by Sharon Sala
* * *
Tate was flying down the dirt road as fast as the SUV would go when Cameron began pointing at the fencerow.
“Turn right! Turn right where the fence is down, and hurry. They stopped again. This is it!”
Wade was still relaying directions to the police as Tate shot through the opening. It was obvious someone had driven through recently; the knee-high grass had been flattened into two distinct tracks.
In the distance they could see the rooftop of a barn, and in that moment Cameron realized Inman had never wanted her to be found. He was so damned scared he couldn’t catch his breath.
* * *
The sun was warm on Laura’s face. If she hadn’t been running for her life, it would have been a beautiful place to be. But running in the overgrown field was like running through quicksand. The grass and weeds kept wrapping around her legs and tugging at her clothing like a little kid who didn’t want to be left behind.
The first time she fell, she lost her breath. She was belly down and staring straight at a rabbit who was obviously as startled as she was. With no time to waste, she pushed herself to her knees, frantically gasping for air. By the time she got up she was in a panic. She looked back toward the barn, certain she would see the van coming for her, but it looked as abandoned as she felt. She started running again, but off the path into deeper grass, getting farther and farther away and closer to a band of trees.
One moment she was running, and the next thing she knew she was rolling and tumbling head over heels down a slope. She landed with a thump in a dry creek bed and didn’t get up.
* * *
Hershel opened his eyes, convinced his brains were in the dirt beneath his head. He’d been so sure he’d killed her, and instead she had killed him.
He was flat on his back and looking up at the rafters just as he and Louise had looked up at the sky while trapped on the roof of their house. But then she’d died and rolled off when he wasn’t looking. It would have been so simple if he’d died with her. He should have. Why didn’t he?
It’s over.
For once the sound of her voice was a comfort.
“Yes, Louise. It’s over.”
You will not kill again in my name.
Tears ran from the corners of his eyes, or maybe it was blood. It was difficult to tell.
You know they’re going to find you now.
Pain rolled through his body, and then he felt another kind of pain. He turned to look and saw a rat chewing on his hand. He doubled up his fist, and the rat skittered away.
“That fucking hurt!” he yelled, then closed his eyes as he rode out a new wave of pain.
When he opened his eyes again he saw the noose swaying right above his head, back and forth, back and forth, and before he knew it he was caught in the hypnotic motion. All he kept thinking was that it was supposed to have ended a life. It was a shame to let it go to waste.
He rolled onto his side, then made it up on his hands and knees before dropping his head, too sick and dizzy to move farther. But he kept telling himself he couldn’t quit now. He was tougher than this. It was the height of irony that he’d lived through a flood, an explosion and a tornado only to come to his end in such an ignoble fashion.
Gritting his teeth against the throbbing bone-deep pain in his head, he crawled to his van while the barn turned circles around him, and then managed to stand upright. He could hear sirens now. No time to waste. All he needed was the step stool.
He took a few staggering steps toward it, then stopped and threw up. By the time he was through, the sirens were louder, closer. He made another try at the step stool, and by the time he reached it, he was about to faint. He was seeing everything in triplicate, and finding it harder and harder to catch his breath. The sirens were screaming now, but it was okay. There was no breath left in him to scream for himself.
He pulled the step stool squarely beneath the noose and crawled on it, then stood up and made a last-moment grab at the rope to keep from falling. The barn was spinning faster as he pulled the noose over his head, settling it firmly around his neck.
The sirens tore holes in the air, shattering his concept of up and down. He closed his eyes and jumped just as the stool fell out from beneath his feet.
* * *
Tate drove past the broken foundation and the standing chimney toward what was left of an old barn.
Cameron had his gun out and his hand on the door when Wade pointed.
“There’s a vehicle inside the barn!”
Tate hit the brakes, bringing the SUV to a stop a few yards back.
The state police were only seconds behind them, but they’d lost Inman twice already. Tate wasn’t waiting.
“Fan out!” he ordered as they hunkered down in the grass to take cover and headed toward the barn in a crouch.
Cameron was less than twenty yards out when he caught a glimpse of something dangling from the rafters and stopped. The image was both startling and unexpected. If Inman was dead, then where was Laura? What the hell had he done to her first?
He started running, calling her name.
Wade saw him and yelled out, “Cameron! What the hell?”
“Inman’s dead,” Cameron said.
The state police cars came over the hill with lights flashing. The high-pitched sirens sent birds into flight and animals into hiding as the trio entered the barn in a state of shock. After all of the grief and chaos Hershel Inman had caused, they would never have imagined the chase would end this way.
“He took himself out. Never saw that coming,” Wade said.
