Page 131 of Torin

My relief dies.

Frank Collins.

He owns the feed store outside town. He and my father have been friends for years.

“Jesus Christ.” He lets out a breath. “We’ve all been worried sick.”

“No. Frank, listen to me.”

His expression softens in a way that makes panic claw at my throat.

“You’re all right. You’re safe now.”

“No, I’m not. I need you to get me out of here.”

His brow furrows.

“Please. Just drive.”

“Hannah—”

“Frank.”

My father’s voice comes from behind me.

I spin around.

He emerges from the trees, breathing hard, his shirt snagged at one shoulder from the branches.

Frank’s whole face changes. “Oh, thank God.”

My father slows to a walk as he reaches the road.

“Sorry about this,” he says, catching his breath. “She got out of the car before I could stop her.”

I stare at him. He’s just chased me through half a mile of woods. And somehow, he’s already the reasonable one.

Frank climbs out of the SUV.

I grip the open passenger door. “Frank, I need you to listen to me. My father brought me here against my will.”

Frank looks between us.

My father rubs a hand over his face. “She’s exhausted. She hasn’t been sleeping properly, she’s barely eaten, and she’s been through God knows what over the past few days.”

“He lied to me.” I step closer to Frank. “He promised he’d get Professor Bennett released if I came back with him. Then he drove straight past the courthouse and wouldn’t let me out of the car.”

“She tried to jump out while we were driving,” my father says quietly.

“Because you wouldn’t stop!”

“Hannah—”

“Don’t fucking Hannah me.”

My father gives Frank a weary shake of his head.

“Dr Whitmore’s meeting us at the house.”