Race Against Time: A Novel

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  I was already feeling the chill, even through the heavy coat I wore. Before I left, the thermometer read sixty below. So cold . . .

  A twig snapped.

  My head shot up. Was someone watching me? Was that a gun?

  I turned to glance at the bushes. Strange sounds echoed around me, stirring an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  Was there someone out there?

  What if something happened?

  Was this the right thing to do?

  I could feel my fingers digging into the flesh of my palm. Should I go back into the house?

  No. Mom would be safer this way.

  I ran over to the barn and grabbed my sled. I hid it on the other side and stretched out the harnesses. The cold kept most of the dogs in their houses, so after entering the code into the gate, it was easy to grab the closest dogs. Moose, Puffin, Bear, and Eagle wagged their tails at my approach.

  “We’re going on a little trip.” At least you guys haven’t raced yet. But what if the Alaska Wildlife Litter were fast and we didn’t even know it? They’d begun their training. Would it be a loss to Mom? Would she be angry that I took the newest litter?

  I shook my head. How could I be thinking things like that? It didn’t matter who I took. Just so long as I left.

  Soon the dogs were in their harnesses, ready to go. Jumping around giving me their barks of excitement. “Shh!” I grabbed the lead dog’s harness and walked them to the edge of the trail. A glance back at my home showed no lights. Sean’s cabin was all quiet as well.

  I hoped he wouldn’t wake up. Just a little farther. But Puffin whined. She wanted to run.

  “Shhhh! Puffin, be quiet. We can’t wake anybody up.”

  She shied away and whimpered. My heart broke. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed right now. It’ll be okay.” I hope. I patted her head, then climbed onto the sled.

  “All right.” Even though I whispered the command, the dogs took off running.

  Maybe, by some miracle, Mom wouldn’t know I’d left until morning.

  I’d need to find a place to stay. A warm place. A place where no one could find me. But where? How far would the dogs be able to go at this time of night? Would they get tired faster?

  The dogs ran, wagging their tails. Maybe they thought this was just a practice run.

  That was good . . . but then again, if for some odd reason I flew off, they’d go right back to the house. Then I’d get caught.

  At least I had Sasha. She ran beside the sled. Soon she’d need to ride on it though. She couldn’t run all the way to . . . wherever I was going.

  Everything in me wanted to turn back. But I couldn’t. I had to keep going. To keep Mom safe. Sean could take care of her.

  Keep going . . .

  A large cloud passed over head, covering the light of the moon. My gaze shot from one place to another. Everything darkened until it was almost pitch black.

  I shivered. Would it snow? That would cover up our tracks, but how far could we get before the storm hit? Or before it got so bad that we wouldn’t be able to go farther? What would I do then? What if we froze to death? Was I endangering the dogs? And if those murderers came, would they harm them?

  Stop it. I just had to keep going. No matter what.

  I focused on the dogs, on the ground in front of them, but I couldn’t keep out other thoughts. Words drifted through my memory. The things Sean had said to Andie. . .

  God, is that true? Is that why I haven’t felt You close? Was I just so angry that I couldn’t hear Him? Was I not listening?

  “Be still and know that I am God.”

  But what if He wasn’t there? Why was all this stuff happening to me?

  Lord, are You here?

  “He will never leave you nor forsake you.” Was that true? The Bible was supposed to be right . . . most of the time it was.

  No . . . all the time.

  But what if He let me get murdered? What if He didn’t watch over me?

  “When he falls, he will not be hurled headlong, for the LORD is the One who holds his hand.”

  God, is that You talking to me? Or is it just the words I’ve memorized for so long?

  Did He hold my hand? Had He been there the entire time?

  No. How could He?

  I just needed to keep going . . .

  “Don’t listen to Him. You don’t need Him.”

  My fingers and toes lost all feeling.

  Keep going . . .

  The dogs panted. They couldn’t be tired already, could they?

  Snowflakes started to fall.

  Keep going . . . keep going . . .

  Please, keep going.

  * * *

  RICK

  February 3

  Anchorage, Alaska

  4:30 a.m.

  He dialed the number into his cell and hit SEND.

  The receiver was lifted and then dropped. Probably on the floor. A muffled curse. “Yeah?”

  “I’ve got a job for you.”

  Shuffling and more rustling. “Target?”

  “Teen girl.”

  “Fifty thousand.”

  “Understood. But let’s get a few things clear.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We’ve already had a failure. So, before you even make a move, I have to approve the plan. Every detail.”

  “Then it’s up to sixty.”

  “Fine. But let me remind you. Every. Detail. You cannot make a move without the go-ahead.”

  “Deposit the money, then we’ll talk.”

  Click.

  Rick ended the call and dialed another number.

  It rang five times before it was answered. “What do you want? You got any idea what time it is?”

  “How’d you like to make a hundred grand?”

  “Okay, okay, but I don’t like being woke up in the middle of the night.”

  “Well, too bad. It’s urgent.” He laid out his plan. It would take substantial coordination and perfect timing. If only his heart would hold out during the stress of it. “Are you in?”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  “Good. I’ll be in touch.”

