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Vi had to resist the urge to wipe her hand on her jeans when the girl released it.
“I’m Angela Corona,” the stranger said. “They told me in town you might know where I can find my husband, Jim, and our son. Tyler.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
Colby didn’t know how long he’d been lying there. And as for how badly he was hurt, it wasn’t possible to assess. The pain was an all-encompassing orb that contained him within it. Pulsing, blood-red, blinding pain.
But he was alive. The pain proved it, and for that he loved it. Dammit, he wouldn’t have been if it hadn’t been for Corona’s drugged-out ex. Thanks to her, he’d been able to get free.
Vinnie’s thug had parked the Blazer near the edge of a steeper-than-hell drop-off, gotten out long enough to drive a screwdriver blade through the gas tank. Then he’d put it in Neutral and given it a push.
Colby had had to work fast and even then he almost hadn’t made it. He’d jerked his wrists free and wrenched the door open, flinging himself out of the car just before it had gone over the edge. He’d hit hard, and he’d tumbled, unsure whether his would-be killer had seen his escape. And then his head had crashed against something hard and he’d come to rest, barely clinging to consciousness. He’d managed to open his eyes, to look around him, but all he had seen was thorny brush. And then he’d heard the Blazer explode when it hit bottom.
No wonder the bastard hadn’t been worried about removing the duct tape. Hell, there wouldn’t be a body left to examine in a wreck like that.
Thank God for the little drug addict, he thought. At least he was alive.
And then he’d sunk into oblivion.
Now he was awake and fighting through the pain. It took a long time, it seemed, for him to manage to move. First one limb, then another. Movement gave the pain a focus, it seemed. When he moved his hands, it screamed in them. His legs, too. His back. His head. Everything.
It didn’t matter. He had to get up, get moving. Get the hell out of here, wherever here was. He struggled to his feet, hands on a boulder to help him, probably the one his head had struck. Damn.
Looking around, he saw no one. But his vision was far from dependable. The ground seemed to swell and rise toward him, then recede again like an uneasy sea. Dizziness sickened him. Hell. There were trees in one direction, a steep drop in another, open space in a third. Probably the road.
He headed for the trees. Best to stay concealed in case Skinny Vinnie or his drone decided to check on the job they thought they’d done. Almost as an afterthought, he checked his pocket for his cell phone, was relieved to find it still there. And getting a signal—not a strong one—but maybe enough. He began punching the keys...but before he finished, his vision blurred and he had to start over.
He figured he got about a hundred yards and accurately entered six digits before he collapsed again.
* * *
Barbara Jean seemed moved by Tyler’s reaction to the miniature horses. Kara thought it must be clear to her, as it would be clear to anyone with a pair of working eyes, how important this was, what a major event this was in Tyler’s life.
They all trooped into the barn, standing by while Tyler helped Barbara remove Rusty’s saddle, blanket and bridle, then brush him down. Barbara turned to Jimmy and Kara. “How long you gonna be in Big Falls, Mr. Corona?”
“Jim.” He glanced down at Kara, seemed to be considering before he answered. “I don’t know. It depends. But I do know it’ll be three weeks at the very least.”
“And Ty here has PT—what?—once a week?”
“Twice a week,” Jim told her.
She nodded. “Well, you can consider this a standing date, then.”
“Oh, Barbara, we’d be taking advantage,” Jim said.
Barbara shrugged and nodded toward Ty. He was singing to the pony as he brushed him. “Frankly I don’t see how you cannotdo it. But if it makes you feel any better, I can charge you for the time. Tell you the truth, I’ve been considering doing something like this for a while now.”
“I didn’t know that,” Kara said.
Barbara nodded. “Been reading about programs where these miniatures are brought right into hospitals for sick kids—kids with cancer, burn victims, all sorts of different problems. And so far it looks as if it makes a heck of a difference in those kids’ lives. So I’d been playing with the notion, kind of mulling it all over, and then you called.” Barbara smiled. “Now that I’ve seen the results firsthand, I can’t come up with a single reason not to pursue this.”
“You’re an angel, Barbara.”
“Seems this state’s full of angels,” Jim muttered. Then he called to his son. “Hey, Ty, what do you think about us doing this after every PT session while we’re in Big Falls?”
“Really?” He hugged Rusty’s neck. “Oh, Dad! That would be so cool!”
Jim sighed and his hand closed around Kara’s.
