Page 4 of Sight of Fate

Someone taps my shoulder, and I automatically flinch. When it doesn’t trigger a vision, I glance up and find a middle-aged woman frowning down at me.

“Is that you?” She points to the TV in the corner of the coffee shop.

I look up and gasp at the image on the screen. It is me. Golden blond hair in braids, dressed in the clothes I wore yesterday, with the coffee shop in the background.

I tune in to what the reporter is saying. “Police are looking for the whereabouts of this person. Audrey Wittington, 23. 5’6” tall. Blond hair seen here in braids. Light green eyes. Abducted from a coffee shop in Nashville yesterday morning. Her stepfather is begging the public for their help. If you have any information, please call the 1-800 number on the screen. The family is offering a $10,000 reward to anyone who helps find her.”

Hank appears to be so fucking sincere I want to scream. In an expensive polo shirt and pressed pants, his attractive face is twisted with anguish as he pleads with the public for their help in locating me, his precious stepdaughter. I think I’m going to throw up.

“That’s you, isn’t it?” The woman standing beside me asks in a low voice. “I’m guessing you haven’t been kidnapped since I don’t see anyone else with you.”

My stomach churns as I stand and hurriedly shove my stuff into my backpack, then pull the brim of my cap down. “Please, whatever you do, don’t call. He’s not my father.”

She glances from me to the TV with a skeptical expression on her face.

I reach into my backpack and withdraw a twenty. “This is all I have. Take it. Please don’t call. He’s a bad person. Killed my mom and made it look like an accident.” I’m frantic, almost stumbling over my words as I try to convince her.

Her face hardens, and she pushes the money away. “I was once married to a piece of shit like him. Stay away from public places. Find somewhere to hide until the news stops showing your face.” She turns and walks away.

I pivot and head out the door, keeping my head down so nobody else will recognize me. Moments later, I’m in my car, hands gripping the steering wheel as I try to figure out what to do. Whatever it is, I need to at least get out of here. Putting the car in gear, I start aimlessly driving.

Damn him. National TV. How did Hank manage to convince the police I was abducted? With a frown, I jerk the car into a Burger King parking lot and grab my phone. When I search for the video, I realize there’s more to it than a made-up story. It clearly shows someone grabbing me from behind and shoving me into…my car. Damn. That’s not good. Not only am I on the news, but so is my car. He must have gotten one of his hackers to manipulate a video from the coffee shop cameras.

Panic rolls over me. I can’t afford to switch out my car. What do I do? Think, damn it. If I stay here, chances are high someone will turn me in.

A yellow light comes on in the dash, and I glance down and see the low gas indicator. Pulling into a nearby station, I get out and start filling up. A big red pickup truck pulls up next to me, and a couple of guys get out. One of them starts filling the tank while the other one goes into the store.

I finish and hang up the pump, but when I go to put my gas cap on, someone else reaches for it first. Uneasy, I flick my gaze from the oil-smudged hand on the cap to the guy standing beside me. Thin brown hair covered by a grungy ballcap, medium build, dressed in dirty blue coveralls. He tilts his head to stare down at me as if I’m a bug on a windshield.

“Rich, what are you doin’, man?” A voice calls out from across the parking lot.

The guy next to me continues to study me as he replies, “Come here. Doesn’t this look like the girl on TV? The one who was kidnapped in Nashville?”

“Seriously?” the voice says excitedly. Another young guy appears between the pumps, wearing an equally dirty ballcap over dark buzzed hair, his blue eyes skating across my face. “Well, I’ll be damned. Sure does.” He cracks his knuckles and bends down to peer into the car. “Where’s the kidnapper? Is he in the store?”

Panicking, I step back, turning to grab the handle of the car as my mind races to come up with something that will make them back off. “My stepfather’s an asshole…made it all up. He doesn’t have any money. I’ve got to go. My aunt’s waiting for me.”

The first guy reaches out and grabs my wrist. “Not so fast. There’s a ten-thousand-dollar reward for you. I think the least we can do is call and tell them you’re safe, don’t you?” He looks over at his friend. “Find the video and get the number.”

His friend steps back between the pumps. “It’s in the truck. Hold on.”

The second he disappears, I yank on my wrist, trying to free myself. “Please, please let me go. You don’t understand. When I was young, my stepfather tried to kill me. All he wants is to finish the job he started ten years ago.”

His small, beady eyes narrow. “Ten thousand is a hell of a lot of money. Enough to get out of my old man’s house.” Lean fingers tighten painfully on my wrist.

Knowing he’s not going to let go, I frantically look around. A rough-looking older man is pumping gas into a white Altima a few feet away. He glances at the two of us.

“Help me. Please help me.”

The man raises an eyebrow when he sees the guy’s hand on my wrist. He immediately stops the pump and reaches into his car. Seconds later, he’s walking across the parking lot, gun in hand. “Son, I don’t want to have to hurt you, but I will. Let the girl go.”

As he gets closer, the guy holding my wrist curses and releases me, then holds his hands up as he tries to tell the man what’s happening. Scared he’ll talk him into detaining me, I throw a thank you in the man’s direction and jump into my car. Hands shaking, it takes me a few precious seconds to start the car, but once it roars to life, I peel out of the station, tires squealing. In the rearview mirror, the young man turns and runs toward his truck.

I quickly take a left at the next light, then a right. I continue in the same pattern for several blocks before I get back on the interstate. That’s twice someone recognized me from that damn video. Tears fill my eyes as helplessness overwhelms me. I have to get out of Dallas. But where?

Thirty minutes later, Fort Worth comes into view, and I exit the freeway, pulling into a fast-food restaurant. I open my phone and stiffen when I see the message from IrishGuardian3 in my inbox for the third time. That’s odd. Is my email glitching? Shaking it off, I read it again.

PA position available for the right person. Must be able to relocate to Greystone Vale for a six-month trial period. Winter is coming, and once the snow starts, the pass will be blocked until spring. Offering $100,000 with option to negotiate after trial. I’ll need an answer soon. Directions provided upon acceptance.