, but with her hands numb from the cords that tightly bound them, and her arms still aching from their rough handling when they captured her, she could muster up little thanks.
“You’re a bowl of mush,” jeered Cabot to his comrade.
“Well, we don’t want her to croak on us.”
“No one ever croaked from a little cold.”
“Aw, shut up!” growled Lombardo as he lumbered back to his place on the other side of the fire.
The jacket didn’t help much, but it was something.
“What do you want with me?” Allison asked. “My family doesn’t have any money.”
“Hmm, that’s a thought,” said Cabot ominously. “Too bad we don’t have time for a side venture.”
“Please just let me loose, then go away—no one will come after you.”
“You’re awful generous,” laughed Cabot.
Allison slumped back and fell silent. This seemed a harsh way to test her new faith, especially after she had failed so dreadfully when Logan had been confessing to her parents. If she hadn’t run out acting so stupidly, none of this would have happened. She prayed once more, and continued to pray for help until she fell into a restless sleep.
A sudden rush of cold air awakened her. The door had been pushed open, but in the distorted light of the flames and the haze of sleep, she could not make out the newcomers. At last her eyes came into focus.
“Logan!” she cried, relieved and exultant, forgetting all past anger.
“Allison!” He rushed forward, stumbling over a piece of wood in the darkened room, and falling to his knees. She could see that his hands were tied. He made his way toward her, and, raising his hands to her, brushed her cheek as if to make certain she was real. Then, closely examining her from head to foot, he asked, “Are you all right?”
“Oh, yes. I’m so glad to see you!”
“I’m sorry to have gotten you into this. I hardly deserve your forgiveness, but I am sorry.”
“Oh, Logan,” she said, “all that’s behind us. I treated you so rudely!”
Sprague interrupted before either could speak further. “Sorry to break up this warm little reunion,” he said sarcastically, “but I don’t think we’re quite finished with our deal, Macintyre.”
Logan turned. He had little faith that Sprague would spare them once he had his precious information, but Logan had few options.
“Let Allison go. Then I’ll tell you.”
“What kind of fool do you think I am?” laughed Sprague. “Once she’s gone, you might tell me anything! She’s my only insurance that you’ll tell me the truth.”
Logan looked at Allison and sighed. Well, it had been worth a try. But Sprague was no dummy.
“There’s a place called Ramsey Head,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“It’s buried at the top.”
“How will I find it?”
“You’ll see when you get there. It’s under a large rock, part way chiselled to look like the head of a horse.”
Sprague grabbed Logan by the shirt and dragged him to his feet.
“I’ll see, because you’re going to show me!”
“Then Allison comes too.”
But Cabot stepped forward. “No go, Sprague,” he said. “You start moving them around and you’re asking for trouble. There might be people out looking for the girl by now. I’m not letting Macintyre out of my sight. You go check it out. But believe me, my friend, if you find it and try to double-cross us and skip town—we’ll find you!”
“What if it’s not there?” asked Sprague.
“We won’t have at them till you get back.”
“That’s going to waste time,” argued Sprague.
“You’re not running this show anymore. We’ve done our part and I’m taking no more chances on losing Macintyre. You’ve got two hours. If you’re not back by then, I’ll just assume you don’t need Macintyre anymore.”
“Two hours! You must be crazy! I’ll need help. Who knows how deep the stuff’s buried.”
Cabot gestured with his gun toward Lombardo. “You go with him. I’ll watch these two.”
“Don’t tell me what to do!” grumbled Lombardo. “This is your idea. So you go!”
Cabot eyed his accomplice intently, then rose, apparently thinking it fruitless to push the point. Where could the two kids go, anyway? Even Lombardo should be able to handle that. But Sprague just might try to skip. Maybe it was good for him to go, to keep an eye on Sprague—and the loot.
———
There was at least some comfort in the fact that they had some time to spare, and Allison tried to be thankful for that. Logan had come. Perhaps the Lord had sent him. She was no longer alone. And when Lombardo pushed him down next to her, she felt a warm peace from his nearness.
“Logan,” she said softly, “you’re not the only one who has things to be sorry about. I haven’t treated you fairly either. From the very beginning I judged you. When you hurt your foot, I knew it was fake.”
“You did?”
