“We understand, sugar. But we’ll miss you bunches.”
Both Cynthia and Skyler gave her one last hug and told her to keep in touch.
When her friends went back into the auditorium, Marti slid the handle of her tote over her shoulder along with her purse, grabbed the handle of the portable easel, and turned toward her car. In her dream world, she was basking in the feeling of joy over the words Daniel had said about her. He had stood up for her. But that’s all it was—a dream.
By the time she reached the car, the noise from the auditorium had faded, and she realized how alone she actually was. The hairs on her arm stood to attention.
“Stop being so paranoid, Marti. Zach was your stalker, remember?”
Nervousness worked its way into her heart, and she glanced around her—still not able to shake the feeling that someone was watching her. She fumbled for her keys and tried to find the key that opened the lock. When she realized she had pulled out the ring containing her apartment keys, she scrambled in her purse again for the set of rental keys.
A couple of steps shuffled behind her.
Terror made her heart race and circled in her throat, making it hard to breathe. Before she could turn around and see who was behind her, a hand slipped around her face and pressed a cloth over her nose and mouth. She was pulled against a hard body, and her arms were pinned to her side.
She tried to scream, but the cloth muffled the sound. Even as she kicked and struggled, a sweet smell infiltrated her lungs and everything around her gradually faded into nothing.
SIXTY-ONE
GERALD SAT FOR A LONG time on the hay after Brent and Amber pulled out in the police cruiser. He felt as if his world had been turned upside down. How could he live with the pain he had caused others? He leaned against the barn and closed his eyes. The warmth of the sun caressed his face while he tried to pray.
“Lord, this is something I can’t handle by myself. If all these things are true, then Mary took Marti’s baby and left her with one that . . . Please, Lord, help them find the proof they need, and help us show Marti the love we should have shown her three years ago.”
Gerald stood up and walked around the exercise path he created for the horses—his mind trying to grasp all the ramifications if these facts were true. Marti’s baby was alive and being raised by Veronica and Shane. What about the other accusations Mary had made? Horrible memories exploded in his thoughts of things he and Daniel had accused Marti of on the day she left the ranch.
He had to find Marti. He couldn’t tell her what he’d heard until he knew the facts, but he wanted to make sure she knew she was loved and wanted. Daniel might not remember his love for Marti, but Gerald remembered how much she had loved Daniel and how happy she had made him. They were meant to be together and would be together still if evil had not stepped through the door.
Gerald walked back toward the barn and entered the tack room door. When he stepped inside the door, he heard a voice coming from one of the stalls at the end of the aisle.
Was it Daniel?
He turned toward the door that opened into the walkway between stalls when the voice became louder.
“I said I got her. She’s tied up in the old equipment shed down by the river. I tied her to some old well pipes buried in the ground. There’s no way she can get loose.”
Gerald froze.
“Nobody saw anything. I grabbed her as she was packing up her car after the auction. No one else was in the parking lot.”
There was a pause in the conversation, and Gerald strained to hear the rest.
“I said, where are the gas cans? The ones behind the shed only held a drop or two. I’m at the stable. Okay. I’ll check. As soon as I find them, I’ll start the fire. The wildfire’s already burned close to that shed, so it’ll look like it all burned at the same time. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”
Gerald heard the man close his phone. Footsteps came toward the tack room. Gerald ducked behind the wooden shelf containing salt and mineral blocks and bent low to the ground. His heart was racing.
He heard the outside door of the barn creak open and slam.
Gerald remained still—afraid to move in case the man was still in the stable.
Who was he? His voice was too low to recognize, but it sounded vaguely familiar. And, were they talking about Marti? She had been at the art auction. What was it he had said . . . she was tied in the equipment shed? And he was starting a fire?
Suddenly, all the things Marti had tried to tell him came to mind—the truck following her from Tennessee, the intruder smothering her in bed, the arrows, the bomb—it all made sense now. Brent said Zach couldn’t be her stalker, but someone was trying to kill her. Was it because of Chris?
