The cold hit her like a wall, slicing through her thin blouse and slacks.
Her heels sank into the dirt on the first step, so she kicked them off and kept running barefoot, her breath fogging in frantic bursts.
Behind her, the cabin door creaked shut.
A few steps later, the mountains swallowed her whole.
She was alone.
Unarmed.
Lost.
Behind her—her captor waited for a timer to finish ticking.
Then he would come.
He would hunt her.
Gina forced her legs to move faster.
She had twenty minutes.
Only twenty minutes.
Maybe, just maybe, she could escape.
CHAPTER
NINE
All night,Andi had listened to cars hiss past on the wet street below, tires splashing through puddles, engines revving at the nearby intersection.
Every time she drifted toward sleep, the image of Pam’s face flashed in her mind—drawn, desperate—and Gina’s name echoed behind her eyes.
When she wasn’t thinking about Pam, she thought about Duke. About how he was acting slightly off. She’d assumed it was the strain of this tour—it wasn’t in his comfort zone. But what if it was something more?
If he had something on his mind, he would tell her. She wasn’t sure why she felt so worried.
When she finally gave up trying to rest, the clock had read 4:23 a.m. She started the day by watching a replay of an online church service from Fairbanks. She wished she could attend in person, but since she couldn’t, this was the next best thing.
By seven, she was dressed, pale blonde hair twisted into a low knot at the nape of her neck. She shrugged her black leather jacket on over a simple blouse and jeans. Comfortable but presentable. Lawyer-ish enough to make skeptical cops or building managers take her seriously.
Now, just after eight, she sat in the passenger seat of the rented SUV as Duke navigated side streets toward Gina’s apartment complex. The group as a whole had a tour bus, but they’d talked to Rupert about securing two additional vehicles at each stop. Had told him it only made sense.
He’d eventually agreed.
Around them, San Francisco’s morning sky hung low and gray, clouds stacked over the foothills like sagging cotton. Every once in a while, Andi caught glimpses of the Golden Gate Bridge stretching over the water. As they passed a cable car, she heard a mix of mechanical hums, clanks, and the iconic bell ringing.
The earlier drizzle had turned into a fine mist that blurred the edges of street signs and smeared the city into soft focus.
The weather matched her mood—tired, heavy, restless.
“By the way, Rich had his first snoodle sighting of the season,” Duke said.
Andi raised her eyebrows. “His first snoodle? I hope he sent a picture.”
Duke grinned. “He did.”
