When she hung up, she went down the hall and found a bathroom. She heard Dillon’s footsteps upstairs. He was nothing if not thorough. She couldn’t imagine anyone bothering to climb one of the oak trees surrounding the house to come in through one of the upstairs windows. But then again, after everything that had happened, she didn’t mind him being extra careful.
She headed back into the family room, which boasted an eclectic mix of furnishings. An antique hutch filled with beautiful china sat next to a rather impressive collection of liquor bottles. She had to smile at that. A modern, dark brown leather recliner sat next to a worn couch with a faded blue floral pattern. The little decorative oak tables sprinkled around the room were covered with picture frames. But it was the mantel above the stone fireplace that held her attention. Her mother’s collection of riding trophies was sparse in comparison to the awards marching across Dillon’s parents’ mantel.
She quickly realized there was organization to the chaos. The trophies on the left were mainly for football and all of them had the name Colton Gray on them, obviously Dillon’s brother. In the middle were more football trophies and quite a few swim awards and ribbons with Dillon’s name on them. That explained why he’d managed to swim through the storm-swollen river to save her on Cooper’s Bluff.
When she checked out the last group of knickknacks, she blinked in surprise. Horse-riding trophies competed with a healthy number of gymnastics awards. She read the name engraved on one of the little gold plates—Harmony Gray. So that was who the farm was named after, Dillon’s sister. Ashley couldn’t resist picking up a heart-shaped gold locket leaning against a plaque. She worked the delicate catch and opened it to reveal a picture of two young boys and a girl, obviously siblings, on the left side of the locket, and a picture of an older couple on the right that had to be Dillon’s parents.
Dillon stepped into the room, his ever-present smile fading when he saw what she held.
Ashley had a feeling she’d just intruded into something private, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking the obvious questions. “You have a sister named Harmony? You named your farm after her?”
He took the locket from her and set it back on the mantel, carefully adjusting the angle as if its exact placement mattered. When he looked back at her, there was none of the usual warmth in his expression and his eyes had turned cold. “
Had
a sister. Past tense.”
He started to turn away but she put her arm on his, stopping him.
“Tell me about her.”
“We don’t have time.”
His cold tone had her jerking her hand back.
He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. It’s just that...everyone around here knows about Harmony, so they don’t ask, they never talk about her.”
“I didn’t mean to pry. Okay, maybe I did, a little. I was curious, but I didn’t mean to open any old wounds.”
He stared down at her, his expression softening. “I know. Come on. I’m going to get my dad’s gun out of his safe.”
They went back down the long hall into the last room on the right. A desk along the far wall held a sewing machine and an assortment of material and threads. Bolts of fabric lined racks on another wall.
“Your dad sews?” Ashley teased.
Dillon chuckled. “Not the last time I checked. Mom makes quilts and sells them to tourists at the flea market. She doesn’t need the money, but since she’s given nearly everyone in Destiny at least two quilts each over the years, she had to find someone else to give them to. Keeps her busy and happy.”
He lowered himself to his knees on the tile floor in the middle of the room and pulled back a small rectangular rug to expose a trap door. He pulled it open to reveal a safe with a combination lock. The lock clicked and the safe opened. Dillon reached inside.
A whisper of sound had both of them turning around. Dillon threw his hands up just as Iceman swung one of the heavy trophies from the mantel at Dillon’s head. Blood splattered from a gash in Dillon’s scalp.
“Run, Ashley,” he yelled as he warded off another crushing blow. The gun in his hand was useless, since it had a trigger lock and he hadn’t had time to unlock it.
Ashley desperately looked around the room for something to use to help Dillon. But other than the sewing machine, which was too heavy to pick up, the hardest things in the room were the bolts of cloth.
Iceman swung the trophy again.
Dillon rolled out of the way just in time and Iceman fell to the ground. Dillon jumped to his feet and ran toward the other man, ready to tackle him. Iceman yanked a pistol out of his belt and pointed it up at Dillon’s head, stopping him in his tracks.
The faint whine of sirens sounded in the distance.
“Looks like the cavalry is on their way.” Iceman laughed. “Looks like they’re too late.” He steadied his gun.
Dillon lunged toward him.
The gun went off, sounding deafening in the small space.
Dillon fell to the floor, his eyes closed, blood pooling underneath his head.
Ashley screamed and dropped to her knees beside him. “Dillon, oh, my God, Dillon.” She reached for him, but Iceman jerked her back. He grabbed her by her hair and dragged her out into the hall.
Ashley flailed her hands up, trying to stop the horrible burning pain in her scalp. She kicked her feet and tried to rake her nails down his arms. He stopped halfway down the hall and slapped her so hard she flew against the wall and fell to the floor.
