Chapter 27
The hair on Amy’s neck rose as well-worn work boots entered the barn. They scraped the ground, stirring up small swirls of dust, as they circled the Suburban. Were these the boots that left the prints in the mud at the scene of the accident?
Her heartbeat, along with each breath, thundered in her ears. Could he hear her breathing?
The boots paused near the window, then turned toward the Suburban again, and Amy held her breath.
Dark images of being a child, hiding under her bed to avoid her abusive stepdads crowded her mind. Her childhood fears intensified as she acknowledged the danger she was in. Fighting the panic, she focused on taking slow, even breaths.
“I know you’re in here.” A deep voice pierced the silence and Amy flinched.
Was that the drummer? For the life of her, she couldn’t remember what Stick’s voice sounded like. Not that she’d ever heard the drummer talk much. This voice sounded cold, menacing. “You may as well come out because I’m not leaving this barn until I find you.”
Amy lay frozen in fear. She watched as he again circled the Suburban, coming to a stop where she’d rolled under. A jolt of fear arced through her as he dropped to one knee and lay a hunting rifle on the ground.
A gun?I’m in so much trouble.
The tarp lifted and strong hands grabbed her ankles.
She screamed as he yanked her out from under the vehicle.
He released her legs and grabbed the gun again, pointing it at her as he stood. “Who are you? And what are you doing in my barn?”
Amy had been in some terrifying situations when she was young, but she’d never felt the kind of fear that surged through her now, staring at the barrel of the rifle aimed at her. Every muscle in her body tensed as she contemplated making a run for the door.
No. I’ll never make it.
Eddie would shoot her in the back.
Afraid to make any sudden movements, she held her hands out in surrender as she slowly sat up and leaned her back against the Suburban.
Eddie hadn’t changed much. Long, greasy hair still hung to his shoulders and thin, straggly facial hair did nothing to improve his appearance. The nickname Sticks was not only because he was a drummer but also because of his tall, slender build. He looked like he’d lost weight in the past year. Was it the stress of keeping his secret? His sunken cheeks made him look terrifying.
Or maybe it was the gun that terrified her. Amy repressed a shudder.
He’d never believe she’d wandered in here by accident, so she decided to tell the truth in the least threatening way possible. Clasping her trembling hands together in her lap, and keeping her voice as calm as possible, she smiled with feigned bravado. “Hello, Sticks.”
Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Aren’t you Lance’s girlfriend, the waitress?”
“Ex-girlfriend.”
“What are you doing here?” Lance’s girlfriend or not, he considered her a threat.
“You can put the gun down. I’m no threat to you.” Amy said, trying to sound nonchalant, hoping to hide the quivering she felt inside.
“You’re trespassing on private property.” His face was hard.
“What are you worried about? Are you hiding something?” Could she get him to talk, without divulging she knew exactly what he was hiding?
“I’m asking the questions here,” he said, leveling the gun at her head. “And you still haven’t answered my first one. What are you doing here?”
Ignoring his question, she cleared her throat. “I left Lance, you know.” She wasn’t sure why she said that, other than to ease the tension in the barn and buy herself some time. Eddie’s only response was a grunt. “He started cheating on me when his band went on tour last year.”
“Started?” Eddie’s smirk held no sympathy.
Amy reeled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Though she feared Eddie, at the moment, she didn’t care what kind of threat he posed, she needed answers.
