He laughs in my ear. “Definitely babe. Glad to help.”
I hang up, smiling down at Annie. “Ready to go home?”
She nods, grinning up at me, full trust in her face. The look breaks my heart, reminding me so much of myself at that age. Back when I thought no evil existed in the world, and certainly never expected that evil to have flourished so well in myself.
We run together, her bare feet flying over the soft dirt, my backpack bouncing against my back. We are giddy, her over the adventure, oblivious to the danger she had faced, me over the insane possibility that my rescue attempt has worked. We squeeze back through the gate, skipping over the rutted dirt road, and race to the truck, me letting her win. I buckle her in the passenger side, the familiar movement painful in its normalcy. Putting the truck in reverse, I experience one heart-stopping moment when the tires spin, but then they catch traction and we move, flying backward onto the dirt road. I head left, headed for Brooklet, my mind thinking through the best way to return her as I drive. I am distracted, high on freedom and Annie’s carefree chatter and almost don’t notice the vehicle that turns right as we prepare to turn left. A blue Ford Explorer. My mind follows a moment after my vision, and I slam on brakes as I watch it disappear in a cloud of red dust. Ralph Michael Atkins. Georgia tags—X42FF—blue Ford Explorer.
Damn Mike and his incorrect intel. Ralph is here, and I had only been minutes away from him pulling up on Annie and me skipping down the dirt road, without a freaking fear in the world. I breathe hard, emotions shooting through me like heroin, every nerve in my body twitching, focusing on the need to destroy. Through the roaring in my head I hear a voice, and turn in my seat, trying to focus on her. Annie. Sweet and innocent, her mouth moving, words saying something. I frown, fighting a losing battle in my seat, concentrating on her lips. My mind clears briefly, and I hear her voice.
“—are we stopping?”
I grip the steering wheel, trying to sort out the madness from the logical—what I should do versus what I want to do. I shut my eyes tightly before they flip open on their own accord. I press the gas and yank the steering wheel roughly, jerking out into traffic and skidding into a tight turn before accelerating back down the dirt road.
I pull into the first farmhouse we come to, driving around to the back. The yard is empty, no cars in the drive. I park and turn to Annie, my eyes focusing and finding her. I grip the steering wheel, trying to concentrate on her face, trying to attempt to inject some normalcy in my voice, but I can see from her eyes that she can sense that something is wrong.
“Annie. I need you to go and wait on this porch. I will be right back. I’m going to leave you a cell phone and set a timer on it. If the timer goes off without me being back here, I want you to use it to call nine-one-one. Do you know how to call nine-one-one?”
“I think so. But you’re leaving me? Alone?”
“Yes. Only for a bit. Fifteen minutes. I need you to wait here on the porch and think about that kitten. If you can do this for me, I promise you that we will get you that kitten. Okay?”
She beams at me, her smile keeping my darkness away a little longer. “Okay.”
With shaky fingers, I pull my phone out and set the timer on it. I hold it out to her, showing her how to silence the alarm and how to dial the emergency call. Then I hand it to her, fighting to keep my face calm and my eyes on hers. “Don’t make that call until the alarm goes off. I plan on being back here before it goes off, okay?”
She nods, her face solemn again.
“Go on Annie. Sit on the porch and wait.”
I watch with twitchy fingers as she sits, waving to me with her small palm. Then I swing the truck around and floor it down the dirt road.
CHAPTER 50: Carolyn Thompson
Carolyn rang Michael’s doorbell, looking at the wilted geranium that sat on the stoop. She heard the chimes fading through the home, then the door opened and Becky stood there.
Becky: a woman she had never liked, never welcomed, never made a friendly effort with. An oversight of manners that might cost her dearly. The woman had once been beautiful, but pinched skin, a perpetual frown, and worried eyes had aged her early. Becky always seemed to fret, a habit that was in full force as she stood before Carolyn, twisting a rag in her hands, swaying gently on uneasy feet.
“Carolyn,” she said shortly. “What are you doing here?” No concern for her situation, no worry expressed for Annie. There was a reason that Carolyn had never cared for her, a reason that was showing its teeth now.
“I need to talk to you about Michael. May I come in?”
“I’m busy. And, as you probably know, the police were here last night. Interrupted us during dinner. You can find any answers that you need from them.” She started to close the door, but Carolyn stepped forward, pushing the door open and moving into the foyer.
“No Becky. As rude as this may seem, I need to talk to you.” Becky gaped at her, glaring at Carolyn’s feet as if she was shocked to find them there, inside her home, invading her personal space. She finally raised her gaze to Carolyn’s, frowning at her and shutting the door.
“Fine. Sit in the dining room, if you refuse to leave. What do you want to know?”
CHAPTER 51
The gate is now open, the chain hanging loosely from metal piping, and I swing the truck in, all concerns of stealth gone. A battle is before me, and I almost moan at the excitement of it. After four years of waiting, I feel beyond ready, panting at the thought of it.