Blind Run Read online

  Danny began to worry that he’d never find a way to Champaign. Then he spotted an oversized gray pickup with University of Illinois, Forestry Department, printed on the side. The back was filled with small trees, stacked bags, shovels and other tools he didn’t recognize, but with plenty of room for him and Callie to hide. He knew there was no guarantee the driver was on his way to Champaign, but it was worth a shot.

  A few minutes later, the truck pulled out of the parking lot and headed west with Danny and Callie in the back. Then it turned right onto an interstate, and Danny relaxed.

  They’d gotten lucky.

  He’d been in such a hurry to get away from Ethan and Sydney, he hadn’t even taken a few minutes to think things through. He knew better. In the weeks before they’d run from the Haven, Anna had taught him the importance of planning. She’d plotted every step of their escape, including how to deal with the unexpected. Evidently, the lesson hadn’t stuck. Because he’d run from the park with only one thought in mind: He would find his father and show them all.

  The question of how hadn’t occurred to him. He’d just been so mad. When he’d heard Sydney and Ethan talking about asking someone in Dallas for help, he’d lost it. He couldn’t wait. He and Callie had to get as far away as possible. In his hurry, he’d almost blown it. And if Ethan hadn’t stopped that truck from following them . . .

  A sudden slip of cold air reached beneath the rim of the truck bed, and Danny shivered. He glanced at his sister. She looked really pale, sitting huddled against a stack of fertilizer bags, her arms folded tightly around her knees.

  What a jerk he was.

  He hadn’t even noticed how cold it had gotten, and all Callie had on was a sweater and a thin cotton shirt. On top of that, he knew she wasn’t feeling too well. She’d been trying to hide it, but she’d picked up a cough somewhere.

  “Here.” Danny unzipped his jacket and took it off. “Put this on.”

  “But what about you?”

  “I’m not cold. Besides,”—he opened his backpack and pulled out his one other shirt—“I have this.”

  “That won’t keep you warm.” She pushed the jacket back at him.

  She could be so stubborn sometimes. “Look, Callie, you’re sick again.” He kept his voice low, but it came out mean anyway. Her eyes clouded, and he immediately regretted snapping at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

  “I’m not sick.” Then, as if to punctuate the lie, she suppressed a cough and looked ready to cry.

  He didn’t know what to do. Callie was the only girl he knew who never cried. Boy, he couldn’t believe how badly he’d messed up. He could have at least thought to grab her jacket and backpack from the Explorer.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “Come on, put the jacket on and you’ll feel better.” He said it nicer this time, but he hated reminding her she was sick.

  She slipped on the jacket and zipped it up to her neck. “Okay?” she said, as if asking him if he was still angry at her.

  “It’s gonna be all right,” he said, feeling more guilty than ever. “If we stay together, we’ll be fine.” He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Better?”

  She nodded. “How long will it take to get there?”

  “Not long. We turned onto the highway a while back.”

  Except, he couldn’t be sure which highway. But it seemed right. They’d left Riverbend heading west, then turned right and accelerated. He pictured the map in his head. One inch to the left of Riverbend was the main highway, then just a couple of finger lengths north to Champaign. If he could catch sight of a road sign, he’d know for sure if they were on the right road. But he couldn’t risk looking out, or the driver might see him.

  “It’s only a few miles up the road,” he said, stretching the truth a bit.

  Callie rested her head against his arm, and he thought she’d fallen asleep until she said, “Was it the Keepers in the woods today?”

  “I don’t know how they could have found us so quick.” He’d given the question some thought and hadn’t come up with an answer. “Maybe it was just some nutcase.”

  “What about that truck?” Her eyes were wide, questioning.

  Had the truck really been after them? Or had they been spooked and let their imaginations run away with them? The danger had seemed real at the time, and Ethan had been concerned enough to block it from following them. Danny just didn’t know. “It doesn’t matter, we’re safe now. Go to sleep.”

  She looked about to say something else. Instead, she closed her eyes and finally drifted off.

