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Wilson was bleeding, too. She tried to identify the general area where he'd been hit, but she couldn't. His shirt was too bloody. His blood. And Hope’s.
He was dangerous. And he was too close to Hope and Madison now.
The van slowed. Haldyn saw Wilson tense.
He was going to do something at any moment.
Wilson bent his knees. He was watching her. Not the other two women next to him. Her.
Haldyn knew. Hope and Madison blocked one door. And she blocked the other. Haldyn was in the path Steve Wilson wanted to go.
The van stopped.
"Now, Mads!" Haldyn stood. Jumped over Wilson's knees as best as she could. Trying to get past him somehow. Or to just block him from them somehow. She grabbed the handle to the rear door. "Out!"
Madison was already jumping out. Landing on the road. Turning toward...
Haldyn knew: if Wilson overpowered Kimball, Hope—and Haldyn and Madison as well—were as good as dead. But he hated Hope. More than any of them—he hated Hope.
She could see it in his eyes when he'd looked at the younger woman. If he did anything tonight, Steve Wilson wanted to hurt Hope. Before he killed her, probably as violently as he possibly could.
Instead of jumping out the rear door herself, Haldyn turned.
To the younger woman. Her hands went beneath Hope’s arms. Hope was so skinny it was easier to lift her than Haldyn would have ever imagined it to be. Haldyn turned to the side, and lifted. Until Hope was on her feet.
Her eyes met dark brown. Terrified eyes, in a far-too-young-looking face.
Haldyn pushed Hope out of the van toward Madison. Madison caught Hope, steadied her enough Hope didn’t fall to the road. "Run! Both of you, run! Go!”
86
Sol swore. He yanked the van into park. He had to get back there, he had to. Hallie was yelling. The rear door was open. She’d gotten it open. That girl, a fighter. She was definitely a fighter.
He saw the other two girls running off into the darkness. Too far away for him to do a damned thing about it. Straight toward town. Up and moving, heading away from the van. Into the night.
He couldn't get them both back into the van. Not and protect Hallie from Wilson.
Then the girls were just gone in the darkness and he couldn’t see them at all. Those damned dark polos and pants blended in, even with the moon overhead.
“You fucking bitch!” Wilson swung out, with his fist. Little Hallie went down.
Sol heard her head hit the corner of the cabinet as he watched in horror. She just laid there. Dazed and hurt.
Wilson was on his feet. He was going to come at Sol. Sol wasn’t stupid. He had the gun. He had the van. Everything Wilson needed to save his own skin. Because unless Wilson killed Kimball and Hallie and got to those two girls out there now—Wilson’s ass was on the line completely. Those girls could tell the TSP everything. Tell the truth.
Fix this.
Wilson couldn’t hide his sins any longer. It was out there. It was all out there now.
But if he got away, Sol knew. That bastard would go for Hope again. And then Heather.
Sol had seen that kind of sick sexual obsession before. Wilson would never let Heather go. Not really. If he got away—Wilson would go after Heather again and again. Until he eventually killed her.
Sol wasn’t ever going to let that happen.
Sol gripped the gun. But they were in the van. Too damned risky. With the metal cabinets, if it ricocheted—Hallie was right there. He would never risk hurting her even more.
He jumped up behind that bastard. Brought the weapon down on that son-of-a-bitch's head as hard as he possibly could.
