He believed in the mysteries of this world, and he also believed there were things beyond human understanding better not dwelled on. But mostly Ben believed his gut when it was telling him something was wrong. And for the last week, it had been telling him something was very wrong in Medicine Gore.
There was evil walking these woods, threatening Emma and Mike and the new life Ben had found with them. They thought Poulin’s coordinates were a drug-drop site, but he felt they were part of something much more ugly. He’d first noticed it two days ago when he’d checked them out himself, and he felt it now, as he stood at the spot they marked.
“A dog would help,” Atwood said from ten feet away, scuffing at the ground with his foot, disturbing years of rotting leaves. “One of those dogs used to search for bodies after disasters.”
Ben turned to the quiet, intelligent detective. “It’s been ten years.”
Atwood shrugged as he continued to walk in circles, scanning the forest floor. “Dogs have remarkable noses.”
“When we get back, call one in. But keep it quiet. I don’t want Emma or Mike to know what we’re doing until we’ve found something concrete.”
“I’ll put Sklyer on it.”
Ben fought the chill that suddenly ran down his spine, hunkering deeper into his parka as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Why don’t you head into town and try to find out where Poulin has disappeared to,” he suggested. “If it looks like he’s really out of town, you may get your chance to check out his room.”
Atwood looked up and grinned. “A little more subtly than your lady did?”
Ben lifted a brow. “I’m assuming you have more experience at that sort of thing.”
“I can get in and out without leaving any tracks,” he drawled as he walked to Ben. “What about the old lady?”
“Emma said Greta was coming out to Medicine Creek this afternoon to start the wedding plans.”
Atwood’s face lit up. “Congratulations. You’re really going to tie the knot?”
“Just as tight as I can.”
He had no second thoughts about marrying Emma and legally adopting Mike. And if the small army he’d brought from New York couldn’t put Wayne Poulin away, Ben was taking his new family to the other side of the earth until this was finally settled. One way or another, he wasn’t letting the evil touch them.
“Go ahead on back,” he told Atwood. “I’m going to hang around a while longer.” He looked at the forest again. “The key to this puzzle is here. I can feel it.”
“We rode out here together. How you planning on getting home?”
Ben shrugged. “I tossed a pack in the truck before we left. I’ll walk back.”
Atwood looked incredulous. “It’s over twenty miles.”
“It’ll give me time to think. And according to the map, those old hot springs are between here and home. I think I’ll stop and check them out.”
Atwood turned wary. “That could be dangerous, what with all the tremors lately. There could be noxious gases escaping.”
Ben started walking to where they’d parked the Suburban. “I’ll be careful.”
Atwood fell into step beside him. “You want me to do any checking on the dam that was blown up fifteen years ago while I’m in town?”
“Leave that to the others. We’ll get together tonight and discuss what we’ve found.” He stopped and looked back at the forest. “My gut says it’s all connected. I don’t know how yet, but I think Poulin had something to do with Charlie Sands’s death and Kelly’s disappearance.”
At the truck, Ben pulled out his pack and the high-powered rifle he’d borrowed from Emma’s gun cabinet that morning. Then he lifted out the small cage that held Homer.
“You’re really getting into this woodsman stuff, aren’t you?” Atwood said with a chuckle.
“When I mentioned to Mike I was coming out here, he asked me to bring Homer with me and let him go. He wants to find out if the bird can find his way back without the benefit of having flown here,” Ben said.
The wilderness did intrigue him, though. More than that, he was beginning to find a contentment he hadn’t known existed.
Atwood shrugged and climbed into the driver’s seat.
Ben settled his pack on his back, and picked up his rifle and Homer. “While you’re in town, find out when the plane will be in. Push it if you have to. I want it here by Thanksgiving.”
Atwood grinned. “A wedding present?”
“Yup. That way she’ll have to accept it.”
“She’s gonna be one grateful bride. The plane you ordered makes the stealth fighter jet look like a relic. It’s got every electronic toy known to man.”