The reason didn’t matter. He had to find Daniel. He had to get help.
He reached for his phone, but it wasn’t in his pocket. He must have left it in the office. Adrenaline pumped through his legs as he rushed around the shelf to get to the office. In his eagerness, his shoe caught on the corner of the shelf, and he tripped. His ankle twisted, and he fell headlong into a row of wheelbarrows propped against the wall. Twisting his body to avoid a hard fall into the wheelbarrows, he glanced off the first wheelbarrow and slammed against the cement floor. The wheelbarrows toppled like dominoes into the wooden shelf. He turned in time to see the shelf teeter and slowly fall toward him. Mineral blocks sprinkled around him and fell like thuds on his unprotected body. When the shelf was emptied of its contents, it too fell forward and landed in a burst of agony on his legs. Gerald cried out in pain and felt blackness closing in around him.
“Lord, help,” he whispered before he lost consciousness.
SIXTY-TWO
BELLS WERE RINGING IN HER head, and when she moved the bells turned into trumpets. She tried to rub her forehead with her right hand, but it felt lethargic and heavy. A hard cold metal strained against her wrist.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
What she saw made her gasp.
A steel chain was wrapped several times around her hands and connected to another chain binding her ankles together. She could only move an inch or two. The end of the chains holding her was wrapped around a metal pipe that disappeared down a hole in the middle of the floor. The floor underneath her head was dirt, packed with age and as hard as the chains. Waves of panic pounded through her temples, and she fought the sick feeling churning in her stomach.
Someone had brought her here and left her to die. She remembered a voice—a low raspy growl she had heard before—in the alley. The same man had made good on his threat to kill her if she returned to Texas. And, no one could help her. Sweat popped out on her forehead even as a cold chill paralyzed her body.
The realization hit her in the pit of her stomach. No one knew where she was, or probably cared. Gerald was at the ranch. Skyler and Cynthia had long ago said their goodbyes. Veronica could care less, and Daniel . . . Daniel would probably be happy to have her absent from his life—finally.
Tears bubbled up in her eyes and blurred the shivering shaft of light coming in from a crack in the roof. She had run from this man for years. She’d have to run no longer. It was over. Her struggle to win Daniel back. Her fight against evil in the world. Her fight to survive. It was finished.
“God, please forgive me for turning from you. Please forgive my lack of faith. Help me die quickly, Lord.”
When she said the words out loud, shame raced through her. Her words sounded so childish, so weak, so pathetic. She was giving up without a fight. The Lord promised His strength in her weakness. Anger fired through her veins.
“Okay, Lord. I’ll trust You. I can’t even move, much less get out of here, but I know You can help me. Please send someone, Lord.”
How long had she been here? Had anyone missed her yet? Surely someone would notice her absence if nothing but as the absence of an irritation. She closed her eyes and prayed silently until she heard a cracking sound outside. Maybe someone was riding by.
“Help! I’m in here! Please help me!” she cried.
More scraping came from outside the shed. Thoughts of her attacker coming back to finish the job ran through her head, and she grew quiet. Listening.
Scratching sounds against the wooden walls sounded faint, but distinct. Could it be some kind of animal? Another kind of fear coursed through her veins.
She lay still and searched the base of the walls around her. The light was dim and made it hard to see, but there was no small foot digging under any of the walls. A silent, hopeful breath escaped her parched lips.
The sounds grew quiet until suddenly, a loud thud banged against one outside wall, then another. Through the crack under the wall beside her, she saw boot-clad feet walking back and forth from the woods to the shed. Should she cry out? Should she beg for her life? Indecision tore her apart. The wrong choice could cost her life.
Each time the feet came back to the shed, there was another dull thump. She saw a small branch poke through the hole at the base of the wall. Someone was piling up branches outside the shed.
