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Tiffany motioned toward the phone. “What was that all about?” she demanded. “You said something about danger.”
“Isaac Wells is back in town.” He gave her a quick rundown as he reached for the handle of the door. “If you want more details, call Jarrod back. There’s probably nothing wrong,” he said, disturbed and telling himself that he was being a dozen kinds of fool. “I’m going to check on Katie.”
“I’ll stay here with the kids,” Tiffany said, her usually dark skin turning an ashen shade.
“Do that.” He ran to his pickup and climbed inside as the two boys stopped their jumps for a second. The way Luke figured it, he could be at the cottage in less than ten minutes. He reminded himself this was probably just a wild-goose chase. Katie was probably safe. She might not even be at the cottage, but he wasn’t going to rest until he found her. He backed his truck into the street, flung it into first gear and roared down the street.
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He didn’t give a damn if he looked like a fool; he wasn’t about to take a chance with the life of the woman he loved.
* * *
“I think you and I should go for a ride,” Ray said, and Katie, rooted to the floor of the cottage, tried to maintain her rapidly escaping wits.
She shook her head.
“Whatever it is you have to tell me, you can say it right here.” It would certainly be more dangerous to leave with him. At least she was in an environment she knew, with neighbors just across the fence.
“We could be interrupted.”
“So what?” She was thinking fast, trying to get her bearings. If she could get over her fear and if Ray meant her no harm, she might have stumbled on the answer to the Isaac Wells mystery. But what if he did intend to hurt her? What then? Her legs threatened to give out on her, and for the first time since her interest in the Isaac Wells disappearance began, she questioned whether or not she wanted to be involved. “You’re not in trouble with the police, are you?”
“Always.” He lifted a shoulder, and she tried to determine if he was carrying a weapon. There were no bulges in the pockets of his coveralls, but a knife would be easy to conceal. Even a small handgun could be hidden somewhere on his body. Not that it made a huge difference—not when there was the size of him to consider. At over six feet and two hundred pounds, he was way too strong for her to try to overpower him. No, she’d have to use her brains.
“Do you know where Isaac Wells is?” she asked Ray.
“No.”
“Is he alive?”
“I think so.”
“Why?”
He studied her carefully, as if, now that he had her full attention, he wasn’t sure how much of his story to divulge. “I have connections.”
“Connections? Who? What?”
“Someone trustworthy.”
Her mind was racing, her skin prickling with dread. “A snitch? A trustworthy snitch?” She tried to keep the disbelief out of her voice.
Ray’s lips flattened at the insult. “Has he contacted you since you got the last letter?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I thought he would, but I haven’t heard a word. No letters or phone calls…well, except for some hang-ups.”
“That was me.”
“You?” She was sweating now, adrenaline rushing through her system.
“But they started coming before the letter was published…” Her voice faded away, and she wondered how long this man had been watching her, following her. Her skin crawled at the thought of what he might have seen. “You…were watching me?” She thought she might be sick.
“I had to know what was going on.”
So Luke had been right. She’d dismissed his concerns as some kind of overprotective paranoia, but his sense of dread had been justified. “Look, if you want me to help you…” She let her voice drop off. “Is that it? You want me to do something?”
“I want you to level with me. I think you know where Isaac Wells is.”
