Never Let Go

by Elizabeth Goddard

  She pressed her head into her arms on the table and sobbed.

  Chapter forty-six

  FRIDAY, 10:34 P.M.

  EMERALD M RANCH

  Austin gripped his weapon. While he waited for Heath to return, he’d walk the perimeter of the house. Make sure no one was lurking in the shadows. He couldn’t trust that their stalker would just leave a note this time. Why had his tactics changed? Add to that, they were in Wyoming now. Not Washington. Different state. Different tactics.

  He moved quietly downstairs and checked all the windows. Made sure they were locked. Front door too. The lights were soft on the porch so the ambience of nature wouldn’t be disturbed. Still, anyone approaching could be easily spotted.

  Austin slipped out the back, where someone could be waiting under the cover of shadow in the forest hugging the cabin. Part of him hoped to find someone. Austin could take him down and get answers. End the threat on Charlie’s and Willow’s lives.

  He stood pressed against the back wall of the house. Waiting. Listening. The night remained still except for a breeze that pushed clouds across the dark sky that would eventually bring rain.

  Nothing moved. Not even the forest critters. His sixth sense kicked in—someone was there. He felt it in his bones.

  But the person wasn’t moving either. He knew Austin waited for him. Would he lose him tonight? Was his presence chasing the man away? He readied his gun.

  Where are you?

  A noise drew his attention. Someone approached from around the corner of the house. He hoped it wasn’t Willow. She could have woken up, knocked on his door, and discovered he’d left. He whipped around the corner, pointed his weapon, and was met by a burst of electricity that coursed violently through his body, forcing his muscles to contract. He gritted his teeth through the loss of control. Rigid, his body fell back. On the ground, Austin fought the pain and stared helplessly at the masked man. But Tasers had AFID—Anti-Felon Identification Tags. With each firing, confetti marked with the device serial number released. Cleaning those up would take time, if the masked man even tried. This guy might have just made his first mistake.

  Still, it wouldn’t matter if something happened to Willow.

  Willow! God, please protect her . . .

  The man hovered over him and slammed the butt of a weapon down at him.

  Everything went black.

  Chapter forty-seven

  FRIDAY, 10:46 P.M.

  EMERALD M RANCH

  A shadowy presence filled her dreams. Tugged at her awareness.

  Wake up . . .

  The words startled into her mind. Fear squeezed her lungs, forcing out her breath. She gasped for air and opened her eyes. Something pressed over her lips. A masked face filled her vision. Terror raced through her veins. Jerking her head back and forth, she screamed. The tape over her mouth muffled the sound. Nobody would hear her.

  Help! Help me! God, please help me!

  Heart pounding, she lifted her hands to fight, but stronger hands pinned her wrists with bone-crushing force and placed plastic ties around them. Her strength was no match for him, but she forced space between her wrists as he secured the ties.

  His body weight bound her, trapped her beneath him. A knife glistened in the moonlight an instant before she felt the sting at her throat. Was this it then? He would kill her? Then why tie her?

  His dark eyes remained on hers. The knife was a warning—the same one she thought she’d dreamed about. Saying nothing, he flipped the blanket off while keeping the knife against her throat. A pinprick of pain lanced her neck. Warm fluid ran down the side. He’d drawn blood. His strategy worked. She couldn’t move if she tried to.

  She wanted to ask why he was doing this. All manner of law enforcement would be searching for her. That is, as soon as Austin discovered her missing.

  Austin. What about Austin? What had the man done with him? Her body trembled as hot tears seared across her temples.

  She spotted her duffel bag resting on the chair. That wasn’t where she’d left it. The bag appeared packed. No, no, no. He was going to make it look like she’d left of her own free will. It would buy him time. No one would look for her if they thought she’d left on her own. If only she hadn’t left Austin with the impression that she might leave. In fact, she’d said as much.

  Hopelessness gripped her.

  He hovered near her, preparing to cover her head with a dark cloth bag.

