Where the hell were the police? With that blown-out rear window, the police should have pulled Davie’s car over by now. But he hadn’t seen a cruiser.
Maybe another driver would call about the car without a rear window.
If not, he’d follow Davies to wherever he was headed.
With the lighter traffic and Zoe’s ring sending him her location, he could take a deep breath. But he couldn’t relax until Zoe was by his side and Davies was restrained.
Had Davies hurt Zoe? What if she needed medical attention? He gripped the steering wheel more tightly, held it that way until his hands began to ache.
He forced himself to relax his fingers. From everything he’d read about Davies, Spence was pretty sure the guy wouldn’t hurt Zoe. At least not at this point. He had her in his car, just as he wanted, and he’d be feeling pretty good about that. And Spence had told Zoe not to resist if Davies succeeded in grabbing her, unless Davies tried to rape her or otherwise hurt her. Which he couldn’t do while he was driving.
Still, Zoe had to be furious. He hoped her anger kept the fear away. Davies had clearly restrained her with zip ties. Fastened her down with the seatbelt. Spence knew Zoe well enough to be certain she would have jumped out of the car if Davies hadn’t restrained her. She wouldn’t wait for someone to rescue her, and he suspected Davies knew that, too.
After more than an hour had passed, Spence gripped the steering wheel as he narrowed his eyes at the white car in the distance. “Where the hell are you going?” he muttered. Did Davies have two places? One in or near Seattle, so he could keep track of Zoe every day, and one farther away?
It didn’t matter. With the ring Zoe wore, he’d track her wherever Davies took her. And he’d rescue her from him -- if Zoe hadn’t rescued herself before he reached her.