Her pistol was in the zippered pocket of her jacket. The one thing she didn’t have was her cell phone. She’d left it in the hotel room with her work clothes. That ruled out any chance she might have to call for help.
They’d gone about five miles up the highway when John’s phone rang again. Without slowing the Jeep or checking the caller ID, John snatched the phone out of his pocket. “Boone?”
“What in heaven’s name is going on?” Marlena’s shrill voice carried to Emma’s ears. “David hasn’t come home yet. He’s not answering his phone. I’m worried sick. Is he with you? Tell me the truth!”
“He’s not with me. I can’t talk now, Marlena. I’ll call you later.” He ended the call and dropped the phone into the cup holder.
She needs to know the truth, Emma thought. But she knew that John was in no position to tell her. And this was no time to argue with him. Marlena would call the police. But the police wouldn’t know where to look or what to do. She and John were on their own.
* * *
John turned the Jeep into Ward Cove and headed for the gate to the pulp mill. The gate appeared padlocked, but when he got out of the Jeep, he saw that the lock had been cut and was simply hanging in place. Boone had been there ahead of him. It was easy to remove the lock and swing the gate open.
Back in the Jeep, he switched the headlights on high beam and drove through. The glaring lights would help him see ahead. They would also shine into Boone’s eyes, making it hard to see what was directly in front of him. It was a small advantage, but right now everything counted.
Emma sat silent beside him, trusting him to do whatever was the right thing—trusting him to have a plan. But in this dark hour, his only plan lay in the certainty that he couldn’t lose either of the two people he loved more than life.
He recognized the warehouse where he’d played as a teen, but the building, which stood next to the dock, was dark. Picking up his phone, he brought up David’s number and called it. Boone answered. “I see you’re here. Have you brought my lovely bride?”
“Emma’s here. I want to see my son.”
Something stirred in the shadows beyond the light. Someone—it had to be Boone—was standing outside, near the open doorway. John’s pistol was under the seat but he couldn’t risk using it. Not until he knew where David was.
“Leave the phone and get out of the vehicle, both of you,” Boone ordered. “Put your hands up and walk into the light where I can have a look at you. If I see a weapon, the boy will be the first one to die.”
John put down the phone and glanced at Emma. “Don’t get out. No matter what he says, stay right where you are.”
Leaving the pistol, he climbed out of the Jeep and walked into the circle of light. “Her, too,” Boone said. “Get her out here.”
“Not until I’ve seen David. Nothing’s going to happen until you bring him out where I can see him.”
He waited, refusing to move. Boone wouldn’t really kill David, he told himself. Without his hostage he’d have nothing to bargain with. But then, Boone wasn’t sane. It wasn’t safe to assume anything.
* * *
When John got out of the Jeep, Emma was tempted to grab the phone and call Marlena, or call 911 to bring the police. But that would only make the situation more dangerous, and she was running out of time. John had left his .44 under the seat. Trying to use it could get David or John killed. But the little Kel-Tec was still zipped into her jacket, its shape barely visible inside the quilted pocket. Boone might expect her to have a gun, but even if he did, the small pistol might escape his notice.
John was unarmed, and Boone had nothing to lose by killing him. But Boone wouldn’t kill her. If that was all he’d wanted, she’d be dead by now. Boone wanted her alive, so he could torment her. That, and the hidden gun, gave her advantages that John didn’t have.
John had ordered her to stay in the Jeep no matter what. But if she wanted both John and David to live, she would have to act, and act decisively.
In the beam of the headlights, she could see that Boone had brought David out the door of the warehouse, holding him like a shield. David’s mouth and wrists were bound with silver duct tape. His ankles were hobbled with rope so he could walk a little but couldn’t run. The pistol in Boone’s hand was pressed against his temple. David’s eyes were wide with terror. Emma could imagine what the sight of him was doing to John.
She’d rolled down the window of the Jeep to hear what was being said. What she heard was Boone laughing. “See, your boy’s just fine, bro. But he’s a scrappy one. Put up a right good fight before I got him under control. It’d be a real shame to have to put a bullet through his head, wouldn’t it?”
“The boy’s your own flesh and blood, Boone. Doesn’t that count for anything?” John was clearly stalling for time, waiting for an unguarded moment. But any move he made would be risky for both him and David. Emma knew what she had to do.
Boone laughed again. “Hell, that crap-assed sister of mine wouldn’t spit on our family. She’s no kin of mine in the way it counts, and neither is her boy. Now tell my woman to get out of that Jeep and get her butt over here before I get an itchy trigger finger.”
Emma opened the door, climbed out of the Jeep, and strode into the headlights. “Let the boy go, honey,” she said. “I’m here, and as soon as these two no-accounts are on their way, I’ll be ready for a real man. I’m all yours.”
Even without seeing or touching him, she could feel John’s tension. He’d ordered her to stay put. But it was as if they’d both known the truth—the only way to save David was for her to defy him. All he could do now was trust her.
Had she overdone her performance? But no, Boone was enough of a narcissist to lap up every word. He was even grinning.
“Come on,” she said, walking toward him with a seductive sway of her hips. “We can’t get the good stuff started while we’ve got company. Just let the boy go. Let his daddy drive him out of here before somebody sees that open gate and calls the police.”
Boone’s gaze narrowed. Maybe she’d overdone her act after all. “No tricks,” he said, still holding the pistol to David’s head. “You come over here and stand next to me. Then I’ll think about turning the boy loose.”