“Yes. But believe me, I didn’t keep quiet about it for any noble reasons. I planned to wait till the right time, then use it against you. Don’t ask me why. I’m not even certain myself. Let’s just say I was a different person back then. Not a very nice person. Everything was so twisted in my mind.”
“I asked for it,” Logan replied. “I badgered you—”
“It’s enough that we forgive each other,” Allison interrupted. “And I do forgive you. Something’s happening inside me, Logan—”
“Hey!” broke in Lombardo’s sharp voice, “what’re you two whispering about.”
“Just passing the time,” Logan replied.
“Well, no funny business, that’s all!” He waved his gun in the air to add emphasis to his words.
“We can’t do any harm talking, can we?”
Lombardo grunted and fell silent.
Logan said nothing for a few moments. Allison wondered what he was thinking. She wanted to tell him that what she had felt that day in the rain was not mere accident, as she had said earlier. But she didn’t know how to begin. Then she noticed that he was working his hands, within his bonds, back and forth. Quickly she jerked her gaze away, not wanting to alert Lombardo’s attention.
“Logan,” she said at length, “you know all those things I said earlier about our time together, you know, coming home from the Bramfords’?”
“I was wrong to try to make so little of that. It was a special moment for me. I didn’t mean what I said later.”
“You mean if I tried to steal another kiss from you, you wouldn’t slap me?” he teased.
“Logan . . . please. You’ll embarrass me,” she replied with good-natured chiding in her tone.
“Now,” said Logan more softly, “how are you at acting sick?”
“Maybe as good as you,” she answered with a coy smile.
“Well, give it a try—and make it look good.”
Allison doubled over and let out a terrible groan. She repeated it over and over several times, but still Lombardo paid no attention. Finally Logan intervened.
“Help her!” he cried in a most convincing tone. “She’s in pain . . . please.”
“That’s an old dodge,” said Lombardo callously. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Allison rolled over onto her side, still moaning.
“Come on, lady,” said Lombardo, “it’s the oldest trick in the book.”
“You can’t just let her lie there!” yelled Logan. “What if your friends come back and she’s dead? They’ll feed you to the cops, while they make off with the loot.”
“This better not be some game.” Lombardo hitched his frame to its feet, then motioning with the gun at Logan, added, “You get way over there.”
Logan complied, and still Lombardo had taken no notice that the cords binding his hands had loosened considerably. The big man bent down beside Allison and tapped her shoulder.
“All right, lady, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“My stomach,” gagged Allison.
Lombardo had been careful to keep Logan, who had moved to the far end of the wall, in his sight. But for the single moment while he took Allison’s arm to pull her up from the ground, he let his gun hand drop.
Logan’s next move was so quick and unexpected that even the split second it would have taken to raise the gun was not enough. Logan sprang across the space between them, his weight momentarily stunning the hoodlum.
“Ali . . . run!” he shouted. He knew he was no fighter, and this man was nearly twice his size. There might be only a few seconds for her to escape.
Allison scrambled to her feet, but instead of taking flight looked about for a way to help Logan. In the meantime, Lombardo had regained what wits he had, and tried to aim his gun. Logan caught his arm and flattened it to the ground. They struggled for another minute, until, with a horrifying crack, the pistol fired.
For a frightening instant everything stopped. Then Logan raised his hand, the weapon gripped tightly between his fingers. Lombardo stared, shocked both that he had fired and that this amateur had been able to wrestle the gun from him. Then he backed slowly away. Pale and trembling, with his right arm pressed against his side, Logan steadied the gun in his left hand toward Lombardo.
“Ali, go!” he repeated.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes! I’m fine,” he answered with a weak smile. “You have to run for help.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to. Don’t you understand? There’s no one else. I’ll keep him here. You’re the only one who can do this.”
“But you’re hurt!”
“It’s nothing much,” he lied, thankful that his jacket hid the spreading red beneath his shirt. “I would only slow you down. Just go. I’ll be fine.”
Then he turned to his prisoner and said, “Untie her, Lombardo.”
With hesitancy Allison at last approached the door. With her hand on the latch, she turned and looked back, her eyes pleading with Logan. Reading her unspoken, “Are you sure?” Logan nodded and said, “Now, make a run for it.”
The moment she cleared the rickety wooden step of the cottage, she broke into a run, a prayer on her lips, and an ache in her heart that she might not get back with help in time.