Page 93 of Husband Missing

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Surely that was loud and she was near the edge where the yard met the driveway. Random items had rolled onto the asphalt. There was no time to clean up or put everything back into place. If someone had heard that, they’d be on her in no time. She plucked an arrow off the ground. One with a deadly-looking broadhead on it. Her thundering heart filled with joy as she imagined plunging its sleek, silver, razor-sharp point into the flesh of the men pursuing her.

A shout came from nearby. Too close. Clutching the phone in one hand and the arrow in the other, Erica started moving again. Another bout of dizziness assailed her. The spikes driving into her head rose to a new level of pain. She had to keep going. Plunging into the forest seemed like an exercise in futility. What if it went on forever? They’d hear her. Be able to track her. She’d have no sense of direction. What if she walked for hours only to end up right back here? Could she walk for hours with the entire cast ofStompgiving the performance of a lifetime behind her eyes? Her gaze flitted to the shed again. They’d expect her to flee into the trees. That’s where they were already searching.

Hopefully they’d be gone long enough for her to make a call.

She sprinted toward the small structure. A cry of relief escaped her when the door opened with no resistance. Laboring for breath, she sealed herself inside. Hazy light filtered through a single, small, grime-covered window near the back. One-handed, she brought up the phone’s lock screen.

“Holy shit.”

Her own face stared back at her. There she was, blowing the camera a kiss. Holden had taken this stupid picture. Whenever they were together, he made sure it was on his home and lock screens. One time, he’d forgotten, and left a photo of theredhead on the display. Erica didn’t need a passcode to make an emergency call, but she entered his anyway. Within the first week of knowing him, she’d surreptitiously obtained it.

Deep down, she knew he was the guy they’d killed in front of her in their creepy little death room but this confirmed it.

The hours-old memory of his brain splattering across her face made her hands tremble. She stumbled forward, needing to sit, needing to breathe before she could call 911, and tripped over another body.

SIXTY-SIX

“I’ll be ready,” Trinity said. “By the way, have you been listening to the radio?”

Josie’s heart thumped. “No, why?”

“The state police released the name of the suspect in Noah’s case, the armed robberies, and the Gina Phelan stabbing. There’s a bona fide manhunt going on right now.”

Other motorists beeped their horns as Josie made a three-point turn in the middle of traffic. “Tell me.”

“Holden Doyle. Get this. He’s employed by Phelan Construction as a security guard. Mace is unavailable for comment.”

Which meant that Trinity had put on her journalism hat and started poking around. Josie floored it, whizzing around other cars, trying to calculate how long it would take to retrieve Trinity and get back here. “Just be ready,” she told her sister.

The call disconnected. Josie was so focused on not getting T-boned as she blew through red lights that when her phone rang again, she stabbed blindly at the console until her finger found the answer button. She assumed it was Trinity again.

Except the voice that filled the car didn’t belong to her sister. “Hello? Is this…is this Josie Quinn?”

It took a moment for Josie to place it. “Erica? Erica Slater?”

There was some rustling. Her next words were fainter. “I called 911. I’m—some guys took me. They work for Mace Phelan. He’s here. They’re all looking for me but I’m hiding in a shed behind the house. Waiting for the police. There’s someone else here, with me. He…he gave me this number and asked me to call. He, um, he’s in bad shape. They must have thought he was already dead. I thought he was dead at first with the way he—” She broke off, a high-pitched sob ripping through the line and right through Josie’s frayed heart. “They just left him out here and I don’t know what’s wrong with him. I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

The car screeched to a halt on the shoulder of the road. Josie swallowed down the emotion that threatened to spill over and consume her. Her mouth was dry. It felt like there were razor blades in her throat. She didn’t even sound like herself when she said, “Put him on.”

And then. Then.

Noah’s voice. Strained and raspy but audible, the soundtrack of her very soul. “Josie.”

Oh God. It was too much. She needed to be with him. Right now. Needed to put her hands on him.

“Where are you?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t stop them. There were three…they wanted something from Lila’s stuff. It was about Lila?—”

“I know,” Josie said. “Noah, where are you?”

“Whatever they were looking for wasn’t there,” he went on. “They took me. Thought I knew something, that I was hiding something of Lila’s. Tried to beat it out of me, but I didn’t know what they were talking about…they kept talking about some kind of statement…”

He drifted off and Josie could hear him trying to catch his breath. “It doesn’t matter,” she told him. “I don’t care about that. Whereareyou?”

In the background, Erica whimpered.

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