  He snapped the phone shut.

  Zoya, where did you go? He’d had someone follow her, but her dogs proved too fast to keep up with on foot. But they’d have to find her.

  Before anyone else did.

  * * *

  ZOYA

  February 3

  Deep Bush, Interior Alaska

  4:47 a.m.

  Tiny snowflakes fell. But they would get bigger. And soon.

  I had to find shelter. But where?

  Shivers crept up and down my spine. It was getting colder. And colder. Always colder. I rubbed my arms. If nothing else, I needed to build a fire. But how could I? We’d need to find shelter.

  I looked around. Tried to find somewhere to stay. Anywhere out of the wind.

  Wait . . . What’s that?

  I called to the dogs, and they turned. A cabin. Out in the middle of nowhere? My brow furrowed. I called the dogs to a stop.

  Why would someone build a cabin way out here? Was there someone inside? What if it was the bad guys? Would they harm me? The dogs?

  I stood. Staring.

  My heart pounded out a consistent rhythm. Each thwump echoed in my ears.

  What if the murderers saw me? What would they do? Or if it was someone else . . . I didn’t want anyone to see me, to know where I was. To know who I was.

  Get inside, Zoya. You’ll freeze if you don’t.

  I blinked. No one was in there. I just had to be brave.

  The dogs barked. But I was too exhausted to stop them. If someone was in that
cabin, they’d come outside to see what was going on . . . right? Yeah. And no one came. So it must have been safe.

  I went up the creaky steps, knees bonking together. My fingers shook as I grasped the handle-like contraption and pushed the door open.

  I looked back at the dogs. Was it safe? What if I went in and someone showed up? Maybe I should just leave. But I couldn’t stay out in the cold. The dogs needed to rest.

  I sighed and stepped inside.

  It was dark. Really dark. I pulled out my flashlight.

  One room. One empty room. Well, empty of people. There was furniture . . . A rough table, a chair, and—

  My heartbeat quickened.

  A fireplace. And logs piled beside it.

  Someone must live here!

  I spun and ran back to the sled. Great! And now whoever lived there would know someone came in . . . I couldn’t stay.

  I put my hand on the sled. Something stopped me. An urging. Prodding.

  Look closer, Zoya.

  I took a deep breath and turned.

  Best take a closer look. But just a quick one. If someone did live there, I most definitely didn’t want them finding me in their home.

  I tromped back up the stairs.

  Deep breath.

  My flashlight clicked back on.

  Yes, there were logs. And furniture. But when I looked closer, I saw something else. Dust. Everywhere. Covering everything.

  No one had been here in a long time. Weeks. Months. Maybe even more.

  My shoulders relaxed and I let out a sigh.

  We were safe.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  SEAN

  February 3

  Naltsiine Kennels

  6:00 a.m.

  Steam covered the bathroom mirror after his shower. Since moving to the cabin, there’d been no more mysterious messages on the mirror. Somehow he had a feeling his father had been involved. His father’s reach circled the globe.

  He shook his head. Forget it. Other things—more important things—deserved his attention. Sean dressed, purpose and promise growing inside him.

  He loved his job. Loved Alaska. Loved the dogs. Loved . . . Anesia.

  The thought took him by surprise. When did his feelings go so deep? He’d admired her, yes. Been attracted to her, yes. But love?

  He wiped the mirror with a towel and stared at his reflection. A smile stole over his features. What was so wrong with having feelings for a woman?

  Not just any woman.

  Anesia was amazing. Intelligent. Beautiful. Driven. Talented.

  Stubborn.

  He shook his head. As he prepared to shave, his thoughts shifted to Zoya. She seemed so troubled. Burdened. Lord, how do we reach her? Cole had told him a little more of the history between Dan and Marc, Jenna’s late husband. Maybe understanding Zoya’s dad would help them reach the sweet, hurting young lady.

  No adult should have to go through what this teen had endured. The world was an ugly place. Sin and its darkness had control.

  Zoya was fighting an inner battle. It was hard enough going through the teen years when everything was stable and happy. But throw in the horrific events of the last few weeks, and fear and doubt could take over. Not to mention all the loss the poor child had suffered.

  She had an incredible relationship with her mom and Jenna and Andie, but with the murder, and shooting, the threats were piling up—

  Wait a minute. Threats. His feet felt glued in place.

  Zoya hadn’t acted right the day before. Could someone be trying to scare her? No. She’d tell Anesia or him, right? Would she? Maybe.

  But yesterday . . . at the time, he’d attributed her skittishness to everything that had happened. But if they caught the shooter, then why was her fear almost palpable?

  Sean went to the kitchen for more coffee. He drummed his fingers on the counter. The thoughts wouldn’t leave him be. What if there really was more to all this? Or was he overreacting?

  Only one way to find out. He’d check on the dogs, and then he’d talk to Anesia and Zoya.

  Mind made up, he threw on his outer gear, grabbed his keys, and headed to the kennel. The dogs barked at him in greeting. A smile split his face even in the bone-chilling cold. He loved the bond he’d built with the beautiful animals.