“Every groom deserves a grateful bride, don’t you think?” Ben said as he slapped Atwood on the shoulder. “I’m counting on it.”
Atwood started the truck and drove off. Ben watched the Suburban slowly make its way down the overgrown road, waiting until it was out of sight before he headed back to the one spot in this vast, beautiful forest that seemed to be lacking a soul.
The fall morning was crystal clear, the sun bathing the land with warmth. Yet when he stepped into the realm of Wayne’s coordinates, it was like stepping into a cold, lifeless circle of evil.
Chapter Eighteen
“Beaker, I’m going to step on you if you don’t get out of my way,” Emma warned for the fifth time.
For some mysterious reason, the dog had been glued to her side all morning. She had already given the clinging animal numerous cookies trying to calm him, but now she was feeling ill from eating all the chocolate centers.
With a sigh of defeat, she sat down on the couch and patted a place beside her. Beaker immediately jumped up and laid his head on her lap.
“What’s bothering you?” she asked, scratching his ear.
He lifted only his canine brows and whined.
Emma gave him the attention he needed as she stared into the crackling fire in the hearth. Maybe the dog had caught the mood of the lodge’s other inhabitants. It was like there was a pregnant cloud hanging over Medicine Creek Camps. Heck, even the woods had been rumbling.
The phone rang, and Emma got up to answer it. “Hello.”
“Emmie? Is that you?”
Emma went utterly still.
“Are you there, Emmie? Hello?”
“K-Kelly,” she whispered. “Kelly? Is that you?”
“Hello, sister.”
Emma gripped the phone with both hands. “Where are you?”
“In Bangor. I need you to come see me, Emmie. Right now. Please? I have to talk to you.”
“You’re in Bangor?”
“At the mall. I’ll be at the center court waiting for you. Hurry up.”
“Wait. Kelly!”
A dial tone answered her urgent plea.
Emma stared at the phone until it started buzzing loudly. She finally set it down, though it took her three attempts to put it on the charger because her hands were shaking so much. And still she continued to stare, not seeing anything but Kelly’s face in her mind’s eye.
Kelly hadn’t even asked about her son. Emma’s gaze drifted to the picture on the mantel, of her and Kelly and five-year-old Michael on his first day of school. “What sort of mother doesn’t even ask about her son?” she whispered into the stark silence.
Beaker whined and nudged her thigh. Emma looked down at the dog staring up at her with large brown eyes. “Maybe she’s … do you think she could be scared, Beak? Ten years is an awful long time.”
Emma knelt down to hug the dog, and let out a shuddering sigh. “Here I go again, making excuses for her. But just hearing her call me ‘Emmie’ … I—I guess I should pity her more than hate her.” Emma buried her face in Beaker’s neck. “She missed so much not being here to watch Michael grow up.”
Emma considered stopping at the high school and picking up Mikey before heading to Bangor. He deserved to see his mother, and truth be told, she wasn’t sure she was emotionally strong enough to
face Kelly alone. “No, that wouldn’t be fair to Mikey,” she muttered into Beaker’s neck, stifling a sob. “He deserves this reunion to be right here, in his home, where he’ll have some sense of control.”
Emma finally stood up, brushing away the tears streaming down her face, and took a deep breath. So Kelly wanted to talk, did she? Well, by God, she would talk to all of them, Ben included. She intended to drag her sister back here kicking and screaming if she had to. “Come on, Beak. We’re going for a ride.”
She blindly strode to her truck, and Beaker jumped up on the driver’s seat ahead of her. He stood in her spot, whining, not letting her in the truck.
“I know you don’t want me going anywhere, Beak, but I have to go get Kelly.”
The dog whined, not budging an inch. Emma ended up pushing him over and scooting behind the wheel despite his protests. “If you don’t want me leaving you here, you better hush up and sit down. It’s a two-hour ride.” Emma started the truck and backed it out of the yard, spitting gravel as she headed for the main road.
