me back there right away.”
“This isn’t about money.”
“Then what’s it about?” She struggled to keep her tone even but panic was creeping in.
He seemed to hesitate over his answer. “You deserve to be sure. About Vern.”
“You don’t even know me.” She stared at him more closely. “Do you? Have we met?”
Could he be some long-lost person from her past?
“We haven’t met,” he said.
She racked her brain for an explanation. “Then do you know Vern? Did he do something bad to you?”
She realized she ought to be frightened. She’d been kidnapped—kidnapped. This stranger was holding her hostage and wouldn’t let her go.
“I’ve never met Vern,” he said.
“Then are you crazy? Though I suppose that’s a stupid question. Crazy people never question their own sanity.” She realized she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“I’m beginning to think I am,” he said.
“A sure sign that you’re not.”
He gave a chopped laugh and seemed to drop his guard.
She tried to take advantage. “Will you let me go? Please, just pull over and drop me off. I’ll find my own way back to the church.”
It had to be at least fifteen minutes now. Vern would be frantic. Delores would be incensed. Unless someone saw Jackson grab her, they probably thought she ran away.
Now she wondered what Hadley was thinking. He might guess she’d taken his advice, changed her mind, that she didn’t want to marry Vern after all. She scrunched her eyes shut and shook her head. How had things gotten so mixed up?
“He’s cheating on you, Crista. Why would you want to marry a man who’s cheating on you?”
“First of all, he’s not. And...” She paused, experienced a moment of clarity. “Wait a minute. If I say I don’t care if he’s cheating, will you let me go?”
“If you honestly don’t care and you want to marry him anyway, yeah, I’ll let you go.”
“Then I don’t care.” Why hadn’t she thought of this sooner? “It’s fine. No problem.” She waved a dismissive hand. “He can cheat away. I still want to marry him.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” She was.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You’ve never met me. You don’t know a thing about me.”
He shook his head. “I can tell you have pride.”
“I have no pride. Maybe I like to share. Maybe I’m into polygamy. After this wedding, Vern might find another wife. We’ll all live happily ever after.”
“As if.”
“Let me go!”
“I’m here because somebody out there cares about you, Crista.”
“I know somebody cares about me. His name is Vern Gerhard. Do you have any idea how upset he is right now?”
Jackson’s tone went dry. “Maybe Gracie could console him.”
The name set a shiver through Crista’s chest. “What did you say?”
“Gracie,” Jackson repeated, doing a double take at Crista’s face. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. No, I’m not. I’ve been kidnapped!”
“Do you know someone named Gracie?”
Crista did know Gracie Stolt. Or at least she knew of a Gracie Stolt. Vern had once used that name during a phone call. He’d said it was business. It had been business, making the name irrelevant to this conversation.
“I don’t know any Gracie,” she said to Jackson, her tone tart.
“He’s sleeping with Gracie.”
“Stop saying that.”
The vehicle bounced, and she grabbed the armrest to steady herself. She realized they’d turned off the main roads and onto a tree-lined lane.
A new and horrible thought crossed her mind, and her throat went dry. Was Jackson some sicko with a thing for brides?
“Are you going to hurt me?” she rasped.
“What?” He did another double take. “No. I told you. I’m not going to harm you at all.”
“I bet every psychopathic murderer says that.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up, but then quickly disappeared. “We have a mutual acquaintance. The person who sent me is someone who cares about you.”
“Who?”
“I can’t reveal my client.”
“I bet every psychopathic murderer says that, too.”
She was vacillating between genuine fear and disbelief that any of this could be real.
“I’m sorry you’re frightened right now, but I’m not going to hurt you. You’ll figure that out soon enough, I promise.”
They rounded a corner, and a lake fanned out before them, the gravel beach dotted with weathered docks. He pulled to the side of a small, deserted parking lot.
“Are we there?” she asked.
“Almost.” He nodded toward one of the docks.
A tall white cabin cruiser bobbed against its moor lines.
Crista shrank back against the seat, her voice going up an octave. “You’re going to dump my body in the lake?”
He extracted a cell phone from his inside jacket pocket. “I’m going to call my staff.”
“You have a phone?”
“Of course I have a phone.”
“You should make a ransom call. My fiancé is from a rich family. They’ll pay you.”
At least she hoped the Gerhards would pay to get her back. She was certain Vern would be willing. His father, maybe not so much.
* * *
Jackson hated that he was frightening Crista. But he was operating on the fly here. Taking her a quarter mile offshore on Lake Michigan was the best he could come up with to keep her safe but under wraps. He
