Page 177 of Running to You

“Daniel.” Sam was breathing hard. “Tell the police—”

“Already headed to meet them,” his brother said.

Maybe the police could surround the place, head Keller off.

But up ahead, Sam heard an engine roaring to life.

And Sam remembered what Hughes had said he’d found in the storage shed.

The engine revved and then started to fade as it moved away. “They’re on a four-wheeler,” Sam shouted. Had to be.

Which meant, maybe…

He saw the shed, closed the distance. Inside, a rusty Honda dirt bike, probably twenty years old—very similar to the one Sam used to ride. Key, key…

Not in the ignition. He peered along the wall, on counters lining the edges of the room.

Come on. It had to be here. And then…yes!

He snagged a ring from a hook by the door, shoved the key in the ignition, and the bike roared to life.

“What’s that?” Bryan’s voice sounded above the rest.

“I’m going after them.” He heeled the kickstand away, relieved to find the tires were sound.

“Be careful.”

Sam wasn’t sure which of his brothers had shouted that—maybe all of them—as he gunned the engine and roared out of the shed, following the fresh tracks to a path that led deeper into the woods. Ducking branches and skirting bushes, bouncing over tree roots that poked out of the ground, he thanked God for the goggles that helped him see and protected his eyes. Keller was doing this without that help. And on a slower vehicle, with two women in tow.

Maybe—please, God—Sam could catch up.

He had no idea where Keller was going, but the man had planned for this contingency. Why else keep the four-wheeler and dirt bike gassed up and ready if not to make a quick getaway? And if he’d gone to all that trouble, then did he have a car stashed somewhere?

Probably.

Sam had to catch him. And stop him. He’d figure out that second part when he completed the first.

The path switchbacked up a steep hill, then around to the opposite side.

The voices in his head faded. He’d moved out of range, and he was glad for it. His heart went out to all those innocents, and he prayed they’d be rescued. But he needed to focus.

He slowed at a fork. Which way? They were the same. Both wide enough for a four-wheeler. He searched for tracks.

There. Faint, but he was almost positive. He took the right fork and gunned the engine again.

He had to be moving faster than Keller. Why hadn’t he caught up?

Had Sam gone the wrong way? Jon had said the paths wound all over this mountain. Keller and Eliza could be anywhere.

Please, God. Direct me.

He kept moving forward, hoping, praying he’d catch up to them.

The path started downward, winding back and forth to keep the descent from being too steep.

And then he saw it.

The glow of headlights bounced below Sam’s position, probably only fifty yards or so, but on the twisty path, it was a much farther distance.