“He’s right,” Josh agreed. “And I’m not waiting another minute.” Rick grabbed his arm, but Josh shook it off furiously.
“Hold on,” Rick urged. “Just think about this a little, and let us all come up with a plan.”
“Listen to him,” Connor said. “You can’t just go charging in there by yourself. Maybe it’s just the kids again, playing a stupid trick. But if they’re serious about this, they could have her under some kind of armed guard.”
Josh took a few deep breaths and tried to think over the pounding of his heart. “Right. Okay. First we need to figure out where she is.”
Allison stepped forward. “I’ll go. I’m small enough to be unobtrusive, and they won’t be able to see my coat in the darkness.”
“My coat’s almost as dark as yours,” Rick protested, but Allison cut him off.
“And I’m half your size. Do you want to waste time arguing about it, or do you want me to go?”
“Go,” Josh said. “Please.”
“She’ll be okay,” Allison reassured him. Then she was off, the door banging closed behind her.
While they waited for Allison, the rest of the family argued about who would go to rescue Hope, how many people they needed, whether they should wait for daylight, and most contentious of all, whether they should be armed. After a few abortive attempts, Josh stopped trying to participate in the conversation and let Rick organize everything. The situation required careful thought, and he was in no state to be careful or thoughtful. Instead, he sat on the couch, muscles tense, envisioning Harry Armstrong face-down in a pile of horse manure.
The two hours between Allison’s departure and her return felt like days, but eventually they heard her gallop up outside. Josh met her at the door.
“She’s fine.” Allison tossed her head of long black hair like she was still in horse form. “They’ve got her in one of the old barns in the north-east part of their ranch.”
“Is she tied up?”
Allison looked serious. “Yes. Harry is there. And knowing him, he’s got a gun.”
“How many people besides Harry?”
“Four of the grandkids, about Harry’s age or a little younger. I’m sure he’s the ‘mastermind’ behind this brilliant idea.”
Despite himself, Josh smiled at her sarcastic air quotes, and the knot in his chest loosened a bit. Hope was okay. And they would get her back.
Chapter Eight
Hope was cold, she was sore, and she was pissed. The barn she’d been brought to was hardly airtight, and the wind crept through the various cracks and holes. The people who’d grabbed her had marched her up to a wooden chair and forced her down on it, tying her at the wrists and ankles, though she thought the chair was so rickety she could break it with a vigorous sneeze. Then they’d left her there, with two people to watch over her, and after what felt like hours, terror was replaced by tedium.
She’d panicked when they’d grabbed her and pushed her into a van that smelled like motor oil. In the first few moments, her mind had tossed out ridiculous suggestions. Ransom! Misguided environmentalists! Satanic ritual!
But two things almost immediately became clear. First, this was no band of highly trained ki
dnappers. Second, she didn’t think any one of them could organize a refrigerator raid.
The three other captors eventually returned to the barn, and they’d had a conference consisting largely of furious whispers. The five of them probably ranged in age from fifteen to twenty-five, but she had a hard time not thinking of them as “kids,” based on the constant bickering they engaged in.
They’d only driven for twenty minutes or so before reaching the barn, so they couldn’t have gone far, and they spent the entire time arguing about where to take her and what to do with her. Eventually they’d settled on this barn, which she’d bet wasn’t anywhere on the Golden Horse. Were these the neighbors Josh said mentioned having trouble with?
Suddenly, a voice rose out of the group.
“Ask her!”
“Ask me what?”
At the sound of her voice, five heads whipped around, as if they’d forgotten she could hear them. One of the boys, somewhere around the middle of the pack in age, stalked over to stand in front of her, kicking up dust and dirt as he went.
“Are you one of them?” he demanded. “Those shifter freaks?”
Hope’s mind raced as she tried to decide the best answer. Judging by the hate in his voice, he had a serious problem with shifters. If they’d intended to kidnap one, it wouldn’t have been for any good reason.