While she waited, trying to decide what to do, a strong stench reached her nose—the pungent sharp smell of gasoline.
A flame of fear ripped through her. She looked out under the crack in time to see the whoosh of a fire. Terror made her faint. She strained on the chains.
“Please! Let me out! Please,” she cried. Tears rolled down her cheeks and made silent plops on the hard dirt. She watched in horror as fire raced along the bottom edge of one entire wall and crept along the wall toward the door.
No, not the door! There’s no other way out.
“Lord, please help me. I am weak, but You are strong.”
Smoke began to filter through the cracks of the old shed, and her nose burned with the strength of the smell. The fire had reached the door and whooshed across it to the other side of the wall.
In panic, she watched as the fire crept toward the last wall of the shed. Smoke was filling the building and reached its tendrils toward her. As much as she could, she covered her mouth with her shoulder and tried to have faith. God would save her if it was His will. If it wasn’t, she prayed He would be merciful.
A single whiff of smoke penetrated her covered lips, and she coughed uncontrollably. The acrid smell stung her eyes and her throat, and her stomach rebelled against the smell of smoke entering her lungs.
“Lord, please help me.”
SIXTY-THREE
DANIEL JUMPED OUT OF HIS Chevy diesel truck and glanced around. His father’s truck was still in the garage. Why hadn’t he made it to the auction? And where was Marti’s car? She’d left the auction, but no one knew where she’d gone.
He turned toward the pathway from the garage and crossed the yard toward the barn. Maybe his dad was having trouble with one of the horses. He’d check in the barn and see if one of the stable hands knew anything.
The door to the office was closed, but he yanked it open and peeked inside. Max sat at the computer. The horse roster was spread out in front of him, and he was entering the new information concerning each horse into the computer.
“Hey, are you checking the immunization records for the new mares?”
“Yeah. I’m almost done. Mr. Gerald wanted it done by the end of the week.”
“Speaking of my dad, have you seen him today?”
“Yes, sir, I saw him this morning. He was vaccinating some of the foals in the next pasture.”
“You haven’t seen him this afternoon?”
“No, sir.”
“If you see him, tell him I’m looking for him. He was supposed to come into town for the art auction, but he never showed up.”
Max leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, he asked me this morning if I’d like to go along, but I forgot. He was right excited about seeing Marti’s painting. It’s odd he didn’t show up.”
Worry built up in Daniel’s thoughts. If Gerald asked Max to go with him, it wasn’t like him to forget, and it certainly wasn’t like him to ignore something important either. “I’m going to take a look in the barn. If you see him, call me on my cell.”
“You got it.”
Daniel hurried to the barn and through the stalls where the new horses were stabled. He checked each stall carefully and made sure his father hadn’t fallen in the hay out of sight. There wasn’t a sign his father had even been in the barn. The feed troughs were empty. He turned toward the storage room.
When he opened the door, chaos met him. The shelf was pulled over onto the floor, and the contents were spread everywhere. Bottles of topical hoof treatment were piled in a heap, and the fluid leaked out of several bottles. He reached to pick up one of the leaking containers, when his eyes caught a glance of a boot under all the supplies.
Worry shot through him as he ran to the barn door and yelled, “Max! Come here!” Hurrying back to the mess on the floor, Daniel began tossing salt blocks into the corner—out of the way. Slowly the boot became more visible, and his stomach sank—a cowboy boot. A hollow moan came from somewhere under the pile of supplies.
“Dad?” His actions became frantic as he jerked on the heavy shelf. It didn’t budge.
Another moan—louder than the first—escaped from his father’s throat. “It’s okay, Dad. I’m here. Just be still. I’ll have you out in a minute. Max, get in here!”
Max slid around the corner into the room. “What happened?” he puffed out.
“I don’t know. Help me lift this shelf.”
Daniel and Max strained to lift the shelf up and over to the side. After the shelf was out of the way, they worked together to move the heavier bags of feed.