  With her eyes, she pleaded with him—please don’t hurt me. Please don’t do this. What could he possibly hope to gain by taking her? He shoved the bag over her head. Grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder, marching down the stairs with her in a fireman’s carry. What about Evelyn and Austin? Heath? Why hadn’t they heard the intruder? Were they okay? Please, God, let them be okay!

  If Austin was all right, this would not be happening.

  She thrashed against the man’s shoulder, jabbing him with her elbows. Maybe he would drop her. She wouldn’t make this easy for him. But he snatched her before she fell and squeezed her until it hurt, never saying a word. The man walked right out the front door with her. She tried to gauge where they were headed. If she figured correctly, he was putting her in the back of the Jeep. Austin’s rental? This guy had the keys? Her heart twisted.

  Again, she thrashed. Heath! Where was Heath? His dogs. Why weren’t they barking? The man dropped her into the back and closed the hatch. She hit with a thud, the breath rushing from her lungs. She didn’t want to be weak. Had never wanted to crumble under the weight of everything that had happened, but if ever there was a moment to fall apart, this was it. Maybe if she got it out of her system, she could think of a way to escape.

  Sobs racked and choked her.

  Willow let the tears come as the Jeep bounced over the rough drive out of Emerald M Ranch. How could this be happening? Why hadn’t the man simply killed her while she was still in bed?

  His motivation was obvious. Without Willow, Austin would stop his search for Charlie. He hadn’t been hired by Katelyn, after all. Once he figured out Willow had been abducted, then the search would be on for her instead. All eyes would be focused on finding her instead of Charlie.

  That gave her hope that Austin might be down but not out. But then nobody would be searching for Charlie. This man was going to kill her.

  No, no, no, no . . .

  Willow had to escape. She had to find a way out. Get out of these ties. But the Jeep rocked and rolled over boulders, tossing her around in the back. Finally, it stopped, and the man got out. He came around for her. If she remembered correctly, there was a deep ravine—a big drop—along this portion of the drive. Her jaw clenched with utter terror. He was going to throw her off the cliff? She had to get out of this. How am I going to do this?

  Kick him in the face? That’s what she would do. Kick him when he opened the hatch. All she needed was a split second—

  The hatch opened, and he yanked her out before she could react, then threw her over his shoulder like she was already dead. But she was still very much alive and would fight. She twisted and kicked.

  “No! Please, don’t! Why are you doing this?” she yelled. He wouldn’t be able to understand her muffled words, but he would know she was pleading with him.

  It made no difference. He continued his hike.

  Willow wouldn’t make this easy for him. She wouldn’t let the creep toss her over. Heart pounding, she tried elbowing him in the back. He grunted but never let her go. It was no use. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to escape images of the terror that awaited her.

  She hoped the fall would kill her quickly and she wouldn’t be left to die in pain. His footfalls crunched over the pebbled road as he carried her to meet her death. Her breaths came hard and fast.

  He yanked her from his shoulder and dropped her. She expected to freefall but instead hit something hard, pain seizing her back. The smell of stale cigarettes, burning oil, and gasoline accosted her. The slam and latch of a car trunk confirmed that she
was once again in the trunk of a vehicle.

  In the distance, an engine started. The Jeep?

  Trees crashed. Had he sent it over the cliff?

  Her gut tensed and she recoiled.

  He hadn’t tossed her over the cliff. She had a second chance to escape.

  The car she was in started. As the vehicle traversed the rocky path, once again, her body lurched and rolled in the space. Eventually, the ride evened out. He had driven them from the ranch driveway to the forest road and finally to the main highway. That much she could tell.

  Time to get to work.

  First, she had to get out of the ties and then she could free her ankles and remove the bag from her head. She’d been blessed with small hands. The guy had been in too big a hurry when he was tying up her hands to notice she’d spaced out her wrists to give herself room. She hadn’t been able to get it done while in the Jeep, but now maybe she would have time. Willow slowly worked her wrists back and forth until the plastic ties slid off. Yes!

