"You're right," she said as they blew by the off ramp, satisfied to see fear in his eyes as she quickly checked the mirror. "I am going to die. And so are you."
Then she yanked the wheel to the right, sending the car through the guardrail with a horrible squealing noise as metal scraped against metal. For a long moment, it felt like time stopped and Betsy felt like the car hung in mid-air. Then the brush-covered hillside rose up to meet them, and the scene outside the front window was a blur of gold, green and gray as the car rolled down the slope. When it stopped, the final impact was too much, and everything went dark.
* * *
An irritating buzzing sound kept intruding on Betsy's sleep. She reached out to turn off the alarm, but something sharp pricked the palm of her hand and she jerked it back in pain. Her head felt weird as she tried to stretch with little success. Opening her eyes, she gasped at Derek's bloody face barely a foot away. Cold tremors started under her skin as she remembered why she was hanging upside down by her seat belt in the car. Derek hadn't been so lucky, from the looks of it.
Good.
The buzzing started again, and she tilted her head back to the cell phone resting on what had been the roof of the cab just below her. It was Derek's, and she carefully picked it up, mindful of the glass she'd cut herself on seconds before. There was an incoming text message, and she read it.
"Haven't heard from you - are we still on schedule? I'll check in again at four. If I don't talk to you then, I know what to do. "
Betsy set the phone down carefully, and then reached for the seat belt. She had to get out of there - already she could hear sirens in the distance, and she couldn't risk being taken to the hospital before she made sure her little girl was safe. Then she had to find Ian.
The clasp wouldn't budge, no matter how hard she pulled. Leaning back down, she grabbed a sharp piece of glass and sawed at the fabric until it was barely connected. Leaning back with one hand, she braced herself as well as she could, and then tugged the last bit of the strap apart.
Gravity took over, and she slipped out of the seat, landing on her shoulders. After a few minutes of careful maneuvering and more cuts, she managed to crawl out the window to safety. Her head spun as she sat up, and she nearly blacked out as the blood reversed course. Voices carried down to her from above, but looking up all she could see was the thick canopy of tall trees, minus some limbs they'd brought down with the car.
She stood carefully, bracing herself on a boulder for support. After a few quick checks to make sure her joints all worked, she jogged off into the woods, stopping only briefly to reply to the text with one of her own.
"
Slight delay. Do nothing until you hear from me."
Betsy kept moving for the next half-hour, stopping on top of a small rise to get her bearings. Finding a cell signal, she tried to call her brother, but there was no answer. Tapping into the GPS program and was relieved to realize that the city was just a couple miles from her position. Looking out that direction, she sighed. The large hill she'd run the car off of was just part of a range, from the looks of it. The only way to get back to the other side was to go back to the interstate and around, or to climb directly over. She could see the highway off to her right, but to get there would make the trip twice as long. Either way, she needed water, and the sun was starting to go down, which meant colder temperatures than she was dressed for.
Swiping at frustrated tears, she leaned against a tree knowing that if she sat down she might not get back up. As she looked across the valley, she tried to think of who she could call, but aside from Harley and Monica, there really wasn't anyone else who would care enough to come get her except Ian. Just the thought of him being held by Derek's men brought fresh tears to her eyes.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something glint in the sun at the base of the hill, and she forced herself to move for a better vantage point. As she walked out of the trees and peered around a large boulder, a slow smile spread across her lips.
* * *
Betsy scrambled down the slope, nearly losing her footing several times in her haste. She approached the two newer-looking trucks cautiously, wondering just how far away the owners were. Seeing no one, she opened the driver's side door of the closest vehicle as quietly as she could, only wide enough to allow her to slide under the wheel. Laying across the seat, she pulled the wires from the ignition down, took a breath, and tapped them together a few times, hoping the truck had fuel. As the engine roared to life, she sat up and threw the transmission into drive, stepping on the gas as two half-dressed teens came around the corner of the hill, yelling and waving their arms.
