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“Don’t know. That’s what the cops are assuming.”
“Shit.”
“Be careful,” she said. “I already told the detectives you’re at the Jacoby cabin, that you’re searching for your ex-wife and that in my opinion, somehow Watkins figured out where Lucy is.”
“Christ.”
All of his worst fears crawled through his guts.
“And I told them Lucy had Renee with her.”
His jaw clamped down hard.
“They want you to back off. They’ve got a possible homicide, and they want to handle it. Police matter. You got that.”
“Message received.”
“Good. Be safe.”
He clicked off. No way was he standing down.
He punched the accelerator, fear streaming through his veins. What if Watkins reached them first? What if even now his ex-wife and daughter were being hunted down by the ex-con? What if it was already too late?
“Jesus, no,” he whispered as the snow deepened and his tires slid a little. He eased off the gas and the wheels responded again as images of Watkins teasing and brutalizing and then killing his wife and daughter tore through his mind.
No.
Rounding a sharp turn, he spied a vehicle parked outside a large cabin, an inch of snow already covering it.
Lucy’s Rav?
No . . . his heart dropped when he saw that the SUV was a white Ford Explorer with California license plates. Even in the dark, he could make out the series of numbers and letters, and the sick feeling in his gut only got worse.
Ray Watkins was already here.
* * *
“You’re scaring me.” Renee climbed to her feet and started for the window.
“Get behind the counter!” Lucy ordered. “Go into the kitchen. Like we practiced.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
“Oh God. This is so lame!” But Renee did as she was told, walking into the kitchen area and hiding behind the bank of cabinets. “Mom?”
“Sssh! Stay there! Don’t move!”
“Mom—”
“I’m serious, Renee. Don’t argue!”
She’d already hidden her Glock in the pocket of her jacket. Now, Lucy removed the bayonet from the rifle and placed the knife underneath her jacket, only her sweatshirt separating her skin from the cold, deadly blade. She hiked the rifle onto her shoulder and killed all the lights, then slid her feet into boots near the back door. She waited, her eyes adjusting to the dark. Everything was still, the dog beside her, nose to the door, ready to bound outside.
Her mouth was dry as sand as she saw how stiff and attentive Merlin was.
It’s probably just a deer.