“Call 9-1-1, Max,” Daniel said. “Dad’s going to need an ambulance.”
Max left the room to make the call. Daniel pulled salt blocks, paper towels, and plastic bottles of soap from off the top of his dad. “Dad? Can you hear me?” His words were tight with panic. Daniel knelt beside his father’s head. Gerald was lying on his back, his eyes were closed. His leg was twisted at an odd angle. “Dad, can you hear me?”
Gerald’s eyes opened slowly. His pupils looked even but dazed.
“Son . . . Marti—”
“It’s okay, Dad. Max is calling 9-1-1.”
Gerald reached up and grabbed Daniel’s arm. His grip was surprisingly strong. “Marti . . . help Marti.”
“Marti doesn’t need help, Dad. You’re the one who needs help. The ambulance is on its way.”
“No, Daniel. He will . . . kill her.” Gerald dropped back and struggled for breath.
“Who are you talking about, Dad?”
“Marti . . . help Marti. Equipment shed . . . fire.”
Daniel struggled to understand. What was his father trying to tell him about the equipment shed? Was Marti at the old shed? His dad must be worried about the wildfire.
“First let me help you, Dad. Then I’ll check on Marti, okay?”
“No, Daniel. Leave . . . me. Go to Marti. He’s going to . . . kill her . . . build a fire. She was right.”
He felt like ice water had been thrown in his face. “Someone is trying to kill Marti?”
Gerald nodded jerkily. “Help her, son.”
Max ran back into the room. “The EMT’s are on their way, Daniel.”
Gerald pushed Daniel’s hand. “Go!” He had a panicked look in his eyes.
Daniel stood up. “Max, take care of him. I have to go check on Marti. My dad says someone’s trying to kill her at the equipment shed. I don’t know if he’s talking out of his head or if there’s something to what he’s saying, but I’m gonna check it out. Call the sheriff. When the ambulance leaves with my dad, get the sheriff to come out to the old shed.”
“Yes, sir. Don’t you worry none. I’ll take care of your dad.”
Daniel ran to his truck. As he backed the truck down into the barnyard, he saw the tip of a red ax handle propped against a tree where one of the men had been splitting firewood. He jumped out of the truck, grabbed the ax, and threw it into the back of
his truck on top of a pile of log chains. He barreled down the gravel road toward the back forty acres as fast as the gravel would permit. About a mile from the equipment shed, he saw dark gray smoke billowing into the air. It was too concentrated to be the widespread smoke of the wildfire.
Fire! There was a fire. His dad was right.
Sweat popped out on his forehead, and he pushed the gas pedal to the floor. His heart sank as he sped to the scene. If his dad was right, Marti was in the shed. Was someone really trying to kill her? She had tried to tell them someone had been stalking her, but they wouldn’t listen.
In spite of the unsettling way she made him feel, he cared for her. Her sweet, innocent personality had worked its way under his skin. He fought the attraction, but he couldn’t deny one was there. Guilt raised its head. He shouldn’t be thinking about another woman when he and Veronica were getting married in a week.
When he turned the last curve, his heart pounded. Flames rose high into the sky above the shed, and the wall that contained the only door was completely engulfed and hidden by flames and smoke. Marti’s car was parked outside the engulfed building, and the driver’s door stood wide open.
“God I don’t remember ever praying to You, but I could sure use some help now. Marti loves you, God, so will You please help me find her?”
He rushed out of the truck, grabbed the ax, and headed toward the inferno.
SIXTY-FOUR
EVEN AS MARTI TRIED TO have faith that God would send someone to rescue her, she heard a pounding on the only wall not consumed by fire. The ground shook with the force. She saw a small hole splinter at the base of the wall. With every crash, the hole opened a little more. Through burning and teary eyes, she watched a man force his way through the opening. An old rag was tied around his face, and his other hand held an ax. When he saw her, he rushed to her side and dropped to the floor beside her.
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