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A sheriff’s deputy shouted as he reached for his gun, “What the hell was that? Was that our man?”
Before the deputy could get the pistol out of his holster, Marcus Glass grabbed his arm. “No. He’s one of us. That’s Cameron Pope, and it appears his dog, Ghost, has struck a trail,” Glass said.
“But the dog isn’t barking like your hounds,” the officer said. “It isn’t making a sound.”
“Because it’s not a hound, and the man we’re after won’t even know Ghost is there until it’s too late. We run now. Ghost will find them. Cameron will need us,” Glass said, and took off through the trees after them with the searchers at his heels.
***
Nothing was going according to Danny Biggers’s plan. When he’d told his old girlfriend Lindy that the prison break was going to happen, she’d told him to call her if he made it out. She’d have a job for him that would get him the money he needed to disappear.
And then he’d made the escape, and the first thing he did was break into an old couple’s home, tie them up, steal their car and the money they had on hand, and trade his prison duds for some of the old man’s clothes. On the way out, he took their phone and called Lindy. He could tell by the sound of her voice she was surprised he’d made it out, but she made good on her promise and gave him the info on the job.
It was the last thing he expected to come out of her mouth, and he was so shocked he almost rejected the job, but then she told him what they’d pay him to do it, and he caved. Kidnap a little kid. Take it over the cutback on Pope Mountain to a bar called Fuzzy Fridays. She’d be waiting with ten thousand dollars, and he’d be on his way.
When she gave him the family’s name and directions to the house, he realized it was on the actual mountain. The home was the residence of a man named Louis Glass. Except Rachel Pope had been there. And it was her kid he snatched. What were the odds that would happen? That he would come face-to-face with the woman whose testimony had put him in jail?
But he had not completely followed through on his orders. He did not kill the woman to get the child like he’d been told. Instead, he left Rachel unconscious, hoping it would give him time to get over the mountain before she came to and before Louis Glass came home.
Only he hadn’t counted on all the shit with the kid.
She’d done nothing but scream since he’d picked her up. He’d planned on giving her a bottle loaded with something to put her to sleep, but she wouldn’t take the bottle, so he’d dumped a bag of cookies in her lap and stomped the accelerator. Finally, she began eating on the cookies, snuffling and hiccupping through tears.
“Want a drink, baby? Want some milk with your cookies?” he asked.
She nodded, so he pulled over on the side of the mountain road, unscrewed the top off the bottle, and poured some of the drugged milk into an empty Styrofoam cup he’d picked up off the floorboard. She drank until she was full and handed it back.
“Get your blanket and lie down now,” he said.
Tears rolled. “Want Mama.”
“Okay, then. You lie down and close your eyes and we’ll find Mama.”
And with all the innocence of the toddler she was, she did as she was told. Within a few minutes, the drugs kicked in, and she went limp.
He felt for a pulse to make sure she was still breathing, and then nodded with satisfaction. All he had to do was get over the mountain to Fuzzy Fridays, meet up with Lindy, and get his money. He didn’t know what they wanted with the kid, and he didn’t care. His cut would be enough to help him disappear.
He put the car in gear and floored it, but he didn’t get far before the engine began missing. His gut knotted. Then something blew beneath the hood—a mini-explosion that scared the shit out of him enough that he almost wrecked. He steered the smoking car to the side of the road, letting it roll to a stop. And when smoke began pouring into the interior of the car, he started cursing and pounding his fists on the steering wheel.
He tried to call Lindy, but couldn’t get a signal. He didn’t know if the smoke was coming from wiring, or if the car was about to explode, but he had to get out. He grabbed the kid and her blanket, dug a flashlight from the console, then clutched her limp body tight against him.
He stared up the road and then into the trees, debating which route to take, then opted for the route with the most cover, jumped the ditch with the deadweight of the kid in his arms, and disappeared into the forest. When the blanket snagged on a bramble, he yanked it free and kept moving.
After the first minutes of frustration and panic subsided, Biggers was finally able to focus on the child in his arms. Even though there was a three-quarter moon, the forest was so thick that very little light came through the treetops, leaving him with little more than a faded and blurry view of her features.
The air was cold, and the higher up he went, the colder it got. It was quiet. Too quiet. No night birds calling. No sound of foxes. It was too cold to worry about snakes this time of year, but the abundance of black bears was a threat, and it was too early for them to have gone into hibernation.
He stopped long enough to shift Lili’s weight, then aimed his flashlight into the trees and kept moving upward. If he could get to the switchback before daylight, he would be able to get a cell signal and call Lindy. She could come get them, and they’d be home free.
***
Cameron was on autopilot, moving without thinking—heart hammering in his chest, muscles burning from extreme exertion, sweat pouring down his face despite the cold.
Ghost was his touchstone. He kept his focus on the glimpses of the dog weaving through the trees. All he could think wasStay with him. Don’t lose him. Lose Ghost, and you lose Lili.
He’d rather die.
And then all of a sudden, he caught a glimpse of light. One single flash in the trees ahead and then gone. He’d outrun the line of searchers. The only person ahead of him had to be Biggers.