  Danny watched her, thinking that if anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. If only he’d thought of that before taking off from the cabin. Shivering, he settled closer to her for warmth. At least they were headed in the right direction.

  He hoped.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ETHAN BACKTRACKED through the woods.

  The man he’d left unconscious was gone, leaving a trail a first-year Cub Scout could follow. But Ethan didn’t have time for that now. The cops were headed straight for Sydney. He wanted to run full out toward the park road, but forced himself to a steady, even pace. He couldn’t help her if he broke an ankle or ran into the kids’ stalker and got himself shot in the process.

  Finally within sight of the entrance, Ethan fell back behind a giant sycamore, then eased around it to see what was happening.

  From the direction of the road, blue lights flashed.

  Keeping low, he moved toward the road until he had a clear view of the scene. Three county patrol cars surrounded the Explorer and Sydney. A sheriff’s department deputy held a weapon on her, an older man Ethan assumed was the sheriff faced her, and a third man stood beside one of the cruisers.

  Ethan had to get her out of there.

  She was hopelessly naive when it came to dealing with law enforcement officials. She thought all she had to do was tell them the truth and they’d believe her. It was seldom that easy. Whether she knew it or not, she needed help.

  He checked his clip, then crept closer.

  “Did you find anything?” the sheriff called over his shoulder.

  “Just this.” A fourth man withdrew from the back of the Explorer and held up a bright purple backpack. He came around to the front of the truck and handed it to the sheriff. “Looks like it belongs to a kid.”

  Four men, not three. “Damn.”

  Ethan dropped to his belly and crawled forward on the leafy ground to a position behind a fallen log.

  “What do you think, Dr. Decker?” said the sheriff. “Look familiar?”

  Ethan peered above the decaying wood, calculating the distance from the edge of the brush to the cluster of cars and men. He figured there was a good twenty-five feet of open space surrounding them.

  The sheriff held the backpack.

  “It’s Callie’s,” Sydney said. “I told you, I’m looking for her and her brother.” Her voice was nervous, but impatient as well. They hadn’t totally intimidated her. “You know how children are, they got mad and ran off. I need to find them.”

  “Where’s your husband?”

  She crossed her arms. “I don’t have a husband.”

  “Your ex-husband, then.”

  Ethan considered killing them. Four quick shots. They wouldn’t know what hit them, and in less than sixty seconds he and Sydney would be on their way in the Explorer.

  And he’d be a cop killer just like they claimed.

  But Sydney was too close to the sheriff for comfort, even if Ethan could bring himself to gun down innocent men.

  “I don’t know where Ethan is,” she said.

  The deputy with the gun waved it at Sydney. “You don’t know? Or you don’t want to tell us?”

  Ethan aimed at the hotshot. If he so much as blinked, he’d be the first to die.

  “Take it easy, Kenny,” the sheriff said. “And put away that gun.”

  “But, Sheriff—”

  “Does she look
dangerous to you?” the sheriff snapped. “Besides, what do you think she’s gonna do? There are four of us here. Put it away.”

  Hotshot Kenny holstered his gun with obvious reluctance.

  Ethan eased back on the trigger. If he couldn’t kill them, he needed to get closer. He scooted sideways to the edge of the log, then waited.

  “Look,” Sydney said. “We’re wasting time. Danny and Callie are probably already out on the highway, trying to catch a ride.”

  “We just came from there.” The sheriff looped his thumbs through his belt. “There weren’t any kids hitchhiking on that road.”

  Ethan saw his chance.

  In a low crouch, he darted from the log to a thick blackberry bush. It was the last cover between him and the county rat pack, but there was still too much open space.

  “Maybe they’re still in the woods,” Sydney said, “or have already caught a ride.” She spoke slowly, like the sheriff was too dense to get it on his own. “Either way, we have to find them. They’re only twelve and seven.”

  All Ethan needed was one man, close enough to grab. With the Glock pointed at his throat, the others would hand over Sydney without a fuss. After all, they thought Ethan was a cop killer.

