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Devon frantically scrutinized the inside of the Corolla. For a fleeting instant, she could make out three human forms—Monty, slumped across the steering wheel, Sally, crumpled and unconscious beside him, and Merry sprawled in the backseat.
Her insides wrenched.
Slamming on his brakes and jerking his steering wheel, Blake skidded, winding up diagonally in front of the Corolla and blocking its forward motion. His front tires came to a halt mere inches away from the edge of the road and its sharp drop-off.
Devon burst out of the Jag before it stopped. She raced after Luis, who was trying to flee, and grabbed him from behind. Spinning him around, she slammed her knee into his groin.
Luis collapsed in agony, choking out a curse in Spanish and crumpling in the snow.
Climbing into the Toyota, Blake leaned past Monty and yanked up the emergency brake. By the time he seized Monty and began maneuvering him out the door, Devon was there, helping him.
Together, they carried her father to safety, then rushed back. Blake went around to the passenger side and scooped up Sally while Devon crawled into the backseat and hauled out Merry.
She’d just lowered her sister to the sheltered snowbank beside her parents when she heard the wail of sirens. From both directions, patrol cars twisted their way down West Clove Mountain Road, skidding to a stop as they reached the scene.
Luis, who’d been limping his way along the road—and toward escape—halted, raising his hands over his head in surrender. Two cops sprang out of their vehicles and raised their weapons, cautioning him not to make any sudden moves. They then made their way over, yanking his hands behind his back and slapping handcuffs on him.
“Any other assailants?” one of the officers called out to Devon.
“No. He’s it.”
“Are the rest of you okay?”
“Yes…I think so.” Devon rose slowly, realizing she was trembling all over, with a chill that emanated from the inside out. “But my family’s unconscious. Did you call for an ambulance?”
“Already done. It’s on its way.”
“We won’t need it,” a groggy voice from behind Devon declared.
She nearly wept with joy at the welcome sound.
Monty.
She turned, relief flooding through her in huge waves as she saw her father struggle into a sitting position. He took in the scene around him, then shot Devon a wry grin. “Hey, partner. Don’t crap out on me now. Get over here and cut me out of these damn ropes.”
Devon swallowed hard. “Yes, boss.”
“I’ve got them.” Blake pulled out his pocketknife, shifting over and squatting down to slice through Monty’s bonds. “There.”
“Thanks.” Monty rubbed the circulation back into his wrists, then turned to Sally, who was starting to come around.
Blake was already there, severing Sally’s ropes and helping her sit up.
“That’s it, hon,” Monty murmured, reaching over to gently shake her face and stroke her cheek. “You’re okay. We all are.”
Sally’s lashes fluttered and lifted. “Pete?” she managed, blinking and trying to get her bearings. “Where’s Merry?”
“Right next to you.”
“Next to me—where? Where are we?”
“Safe.” He substantiated his claim with a broad sweep of his arm. “See for yourself.”
She complied, leaning forward and scanning the area, peering through the falling snow. Her eyes filled with emotion as she focused on her older daughter, now hovering over her. “Devon—thank God.”
“Hi, Mom. Welcome home.” Devon dropped onto her knees and hugged her mother, tears burning behind her eyelids. “I’m so grateful you’re all right—and that you’re back here with us.”
“Me, too.” Sally clutched her daughter for a long minute. Then Devon felt her stiffen and draw away. “Pete, what’s taking Merry so long to come around?” she asked nervously.
