“Thank God.” For a second, her worries scurried back into the dark corners of her mind. Jake had probably taken the girls into town or somewhere safe when the power had failed, and he, too, was held up by impassable roads. That was it. That had to be it. “Hello?” she called into the phone, but no one answered. “Hello? Who is this? Jake? Carter?” She was nearly screaming when she heard something, not a voice, but the haunting notes from a movie…her first starring role, the theme song from Innocence Lost.
She nearly collapsed.
Him! He was taunting her. She looked wildly around, the yellowish beam of her flashlight sweeping over the chairs and counters in the kitchen. “Who is this?” she demanded. “Who the hell is this?” But the phone went dead in her hands. She sank against the kitchen counter because she knew it was true. Her worst fears were now reality: the madman, whoever the son of a bitch was, had her daughters.
CHAPTER 44
“Don’t panic,” Rinda said as Jenna tore the house apart. Searching, looking, calling for her kids. Denying what she knew in her heart.
“Where the hell are they? And the dog? Where’s the damned dog?” she demanded. “Where did he take them?”
“I don’t know, Jenna. But they’re not here, and if you mess things up, clues or evidence for the police, it
’ll only make things worse.”
Panic was shredding her insides and she was rambling, but she didn’t care. “I have to do something!” She’d called Shane again, and couldn’t get through.
“Then let’s do this methodically, okay?” Rinda said. “Maybe then we’ll figure out what happened here.”
“Fine. Let’s start at the top level and work our way down.” They both had flashlights, but the house was big, a rambling behemoth that was dark as death.
Every muscle in her body tight, her nerves fraying, a headache beginning to form behind her eyes, Jenna worked her way down from the top story. With Rinda at her side, she searched through all the bedrooms and closets, the sauna, the bathrooms, checking every nook and cranny.
Nothing.
No sign of anyone, not even the damned dog.
With each step, dread tightened its grip on her lungs and she could hardly catch a breath.
Please let them be safe. Let me find them. Please—oh, God, let them be safe! “Allie,” she called vainly. “Cassie! Girls!” Tears burned behind her eyes and her throat was thick and clogged. They weren’t inside. Not anywhere.
Don’t give up. You have to find them. You have to!
But her daughters weren’t in the house. It was as if they’d vanished into the blizzard. Along with their bodyguard.
“I’m going to check the garage,” she said, once the house had been searched. She tried and failed to keep the sheer panic from her voice. “Maybe Turnquist took them away. To somewhere safe. Used my car.”
“Wouldn’t he have called?”
“You’d think,” she said, but the bodyguard had been marginal at best these past few days, his skills and judgment, in Jenna’s opinion, sorely lacking. She headed outside where the wind lashed violently, slanting so that snow blew beneath the cover of the breezeway and caused the windmill to creak and moan as it spun.
“Cassie!” Jenna screamed over the rush of the wind. “Allie!”
Dear God, let them be safe!
How had he gotten in?
No sign of forced entry.
Why would they let a madman into the house?
What the hell had happened?
Don’t go there. Do not let your worst nightmares get the better of you.
She searched the garage, inside and out. None of the vehicles were missing. Her Jeep, the old truck, and Jake Turnquist’s pickup were parked in their usual spots, tools hanging from the walls, the lawn mower idle and dusty in its corner.
As if nothing was wrong. As if no dreadful acts had befallen her family.