Page 38 of Final Escape
“So now his options are limited. He can hang around town, where people might start to think he’s a suspicious stranger and point him out...”
“Or he could lie low and watch for me coming and going from school. I don’t think he’ll risk coming out here again...not after you confronted him face-to-face and made him back down. He did say something about how giving him money ‘could save my life’...but that was just another one of his empty threats.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. Not after seeing his expression, when he thought he could bully you into giving him exactly what he wanted.” Logan looked down at her, the faint moonlight shadowing the planes and angles of his lean, rugged face. He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Munson said he’d alert the other officers about keeping an eye out for him, using the description and photo you gave them. But until Billy is gone for sure, I’ll be staying in the boathouse at night.”
“But—”
“No arguments.” A corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin. “It’s actually not too bad over there. I may even do some renovating and move in there for good. My cabin is a good hundred years older.”
She looked up at him, grateful for his presence. “You are one very sweet guy.”
He laughed at that. “Don’t tell Penny that. It’ll ruin my image.”
He started to turn away, then paused, turned back and pulled Carrie into an embrace. “You’ll be fine,” he whispered against her hair. “We’re going to make sure your problems are taken care of, once and for all. And then you won’t need to worry anymore.”
A sense of warmth rushed through her, clear down to her toes, and she curved her arms around him in response. “Thank you,” she breathed.
He pulled back, his arms still around her, and dropped a sweet, gentle kiss on her lips. Lingered.
And then he walked away.
* * *
TWO NIGHTS LATER, CARRIEstill had trouble sleeping. Early Saturdaymorning she remembered seeing the dial of her alarm clock at two, three-thirty and four, her emotions still in a turmoil after the encounter with Billy and the deputy, followed by the most amazing kiss of her entire life.
But she must have finally dozed, because the first unearthly scream made her launch out of bed, dazed and confused, her heart pounding.
The second sent her racing to the window.
Penny’s and Logan’s vehicles were by the boathouse, along with several other cars—probably tourists who’d arrived early for the seven-o’clock breakfast float trip.
Carrie caught a glimpse of colorful T-shirts moving through the trees close to where the driveway opened up into the parking lot. Another voice cried out, then Penny appeared, herding a group of four or five clearly distraught women out of the trees toward the raft company office.
The hubbub of voices grew louder as they all drew closer, then stopped when Penny ushered them into the office downstairs and shut the door.
It’s not my business to interfere,Carrie reminded herself, reining in her immediate impulse to find out what was going on. And it was probably nothing.
Maybe one of the tourists had simply stumbled and sprained an ankle, or had taken sick. Things were obviously under control, and it was time to shower and dress so she could make it to school in time.
Still, Carrie stood at the window feeling unsettled and anxious, a rising sense of dread curling through her midsection when she heard the sound of an approaching siren.
An EMT vehicle came into view, then stopped. A heavyset woman and a lean man, both dressed in navy coveralls emblazoned with EMT across their shoulder blades, climbed out and hurried to the rear of the vehicle, grabbed their gear and disappeared into the trees.
Logan wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Was he back in the woods, directing the EMT to someone who was hurt? Or worse, was he the one who was injured?
Images of the stranger who’d lurked by her SUV invaded her thoughts, followed by a frightening premonition that gripped her heart like an icy hand.
Penny had just told her yesterday about an old recluse named Dante, who lived up in the mountains somewhere. What if Dante or Billy had attacked Logan?
It wasn’t hard to imagine Logan pursuing someone, or standing his ground.
She’d already let Murphy outside earlier in the morning to do his business, and he’d been blissfully sleeping on the sofa ever since, but now he stood growling at the window, every muscle rigid. “You’ve got to stay here, boy...I’ll be back.”
The dog didn’t so much as flick an ear. His attention remained riveted on the EMT truck outside.
Please, Lord, don’t let this mean he senses that something terrible has happened. Please, let Logan be all right.
Numb, already afraid of what she was going to find, she pulled on a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, jammed her feet into loafers, and then she jerked open her front door and started to run.