She expected Iceman to backhand her again. When he didn’t, she shoved her hair out of her eyes. The door to the antique hutch hung open, and Iceman stood in the middle of the family room pouring the contents of one of the bottles onto the area rug. The smell of alcohol hit her eyes, making them sting. What was he doing?
She braced her hands on the floor and wobbled to her feet.
A whoosh of heat and light had her flattening against the wall in shock. Oh, dear God, no. Iceman had set the rug on fire. The flames quickly moved to the couch and consumed the delicate cloth. Ashley turned and ran back down the hallway. If there was any chance Dillon was still alive, he was about to burn to death. She couldn’t let that happen.
Rough hands closed around her waist and jerked her up into the air.
“No, let me go,” she screamed.
Iceman ignored her struggles and ran with her down the hall, away from Dillon.
“You can’t leave him here! He’ll die!”
He threw her over his shoulder. When he reached the family room, he had to swerve back toward the fireplace to get around a chair that was on fire. Ashley flailed her hands out, trying to grab something to stop him, but all she managed to do was pull half the trophies off the mantel. Something small hit her hand and she grabbed it, her fingers closing around it as Iceman twisted and ran through the kitchen and outside. The back of a commercial-looking white van was a dark open maw. He pitched her like a sack of hay into the back and slammed the doors.
She cried out when her head slammed against the metal floor. She immediately pushed herself to her knees. When she saw what she’d grabbed off the mantel, she shoved it into her jeans pocket and scrambled toward the double doors at the back of the van. She jerked the handle. Nothing happened. She tried again, and again.
“Open the doors,” she cried. “Please, you can’t leave him in there! Dillon, Dillon!”
“It’s no use. He locked it from the outside. There’s no way out.”
Ashley whirled around at the familiar-sounding voice just as the van took off, slamming her against the closed doors. She fell to the floor again and slammed her fist against the floor in frustration.
“I’m so sorry,” the voice said again. “I never meant for this to happen. I’m so sorry, Ash.”
She shoved her hair out of her face and looked into the tortured gaze of Lauren Wilkes.
Chapter Thirteen
Ashley blinked at Lauren, stunned to see her there. But when Lauren reached for her, Ashley shoved her out of the way and turned back to the doors. She put every ounce of strength she had into twisting and pulling at the handle. She fought the rocking motion of the van to keep her balance and slammed her body against the doors over and over. The doors didn’t budge. The van kept barreling down the road.
And behind them, even though she couldn’t see it, fire was greedily consuming the house where Dillon lay unconscious—or worse—on the floor.
A keening sound whistled between her teeth and she slid to the floor, her entire body racked with sobs.
Please, if there’s any mercy in the world, let Dillon die before the fire reaches him. Please don’t let him burn.
The sound of sirens rose loud in the air, closer, closer.
The van suddenly slowed, as if the driver didn’t want to attract attention. Ashley didn’t want the police to notice the van, either. If there was any hope of Dillon surviving, the police needed to reach the house as soon as possible.
Don’t stop, don’t stop. Keep going to the house!
One of her prayers was finally answered. The sirens didn’t stop. Instead, they zoomed past, fading in the distance in the direction where the van had just come from.
“Ash?”
She drew great gulping breaths, then slowly straightened and leaned back against the side of the van and looked at her...friend? Enemy?
“Is it true?” she demanded. “Did you steal my identity and embezzle money?”
Lauren’s gaze fell. “I...I was desperate. I couldn’t pay the bills. I was about to be evicted. All I wanted was a chance to get some experience on my résumé, but my grades held me back. No one would hire me. It started out as one gig, just so I could eat. You have to understand. I didn’t mean any harm.”
“You didn’t mean any harm? People have died! All because you were too proud to go home and ask your friends and family for help? Seriously? How many more people are going to die because of your selfishness?”
The stricken look on Lauren’s face sent an automatic tug of guilt through Ashley, but she ruthlessly forced it away. Dillon didn’t deserve to die because of Lauren’s choices, and Lauren deserved no pity from her.
“I never... I didn’t think anyone would get hurt or I never would have done it. It was so easy, and for the first time in my life I had money to buy nice clothes, go to dinner at a fancy restaurant, take trips. I know I was wrong, but it was like a snowball rolling downhill once it started. And then...I met David. We fell in love.” A single tear ran down her cheek. “I was going to stop. We were going to run away together. And then they killed him.” Her voice broke on a sob and she covered her face with her hands.
“David? Who’s David?”
Lauren sniffled and wiped her tears. “David Dunlop. He was one of Todd Dunlop’s sons. When I audited Dunlop Enterprises, I realized David was already taking money, so I...I threatened him, like I did the others, so he would give me some money. But he understood me like no one else ever has. His father was mean and cruel and made David beg for every cent even though his father was a billionaire. It was wrong how he treated David. We fell in love and made our plan, one big score and we’d get out. But his father grew suspicious and he sent Luther to investigate. Two days later, David died. The police said it was just a car crash, but Luther bragged about it to me, how he forced David off the road and he ran into a tree.”
