Only minutes ago, he’d jumped out of the pickup, leaving it running, and rushed toward her through the golden haze of the headlights. Holly Jo had tried to get up and run, but she’d known it was useless. There was nowhere she could go to get away from him. The woman was dead. She feared that if she fought him, he’d kill her, too.
He’d grabbed her, half dragging her to the truck and shoving her into the passenger seat. “Move and so help me...” He’d slammed the door.
She could feel blood running down her leg. Her clothes were filthy, but also torn and bloody. Her arms were scraped, and the top she wore was torn like her jeans. Her leg hurt bad, but that wasn’t why she hadn’t been able to stop crying when he’d caught her. She’d almost gotten away. Maybe if she hadn’t fallen...
The real pain made her chest ache. What if she never got another chance to escape before he killed her, too?
As he drove through the darkness, she took the smelly rag and wiped at the snot from crying from her face. Then she dabbed at her bleeding leg. He didn’t seem to notice as he gripped the wheel, mumbling to himself. She could feel the tension coming off him in waves. Her fear heightened with each dark mile they traveled. In the side mirror, she saw that her forehead was also bleeding. She wiped at it with the disgusting rag.
“Spit on the rag,” he ordered her. “You’re missing this whole side of your face. Use the side mirror.”
She reached over and rolled down the window. Earlier when he’d gone around to slide behind the wheel, she’d tried to open the door, but she shouldn’t have been surprised to find the door handle missing. The sweet scent of summer night air rushed in as she put the window all the way down, spit on the rag and began to wash her face, trying hard not to gag.
As she finished, she noticed that the lower part of her shirtsleeve was torn, splattered with blood and dirt, and now barely hanging by a thread. It was her favorite shirt, white with little pink horses on it. She’d put it on that morning because she and Elaine were going to Billings to shop for her room redecoration. She’d been so excited because HH had said she could do whatever she wanted. Now she might never see her room again.
She didn’t even know how long she’d been gone or if anyone was looking for her. It seemed forever since she’d headed down to the bus stop. She’d argued with Elaine that morning, saying, “Why even go to school? It’s the last day before summer break, only for a half day. We could leave now.”
But Elaine had held firm. “No missing school. You’ll want to say goodbye to your teachers for the summer. I’ll pick you up in a few hours. It will pass quickly.” Did she now wish she’d never made her go to school?
If only she hadn’t, Holly Jo thought as she ripped the lower part of her favorite shirt’s sleeve the rest of the way off, held it out the window and let the wind suck it out to disappear behind them.
“Don’t be throwing nothing out the window,” he yelled at her. “Put it back up. Let’s see your face. Better,” he said, shooting her glances as he drove the narrow dirt road. “At least you’re cleaned up a little.”
“Are you taking me home?” she asked, her voice betraying her with its pitiful ring of hope.
“Soon,” he said without looking at her. “Depends on Holden. If he comes through tonight...” His voice trailed off, and she felt her heart drop. She was never going home. She could feel it. Tears burned her eyes, but she didn’t dare let them fall.
In the headlights, she looked out at the landscape for anything familiar, seeing nothing. Weak and bleeding, she closed her eyes, hoping that whatever he did to her would be quick and not hurt. She just needed this to end.
“YOU’RE MAKING A MISTAKE,” Stuart said as Holden loaded the two briefcases, a shotgun and a box of shells into his SUV. The rancher was already wearing a loaded six-shooter at his hip.
“Not a mistake as big as the one you’ll make if you try to stop me—or interfere,” Holden said.
The sheriff shook his head. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”
The rancher’s smile was grim. “I’ll be taking the kidnapper with me to hell, then.” He stepped past Stuart to head toward his vehicle parked out front but stopped to turn back. “Your daddy, when he was sheriff, was in the same place you’re standing right now. I hope you’re half as smart as he was and leave it alone. Don’t follow me. Whatever happens is on me. I started this—I’ll finish it.”
With that, Holden climbed behind the wheel. Stuart moved so he could close the door, then watched him start the engine and pull out of the drive. Was it true? Had his father backed down because of Holden? Had the former sheriff let the rancher take the law into his own hands? He tried to imagine the man he knew standing by and letting that happen.
