Picture Perfect

by Sherry Lewis

  She meant her words to sound light, to maybe bring a smile to his lips.

  His face lightened a little. “Promise you’ll be careful?”

  “Of course.”

  “I guess I’m worrying about nothing.”

  “You are.”

  He smiled. “Anything special you want from town?”

  “From Milford? Do you think they have any decent caviar?”

  This time he laughed. “Absolutely. I’ll bring you a case.”

  “And champagne.”

  “And candles?”

  His eyes glinted and Abby loved the warmth in them. Ducking his head, he brushed her lips lightly. The brief kiss took her breath away, and even after he’d climbed into the Cherokee and driven off, Abby couldn’t stop the thudding of her heart.

  KURT LOOKED OUT the window of the small general store and watched the pouring rain. The sky had darkened ominously and the rain had started before he’d reached Milford. A storm could last forever in this country, and every minute he waited in town lessened his chances of making it back up the mountain. But gut instinct warned him not to start the return trip without getting through on the landline to Doug Pierce.

  Over the past hour he’d tried four times, and so far he’d been unsuccessful. He’d wait another fifteen minutes and try again.

  He looked at his cell one more time. No service, of course.

  Rain, propelled by a sudden gust of wind, battered the window. Behind him, the clerk shifted something heavy and dropped it to the floor with a thud. “Better figure on settling in for a while,” the man warned. “You ain’t going nowhere on these roads.”

  Under normal circumstances, Kurt would agree. He’d grab some coffee and a book and watch the storm from inside. But not today. It might not be wise, but he’d have to start back soon. He could only hope the Cherokee’s four-wheel drive would be enough to pull him back up the mountain.

  “That wind’s whipping up pretty bad. Maybe you ought to try your call again before the lines go down.”

  He hadn’t thought of that. He had to get through to someone in Pine Cove. Abandoning his plan to wait, Kurt left his vantage point by the window and crossed the rough plank floor to the back of the store. With an urgency he didn’t entirely understand, he punched the numbers from his calling card, then the number of the sheriff’s station.

  Wind rattled the window again and the lights flickered. Willing Doug—or anyone—to pick up, Kurt counted the rings. After eight, he broke the connection and repeated the procedure using Jack’s home number.

  This time he was rewarded with an answer almost immediately as Sara’s voice floated to him through the storm. “Uncle Kurt! Are you back? Why didn’t you let me go with you? I love the cabin.”

  “I couldn’t bring you this time, sweetheart. Maybe next time, okay? Is your dad there?”

  “No, but you’ll never guess what. I still can’t believe it. Guess where my dad is….”

  “Where?”

  “At Abby Harris’s house. You’ll never believe what happened.”

  All the misgivings he’d battled throughout the day returned, magnified by Sara’s excitement. He clutched the receiver, trying to keep his voice steady. “What?”

  “Dad went over there this morning and found one of the back windows broken.”

  “From the storm?”

  “No. Somebody broke in. Can you believe it?”

  A sick terror filled Kurt. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. Dad found something inside that made him think somebody had been in there.”

  “What was it?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not even supposed to know that much. You won’t tell, will you? Dad told us to go upstairs and clean our rooms, but I wanted to read my book so I came back down….”

  Fighting to steady himself, Kurt pressed one palm against the wall and closed his eyes. “Maybe I ought to call your dad over there.”

  “You can’t. I heard him say the telephone had been ripped out of the wall. Isn’t that weird? I mean, who would do something like that here? It’s like we’re living in L.A. or something, don’t you think?”

  Pictures of Abby and the kids, hurt or held hostage, whirled through Kurt’s mind. With the realization of how narrowly they’d escaped, nausea rose in his throat. “Is Doug Pierce over there with your dad?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Listen, Sara,” he began shakily, then stopped and forced his voice to a steadier pitch. “Can you find Doug and give him a message for me?”

  “I can’t go anywhere. I’m supposed to stay here and watch the little monsters.”

  “Okay. Where’s your mom?”

  “With Aunt Zelda, I think.”