Cameron was running through the barn, searching the granaries and behind every pile of junk, shouting Laura’s name, but she didn’t answer.
Tate spun on his heels and ran back to their SUV to get the iPad.
A half-dozen police officers swarmed inside with their weapons drawn. It didn’t take long to figure out that they were still missing a victim, and when it appeared Inman had taken her location to his grave, they started searching through his van for clues.
Cameron’s emotions were buried. The only thing on his radar was finding Laura. One way or another, he was taking her home.
He was about to climb up into the loft when Tate came running back into the barn.
“Cameron. Stop! Stop! She’s not up there. Look at this!”
Cameron jumped down with a thud and grabbed the map. The blip was still there and motionless, but the location was off. Somehow she had moved since he’d looked at it last.
He ran outside with the map as the others followed. The pastureland in front of them was knee-high with brush, grass and weeds. According to the map, she was in there somewhere.
He thrust the iPad into Tate’s hands and pointed. “She’s out there somewhere! Fan out!”
Tate tossed the iPad in their car as he went past and then headed into the brush with the others. They were moving in tandem and only a few yards apart when Cameron began calling Laura’s name.
* * *
Laura came to with the side of her face in the dirt and both arms flung over her head, obviously an unconscious attempt to break her fall. She rolled over onto her back, and the first thing she thought of was Inman. Was he looking for her now? Where was Cameron? Why hadn’t he found her?
She felt for the necklace and when she realized it was gone, she sat up in a panic. If she lost that, he lost her.
She remembered feeling it between her breasts when she’d swung the crowbar at Inman’s head but had no memory of it since. She saw the crowbar a few feet away. She must have dropped it when she fell. She crawled over to pick it up, and as she did, she saw something shiny in the dirt and rocks beneath.
It was the necklace!
This meant she hadn’t lost Cameron after all.
The clasp
was broken, but the cross was still there. Her hands were shaking as she put the necklace in the pocket of her jeans, then began to climb up the slope.
She was clinging to tree roots on the steep edge of the drop, trying to get a better footing, when she began to hear a voice.
Someone was shouting!
She slid backward down the slope and hunkered down at the bottom, her heart pounding. It must be Inman, furious that she’d gotten away and in a rage to find her.
When the shouting got louder, she knew he was coming closer. She jumped to her feet, looking down the creek bed, then up the other way. Should she run, and if she did, which way should she go?
She was poised to bolt when the words became more distinct, and this time she recognized the voice. It was Cameron.
“Here! I’m here!” she screamed, and then started to climb.
* * *
Cameron froze in midstride and raised his arm, his hand open, the universal signal for stop.
“Stop! Everyone stop! I think I heard something!” He yelled again, “Laura! Where are you?”
“I’m here. I’m here!”
“Keep yelling!” he shouted, and started running.
“Don’t fall. I’m down here, but I’m coming up.”
The men began moving forward at a lope, relieved that this was a rescue in progress and not a retrieval.
She was halfway up the slope when she heard noise above her and looked up. Cameron was on the ridge. Before she could call out, he was on his way down, running and sliding until he caught up with her. He rolled over on his back and took her with him, holding her tightly in his arms.
He couldn’t talk without crying, and she couldn’t quit crying long enough to talk. All that mattered was that she was safe. Twice she’d been lost, and twice he had found her. She didn’t ever want to be lost from him again.
Twenty
The wedding day—September 28
Sarah had been home for two days, helping Laura with the final preparations, but time had gone all too fast. If there were details left undone, they would have to stay that way. The day was cold but clear. The church was packed, and Laura’s phone was vibrating all over the table behind them. Who knew Cameron Winger would have turned into such an anxious groom? Did he honestly think, after all they’d been through, that she wouldn’t show?
Laura glanced at the phone and smiled.
“Poor Cameron. Sarah, honey, hand me the phone—again—will you?”
Sarah stopped buttoning buttons long enough to pass the phone over, muttering as she went, “Dear Lord, Laura! How many little satin-covered buttons are there down the back of this dress?”
“I believe there are fifty,” Laura said.
Sarah looked up, her mouth slightly agape, as Laura winked at her and smiled.
“It’s all about taking it off, not putting it on,” Laura said, and then held up her finger as she answered the call. “Hello, my darling. I’m still here.”
Cameron frowned. “I knew that. I was just checking to make sure you have everything you need.”
“As soon as I have your ring on my finger I’ll be perfect,” she said softly. “I love you. Be calm. Everything will be fine.”
“I love you most,” Cameron said. “The pastor is here. He wants to know if—”
“It’s all these buttons,” Laura said.
There was a long moment of silence, and then she heard him clearing his throat.
“Buttons? There are buttons?”