  The sheriff caught Sydney’s sarcasm and frowned. “Don’t you worry. If there are kids out there, we’ll find them.” He returned Callie’s pack to his deputy. “Now, are you gonna tell me where to find your ex-husband, or not?”

  “I told you the truth, I don’t know where he is.”

  “Have it your way.” The sheriff took her arm and started toward one of the patrol cars.

  Ethan tensed and lifted the Glock to his shoulder, ready to make a dash for the fourth man, the quiet one, leaning against the cruiser.

  “Since you don’t seem ready to answer our questions here,” the sheriff said, “I guess we need to take you in.” When she resisted, he said, “Do I have to put cuffs on you, Dr. Decker?”

  She stared at him, obviously stunned, then let him lead her to the car.

  “Kenny, escort Dr. Decker to town.”

  Ethan lowered his weapon, another idea forming. He liked these odds better. With Sydney out of the way, he could disable the others, then grab the Explorer and go after her. And nobody had to get shot.

  The deputy opened the back door of his cruiser and helped Sydney in.

  “Hal and I will go check out the cabin,” said the sheriff. “And Larry,” he motioned toward the fourth man, “stay with her vehicle.”

  The officers climbed into their cars. The deputy with Sydney turned around and steered toward the highway, while the other two drove deeper into the park.

  Ethan spared about two seconds’ thought for his duffel bag back at the cabin. He hated losing it, and the contents alone would incriminate him, but he couldn’t worry about that now. He had to go after Sydney, and to do that, he needed the Explorer. Everything else could wait.

  He stepped out from behind the bush, ducked behind the cruiser, and waited for the count of three. The deputy lounged against the car’s bumper, humming a snippet of “Let It Be.” Ethan rose, circled the hood and brought the Glock up to the man’s temple. “Be very still.”

  The deputy’s face bleached of color. “Don’t shoot, I got a wife.”

  “Get rid of the weapon.”

  “Please, mister . . .” He inched his hand toward the holster at his waist.

  “Don’t be a dead hero. Just drop it on the ground.”

  With shaking hands, the man obeyed.

  “That’s good. Now your car keys and cuffs.”

  “What?”

  “Would you rather be dead?”

  The deputy handed over his keys, then awkwardly removed the cuffs from his belt. “Now what?”

  “Snap them on one wrist, then put your hands behind your back.” Ethan gave the man room and himself space in case he tried anything.

  He didn’t, and Ethan secured the cuffs.

  Grabbing the man’s arm, he pulled him toward the back of the cruiser, opened the trunk, and shoved him inside. As he shut the lid, he said, “Congratulations, you’ll live.”

  SYDNEY HAD NEVER been more humiliated.

  She didn’t understand why the sheriff and his men were treating her this way. She wasn’t a criminal. On the news they were calling her a kidnap victim.

  And what about Callie and Danny?

  If Ethan didn’t find them in the woods, they were out on this road somewhere alone. She felt like a broken record trying to get the police to realize the seriousness of the situation, but they obviously weren’t listening to her. All they seemed to care about was finding Ethan.

  “Deputy, we have to look for those children.” She scooted forward, lacing her fingers into the metal grille. “They could be in danger.”

  “We’ll find them, don’t you worry.” He tossed her a look. “That, and snare us a cop killer.”

  “Ethan didn’t kill those police officers.”

  “I thought you didn’t know where he was.”

  “I don’t. But I know he didn’t kill those men. I saw it all, there was another man on the balcony.”

  “Yeah, right.” He laughed abruptly. “And that’s why you ran.” Unfastening his seat belt, he leaned over, opened the glove compartment, and pulled out a candy bar. “Yep, missy, we know all about it, and you’re in trouble now. Your best bet is to come clean and cut a deal with the prosecutor.” He threw her another glance. “Meanwhile, put on your seat belt.”

  She started to protest but changed her mind. It would be a waste of breath. This man had already decided she was lying.

  “You know, Dr. Decker.” The deputy looked at her in the rearview mirror. “It’ll go a lot easier on you if you tell us where to find your ex.”

