Run to Me (6 page)

‘When I left Maine to study I always planned to come back some day, open a practice in my home state. Though I have to admit, I never dreamed I’d be living this far north.’

Judging the site to be fully anaesthetised
he began the procedure. ‘I came here for my father mainly. He had an accident about five months ago and is in a wheelchair. He’ll make a full recovery eventually but I thought it might help him if he got back to work. He’s a painter – wildlife and wilderness landscapes. The area here is perfect for that.’

He glanced up occasionally as he worked. Overall she seemed in good health. Her clothes,
though casual, were well presented and she smelled of fresh air and, oddly, of cedar.

With the first stitch completed, he repositioned her hand for the second, casually noting the feel of her arm. Good muscle tone, not underweight. But he’d noted that fact out in the hall. Even half concealed by her jacket her physique was pretty much . . . well . . . perfect.

‘My father taught art at Camden
University and was about to retire when he had the accident. By the time he got out of the hospital the house he’d planned to buy had been sold and the lease had run out on his campus apartment. So when this practice came up it seemed a good place for both of us. At least for a while.’

He tied the last suture, cut the silk, and got to work on the sterile dressing. ‘Don’t get me wrong, the area’s
beautiful. As an avid hiker and cross-country skier how could I not love these forests?’

Her arm moved more freely as he wrapped it in gauze. Though she’d not responded directly to his words she did appear to have relaxed a bit.

‘Elaine’s convinced I’ll never last. “Once a city boy, always a city boy.” And I’ll admit the pace here is different from Boston. It’ll certainly take some getting used
to. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.’

With the dressing complete, he laid her hand gently back in her lap. He glanced up briefly into her eyes and for an instant felt helpless to look away. ‘Who knows? Maybe I’ll find a reason to stay.’

At hearing his own words his fixation broke. He pushed back the stool and got to his feet. ‘That’s it. All done.’

He turned away, bent over his desk
and recorded the visit in her file. ‘If that cut were any bigger I’d suggest a course of antibiotics. But seeing as you’ve kept it clean I think we can get by without them. You’ll need to come back so I can remove the stitches, though. Let’s make it next Wednesday. Any time is fine, I’ll just fit you in. No need to –’

Chase slowly set down his pen and blinked at the object that had appeared on
his desk.

The miniature carving was so lifelike he half-expected it to get up and move. Perfectly symmetrical palmate antlers rose from the creature’s elongated head. Together with the distinctive muzzle and stout equine build the animal was instantly recognisable.

With a sense of wonder he picked it up and turned it in his hands. The moose was no more than six inches high. Hundreds of needle-fine
gouges effectively rendered the fur on its body and the dewlap that hung from beneath its throat was thinner than a toothpick. How did anyone carve something so fine?

Shyler cleared her throat. ‘Your receptionist told you about my bartering arrangement with Doctor Muir.’

‘Your arrangement?’ Her meaning registered and he looked at her stunned. ‘You made this?’

Despite herself she arched a brow.
‘That surprises you?’

‘Please, that wasn’t a sexist remark. I’m in awe of anyone who works with wood. I’m not renowned for my carpentry skills.’ He studied the figure again. ‘Not that what you do is even remotely in the same league. This is exquisite.’

Of all the things she’d expected she might feel in confronting this stranger, shy embarrassment wasn’t one of them. She’d never received any
praise for her work. Though her pieces sold well enough from Bill Ramsey’s store she never lingered to hear buyer feedback. ‘Then . . .’

‘Will I accept this as payment for the consultation?’ Chase straightened and held out his hand. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

Shyler stepped out into the reception area and paused to take a few deep breaths. She’d held it together. Despite the man’s questions, the stressful
procedure, she’d behaved almost like a normal human being. A few seconds more and she’d be out of here, the whole affair safely behind her. Just one remaining danger to side-step.

She opened her eyes. Elaine the receptionist wasn’t at her desk. Glancing back to make sure the doctor wasn’t watching, she hurried through the office, turned to head for the door – and froze.

A miniature fire truck
glided towards her out of the waiting room across the hall. It rolled to a stop in front of her feet, followed closely by a freckled, chubby-cheeked little boy.