She wiped at her tears again. “Luther said I was next if I didn’t give him the money David and I had taken.” Her tear-bright gaze raised to Ashley’s. “But I didn’t have the account numbers or any way to access them. David was going to give me the account numbers, but he died before he could.”
The van made another slow turn, as if the driver was making doubly sure no one would notice him or have any reason to be suspicious. It bounced and rocked on its springs, slowing even more as it made its way down what felt like a dirt road.
Lauren squeezed her hands together in her lap. “Ash, I’m so sorry. Luther threatened to kill me. You have to understand. I had to buy some time while I tried to figure a way out of this mess. I never dreamed that he would...” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “Please forgive me.”
“Why do you keep apologizing to me?” The van stopped, its brakes squeaking.
A panicked look swept across Lauren’s face.
“Where are we?” Ashley demanded. “What have you done?”
Lauren suddenly grabbed Ashley by the shoulders. “Listen to me. I told Luther you were in on everything with me. I told him that you had the access information for the accounts. He expects you to be able to wire the money to his account.”
“What? Why? Why did you tell them that?”
Footsteps crunched outside. The mumble of low voices sounded through the door.
“You have to pretend you can access the account, Ash. You have to buy us some more time. If you can’t bluff them, we’re both going to die.”
Ashley’s stomach sank. Her mind raced, trying to absorb everything Lauren had said. What was she going to do?
A metallic noise sounded outside. The handle flipped down and the door jerked open.
Iceman stood in the opening, and he wasn’t alone. Two men flanked him. All three of them wore large guns holstered on their hips. Behind the van, two more men sat in a forest-green sedan. And they were all staring at her.
“End of the road, ladies,” Iceman growled. “Someone had better tell me how to get my money or you both die.” He drew his gun and pointed it directly at Ashley. “I’m going to count to three, and then you either tell me what I need to know or I put a bullet in your brain.”
No, no, no, what was she supposed to do?
“One.”
Bile rose in her throat. She had to tell him how to get the money. But how could she do that? Only one person knew the account number and any access IDs and passwords that might be needed, and that person was dead.
She darted a glance at Lauren, but there was no help in that quarter. Lauren’s eyes were closed and she was rocking back and forth, as if she’d given up and was waiting for a bullet.
“Two.”
Oh, God. She had to do something. A computer. She needed a computer to buy them time, to pretend she knew how to access the accounts. But what if he had a computer with him? That would be too fast, too easy, and wouldn’t buy her any time to find a way out. So what could she do?
“Three. Tell me what I want to know or I’m pulling the trigger.”
“Okay, okay!” She held up her hands. “Put the gun away. Please. I’ll tell you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Tell me, and if I believe you, then I’ll put the gun away.” His finger flexed on the trigger.
“My computer,” she gasped. “I need my computer.”
“Use mine.” He motioned to one of the other men, who headed toward the front of the van.
“No, no, that won’t work. I have to have
my
computer.”
He pressed the gun against her forehead. “Why?”
Why? Her mind went blank. All she could focus on was the cold feel of the barrel pressing against her skin.
“Because she has the access codes in a file,” Lauren blurted out. “And they’re encrypted. She has to run the file through special software on her laptop to decode them!”
Access codes? Encrypted? Decode? What was Lauren doing, trying to make it sound as though Ashley was some kind of genius corporate spy? She kept her face carefully blank, trying not to let her frustration show, hoping she could go along with Lauren’s crazy lie and look convincing.
Iceman slowly lowered the gun and shoved it into the holster. “All right. Where’s your computer?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
He reached for his gun.
“Wait, wait. I remember. I had it with me up in the mountains. It was in my duffel bag, the one...” She swallowed, trying to force words past the anguish tightening her throat. “It’s in the bag...Dillon...tied behind the mare’s saddle.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “I remember the mare. He let it go when you two raced off on the other horse.” His hand relaxed away from his gun, as if her mentioning the mare had lent credibility to Lauren’s made-up story. “Where’s the mare now?”
She hesitated. Dillon had said the mare was trail trained, that she’d go right back home to the farm. But there were people at the farm—Griffin, the farmhands. She couldn’t put them in danger by leading him there. All that would do was buy a few more minutes, or however long it would take to get to the farm. Once he realized she didn’t have any special access codes, she was as good as dead anyway. She couldn’t trade a few more minutes for the lives of innocent people.
“I don’t know.”
He whipped his gun out and pressed it against her forehead again. “Rethink that answer.”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t know where the mare is.”
