Definitely not a vehicle he’d ever be caught dead in. He could not picture Joe Hatcher driving such a thing either, but who would trespass on his property and go so far as to park their car in such an isolated corner? And for what purpose?
A crackle of branches drew his attention.
“It’s Barrett Thorn. I’m looking for my horse,” he called out, figuring it was the best way not to get shot if Joe Hatcher was out patrolling his property. “Who’s there?”
No answer, but neither did he hear the sound of a shotgun being cocked, so that was a plus.
The rain pounded harder. Titan shifted his weight to indicate that he did not understand his master’s crazy choice to remain in the elements when there was a perfectly good barn back on the Gold Bar Ranch.
At the moment, Barrett was beginning to question his own actions, too. Swanny would wind up back at the barn sooner or later, and it would be a lot easier trying to find her after sunup. He might be risking his own safety and that of Titan by continuing the search mission. Was he going the extra mile to find the horse because she was his duty? Or because she had been Bree’s favorite?
“You’d do it for any of the horses,” he mumbled to himself. He patted Titan’s neck, the storm howling around them.
No one emerged from the undergrowth. It must have been an animal or a storm-related noise he’d heard. Of course. What else would it have been? Swanny would have responded to his whistle long ago.
Still, he waited a minute longer. His cowboy hat was not enough to keep the driving rain from snaking down his neck, wetting his shirt under his jacket. His jeans were soaked from his belt to the top of his boots.
If Swanny was in the woods somewhere, she’d have shown herself by now, he felt certain. It was time to search elsewhere. The car would remain a mystery for someone else to solve.
“We’ll go check the east end again, in case your daffy girl changed her mind and started back home,” he said. Titan twitched an ear, eager to be heading out of the storm, and began his about-face.
Thump.
Barrett pulled Titan to a stop. What he’d heard this time wasn’t a twig snapping.
Thump, thump.
Cold prickles erupted on the back of his neck at the sound. Hopping from the saddle, he approached the car.
Another thump and a woman’s cry.
Coming from inside the trunk.
* * *
Shelby Arroyo slammed her sneakers against the metal lid of the trunk and kicked for all she was worth. The effort sent pain shooting up her neck to her skull where her attacker had struck her from behind while she’d been fumbling in her trunk. She was scared, terrified even and angry at herself.
“How stupid you are,” Shelby hissed. “Staying out until nightfall without even letting Uncle Ken know your route.” Absorbed in the area geology as she usually was, completely oblivious, she’d not got even a glimpse of the person who had hit her over the head and pushed her in. And where was her cell phone? She stopped kicking long enough to grope again around the pitch-black space, encountering nothing but the bag of extra shoes she’d left there. The little pack she carried with her assaying tools, driver’s license, phone, keys and wallet had fallen from her hand, probably taken by her attacker along with her soil samples.
Why? The samples were worthless, just a way for her to collect information about the area geology, and she had less than twenty dollars in her wallet.
Whoever had done it must have been watching her, biding their time. The thought froze her. Strange hands had lifted her up, dumped her in and left her there. She was fortunate the guy hadn’t decided to kill her, unless he figured she’d die in the trunk before anyone found her. It would be a slow, unkind death, of hunger and thirst. A flood of panic stampeded inside. Stop it, Shelby.
She kicked again in frustration. “Let...me...out,” she hollered to no one. Try as she might, she could find no internal trunk release. There had to be one somewhere, but her shaking fingers simply could not locate it and of course she’d never taken the time to read the owner’s manual. Who imagines they’re going to get locked in their own trunk? she thought bitterly.
The car jolted.
She almost screamed.
Someone was attempting to open the trunk from the outside. Her heart jumped to her throat. Was it help? But who would know where to find her except the man who had locked her there in the first place? No innocent bystander would be out strolling along in a downpour at ten o’clock at night.
He’d come back.
Her mind scrambled, trying to figure out some means of defense. She had nothing, no weapon, no phone. “God...” she started, but that wouldn’t do any good. Prayers were fine and all, but she knew she had to rely on herself, as she’d told her mother so many times before the woman no longer knew who Shelby was.
Resolve hardened inside Shelby like hot lava hitting cold ocean water. She intended to use every shred of muscle she possessed to save herself. No divine intervention required. Tensing her legs, she poised to kick out, straining to hear over the whoosh of rain.
Was that footsteps now, heading away?
No. The car was lurching under a heavy onslaught at the front end, the metal shuddering around her. There was a sound of breaking glass. After a moment, the trunk release triggered and the lid slid open a couple of inches. She paused to give him just enough time to return to the back of the vehicle. Timing would be crucial.
One chance is all you get, Shelby, she thought.
She was blinded by the glare from a flashlight whoever it was must have been holding. Another half second. With an explosive effort, she bucked her feet out as hard as she could. The trunk lid made contact.
She heard a man’s grunt of surprise and pain, but she did not stop long enough to assess the damage. Instead she was out and running as fast as she could over the open ground.
“Stop,” a man’s deep voice called.
No way, her mind shot back but her feet did not slow. Pain pounded through her neck and shoulders but the adrenaline kept it at bay. She had to get to a house or find a place to hole up until morning to buy herself time.
“Stop,” the voice came again louder, closer. “There’s a...”
She did not hear the last word. Running faster than she’d known she could, Shelby flew, feet slipping on wet rocks and tripping over the uneven patches of ground.
He was drawing nearer, moving surprisingly fast for a big man. A glance told her he was as wet as she was, a cowboy hat hiding his face.
She pressed harder and he yelled again, but she gave his words no heed.
A smell of sodden vegetation and the faraway sound of running water triggered an alarm bell in her mind. Cold air wafted up from somewhere far below. The ground suddenly gave way underneath her as she plunged into nothingness.