  Then she ripped the bag off her head and the tape off her mouth. It was too dark to see anything or look for something to cut the ties from her ankles. She tried to undo the clasp, but it was no use.

  But she could feel her way around. There had to be something in this trunk. Maybe tools to change a tire could help her cut the ties. She had to free her legs before she bothered searching for the emergency hatch release, if this car even had one. Opening the hatch would do her no good in the middle of nowhere Wyoming if she couldn’t run away.

  The drive had smoothed out considerably and the vehicle accelerated. Where was he taking her?

  Why, God, why? Panic once again squeezed her chest.

  What would JT do? He never would have found himself in this situation, that’s what.

  When her parents died, she was a child. Their vehicle veered off a bridge and into a river, and she kept asking her grandfather why it had happened. JT shook his head and nudged her gently on the chin, then told her, “It was an accident, Willow. If something like that ever happens to you, remember to breathe and calm your mind. Come up with a plan, but don’t take too long. You have to open the window before you hit the water.”

  “Open the window before you hit the water.”

  She had to open this trunk before it was too late. The tires screeched. The vehicle swerved. Metal crunched. Momentum slammed her against the side. Her whole body ached from the impact. What had happened?

  Quiet. Everything was suddenly still and quiet.

  Then a groan . . .

  The man grumbled and cursed, spewing unintelligible words except for one—moose. She didn’t recognize the voice. But it was too late now. He would come for her, and she still hadn’t untied her legs. Her heart raced as the footfalls lumbered to the back of the car.

  “Open the window before you hit the water.”

  Willow positioned herself to greet her abductor feet first.

  The latch disengaged.

  She kicked out with all her strength, flinging open the trunk. Caught him smack in the jaw. No time to waste. She scrambled from the space to see that he lay sprawled next to a boulder. He must have tripped and fallen over it when she kicked the trunk open and into him. He could be unconscious. Or dead. She wouldn’t stay to find out.

  She hopped around the car to find the front end smashed. She wouldn’t be driving her way out of this, but she reached for the keys. Searched for something—anything—to cut the ties on her ankles, all while watching the man closely to see if he got up and came for her. He appeared injured, his right arm hanging oddly.

  She frantically searched the front seat of the car. A knife! Probably the one he’d threatened her with. She grabbed it and cut the ties. She took another quick glance around inside the vehicle and didn’t see another weapon but did spot her duffel.

  I’ll just take that, thank you very much. Along with the knife.

  Willow knew she couldn’t physically engage the man, even when he was injured. She had to leave before he came to—she’d take her chances in the Wyoming wilderness.

  FRIDAY, 11:15 P.M.

  GROS VENTRE WILDERNESS

  Her breaths came fast as she made her way through the woods, hiding behind the spruce and fir trees in her bare feet. She needed shoes. Had he packed those in her duffel? Even if he had, she didn’t have time to search.

  Help me, God! Help me get away. Someone has to live to tell the story.

  Her poor, tender feet. Pine needles and sticks jabbed her, but she had to keep running. She had to live. She had never wanted to see a grizzly bear in these woods, but she wished for one now and that it would charge the man pursuing her.

  A gunshot rang out. Had that been meant for her? She hadn’t seen a gun, but he must have had it on him.

  Willow jostled her way past the trees, low-lying branches slashing her face and body. Darkness engulfed her. Touching the prickly branches and needles, the bark of trees, she felt her way forward as if in a horror flick. She couldn’t see a thing. The good news was her pursuer couldn’t see her either. He couldn’t follow.

  Which way should she head? She was more than lost. But then, getting lost wasn’t such a bad thing if it meant she was safely away from her abductor. Right now it was more important to hide and survive the night. She kept moving between the trees and thick undergrowth until she found her rhythm. Her eyes adjusted to the strange, eerie darkness of the forest beneath a thick canopy as brief slivers of moonlight broke through the clouds. If only she could pick up speed, maybe she could lose this freak.