Glancing in the rear view mirror as she headed towards the highway, she saw one of the kids put a phone to his ear. She didn't have much time, and when she reached the ramp to get on the interstate, she hesitated. If she went toward the city, she'd have to pass the accident, and all the law enforcement people who were probably still there. By now, dispatch had probably already radioed the truck description out. Damn cell phones.
Derek was dead though, or close to it - either way, he wouldn't be visiting their daughter anytime soon. And if she went back to the ranch, there was a chance she might be able to find Ian before...
The phone in her pocket buzzed, and she dug it out, her heart in her throat as she read the text on the screen.
"Feds are here. Gotta move. Meet at location B."
Betsy swore. Cranking the wheel to the south, she got on the highway headed back toward the ranch. There was a turnoff a few miles further, and if she could reach that, she could disappear on the back roads for the remainder of the drive. Grabbing the phone off the seat, she punched in a number she'd memorized years ago, but had never used.
"Hello?" A woman's voice came on the line, and thankfully she sounded like an adult. Betsy took a breath.
"One of your children might be in danger. If you see anyone suspicious hanging around outside, call the police right away. It's important."
She hung up before any questions could be asked, and tossed the phone back on the seat, flicking away a stray tear. It was all she could do right now, but it felt like too little. Hopefully it wouldn't be too late.
Around the next bend, she saw the exit coming up and breathed a sigh of relief. Veering off the interstate, she turned onto an empty two-lane frontage road and floored it, thinking of all the places on the ranch someone could hide out. Derek had mentioned awhile back that he'd been staying out there, so obviously he'd found a spot. Unfortunately, it was probably in the cave-system below, considering he'd managed to stay hidden so long. She shivered at the thought of going back down there, but it was the only logical choice, especially if there were federal agents on the ranch.
Wondering briefly why that would be, she frowned. Was Harley in some sort of trouble? Maybe that's why he hadn't answered.
She turned onto an old mining road just inside the ranch boundary and stopped the truck in a clearing about twenty feet in. She'd have to move it later, but for now, it should be fine. Climbing out, she ran a few feet into the trees until she found the vine-covered wooden door, and used the spare key hidden under a log to unlock it. Replacing the key, she stepped over the threshold and found the flashlight on the floor to her right before locking the door behind her.
Steeling herself with a long sigh, she pointed the flashlight ahead and began her descent back into the tunnel system.
* * *
Ian woke to brighter light coming in through translucent white curtains. His throat was dry and he rolled to his side, wincing at the dull ache that banded his torso. Remembering his captor, he looked toward the chair in the corner, but it was empty. A quick glance around the room told him he was alone, which suited him fine. Judging from the simple furnishings, he was in one of the guest rooms of the mansion - rooms that weren't rented out to just anyone. Normally reserved for people with a lot more money than Derek had, Ian assumed no one knew the room was occupied.
He fought his way to a sitting position, barely succeeding at holding in a groan. He'd only been in these upper suites once before, but he remembered that each room had it's own restroom, and after carefully rising to his feet, he shuffled in the direction it should be. Thankful he remembered correctly, he relieved himself and then got a drink of water, splashing some over his face while he was at it.
A clock on the counter read four in the afternoon, and he frowned. If memory served, that meant he'd been there a whole day. But where was Betsy?
A click outside the bathroom door signified the return of his captor. Ian looked around the small room, trying to find something, anything he could use as a weapon. Settling on the towel bar, he dropped the towel on the floor and yanked up, then out to break it free from its anchor. He turned just as the bathroom door burst open.
He brought the rod up hard underneath the man's wrists, catching him by surprise and knocking the gun into the air. The weapon landed with a loud crash in the bathtub behind him, but aside from being grateful it didn't go off, Ian didn't have time to grab it. Driven by pure adrenaline, he raised the bar with both hands and brought it down in the other man's right thigh, earning a squeal of pain and some room as the man stumbled back. Ian raised the metal again, intending to strike in the center of the chest.