He grabbed Lauren by the hair and yanked her to the opening at the back of the van. Lauren whimpered and grabbed his hands, blinking against the rush of tears that flowed down her cheeks. Iceman pressed the gun against her temple. “Tell me where the mare is, or she dies.”
“Ash, please,” Lauren pleaded. “Please don’t let me die.”
“Hold it, wait!” she yelled, hating herself for the choice she was making, but she couldn’t let him kill Lauren. She would just have to pray she could somehow do something to alert Griffin and the others before they fell prey to the Iceman. “The mare would have gone home. She should be at Dillon’s horse farm by now, Harmony Haven.”
He must have seen the truth in her eyes, because he shoved Lauren away and slammed the doors shut.
* * *
D
ILLON
STARED
UP
at Chris, Donna and the chief and tried to make sense of why he was lying flat on his back on the grass and the three of them were on their knees, bending over him. Black smoke billowed into the blue sky above him and the acrid smell burned his nostrils and made his eyes water. Sirens sounded far off in the distance.
A violent cough racked his body and set his head to pounding as if a herd of horses were galloping around the inside of his skull. He cursed and raised his hand to cradle his head, but Chris grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“Be still, John Wayne. You’re bleeding all over the place.” As if to prove it, he held up what appeared to be a shirt. Dillon couldn’t be sure, because it was covered in blood. Chris turned it and pressed it back against the side of Dillon’s head.
Dillon sucked in a breath at the sharp pain that lanced through his skull. “What happened, Billy Bob?” he asked, his voice coming out a thick rasp.
Chris exchanged a surprised glance with the others. “It’s Billy the Kid. Get it right, partner. And as for what happened, we were hoping you would tell us that.”
The chief squatted down beside him. “Miss Parrish called nine-one-one. She explained that Luther Kennedy murdered Special Agent Kent and you two were holed up in your parents’ house and needed backup. When we got here, half the house was on fire and the rest of it was full of smoke. Chris, fool that he is, raced inside. Lucky for you, he found you and got you out in time.” He cleared his throat and looked away, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say the rest.
“What?” Dillon demanded. His stomach knotted and his heart slammed in his chest as the sickening realization hit him. He didn’t see Ashley anywhere. He grabbed the chief’s arm. “What happened to her? Tell me!”
Chris pulled the shirt away from the side of Dillon’s head as if to inspect the cut, then shook his head and pressed the shirt back. “The fire was too intense. I barely got you out before the rest of the house went up. If Miss Parrish was inside...” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, man. We got here too late.”
Images slammed into him. Ashley beside him in his mother’s sewing room, watching him open the floor safe. Movement out of the corner of his eye. Too late, he saw Iceman, swinging one of those damn swim trophies at him. Ashley screaming, trying once again to help him instead of running to safety like she should have. A deep, burning pain in the side of his head. Falling to the floor. Pain shooting through his head, making everything foggy. Unable to move even as he heard Ashley scream and he realized Iceman was taking her away. Then nothing, until now.
He tried to sit up, but Chris and Donna both pushed him back down.
“For God’s sake, Dillon,” Donna chastised him. “You’ve got lumps the size of Ping-Pong balls all over your head. And if I’m not mistaken, a bullet grazed your scalp. You’ve probably got a concussion, and if you get up you’ll start bleeding again. Lie down and wait for the ambulance.”
Dillon shoved Chris’s hand away. “Iceman has Ashley. I remember him pulling her down the hall. He has her. I have to help her.”
“What makes you think he didn’t kill her and leave her in the house?” the chief asked.
“He could have killed her several times over already, but each time he didn’t. He wants her alive. Whatever he wants her for, he still hasn’t gotten it. He took her. He’s got her. Let me up, Chris. Or I’m going to knock some teeth out.”
Chris frowned but pulled his hands back.
Dillon scrambled to his feet, then wobbled as the world tilted and spun around him.
Chris swore and grabbed his arm, steadying him.
Dillon drew several deep breaths and the spinning stopped. For the first time he realized exactly where he was—the edge of the front lawn of his parents’ house, or what was left of it. Flames still ate at the wooden structure, but the second floor wasn’t even recognizable anymore. His chest tightened and for a moment he couldn’t seem to draw a breath. All those memories, his mother’s quilts, the trophies she’d treasured...all gone, including Harmony’s. He dropped his head to his chest. He just couldn’t watch his parents’ dreams going up in smoke anymore.
And that’s when he saw them.
He bent down, studying the dirt where the yard ended and the road began. “Fresh tire tracks. Wide apart. And he must have turned the wheel right here,” he said, pointing. “That marks the wheelbase, longer than a car. Iceman took Ashley away in a small truck or a van of some kind. Did you pass any vehicles on the road when you came here?”