  Of all places. Sweat dripped from his brow into his eyes and he blinked. Wiping his shirtsleeve across his forehead, he thought quickly. He had to get a message to Doug and find out the details of the break-in. Worst of all, he’d have to carry this news back to Abby.

  Praying that the phone lines would stay up long enough for one more call, he dialed Zelda’s number. On the third ring, Theresa answered.

  “Kurt! I’m so glad to hear your voice.” The line crackled and Theresa’s voice faded out and back in.

  “What’s going on down there?” he shouted over the static.

  “Somebody’s been in Abby’s house. Doug’s over there now and they’ve called everybody in, but whoever it was got away. Are you all okay?”

  “We’re fine. Are there any leads?”

  The line crackled again and he had trouble hearing Theresa’s answer.

  “I can’t hear you,” he said.

  “It’s got to be the kids’ father. Zelda told me somebody claiming to be Abby’s husband came by here this morning looking for her.” Theresa’s voice rose as she shouted to be heard over the interference.

  Sick dread formed a tight knot in Kurt’s stomach. “What did she tell him?”

  The line buzzed and for one dreadful moment he thought he’d lost her, but the connection cleared and Theresa shouted, “…get out of there now. Sara told her you’d taken Abby and the kids to the cabin…”

  “What? Theresa?”

  No answer. The line had gone dead.

  He pounded the telephone with the palm of his hand, as if sheer force could restore the connection.

  Nothing.

  Zelda must have directed Vic to the cabin, thinking she was reuniting Abby with her husband and the kids with their father. Slamming the receiver into its cradle, Kurt raced through the store and out into the rain.

  He fumbled with the ignition, wasting precious seconds trying to get the Cherokee started. He’d known Abby and the kids faced potential danger, but he hadn’t believed Vic would find them here.

  His mind raced with questions as he sped through town and started back up the mountain. How long ago had Vic left Pine Cove? What was he driving? Had he stopped anywhere along the way? Was he armed?

  Had Kurt been wise to insist they go to the cabin? Maybe he should’ve let Abby leave the area as she’d wanted. Would he be able to protect them? And if not—if anything happened to either of those kids—would Abby ever forgive him for bringing them up here? Would he ever forgive himself?

  “DON’T GO any farther away than that,” Abby called as Brody rounded a curve in the path ahead of her. Though she knew they weren’t taking any unnecessary chances, she still felt a little uneasy.

  Michael turned and waved his arms. “Hurry, Abby. We want to go faster.”

  Stepping up her pace a little, she met Michael as he jogged down the path and joined her, his eyes bright, his smile wide. “This is great. I love this place. When I grow up, I’m gonna move back and live here forever.”

  “And I’ll come visit you every summer.”

  “Will you really? I want to build my mom a cabin right next door to mine. Right up by the falls.”

  “She’ll like that.” Abby put an arm around Michael’s shoulders and hugged him to her.

&n
bsp; She’d been right to take the kids on this hike. If they’d waited all day back at the cabin for Kurt to return, they’d have gone stir-crazy. And Abby would’ve done nothing but think about him—and worry—all day.

  She drew in a deep breath of the forest’s earthy scent and reluctantly admitted that, given a few millennia, she might come to like the outdoors. Ferns and greenery of every kind grew out to the path, even over it in some spots. This time, she’d brought her camera along and she intended to get a few close-ups of some of the incredible undergrowth.

  Not far from here they’d seen a small field of wildflowers she wanted to shoot. Attaching her teleconverter lens, she set the F-stop and adjusted the shutter speed. She wouldn’t make the kids wait long—just a few shots as an experiment. Maybe when all this was over, she’d take up photographing nature as a hobby.

  Strangely the shutter speed felt wrong. Too short. She glanced up, wondering whether the sun had gone behind a cloud. What she saw sent a chill down her spine. Instead of the harmless cumulus clouds she’d expected, dark thunder clouds covered the sky. In the distance came a foreboding rumble.

  She removed the lens and put it in her case. “We’d better go back. It sounds like rain.”