  His smile was short-lived as he reached the gate. Small footprints and sled tracks led away from the kennel into the forest beyond. Away from the house. Away from town.

  The light snow that had been falling filled up the prints about halfway. That meant it’d been several hours already. His gaze darted around the kennel. Sean’s heart sank. One of the litters was missing.

  Zoya!

  Sean ran across the snow-covered yard to the main house.

  He burst through the mudroom door, not bothering to take off his snow-crusted things. “Anesia!”

  Heart racing, he bent at the waist to catch his breath. “Anesia!” He straightened. “Anesia!”

  She came around the corner and barreled into his chest. Fear filled her eyes. “She’s gone! They’ve taken her! Where’s Zoya?”

  “Whoa. Hold on. Who’s taken her?”

  Anesia pushed off him and wrung her hands as she paced. “She’s been kidnapped. She’s not here! I’ve searched the entire house—”

  “Was there a note? Did you get a phone call?” He gripped her shoulders. Could he have prevented this?

  “No. No note. No call. She’s just gone. I could’ve sworn I set the alarm last night . . .” Her shoulders shook and then tears spilled down her cheeks. “I need to call the police. I was about to dial when I heard you yelling for me.”

  “Some of the dogs are missing.”

  She turned. “What?”

  “I found paw tracks, and sled tracks. And the Wildlife Litter is gone.”

  Her eyes darted around the room. “Sasha! Here, girl.”

  Sean knew the dog wouldn’t appear. She’d be with Zoya—assuming, of course, the girl left of her own free will.

  Anesia sprinted from room to room calling the husky. He followed her and caught her in the hallway. “Anesia. I think Zoya ran away.”

  She stiffened. “Why would she do that?”

  “She’s been deeply troubled lately. Even more so than in the past few weeks.”

  Anesia grabbed the phone. “I’m calling the police.”

  He waited, listening as she gave the police a rundown of the situation. Her voice stayed calm and even until the end of the call. When she thanked the person on the phone, the calm evaporated and her voice broke. She set the receiver in the cradle and stood there, head bowed.

  Sean took her by the elbow. “She’ll be okay.”

  She bit her lip and looked up at him.

  He held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s check her room while we’re waiting on the police to arrive.”

  Anesia took his hand and held on with a vise-like grip. “I can’t lose her, Sean. I can’t . . .”

  “You’re not going to. We’ll find her.” He glanced down at her. Shoulders set. Mouth in a grim line. She’d had to rely on her own strength for so long. Was she giving this over to God? Was he?

  They’d reached Zoya’s bedroom door, but he tugged Anesia to a stop. She met his eyes.

  “Anesia, we need to pray.”

  She didn’t resist as he tugged her close and wrapped his arms around her. “Father, we come to You with heavy hearts. Please protect precious Zoya. We don’t know where she is or what’s happening, but we know that You do. Father, we beg You right now to keep her safe. She’s just a child, and she’s been through so much. Keep us calm and relying on Your strength alone. Amen.”

  For a moment Anesia rested against him. Then she pulled away and headed into her dau
ghter’s room. “Everything looks normal. Like she should come bounding out of the bathroom at any minute.”

  “Why don’t we start searching for clues?”

  “What kind of clues?”

  “Well, why don’t you check her desk, maybe the pockets of clothes she’s worn the past few days. I’ll check the trash can and the bathroom. Can you check her e-mail or Facebook or anything?”

  Anesia nodded.

  They worked in silence for several minutes. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary to him, but he wasn’t a parent, and he definitely didn’t understand teen girls’ habits.

  “Sean”—Anesia called from the closet—“her heavy backpack is gone.” Dread covered her features. “She really must’ve left on her own.”

  “Well, at least that’s some relief. Zoya knows how to take care of herself. We should be thankful she’s not in the hands of kidnappers.”

  “But she’s just a kid, Sean. And it’s been forty below and colder the past few days.” He saw her resilience slip.

  Gripping her by the shoulders again, he turned her to face him. “She’s a good kid. And you’ve taught her well. Looks like she was smart enough to take her pack, so she’s got some supplies. She’s got the dogs. You know Sasha will guard her with her life.”

  She blinked rapidly. Tears standing ready to fall. Then she set her chin. “You’re right. We just have to find her.”

  “We will.”

  She sat on her daughter’s bed, the rigid set of her frame clearly fighting the weight of her daughter’s disappearance. “Why would she leave?” Her voice diminished to a whisper. “I just don’t understand . . .”

  “Maybe there’s a clue here somewhere.” Sean smoothed her hair with one hand and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Let’s keep looking.”

  He left her alone and headed back to the bathroom. Teen girls spent lots of time in them, didn’t they? Well, maybe most teen girls, but Zoya was different. Makeup and jewelry and curling irons didn’t seem to hold any appeal to her.

  He glanced around the room and eyed the trash can. It was full of tissues. Like she’d been crying a lot or had a cold. But Zoya had been healthy. She must’ve hidden her grief and hurt and cried all alone in the bathroom.