The dog scrambled to remain upright. “It’s okay, Beak.” She pushed him into a lying position. “That’s a good boy. You like riding. Just relax and watch out the window.”
Emma took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and slowed the pickup to a safer speed. She was contemplating various ways to approach Kelly when she rounded a curve and had to slam on the breaks to avoid running into Wayne Poulin.
Great. Just what she needed right now.
Unless Kelly had called him, too, and he’d been on his way out here to tell her?
His truck had obviously broken down. The hood was up and he hadn’t even gotten it off to the side of the road. He was standing by the driver’s door, his hands on his hips and his beady little eyes narrowed against the dust.
Emma shut off her truck and stared at him through the windshield. A growl rattled low in Beaker’s chest.
She wasn’t getting out of the truck. Wayne Poulin had a two-way radio, just like everyone else, and could call for a tow.
He walked up to her door and Emma rolled down the window just enough to speak to him.
“I need a ride into town,” he said without greeting.
He certainly didn’t sound as if Kelly had called him. “I’m in a hurry, Wayne. And I’m headed in the opposite direction. I’ll send someone back—”
He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a gun, which he aimed at her face. Beaker’s low rumble escalated to a vicious growl as he tried to crawl over Emma’s lap and put himself between her and the danger.
Wayne moved his gun in Beaker’s direction. “Settle him down, Emma, or I’ll shoot him. I’m going to climb in the back, and you’re going to move your truck into the trees to your right. Don’t start it until I’m settled. Understand?”
Holding on to Beaker’s collar and pushing him down in the seat beside her, Emma nodded. Wayne scaled the side of her truck and crouched behind her. Beaker nearly tore her hand off as he strained to face the threat.
“It’s okay, Beak. Take it easy,” she said, watching Wayne in her mirror.
He tapped on the glass with the barrel of his gun. “Start the truck and go slowly,” he said. “Don’t try anything, or I’ll pull the trigger.”
She believed him. She’d never trusted Wayne, and she certainly didn’t doubt the man was mean enough to shoot her or her dog.
The question was, why?
Kidnapping her didn’t make sense, so why was he pulling this stupid stunt?
Emma started the truck and put it in gear, letting it idle its way into the woods.
“That’s far enough. Now shut it off,” Wayne ordered.
She did as she was told and sat there, staring straight ahead, one hand on Beaker to keep him calm. She was afraid that as soon as she opened her door, all hell was going to break loose.
“Now get out.”
Very firmly, Emma commanded Beaker to stay. The dog whined in protest, his hackles still raised, his eyes never leaving Wayne as he moved to her door. Emma opened the door and tried to scoot out and keep Beaker inside.
His gun poised, Wayne pulled her door all the way open.
Beaker lunged.
So did Emma.
The gun went off and she heard a yelp as all three of them fell to the ground. She dove for Wayne just as he was taking aim at her dog again.
“Run!” she screamed, kicking at Beaker as she tried to get the gun.
Wayne pulled the trigger again right next to her ear, deafening her to the point of pain. An outraged snarl erupted from Beaker as he darted for the safety of the bushes. Wayne fired again. There was no yelp, only the cracking of branches as the dog fled.
Emma lay on the ground on her back, holding her left shoulder. She didn’t know which hurt more, her ear or her old wound.
“I’ve got three bullets left, Emma. Give my any more trouble and I’ll use every one of them on you. Now get up,” he said as he hauled her to her feet.
Emma stifled a cry of pain, afraid Beaker would come running back to help her. Wayne kept darting looks at the bushes as he dragged her over to his truck.
“Shut the hood,” he ordered, holding her captive by her hair.
She did as he asked, and he hauled her around to the passenger side of the truck.
“Open it and get in.”
She opened the door, but before she could get in he pushed her down on the seat, spinning her around while letting go of her hair to grab one of her arms.
“Put your hands in front of you.” He darted one more look at the woods, then tucked his gun in his belt. He reached in on the floor of the truck and got a rope and tied her hands together.