“Yes.”
“A lot?”
“Yes.”
“Lord.”
“Ten minutes, tops,” Laura said.
“Got it,” he said, and hung up.
“Just a few more to go and we’re done,” Sarah said.
Laura couldn’t quit looking at the dress. She’d fallen in love with it the moment she’d tried it on. The slender line and lack of lace and ruffles was so her. A sweetheart neckline revealed just enough of her curvy breasts to be enticing and still demure. There was a slight flare at the hemline for easier walking. Sarah said it looked as if she had been dipped in white satin, then set out to dry.
There was a slight knock at the door, and then her bridesmaids, Nola and Jo, slipped inside.
“Oh, my stars, you look beautiful,” Nola said softly. “Here, I have your ‘something old.’ Sarah said it’s a handkerchief that belonged to your mother.”
“There,” Sarah announced, and stepped back. “The buttons are done, and the ‘something new’ is the garter she’s wearing.”
Jo kept watching Laura’s face. After all she’d been through the past few weeks, Laura’s expression of calm and stately peace was surprising. Laura Doyle was small, but inside she was an Amazon of a woman, and no one could deny it.
“I have your ‘something borrowed,’” Jo said, and handed her a white leather version of the New Testament to carry with her bouquet.
“And I have your ‘something blue,’” Sarah said as she put tiny blue topaz earrings in Laura’s ears. The color perfectly matched her eyes.
“Are you going to leave the necklace on?” Jo asked, eyeing the little cross dangling between Laura’s breasts.
“I’m here because of that necklace. It stays,” Laura said.
“Then all you need is a penny in your shoe,” Jo said.
Laura lifted the hem of her dress, revealing the heels she was wearing.
Jo gasped. “Are those Jimmy Choos?”
“Yep. Got a penny?”
Jo slipped the brand-new coin into the side of the shoe. Laura dropped the hem.
“You are so good to go,” Laura said.
“We need the flowers,” Sarah said, and dashed over to the table and began distributing bouquets. “What about the boutonnieres for the men?” she asked.
Nola smiled. “Tate’s all over that.”
Sarah handed Laura her bouquet, then leaned in and kissed the side of her cheek.
“I wish you and Cameron the best long and happy life ever, little sister.”
Laura caught her sister’s gaze. There were tears in Sarah’s eyes, and Laura swallowed past the knot in her throat. They were both thinking about their parents, and wishing they were still there to share this day.
“Thank you, Sarah.”
Her phone started vibrating again just as she turned around.
She rolled her eyes and laughed.
“Someone open the door and get me to the altar before Cameron has a stroke.”
* * *
“Give me that phone,” Wade said, then took it from Cameron’s hand and laid it aside. “Just got a text from Jo. It’s time, man. It’s time.”
Cameron bolted toward the door.
Tate put a hand on his shoulder and smiled.
“Walk, don’t run.”
Cameron stopped, then took a deep breath and started over.
He opened the door and stepped aside for them to go first.
“Let’s do this,” he said.
The pastor was waiting for them in the hall. He lined them up in the order they would enter the sanctuary, and then smiled.
“Gentlemen, if you would please follow me.”
They walked into a church filled with their friends and coworkers, and went to stand before the altar.
Cameron’s heart was pounding. His eyes kept tearing up, but he loved Laura too much to care who saw him cry. When the music began playing, they turned to look up the aisle toward the doorway.
Nola was the first to come down the aisle, holding a single white rose tied with a thin silver ribbon. The bridesmaids’ gold silk dresses had been draped to fit their bodies in a soft, clinging style.
Jo came next, and the tiny bulge of her belly beneath the dress made th
e moment all the more poignant.
As maid of honor, Sarah was next, and the gold fabric of the dress was a perfect foil for her sleek blond hair. She walked with a bounce in her step and a smile on her face, happy for her sister’s joy.
And then the music changed and everyone turned to look up the aisle.
The ache in Cameron’s chest swelled as Laura appeared, resplendent in white satin with a bouquet of white roses clutched against her waist. Her long hair was piled high atop her head, with tiny tendrils falling down around her face and neck.
She looked so beautiful and so alone, standing at the end of the aisle without her father on her arm. Instead of waiting in place with the groomsmen, he took two steps forward until he was standing in front of the pulpit, and then held out his hand.
* * *
Laura had sailed through this day without a qualm until she saw Cameron standing at the end of the aisle. Tears came as the music swelled, and when he held out his hand, she started down the aisle, moving closer and closer to the rest of her life.
* * * * *
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin ebook. Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
ISBN-13: 9781460340226
Going Gone
Copyright © 2014 by Sharon Sala
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.