  “I told you the truth, I don’t know where he is.” There seemed no point denying Ethan had been with her earlier. “We split up to look for the children.”

  “Well, I guess . . .” Suddenly, his eyes widened. “What the hell—”

  Something slammed into them from the rear.

  The cruiser lurched forward and fishtailed. Fighting the steering wheel, the deputy kept them on the road. “Is he stupid or something, running into a cop?” He made a grab for the radio receiver.

  Sydney swivelled and saw a jacked-up black truck behind them. “He’s coming at us again.”

  The second blow snapped her forward, bruising her against the seat belt. The patrol car swerved, tires screeching as they skidded into a spin. Earth and sky whipped by in a three-hundred-sixty-degree blur, her stomach churning in fear and dizziness. They hit the shoulder of the road, nose first over the embankment, hurtling toward a grassy riverbank.

  Sydney choked back a scream as the young man in the driver’s seat wrenched the steering wheel hard to the left and punched the accelerator. The engine roared. The tires slipped, then caught and spit gravel, dragging them around and back up toward the road and the bridge spanning the river.

  Terror froze in her throat when a concrete bridge support appeared through the front windshield. They struck pavement with the shriek of metal against metal as they scraped the railing and crossed the bridge in a flash of movement.

  “Son of a bitch.” The deputy’s hands trembled as he made another grab for the radio. “He did that on purpose. He’s trying to run us off the road.”

  Sydney couldn’t argue—even if she’d had the voice to do so. She looked out the back; she couldn’t help herself.

  Could Ramirez have found them?

  The truck rammed them again, sending a sharp finger of pain up her neck and throwing the deputy forward, cracking his chin against the steering wheel. Blood oozed from the gash. He appeared stunned, lifting a hand to his face and staring at his blood-streaked fingers.

  “Are you okay?” Sydney asked, panic gripping her. If he passed out, they were both dead. She was trapped in the backseat of a vehicle, a metal grid between her and door locks, while some lunatic used his truck like a battering ram.
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  “Yeah.” The deputy’s earlier bravado had vanished, and he suddenly sounded young and frightened.

  Then he pulled himself together. “Hang on, Dr. Decker. I’m going to try and outrun him.” He floored the gas pedal and the cruiser seemed to leap forward.

  It was a valiant effort, but too late. The cruiser was no match for its pursuer. Out the rear window, she watched the other vehicle shift to straddle the lanes. Like a fighter getting into position. He came at them hard, and Sydney got the impression he was done toying with them.

  The fourth strike sent them spinning. Time stopped. Trees and asphalt whirled and flipped. The sharp tang of blood filled her mouth, and the smell of gasoline bit her nostrils. Then she heard a scream, her own, just before everything went blank.

  ETHAN RESISTED the urge to floor the accelerator.

  All he needed was to draw more attention to himself. In a short while, every cop in the county would have his description, plus that of the Explorer. If he passed another patrol car heading for the park, his chances of going unnoticed were close to zip. But if he was speeding? Well, that would be the endgame.

  Although logic told him Sydney was safe for a few hours, his instincts screamed she needed help now. Fortunately the road was empty, giving him time to make plans. He hadn’t gotten beyond the question of how to extract her from the sheriff’s office, when he spotted the vehicles ahead: a county cruiser, followed by a black Ford truck. Just like the one that had gone after the kids.

  Ethan punched the accelerator.

  The pickup hugged the cruiser’s bumper, while the patrol car swayed and swerved. Then the truck picked up speed, ramming the cruiser’s left rear bumper and sending it spinning. Once. Twice. It made two full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turns, before a rear tire caught on the soft shoulder and the car tumbled over the embankment. The truck slowed, as if admiring its handiwork, then sped off as Ethan came up behind him.

  Ethan abandoned the Explorer almost before it came to a full stop, fear seizing him.

  Not again.

  He couldn’t lose Sydney. He’d lost too much already. Nicky. His marriage. His work. He wouldn’t let it happen, wouldn’t allow her to die like this.