The boy bent down and picked up the truck. Had she simply smiled and walked away he’d no doubt have run straight off again. But her rigid pose and frozen expression caught his eye. He stood, head cocked, staring up at her.

Steel jaws
clamped around her chest. Only one last danger and here it was. She hadn’t been fast enough. She hadn’t gotten out in time.

The boy kept staring, a bit uncertain now. She tried to smile but her lips wouldn’t move. He took a step back.
Oh no, please, don’t be afraid
.

A woman came towards them out of the waiting room. She murmured an apology and drew the boy away, casting a wary look over her
shoulder.

Shyler turned and raced up the hall.

She tasted blood as she neared the back door and raised her bandaged hand to her mouth. When she drew it away she saw a bright red stain on the gauze. Somehow, at some point, she’d bitten her lip.

Twenty minutes after leaving the ‘safe house’ Nolan turned the van into a one-pump gas station on a lonely country road. He steered around an idling transport truck and parked in the shade at the edge of the lot.

‘Take those two.’ Tragg jerked his head at Reece and Corey, then shifted his gaze to Zack. ‘I’ll stay with him.’

‘But I need to –’

Tragg silenced the man with a look. Zack
half-smiled. Even grown-ups were afraid of Hatchet-face.

The two men got out. Nolan slid the back door open and waved impatiently at the younger boys. ‘Well, come on. We don’t have all day.’

As the three walked away, Tragg stood watching Zack through the door. ‘Having fun, kid?’ He popped a Junior Mint into his mouth.

Zack stared sullenly out the window. He hated the sound of the man’s laugh.
It threatened to shatter the façade he’d worked so hard to maintain since leaving the house.

Projecting an air of cowed acceptance, he’d kept his gaze on the road the whole time, watching for a place to enact his plan.
What that plan was exactly hadn’t come to him until the moment they’d pulled in here. Now, as the details took shape in his mind, he fought to contain his growing excitement.

The spot seemed perfect. Not a single car had gone by since they stopped. The stretch up ahead was fairly straight and had a field on either side. Huge oak trees lined the shoulders but were far enough apart that, with luck, they wouldn’t run into one. At any rate it was worth the risk.

Zack reached into his sweatshirt pocket and closed his fingers around the mint box, praying its occupant was
still alive.

‘You gotta go?’

Tragg’s voice jolted him so much he jumped. He shook his head, then held his breath as the man’s suspicious gaze crawled over him. A moment later Reece and Corey climbed back in the van, each with an apple cider donut.

Tragg turned to Nolan. ‘Don’t leave them alone.’

‘But I haven’t –’

Nolan swore as Tragg walked away. He set his coffee in the dashboard holder
and handed the last donut to Zack. ‘You guys stay put. I’m just going to duck behind the van for a second.’

The instant he was out of earshot, Zack leaned towards Reece and Corey. ‘We gotta get out of here.’

They stared at him blankly. ‘What? Why?’

‘These guys aren’t who they say they are. And they’re not taking us to any shelter.’

‘But Vanessa promised we’d get a new home.’ Reece wiped cinnamon
sugar from his lips.

‘She was just saying that so we wouldn’t play up.’

Corey looked stricken. ‘But Vanessa said –’

‘She lied, all right?’ Zack lowered his voice. ‘There isn’t time to explain it all, you just gotta trust me.’

He shot a quick glance around at Nolan whose head was just visible through the van’s rear window. ‘Don’t let on I told you anything. Pretend to go along with whatever
they say and just be ready when I give you the signal.’

‘Ready for what?’

‘To do what I tell you!’

Zack saw that Nolan had finished peeing and was heading back for the driver’s door. He straightened in his seat and turned to the others. ‘Buckle your seatbelts.’

‘That’s right, boys,’ Tragg said, climbing into the front. ‘Do what your big brother tells you.’

Zack’s heart stopped. He’d been
so busy watching Nolan he’d failed to check the other way. Had Tragg heard what he’d said to the others? From the steady glare the man now had fixed on him it was clear he was wondering.

‘Zack’s not our real brother,’ Reece spoke up. ‘He’s our foster brother.’

