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It had been so inane, but as she was being shepherded toward the big black truck with its canopy, by a man who scared her half to death, Dani so wished she’d paid more attention. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in God. She just didn’t believe in all the foolish little rituals and so, once her mother had died, her dad had agreed that she could give up the Sunday-morning tradition as long as it was replaced with doing something outside, in nature.

Which had been way cooler.

Or so she’d thought until she sat in the passenger seat beside the sick bastard who’d kidnapped her. If only he wasn’t so careful! If he would make a mistake. Her heart sank as she watched him take the time to close the garage doors and lock them securely before climbing behind the wheel of this newer vehicle, and turn its nose to the road: a roundabout route that eventually led south.

Now, after days that felt like months, she knew she was in California; she’d heard enough talk radio to prove that. She sent up another prayer and fervently hoped that God was listening. That He would forgive her.

That her dad would find her.

Her abductor wasn’t making it easy, though.

Every day or so, he switched license plates, first on the dirty white van and now on this truck. Originally, the truck had been equipped with Idaho plates. That had changed when he’d driven east, toward the Montana border, and stolen the back plate off an SUV from Washington state.

And all the while on their zigzagged course across Wyoming, Colorado, and Nevada, she’d kept the cigarette butt hidden. He had a porta-potty that he kept in the back of the truck under a canopy and when she told him she needed to go to the bathroom, he’d uncuff her and let her into the back, always staying right at the tailgate.

Food was bought at drive-thru restaurants or at gas stations, always late at night, and each time he watched her like a hawk, his knife always a visible threat.

During all the hours since he’d forced her into the van, he’d never once blindfolded her, and that was a worry. All the cop/detective/forensic shows she’d seen on television suggested to her that if he wasn’t worried about her seeing his face, then he would probably kill her so she couldn’t identify him.

Her throat closed at the thought, but she didn’t fall victim to her fear. He’d kept her alive this long. He hadn’t so much as touched her except to pull her in and out of the van, and when he did cast a glance her way, he didn’t seem to see her. It was as if she was nothing more than cargo that had to be dealt with.

He was silent. Serious. A simmering anger evident in the way he gripped the steering wheel, or flattened his lips whenever they had to slow or stop for road work. When he talked to her, it was to bark orders and remind her that if she did as he told her, she wouldn’t get hurt.

So far he’d kept his word.

What did he want with her? No. She didn’t even want to think about it.

As if he sensed her staring at him, he quickly glanced her way. Her eyelids drooped and she feigned sleep, leaning against the glass of the passenger door window, all the while wanting to scream.

“I know you’re awake,” he said.

His voice was deep and rough, scratching against her ears like sandpaper. She hated him. Hated him.

“No use pretendin’. So quit staring, okay?”

He pushed on the lighter in the dash, she heard the familiar click, then the rustle of cellophane as he unwrapped another pack of cigarettes. Marlboro Lights. The lighter popped as he braked and she heard him fiddling with it, then she smelled the familiar, acrid scent of smoke. He inhaled and rolled down the window, the fresh air quickly filled with the smell of burning tobacco.

As the tires hummed over the dry pavement and bugs splattered against the windshield, Dani tried to figure out how to escape. At the next rest stop? When he pulled over to sleep? But how? He always handcuffed her.

Every problem has a solution. Sometimes you just have to work hard to figure it out.

She could almost hear her father’s voice. He’d told her often enough. Whenever she was having trouble at school with her friends, or she was certain she wouldn’t pass the next math test, or when her fishing line was caught on the overhanging branches of a tree leaning over the river.

Tears welled in her eyes. Dad was tall. Strong. Honest. And tough. Really tough. Even when Mom had died, he’d managed to hold himself together.

She swallowed back a sob, pulled herself together with an effort. Chancing another glimpse of her captor, Dani considered her father again. He would come for her. She knew it. But when? And how? This guy wasn’t about to leave any kind of trail, especially since he changed the vehicle’s plates at every opportunity. What were the chances he’d be pulled over?

Dani’s hands, cuffed together at the wrists, curled into fists.

Somehow her dad would find her.

He had to.

And soon.

Chapter 6

Armed with a bit of knowledge and a lot of suspicion, Travis parked his truck a mile and a half from Shannon Flannery’s home. He’d driven twelve hours straight from his home in Oregon to Santa Lucia, California. He’d already passed by her lane leading off the main road because he didn’t want to be seen. Much as he’d like to burst into her house and demand answers, he figured he’d better watch her place for a while and scope out the surrounding area, to try to determine whether Dani was anywhere nearby.


Tags: Lisa Jackson West Coast Mystery