“What’s gotten into you, Wayne? Why are you doing this? I didn’t find anything at those coordinates.”
He finished tightening the knot, then glared at her. “I’m taking you out of the equation. Once everyone realizes you’ve run off like your sister, Sinclair will take his kid and go back to New York. Then I’ll finally be home free.”
Take her out of the … “Are you nuts? Nobody’s going to believe I’ve run off! They know I’d never abandon Mikey.”
He used her bound hands to haul her into a sitting position, shoved her feet inside, and pushed the lock on the door but didn’t shut it yet. “They’ll believe it once I start the rumor that Sinclair paid you a tidy sum to disappear so he could have the boy free and clear. And that if you didn’t take the money, he’d ruin your business and take his son home anyway.”
“You’re crazy. No one would believe something like that.”
He laughed insanely. “They’ve believed all the other rumors I’ve been spreading for the last ten years. They’ll believe it, all right, because everyone knows bad blood always wins out.” He stepped back with a twisted grin. “That dress you wore to the dance certainly showed everyone you’re no better than your sister,” he added, slamming the door shut.
Emma drew in a shuddering breath as she slowly lifted her hands to work her sore shoulder. Wayne took a hesitant step toward where Beaker had disappeared, his gun in his hand, the hammer cocked to fire. He waited, listening, and Emma prayed her dog was smart enough to stay hidden. Getting himself killed wouldn’t help her; it would only empower Wayne even more.
He finally gave up and came back to the truck. Without saying a word, he got in, started the truck, and headed away from the main road, deeper into the forest.
Emma slouched down so she could see the road behind them in her side mirror. She hoped Wayne’s first shot hadn’t been deep enough that Beaker would bleed to death. She didn’t see any sign of her dog, her truck … or anything else to say she’d even been there.
Chapter Nineteen
For forty minutes Emma rode in frightened, painful silence beside the man she’d known since childhood.
It was as if something in Wayne had snapped. She had never liked him, but now he appeared to have traveled beyond reality into darkness. He was sweating. His face was flushed a
nd he gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled tension.
It hadn’t taken Emma long to realize where they were going. The bumpy, overgrown track was leading to the coordinates she wished she’d never found.
Wayne was staying off the Golden Road, a private gravel highway used by the paper mill to transport logs. There would be plenty of trucks on the Golden this morning, which was probably why Wayne was avoiding it.
So they were taking the long way, which involved a maze of unused tote roads that made the going slow and arduous, and painful to her throbbing shoulder. The entire right side of her body was bruised from banging against the door, since her tied hands made her unable to brace herself against the rougher spots in the road.
She kept peeking in her side mirror for any sign of Beaker. She didn’t know much about dogs, but she didn’t think they could travel nonstop for great distances, especially wounded. Yet Beaker seemed more remarkable than most. Maybe …
“Who called me pretending to be Kelly?” she finally asked into the silence.
If she’d been thinking with her head instead of her heart, she’d have realized it wasn’t Kelly earlier.
“A friend from Greenville.” Wayne looked over, his smile nasty. “Charlene thought she was setting you up for a surprise party.” He reached over and roughly tugged on her hair. “Surprise, Emma.”
She pulled away, banging her side against the door again. “What’s this all about, Wayne? What did you mean, you’re ‘taking me out of the equation’?”
The rough road drew his attention and she didn’t get an answer. She banged her head against the rifle in the gun rack behind her. A few strands of her hair caught on it, and she barely stifled a whimper when they hit another bump and it pulled the snarl out by the roots.
They finally reached the spot in the road where Emma and Mikey had found the tire tracks almost two weeks ago. Wayne suddenly let loose a curse. Emma followed his gaze and saw that the ground around the mud puddles was wet.
Which meant someone else had been there this morning.
Wayne looked past her to the mountain above, his eyes assessing. He opened his door, grabbed the rifle from behind her head, then hauled her out his door by her bound hands, driving her hip into the steering wheel and pulling on her wounded shoulder.
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