In that instant, he was aware of two things: The man was reaching for another gun strapped to his ankle, and Ian didn't want to kill anyone.
The man raised the gun, his finger on the trigger.
Ian brought the bar down hard, piercing the man's belly. Blood splashed up over Ian's hands as the man cried out, the gun dropping from his fingers as he passed out. Ian yanked the bar back out and tossed it aside, gathering the two guns and stepping over the dying guard. His mind felt strangely numb, as though he was seeing everything play out in slow motion. Knowing the man would die but unable to watch, he closed the bathroom door and hobbled across the room, fresh stripes of pain twisting his ribs and head.
"God forgive me," he whispered, shoving the guns under the pillow and laying back on the bed. He needed to rest, just for a minute. Then he'd find his way out.
A minute later, he was asleep.
Chapter 11
Exhausted, Betsy slid down the cool dirt wall and aimed the flashlight beam on a map. It felt like she'd been walking for hours, but there was no sign of Ian or even anyone suspicious that might lead her to him. The tunnels beneath the ranch were cold and eerily quiet, the lack of sound and companionship getting to her more than anything else. If Ian was down here, there was no way she'd find him by herself. She needed help.
If she'd followed the landmarks correctly, which she wasn't at all sure of, the tunnel that began directly in front of her should lead to the access door under the mansion. Exhaling long and slow, she forced herself to get up and started down the dark passageway. Swinging the light from side to side, she moved as quickly as she dared, trying to be quiet. Then she saw it - a sliver of brightness piercing the dark several feet ahead.
Panic was her first reaction, because down here, there shouldn't be any open doors or light penetrating. Either someone had entered or left the tunnels there recently, or a door had been left open - something no one who knew about them would dare to do. Her heart beating fast, Betsy switched off the light and hugged the wall, inching slowly closer. By the time she was near enough to peer around the corner, her mouth was so dry and her pulse so quick she could barely swallow.
Half-expecting a large hand to reach out for her, she leaned against the corner and twisted around until she could see. Her eyes widened as she took in the jagged edges of rock that framed a small, crudely shaped opening. There was no door, but on the other side of the opening she could swear she saw...
Shower tile?
Her instincts told her the area was empty, and she moved toward the opening, flashlight held ready as a weapon. Stopping just outside the portal she waited, listening for any sound at all before stepping through into a large shower area she recognized as her brother's.
"What on earth has he been up to?" she mused softly, making her way to the bathroom door. She pressed her ear against it, listening for several seconds before pulling it open.
The place felt deserted, and her panic subsided as she went through the living room and got a glass of water in the kitchen. Remembering the cell phone, she tried to call Harley again, but he still didn't answer. Gulping down more fluid, she brought up the text messages Derek's goon had sent her earlier, and pressed the button to reply.
"I'm here - where are you?" she typed in, hoping he'd take the bait. Expecting a quick reply, she stared at the screen for several minutes, sipping water as a clock ticked somewhere in the next room.
The minute she gave up and laid the phone on the counter, it buzzed. Snatching it up, she read the words on the screen with a grin.
"Upstairs, mansion. Hurry."
* * *
Ian set the phone on a low table near the door, glad it had woke him up in time to get the text from Derek. Looking around for a weapon, he settled on the thick wooden dowel that served as a closet rod. He considered getting one of the guns, but he didn't want to risk killing Derek before he found out where Betsy was. With any luck, she was here at the ranch too, but it didn't matter. He'd do whatever he had to do to get her back, no matter where Derek had stashed her.
The floor creaked in the hall, and Ian sucked in a breath. There was a short hall between the door and the main part of the room, and he braced his back against the wall on one side of the opening. The door handle jiggled, and he wondered for a minute if he'd locked it, but then a beam of light penetrated the darkness as the door swung open. He waited, his heart thudding in his chest as he held the dowel ready to swing like a bat.