And finally, finally, she didn’t feel alone.

Willow sped up her pace and Elsie took off after her. This was it. This was their chance and she wasn’t going to miss it.

This time, when Wyatt awoke, he was aware of ropes rubbing against his wrists and ankles.

He hesitantly opened his eyes. His vision wasn’t impaired at all. His headache? That wasn’t worth focusing on, as it was worse than ever. He wasn’t comfortable with the slight nausea, either, probably from the very likely concussion that he had. At least he was still in one piece.

Helpless. But in one piece.

It wasn’t often he felt like he truly couldn’t handle his circumstances on his own. Even when he’d come back to God, it had been with the plan to earn God’s favor again, like Elsie had pointed out to him the other day, which was wrong. The truth was that he was an independent man. He liked knowing he could handle a situation.

Right now, he couldn’t. He would have to trust God to see him through.

And maybe Elsie? Surely she and Willow were looking for him. He wished they weren’t, since he was sure they were walking into more danger than Elsie was ready for, but he knew without them his chances were slim.

Something about the last thought caught him. Maybe that was what Elsie had meant. Rather than assume that she didn’t realize this was a trap, and worry about her, treat her like something small and breakable, she wanted to be treated like the capable, brave woman she was. Maybe that was one of the areas where she felt like he didn’t know her well enough.

Change was something he was used to, though. Personally, professionally. He could change, make this better. If they got a second chance.

Right now? He didn’t know what to do but stay put. He could see the beach from where he was, but he was leaned up against a tree, and with his arms and legs bound, he wasn’t going anywhere quickly.

“Don’t even think about running,” a voice told him. Not the one from earlier. That one had been rough, violent. This one was smooth and almost pleasant.

Political.

“Travis Cattleman, I assume?” Wyatt asked him.

He heard footsteps coming from around behind him, and a man came into his line of sight. Wyatt vaguely recognized him from the news. He was not quite six feet, Wyatt guessed, though it was hard to judge from the ground. Average build. Smooth, clean-shaven face. Green eyes.

Eyes startlingly like Elsie’s in color, though nothing alike in their mood. Elsie’s eyes sparkled with adventure, bravery. Last night he’d seen a spark of something a lot like love.

This man’s eyes were calculating, exacting.

“Very astute of you to figure out.” His eyebrows rose in some kind of sick amusement. “If you’d been this quick yesterday, you might not be sitting here like this.”

Great, a talkative villain. Part of Wyatt wanted to roll his eyes. He hated movies where the villain monologued at the end.

On the other hand, if there was one thing he’d learned from movies like that, it was that the longer you got a guy talking, the more likely you could find some way to defeat him. This wasn’t a movie, but it was worth a try. He was too helpless to do anything else right now.

“Why is Elsie in your way? She doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

The man recoiled. “Annie. Her name is Annie.”

One question answered about Elsie’s past, though Wyatt wished she were hearing it first. It didn’t seem right that he would know this part of her story before she did.

“She doesn’t care about you or whatever you’re trying to do politically. She wouldn’t have bothered you.” He hesitated. “Still might not if you leave her alone.” The last part was a stretch. He couldn’t imagine Elsie letting this kind of injustice go unpursued, unpunished. But this man didn’t know that. Didn’t know her.

“Annie never had a choice. She was doomed from the start. Her mother should have...” He trailed off, though Wyatt was fairly certain he knew where the man was going. “She had no right.” His fists were clenched.

“So...” His mind went to Elsie’s flashbacks, to the darkness she’d described. The way she’d responded to the dying woman on the island’s screams like she’d heard them before. “You killed her mother.”

The fists clenched tighter, though Travis didn’t say anything.

“And meant to kill Elsie when you left her on that island.”

“Annie!”

Why the name mattered so much to a man who was bent on destroying the woman who had it, Wyatt didn’t understand. But sometimes people didn’t make sense. It was clear to him that this man, Travis, was operating under intense emotion. He’d become an even more dangerous criminal because emotional criminals were unpredictable. Loose cannons.

And here he was with a front-row seat to the madness and no way that he could think of to stop it.

“You meant to kill her,” he guessed again. “But you didn’t succeed, so you let her live until now.”

“I didn’t let her.” The man’s voice was bitter. “I lost her. I was so sure... I knew she’d never survive on that island. I knew I wasn’t linked to her in any way. I knew it was the best way to get rid of her.”

So that was why Elsie had gotten to live all those years.

“And then...” he prompted, not sure if the man would keep talking or explode.

“I saw an article in the newspaper. Some local fluff. My staff like to keep me informed, keep me in touch with my constituents.” Wyatt rolled his eyes and hoped the man didn’t notice in the growing daylight. “I knew it was her. I recognized her right away. She’s like a walking version of Tressa.”

Wyatt guessed Tressa must have been Elsie’s mother. Was that part of the reason the man was so determined to kill her? He couldn’t guess how much of the man’s motivation was related to a desire to keep his other crime—killing Elsie’s mother—under wraps and how much was him repeating that action. He’d been mad enough to kill the mother, whom he must have cared for on some level. Why not kill the child who he was convinced should never have lived?

“So you put a woman on that island hoping she’d be called in to find her?” That would explain Noelle Mason’s presence on the island.

“She worked at a shelter I’ve done some work with. Publicity stuff. She and I had gotten...involved and so she was a liability anyway.” He shrugged. “I knew Annie would come find her.”

“But you weren’t able to kill her. You killed her friend, though.”

“An unfortunate bit of collateral damage. Rebecca was never supposed to die, but when she got off the island after she and Noelle were separated, she started to get suspicious about the fact that I had suggested that island hike to Noelle. Apparently she knew about mine and Noelle’s relationship. I couldn’t afford for her to be pointing fingers at me. So I returned her to the island,” he said smoothly.

“You killed her,” Wyatt broke in.

Travis continued, unfazed. “And then Annie found Noelle so fast...hence the need for the plane crash so she’d think we were out of the picture. And you... Now I can finally get rid of her.”

“Leave her alone,” Wyatt tried again, not needing any more of the story. “Just let her go. She doesn’t care about you.”

Travis kicked and pain exploded in Wyatt’s shin.

“Do not tell me what to do. I have a plan. I am the one in control here, and I am calling the shots.” A slow, sick grin spread across his face as he slid a shiny handgun from a holster on his hip. “Literally.” He lifted the gun, aimed it at Wyatt. Waited.

Wyatt barely breathed. It took everything within him not to react. He knew that Willow would find him dead or alive. But it seemed this man and whoever was helping him earlier hesitated to kill him, not knowing if he would still be an effective bait. He had to use that.

“Losing patience and getting rid of your bait this fast?” He kept his voice even, the words the only provoking things. His tone was neutral.

The gun wavered. Travis spit out a curse and holstered the gun.

“When she gets here, she dies. You get to watch that. And then you’ll have stopped being of use to me.”