  “Can we go just a little farther?” Brody begged.

  “I don’t think we should.”

  Erin shielded her eyes and looked into the sky. “The clouds are so far away.”

  “They don’t look all that far to me.” Abby returned her camera to the case as a gust of wind lifted her hair and rustled the leaves on the trees overhead. If it started to rain the way it had the night they’d arrived, they could be in serious trouble. “No. This is it, we can’t go any farther.”

  Abby didn’t think they’d gone more than a mile or so from the cabin, but it was already dark as twilight, even though a quick glance at her watch confirmed it was still early afternoon.

  Before long, rain slashed at them with the fury of a winter storm; needle-sharp raindrops chilled by the wind assaulted them. Abby dragged her jacket around her camera and tugged the zipper up to her chin. But the cold rain burned her hands and numbed her fingers. She dug her fists into her pocket, only to nearly lose her balance without the steadying use of her arms on the uneven path.

  Within minutes the path turned to mud, slippery beneath their feet and making walking difficult. She felt as if she’d been fighting the storm for an hour. By the time they reached the steepest incline on the path, frustration filled her when she realized what a short distance they’d actually come.

  A gust of wind tore out of the mouth of the canyon, and Abby nearly lost her balance. She had to get the kids inside where they could dry off and change into warm clothing.

  Gesturing for Brody and Michael to go in front, Abby stayed at Erin’s side on the narrow path as they worked their way down the mountain. The sky teemed with rolling gray clouds and wind slashed their faces with pellets of rain. Abby’s hands, exposed to the elements as she hugged Erin to bolster the girl’s flagging courage, had long ago lost their feeling.

  Erin trembled under Abby’s arm, from cold or fear—or both—and Michael’s face, reddened by the wind and rain, had taken on a grim expression.

  Brody radiated anxiety, but he turned and looked at Abby and squeezed her arm, as if sensing her unhappiness. “We’re almost there, don’t worry.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Giving her a quick once-over, he managed a smile. “Yeah, I can see that.”

  In spite of her near-frozen state, Abby smiled back. “I look that good, do I?”

  With a shrug Brody turned away and lunged up another short incline. “The cabin’s just over this hill.”

  “It is!” Michael shouted, “I know it.”

  Knowing they neared the end of their journey gave them all fresh energy, and within just a few minutes they reached the cabin. But when she remembered how low their supply of firewood was, Abby’s heart sank. “We’d better bring in some dry wood from the shed before we go inside.”

  “Okay.” Obviously not as worn-out as Abby, Brody raced off, and Michael followed him across the clearing.

  Erin started after them. “I’m coming, too.”

  With shelter only a few feet away, the cold seemed even more intense as Abby forced herself to follow them. Inside the shed, she quickly stacked firewood into Brody’s outstretched arms and piled a similar bundle into Michael’s. Though she didn’t want to overload them, she didn’t want to have to come back out into this storm in the middle of the night for more wood, either.

  Ducking back outside, the boys started toward the cabin as Abby settled Erin’s load and gathered several large logs to carry back herself.

  Even under the weight of the logs, she managed to catch up with the boys a few feet from the cabin. “Come on, guys. Let’s get inside quickly. I’m freezing.”

  Abby lowered the logs to the porch and drew the key from her pocket. But when she fit the key in the lock, the door creaked open on its own. All this talk about being careful and she hadn’t even made sure they’d pulled the door fully closed when they left this morning.

  She pushed the door open the rest of the way and tried to make out the kerosene lantern on the table. But even in the dim light, she could see that the lantern wasn’t where she’d left it. A cold chill crept up her back. Something was wrong.

  As she turned to the kids, a shadow near the fireplace caught her attention. An alarm screamed its warning in the back of her mind. Something—or someone—was in there. Scarcely daring to breathe, Abby searched the shadows for signs of movement.

  Fear dried her throat and pulsed blood through her veins with a thunderous rush. Panic rose like bile in her throat. “Run!” she shouted, shoving Erin toward the door. “Get out of here!”