Well, he thought as he watched the SUV disappear down the road, he wasn’t his father.
“You aren’t going to let him do this alone, are you?” Elaine asked as she joined him just outside the front door.
“No. I can’t stop him, and he sure as hell won’t let me go with him, but maybe I can keep him from getting himself and Holly Jo killed.” He wasn’t even sure about that as he stepped out to his patrol SUV and swore. Turning back to Elaine, he said, “I’m going to have to borrow one of the ranch pickups. Seems I have two flat tires.” Holden had known he wasn’t like his father and hadn’t been taking any chances.
“You can take my car,” she said.
He shook his head. “A pickup would be better.” He was headed up Suicide Pass. He knew the area and had realized immediately why the kidnapper had chosen it. The road wound like a rattler into the mountains with dangerous drop-offs. No way to box the kidnapper in. No way to get out quickly if there was trouble.
Once back in there, the kidnapper would be able to see anyone who came up the road and would be waiting. Holden was walking into a trap. He seemed to think he knew who had Holly Jo. If it was Darius Reed, then Holden was meeting a career criminal with nothing to lose. Stuart feared that the rancher knew it and was still determined to do this as if having accepted the outcome.
“The keys should be in that pickup over there,” Elaine said, pointing to one of the newer ranch trucks. She grabbed the sheriff’s arm. “Good luck.”
STARING INTO THE dark road ahead, Holden gripped the steering wheel until his hands ached. He’d spent every minute since Holly Jo had been kidnapped trying to figure out who hated him enough to jeopardize the life of a child to get back at him.
The list shouldn’t have been as long as it was. He honestly hadn’t known. Not until Darius Reed had chosen Suicide Pass for the ransom drop.
Holden knew exactly who he was meeting tonight on that lonely, dangerous road in the middle of nowhere. It had been chosen because there was no way for the sheriff to get deputies set up in there for an ambush. But also, from the single narrow road that climbed the mountain, a person would see anyone approaching for miles.
There was no place to hide. If Holden had let the sheriff send men in earlier, it wouldn’t have worked. They would have been spotted. The drop would have been negated and Holly Jo’s life put in even more jeopardy.
No, Holden had to do this himself. What bothered him was that he hadn’t figured out sooner who had taken her. The name Melanie Baker had meant nothing to him—just as he was sure that the woman meant nothing to the man he was meeting tonight.
He’d put himself through hell, digging up old grievances, old slights, old betrayals. What little sleep he’d gotten had been filled with ghosts from his past reminding him of the kind of man he was. One flawed to his very soul. A man who had only recently been trying to make amends for his past, worried about the legacy he was leaving his children and grandchildren. He should have known his past would catch up to him.
Ahead, he saw the turnoff to Suicide Pass and slowed. He knew the spot where he’d find the kidnapper waiting. He remembered it too well. It had been the beginning of his lies and regrets, his first true introduction to gut-roiling guilt. Little did his sixteen-year-old self know that he would have a lifetime of regret ahead of him.
Holden made the turn onto the narrow dirt road, then stopped and pulled his weapon from his holster to lay it on the console next to him. That he was going to kill the man who’d taken Holly Jo had always been a foregone conclusion. If only he could kill the rest of the past that haunted him as easily.
He gave the SUV gas and started up the road, his headlights cutting a swath of pale gold into the darkness. He couldn’t see the future, but the past was with him, riding shotgun. He was sixteen again and about to make the worst decision of his life.
Then again, Holden thought as he drove, maybe he was about to make a far worse decision tonight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE SHERIFF KNEW better than to try to follow Holden. He’d studied a map and found an old mine road that connected to Suicide Pass Road. Holden had left early with the money, giving himself plenty of time.
That also gave Stuart plenty of time. He’d thought about taking deputies with him, but they were all too green for something this sensitive. If the kidnapper showed up with Holly Jo, her safety had to come first. He hated to think what Deputy Dodson might do in a standoff. The man had a hair-trigger temper and a chip on his shoulder. Look how badly he’d handled bringing in Brand Stafford for questioning.