  His breathing resounded not far behind.

  He was still following her?

  And closing in.

  Fear clawed at her.

  I’m doing the best I can and it’s not enough. Jesus, help me!

  Willow continued until she couldn’t take another step. She leaned against a tree trunk, the rough bark pressing into her back, and caught her breath. She had to keep moving. This was her chance to get free. If she could somehow stop this man, or pull off his mask, then that would solve one mystery—but it was far too dangerous. It was all she could do to make an escape.

  So Willow ran. Stumbled and fell.

  She picked herself up, ignoring the pain in her knees.

  I can do this. If it’s the last thing I do, I can do this.

  His rasping breaths and curses grew distant as she ran. Light glowed in the forest. He’d finally turned on a flashlight. She had to keep moving. Couldn’t let her guard down. But how could she keep up this pace all night?

  Chances were the man would keep searching until he found her, if he could. And if he caught her—well, she could be sure he would kill her this time.

  What felt like hours later, but was probably no more than twenty minutes, she finally lost the beam of light.

  Willow slid down a tree trunk and discovered a hollow. She willed herself partially inside, shoving away images of spiders and creepy, crawling insects. Even though the exertion of her escape had her sweating, the temperature had dropped at nightfall and a chill quickly seeped into her bones.

  In the hollow, she waited until her breaths finally slowed. The utter silence of night in the national forest closed in on her. No croaking frogs or chirping insects. Along with darkness and silence, cold had settled in the mountains.

  Willow waited and listened. She wasn’t sure how far she’d run. He’d followed her for much too long, before the light had disappeared. She hoped he had continued in the wrong direction.

  Stumbled over a cliff. She almost laughed at the thought. Better him than me.

  That fear wedged into her thoughts. She didn’t know these mountains and could have easily fallen into a canyon. But she was safe for the moment.

  Willow fought the tears.

  This was no time to cry or feel sorry for herself. She allowed the fury to fuel her and grabbed the duffel bag. Quietly, she felt for the zipper and opened the bag. No cell phone. No purse. But she did find her hoodie and another pair of sweats. Socks
and Crocs. They would have to do. She was unprepared to face off with the wild creatures of the night or the drop in temperature. But if she had to, she could bury herself beneath the pine needles and leaves to keep warm and hide, and try to forget about spiders or ticks. Creepy insects were the least of her worries.

  With that man hunting her, she didn’t know if she would survive the night.

  Chapter forty-eight

  FRIDAY, 11:30 P.M.

  EMERALD M RANCH

  “Austin!”

  That voice. That familiar voice. It raked up his back and grated across his nerves. Who was it?

  A wet tongue licked across his face, slobbering all over him. His heart lurched. Austin groaned.

  “Austin, wake up.”

  A serious throb felt as though it would crack open his head. He slowly sat up, his hands grabbing grass. Timber and Rufus whined and licked him.

  “Are you okay?” Heath shined the flashlight in his face, igniting more pain.

  Temples fracturing, Austin touched his forehead. “No, I’m not okay.” Images flashed in his mind. “Willow! We have to find Willow.”

  “Slow down. You have a golf-ball-size knot on your head like someone pistol-whipped you.” Heath assisted Austin to his feet.

  The ground moved beneath him. He pressed his hands against the house. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “Heath!”

  “The dogs found you.”

  Images flashed. “He was here, Heath. He got the best of me.” Grief and shame twisted together in his gut. “He used a Taser on me, then must have coldcocked me. See any confetti? We could track the serial number back to the device’s owner.” Austin searched his person, then the ground. “Where’s my gun?”

  Heath flashed his light around. “I don’t see markers or your gun. I’m sorry I didn’t get back sooner. Charlie texted, so I turned around. It takes a while to get up that trail, especially at night, so I took it slow and easy. I put Boots away, but the dogs took off running. They found you. Otherwise I might not have noticed anything was wrong except for . . . well . . . the Jeep is gone.”