Now the moon cast an ethereal radiance around the young woman’s tiny frame. Her usually angelic features hardened as she glared into his face. She hated him. He tried to convince himself that it didn’t bother him.
“Why won’t you let me go?” she tried again.
“I can’t. Not yet.” It was the truth. Well, mostly the truth.
Lost in thoughts of the truths he hadn’t told and tugging at the water-warped cabin door that refused to open, he almost missed Kenzie’s sudden spin and quick steps toward the woods on his right. His hand shot out, and he grabbed her elbow. “Not so fast.”
When the door opened with a pop, he pushed her inside, following so closely that he could smell the lingering remnants of her citrus perfume. Lemon and lime.
He led her to the only seat in the room, a wooden rocking chair next to the hearth, and let go of her arm as she sank obediently between the arms, worn smooth from years of use. She looked like a child, staring at him as though he had all the answers. But he didn’t. He just prayed that Whitestall had the answers they needed to save them both.
A movement in the doorway leading to the bathroom caught his eye and he turned toward the white-haired woman in the flannel nightgown walking toward him.
“Grams.” He sighed, pulling the plump woman in his arms.
“Myles, what on earth are you doing here?” she asked, pulling back to look between him and Kenzie. Her brow furrowed, but she left her hands resting on his forearms. “It’s the middle of the night!”
“We’re—” he began, but was instantly interrupted by another voice.
“He kidnapped me! Please, you have to help me!” Kenzie charged across the room, imploring his grandma for help. Kenzie’s fingers folded over each other as though almost in prayer, and she looked like she would fall on her knees at any moment.
Myles gazed into his grandma’s face and spoke to her the whole truth without saying a word. His eyes beseeched her to understand the situation, to trust him. He had given her nothing to worry about for years. She could trust him.
But he also knew that Kenzie could be persuasive, and if he wasn’t careful, Grams would reveal too much before he could get Kenzie to the safe house and convince her that everything he’d done, he had had to do to protect her.
Grams’s eyes squinted back at him for a long moment. He squeezed her arms gently and smiled. She nodded and looked back at Kenzie.
“You’re safe here, dear,” she said, reaching out and taking Kenzie’s hand.
Kenzie looked dumbfounded, her eyes huge in her face, her eyebrows reaching toward her hairline. “But he’s kidnapped me. From the prison. He was in prison. Don’t you understand?”
“You were in prison?” Grams asked, looking over her shoulder at him and quirking an eyebrow.
Myles grinned and shrugged. “It’s a long story. I’ll explain later.”
Grams nodded and turned back to Kenzie. “I’m Lenora Borden. And you are…?”
“Kenzie—Kenzie Thorn.” She tripped on her words.
“Well, welcome. You must be starving. He’s always starving.” She indicated Myles with a nod of her head. “I’ll run down to the cellar and bring up some homemade beef stew. We have just a few jars left from last season’s canning.”
“Thanks, Grams,” Myles said, giving her a peck on her cheek. “Sounds great! I’m going to make a quick phone call.”
Grams nodded, then disappeared out the front door, leaving Kenzie looking so shocked that Myles pushed her gently into the rocking chair before her legs crumpled.
“Don’t move,” he commanded as he stalked to the telephone sitting on the kitchen counter. It was the only phone line in the house, the only way of communication. Cell phones didn’t work this far out of town. And he’d never bothered to have the Internet installed. Being in touch with the outside world defeated his usual purpose for being in the cabin, and it would serve him well now. Even if Whitestall tried to trace the call, he’d have a hard time finding this place. That was what made it so perfect.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Kenzie settle a little deeper into the chair. A quick swipe through the pocket of his jeans produced another item the guard had given him. The tiny slip of paper contained only a single telephone number, a way of contacting the guard when the job was done.
Punching in the ten digits, Myles tapped his foot impatiently.
“Hello?” The man’s voice on the other end of the line quivered slightly.
“Boss, it’s Parsons.”
“Parsons? Is—is everything taken care of?” For the first time in his experience with the prison guard, Myles thought he heard a bit of apprehension in the other man’s voice, but Whitestall quickly subdued it.
“Almost.” He shot a look in Kenzie’s direction. She sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, prim little sweater wrapped around her shoulders.
“What does that mean?” The other man whispered so softly that Myles pressed the receiver harder to his ear and focused intently on his words.
“I’m just finishing up a few things. You know. Taking care of details.”
“So it’s done? I mean, you killed her?”
“That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
Silence hung on the line for several long seconds. “Of course it is. I told you to take care of her. Get her out of the picture. They want her gone.”
“Who’s they?” Myles tried to ignore the tug of loathing he felt for the man’s contempt for life in general and Kenzie specifically. Instead he focused on discovering the leader behind the contract to kidnap and murder Kenzie.
“They. Them. They…they told me to take care of it. He said if I didn’t, I’d be fish food. And I believe him, but—” Whitestall’s voice cut off, almost like the phone line had gone dead.
“Boss? You still there?”
“I’m here.”
Myles tried to choose his words wisely. Could he draw out the other man’s concerns about the plan without alerting him to the fact that he was doing so? That “but” had been a loaded one. It spelled fear. And maybe something more. “You ever think maybe you know too much? Maybe you’re not safe, either.”
No noise from the other end of the line. Had he pushed too hard? Finally, “Yeah, I thought of that.”
“But there’s nothing tying you to my escape or the murder. You’ll be fine.”
“Maybe. Maybe no-ot.” The lilt in his voice at the end of the last word told Myles that he’d pressed too hard, frightened the guy beyond opening up. That fear was the first break in Whitestall’s armor. He may be a rough and intimidating prison guard, but he was still human. And now Myles had a gut feeling he was going to run.
For his life.
Suddenly the line went dead, and the force of an unexpected blow to his left knee sent Myles crashing to the ground, howling in pain and clawing at the counter on his way down. His hands caught onto the base of the telephone and ripped the cord from the wall just as his cheek met the rough wooden floor. Tears immediately sprang to his eyes, blurring his vision of Kenzie’s shoes beating a hasty getaway and the cabin door slamming behind her.
FOUR
Just follow the gravel road. Follow the road. There has to be another cabin. You’ll find someone to help you.
God, please let there be someone