“What’s gotten into you, Wayne? Why are you doing this? I didn’t find anythingat those coordinates.”

He finished tightening the knot, then glared at her. “I’m taking you out of the equation. Once everyone realizes you’ve run off like your sister, Sinclair will take his kid and go back to New York. Then I’ll finally be home free.”

Take her out of the … “Are you nuts? Nobody’s going to believe I’ve run off! They know I’d never abandon Mikey.”

He used her bound hands to haul her into a sitting position, shoved her feet inside, and pushed the lock on the door but didn’t shut it yet. “They’ll believe it once I start the rumor that Sinclair paid you a tidy sum to disappear so he could have the boy free and clear. And that if you didn’t take the money, he’d ruin your business and take his son home anyway.”

“You’re crazy. No one would believe something like that.”

He laughed insanely. “They’ve believed all the other rumors I’ve been spreading for the last ten years. They’ll believe it, all right, because everyone knows bad blood always wins out.” He stepped back with a twisted grin. “That dress you wore to the dance certainly showed everyone you’re no better than your sister,” he added, slamming the door shut.

Emma drew in a shuddering breath as she slowly lifted her hands to work her sore shoulder. Wayne took a hesitant step toward where Beaker had disappeared, his gun in his hand, the hammer cocked to fire. He waited, listening, and Emma prayed her dog was smart enough to stay hidden. Getting himself killed wouldn’t help her; it would only empower Wayne even more.

He finally gave up and came back to the truck. Without saying a word, he got in, started the truck, and headed away from the main road, deeper into the forest.

Emma slouched down so she could see the road behind them in her side mirror. She hoped Wayne’s first shot hadn’t been deep enough that Beaker would bleed to death. She didn’t see any sign of her dog, her truck … or anything else to say she’d even been there.

Chapter Nineteen

F or forty minutes Emmarode in frightened, painful silence beside the man she’d known since childhood.

It was as if something in Wayne had snapped. She had never liked him, but now he appeared to have traveled beyond reality into darkness. He was sweating. His face was flushed and he gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled tension.

It hadn’t taken Emma long to realize where they were going. The bumpy, overgrown track was leading to the coordinates she wished she’d never found.

Wayne was staying off the Golden Road, a private gravel highway used by the paper mill to transport logs. There would be plenty of trucks on the Golden this morning, which was probably why Wayne was avoiding it.

So they were taking the long way, which involved a maze of unused tote roads that made the going slow and arduous, and painful to her throbbing shoulder. The entire right side of her body was bruised from banging against the door, since her tied hands made her unable to brace herself against the rougher spots in the road.

She kept peeking in her side mirror for any sign of Beaker. She didn’t know much about dogs, but she didn’t think they could travel nonstop for great distances, especially wounded. Yet Beaker seemed more remarkable than most. Maybe …

“Who called me pretending to be Kelly?” she finally asked into the silence.

If she’d been thinking with her head instead of her heart, she’d have realized it wasn’t Kelly earlier.

“A friend from Greenville.” Wayne looked over, his smile nasty. “Charlene thought she was setting you up for a surprise party.” He reached over and roughly tugged on her hair. “Surprise, Emma.”

She pulled away, banging her side against the door again. “What’s this all about, Wayne? What did you mean, you’re ‘taking me out of the equation’?”

The rough road drew his attention and she didn’t get an answer. She banged her head against the rifle in the gun rack behind her. A few strands of her hair caught on it, and she barely stifled a whimper when they hit another bump and it pulled the snarl out by the roots.

They finally reached the spot in the road where Emma and Mikey had found the tire tracks almost two weeks ago. Wayne suddenly let loose a curse. Emma followed his gaze and saw that the ground around the mud puddles was wet.

Which meant someone else had been there this morning.

Wayne looked past her to the mountain above, his eyes assessing. He opened his door, grabbed the rifle from behind her head, then hauled her out his door by her bound hands, driving her hip into the steering wheel and pulling on her wounded shoulder.

He relentlessly pulled her down the road, scanning the forest as he walked. Suddenly he stopped and hunched down by a puddle, trying to read the tracks. “They’ve left already,” he said, standing and dragging her into the forest.

Taking advantage of the fact that Wayne was paying attention to his surroundings, Emma tripped him when he ducked under a branch, jerked free of his grip, then ran back through the path they’d made.

Emma heard snapping branches behind her as he scrambled to his feet in pursuit. Her bound hands made it nearly impossible to balance herself as she pushed through the snagging bushes and stumbled over roots. Wayne tackled her just as she made it to the road. He landed heavily on top of her, driving her into the ground, and Emma cried out in pain. Wayne grabbed her hair, growling with frustration.

“Why are you doingthis!” she cried.

He got to his feet and pulled her up by the hair again. Emma kicked him, and he smacked her side with the butt of his rifle, making her draw back against the pain.

Still without speaking, he took her deeper into the forest again, shoving her ahead of him, using his rifle to prod her in the back whenever she stumbled.

It seemed forever before he jerked her to a stop. Emma looked around and realized that they were standing at the exact same spot she and Mikey had found. Only now the earth was well trodden, the leaves and pine needles scuffed in places. Wayne also looked around, and realized his secret place had been invaded.

He shoved her hard, and Emma fell back with a scream.

“This is your fault,” he growled. “I had the environmentalists stirred up enough to pass the no-clear-cutting legislation.” He waved the gun barrel at the forest. “This would have remained untouched. Everything would have stayed safe.” He pointed the gun back at her. “Your snooping ruined everything.”

Emma scooted back out of his reach. What he was saying didn’t make sense. Wayne would want the clear-cutting legislation to be defeated, not passed. His livelihood depended on cutting down trees. “You’ve been the one fueling this war all along? Why?”

He hunched down in front of her, sitting on his heels and balancing against his rifle. “This section was marked for clear-cutting next summer, which means there would have been men and large machinery all over these woods. I couldn’t have that.”

“Because it would have ruined your drug-running operation? You could just find another drop point.”

He looked startled, then suddenly barked in laughter. “Drug running! Is that what you think?”

Confused, Emma nodded.

He laughed again. “You’re dumber than your slut of a sister, you know that? I’m not running drugs.”

Emma didn’t like the sound of his laughter. Wayne wasn’t just trying to cover his tracks; he truly was insane.

“Then what’s this all about?”

He jumped to his feet, lifting his hat off, then resettling it into place. He repeated the ritual several times, and began pacing in front of her, a sweating ball of nervous energy, his eyes pinpoints of madness. He pulled the handgun from his belt, still holding his rifle in his other fist.