Kenzie didn’t have any classes tonight. No one was expecting her. If Quinn didn’t think anything was wrong, if she didn’t call the police, then it would be sometime tomorrow before anyone would start looking for her.
She was on her own.
Fighting despair, she headed up a narrow, steep road until it came to an end. She knew the mountains well, but she wasn’t familiar with this area. “What now?”
“We find my buddy.”
“I’ll need a scent article.”
“A what?”
“A scent article—something that he wore, something of his that carries his scent. Gizmo can’t track a scent he can’t identify.” In her back pocket, her cellphone buzzed again, but the sound was muted by the bounty of her butt.
Another reason to eat more ice cream.
“Get out.”
But her cellphone was still buzzing. “Hang on.”
She put on her emergency brake, checked herself in her mirror, put on lip balm, waiting for the call to end.
“Hurry the fuck up!”
“Fine.” She climbed out, quickly pulling her phone out of her jeans, lowering the volume to silent to mute the buzz, and concealing it in her bra, certain he’d see the outline of it against the denim fabric of her pocket.
A frigid wind was blowing from the northwest, dark clouds moving in, bringing snow. She didn’t want to get caught in the storm. She wasn’t dressed for freezing temps, and the bastard who’d abducted her hadn’t let her change her clothes.
She met Don—if that truly was his name—at the back of the truck, opened the tailgate and topper, and got Gizmo out of his crate. “Hey, there buddy. Are you ready to go to work?”
Gizmo whined, licked her hand, his ears down.
He knew something was wrong.
It broke her heart to bring him out here, to expose him to danger. If anything were to happen to Gizmo…
Feeling like she was betraying his trust, she slipped him into his vest, leashed him, and took out her backpack, slinging it over one shoulder.
“What’s that?” Don started to yank the pack away from her.
She held on tight. “It’s the backpack I carry when I work. It’s got first aid supplies, food, water, an emergency blanket, and stuff for Gizmo—dog food, treats, his favorite toy. That’s how I get him to search. To him, it’s a game.”
“You got a cellphone in there?”
“A cellphone? I wish!” She jerked it away from him. “Do you want my help or not? I won’t take my dog out without this. He can’t work without food and water.”
“I’m going to search it, and if I find a cellphone, you’re in deep shit.”
“Search it if you want, but I’m holding onto it.” She held one of the straps while he dug through the pockets.
“Nice.” He took out a granola bar, tore open the wrapper, and shoved in his mouth. “Okay. This shit could be useful. Get going. This way.”
She settled the backpack on her shoulders and followed Don uphill through stands of spruce and Douglas fir. After maybe ten minutes, they came to what looked like a makeshift campsite. A plastic tarp was slung over some low-lying branches to make a tent, a sleeping bag beneath it on top another tarp, soot-blackened rocks surrounding a recently dug fire pit. A short distance away lay several empty money bags, the kind used by banks—or armored car services.
Chills skittered down her spine.
The men who robbed the armored vehicle.
Don must be one of them. Where was the other?