  With a crash, the shadow moved and a man lunged toward her. Even in the half-light of the storm, Abby could see Vic’s wild eyes as he swung a gun in her direction. Like a cannon, the barrel of the .357 Magnum loomed into her vision, blocking everything else for a moment. Beside her, the kids froze in place.

  “It’s about time you came back.”

  Anger robbed his face of softness and left him looking ugly. He’d changed since she’d last seen him. Thin almost to the point of emaciation, he still had thick black hair, but now a swatch of graying whiskers cupped his chin. Her heart pounded high in her throat as Abby met his black eyes, and she shuddered at the emptiness there.

  “So you thought you could steal my kids from me.” Crossing the small room in three heavy strides, he pointed the barrel into Abby’s face, then nuzzled it against her temple. “Tell me, what did you think you were going to do? How did you think you’d get away with it?”

  With a clarity of mind that surprised her, Abby watched the gun out of the corner of her eye. So this was it, the moment she’d feared for so long. Funny that she didn’t feel as terrified as she’d imagined. As if time stood still, she waited for Vic’s next move.

  She stood little chance of protecting the children from this maniac without a weapon. She wanted to tell him what she thought of him, or refuse to answer him. But with a certainty she couldn’t explain, she knew he would kill her if she did.

  Though she felt no immediate fear at the thought she might die, the idea of Erin and Michael being at this man’s mercy horrified her. Like a silent film, pictures of them flashed before her and she saw them living empty desolate lives full of despair.

  Vic studied her with his soulless black eyes and prodded her with the gun. Without her, the children had no hope of escape. If she died trying to protect them, Vic would end up with them, anyway. Knowing others might condemn her for giving in, Abby met Vic’s gaze. She’d do whatever it took. She had to remain alive for the children.

  THE WHEELS CHURNED helplessly as Kurt stepped again on the gas pedal, spraying the back window with chunks of black mud. He shifted gears and pressed the accelerator, but the Cherokee refused to budge. If anything, it settled further into the bog.


  Damn! Kurt shoved the door open and jumped out onto the hillside, nearly losing his balance. Gripping the handle, he barely managed to keep himself upright. He struggled up the short incline to the road and searched the landscape. The turnoff to the Warners’ cabin was just ahead, which meant he was less than a mile from home.

  He began to run, praying that Vic hadn’t beat him up the mountain. Rain poured from the sky, and the afternoon light faded steadily as Kurt followed the track through the woods. He’d passed the turnoff to the Warner place before he noticed a deep rut in the mud, slowly filling in with rain.

  Someone else had passed this way not long ago.

  Sweating in spite of the cold, he raced along the tracks left by the other vehicle and wound his way into the heart of the mountains. Driving himself harder than he would’ve believed possible, he ran to the rhythm of his frantic heartbeat.

  He longed for the warmth of the cabin, and the comforting feeling of home he’d felt the past few days. He ached for the reassurance that he’d have it all again, and that he’d be in time to get Abby and the kids away before Vic found them.

  The rain fell more heavily and he pulled the hood of his jacket over his head. Just ahead the road split, and he knew he’d be home in less than ten minutes.

  On a level path now, he increased his pace. Lightning lit the sky and thunder crashed. He followed the road across the valley, running parallel to the deeply rutted track for several feet before he realized the other vehicle had also come this way.

  This fork of the road ended just past the cabin. Nobody else had any reason to turn up here.

  Sick with dread, Kurt tried to reassure himself that the tracks belonged to Howard Warner’s four-wheel drive. But when he reached the cutoff to the cabin and the tracks followed it, his heart plummeted.

  Nearly blind with panic, Kurt pushed himself up the trail. Heavy with moisture, branches hung low over the drive, obscuring his already limited vision. When lightning flashed again, he saw a dark-bodied truck in a narrow clearing out of sight of the cabin.

  Kurt crept off the path and into the trees. He tried to tell himself the truck belonged to someone who just wanted to wait out the storm. But an innocent visitor would’ve parked in the clearing; this truck was purposefully hidden from view.