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Leaves crunched under her feet as they entered the shelter of the trees. The moonlight faded, blocked by the canopy overhead. Hannah maneuvered the scissors in her hand until the blades were pressed against the tape binding her wrists together.
She started cutting.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Ryker slammed on his brakes as an ambulance came into view. The vehicle was parked on the side of the road with the bay doors hung open. There was no sign of Hannah. Or her captors.
Could she be in the front seat? Dead? The thought sent icicles of fear into his heart. He jerked the SUV into Park and ejected from the driver’s seat.
Weston, who’d ridden with him from the hospital, was already five steps ahead. His colleague knew firsthand what it was like to have a loved one in danger. Weston’s wife, Avery, had been hunted by a serial killer before they were married. Thankfully, she survived, and the couple were expecting their first baby any day, but the experience had been harrowing.
Weapon in hand, Weston circled the vehicle. Ryker took the other side. Moonlight, coupled with his vehicle’s headlights, provided illumination. His heart double-timed as the front of the ambulance came into view. Weston shined a flashlight into the cab.
Empty.
Relief weakened Ryker’s knees. It was short-lived. If Hannah wasn’t here, then where was she? His gaze scanned the immediate area. There wasn’t much to see. Thick forest lined the country road. “Did they switch vehicles?”
Weston circled the ambulance. “Maybe, but this tire is flat.” He strolled the length of the road, his flashlight sweeping the area, and then came back. “No sign of tire tracks from another vehicle. I’m guessing something went awry with the plan when they got a flat tire.”
Ryker flipped on his own flashlight and focused the beam on the grass. Some of the blades were indented as though they’d been trampled recently. It could’ve been an animal, but his instincts said it was Hannah and her captors. “I think they went the rest of the way on foot.”
“Where?” Weston turned in a circle. Then he pulled out his cell phone and brought up the map. “There’s nothing for miles.”
“This is a hunting area. Could be a cabin.” Ryker dialed Claire’s number. She answered on the first ring. He quickly explained what they’d found. “You said Simon gave you a list of Dusty’s hiding places. Is there anything within walking distance of our location?”
“Let me check.”
Again, he was left standing around and waiting. Following Hannah and her captors through the woods wasn’t possible without some indication of their direction. He didn’t have enough tracking experience to see their trail. Especially not at night.
Ryker tried to hold it together, but the pressure building inside him was becoming harder to contain. A part of him wanted to cry. The other part wanted to punch something or someone until his knuckles bled. What was Dusty doing to Hannah? Was she in pain? Was she already dead?
She’d been with her captors for fifty-four minutes. A lot could happen in that time. Ryker had been a Texas Ranger long enough to know the horrible things people did to one another. He’d stood in Kristin’s house, seen the blood staining her carpet and her bedsheets. Dusty was a cold-blooded killer.
He leaned against the hood of his SUV, head down. Tears pricked his eyes. He knew they were doing everything humanly possible to save Hannah, but what if it wasn’t enough? It hadn’t been for Alison. She’d died.
Prayer might help.
Hannah’s words of wisdom replayed his Ryker’s head. A reminder that just an hour ago, he’d promised to hand his fears to God. To surrender and accept that he could do his very best, but ultimately, Hannah’s life was in God’s hands.
A lump formed in his throat, and although Ryker knew he should pray, the words wouldn’t come. He needed help. “Weston, can you pray for me?”
Weston placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Lord, we come to You with our pain. We know Hannah is not alone because You are with her, just as You are with us. Comfort us in our time of need. Help us be strong and guide our actions. Use us as instruments of Your goodness. In Your name, we pray.”
“Amen.” Ryker sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. His heart rate slowed, and although his muscles were still tense, Weston’s words had shaved the edge off his anxiety. He kept the phone pressed to his ear, waiting for Claire to come back on with news.
Weston squeezed his shoulder again. “There’s hope, man. The fact that they took her with them means they’re working on some kind of plan.”
Ryker nodded. His colleague was right. Dusty wanted Hannah dead, but hadn’t killed her in the ambulance. There had to be a reason for that.
The sound of another vehicle approaching tightened his muscles, and his head swung up. He instantly relaxed when the driver came into view. Luke Tatum. His colleague exited the truck, along with Bennett Knox, another member of their team. The two men joined them. Weston quickly filled them in and a search of the ambulance and surrounding area began.
Bennett crouched to study the bent grass blades. Then he swung his flashlight beam into the woods. “I can track them.”
Ryker’s heart leapt into his throat. “You’re sure?”
“Yep. My grandfather was one of the best trackers in the state. Taught me everything he knew. Based on the time it took us to drive from the hospital to this spot, they left the ambulance about thirty minutes ago. A healthy adult can walk three miles per hour, so that’s a perimeter of a mile and a half.”
“I’ve got supplies in my truck.” Luke raced to his vehicle and pulled out an emergency backpack, along with several bottles of water.