His innocent tone drew Tragg’s attention and seemed to dispel any suspicions he might have had. When Nolan got in, Tragg turned his menacing
glare on him. ‘I told you not to leave them alone.’

The man’s whispered words were more frightening than a shout.

‘I didn’t. I was right here the whole the time, I swear.’ Nolan fumbled the key in the ignition. He started the van, stalled it, and finally managed to get it going. They pulled from the station and started up the road.

With a deep breath, Zack slipped his hand in his sweatshirt.
He would have only one chance. And it had to be in the next few moments, before the van got going too fast.

He kept his eye on the speedometer as he eased the mint box from his pocket. Twenty-five miles an hour now. Just a bit faster.

The two men hadn’t yet buckled their seatbelts. Bonus! Please, just a little longer. Approaching thirty. He moved his fingers to the lid of the box.

Then he saw
it. Something he couldn’t have seen from the gas station. A ditch along their side of the road. What would it do? Improve the odds or work against them? He’d have to chance it. He leaned forward slightly, opened the box and shook its contents onto Nolan’s shoulder.

Tragg caught the movement from the corner of his eye and spun around. Like a striking snake his hand shot out and snatched Zack’s
wrist in a crushing grip. ‘You wouldn’t be dumb enough to try something, would you?’

Zack bit down to keep from crying out.

The van lurched sharply.

‘Shit! Oh, shit!’ Nolan jerked the wheel as he slapped at his face.

Tragg let go. ‘For Christ’s sake watch –’ was all he got out before being slammed against his door.

The van lurched again. Flashing images, squealing tyres.

Through the last
blurred seconds Zack saw the oak tree rushing towards them.

Zack sat gasping. By some miracle they’d missed the tree but their final impact had been a lot harder than he’d anticipated. The van’s nosedive into the ditch had thrown him against his shoulder belt with enough force to wind him. Otherwise he felt okay.

Beside him, Reece and Corey sat speechless, eyes filled with shock. No blood, no mangled body parts. At least they hadn’t been injured
either.

The men in the front had not fared as well. Tragg lay crumpled against the dashboard, Nolan slumped over the steering wheel.

A groan from Nolan spurred Zack into action. ‘Come on, let’s go.’ He threw off his belt.

The others sat frozen, their incredulous expressions making it clear he hadn’t convinced them they were in danger.

‘I said, come on!’ He undid their belts, turned for the
door and let out a gasp.

Face streaked in blood, Tragg glared back at him from between the front seats. With a quavering hand he pulled something small and dark from his pocket. And aimed it at Zack.

Though the sight threatened to loosen his bladder he could
not look away. The hole seemed enormous, opening wider as Tragg moved the pistol towards his face.

When the man’s arm jerked Zack thought
it was over – he hadn’t heard the shot because he was dead.

But as the arm lowered further he saw Tragg’s face and realised what had happened. The vicious sneer of moments ago had changed to a dull, questioning stare. The pistol slipped from the gunman’s hand as he slumped unconscious against the seat.

Zack sat gaping for precious seconds. Again it was the sound of Nolan moaning that snapped
him out of it. ‘Let’s go. Move!’

This time the others needed no convincing. As he slid the door open and scrambled out they were right behind him.

‘Hey, get back here!’ Panic at the sound of Nolan’s voice helped them clamber out of the ditch.

Up on the road there were no cars in sight.

Reece grabbed his hand. ‘What do we do?’

Zack looked around. No houses, no people. Only the gas station
a hundred yards back. With the transport truck still idling out front!

‘This way!’ They ran.

Halfway there he slowed to look back. Nolan was staggering out of the ditch. He walked in circles on the shoulder of the road, then spotted the three boys running. ‘Damn it, get back here!’ He started after them.

Zack quickly made up the ground he’d lost. He reached Corey first, who was lagging behind,
grabbed his hand and dragged him along. The three of them reached the station together.

‘Over here!’ Zack hurried them to the back of the truck. Then stood staring up at the towering beast.

With the rumbling engine, noxious fumes and massive wheels, it felt like some kind of sleeping dragon. Corey could just about
walk beneath it without bending down. It was almost as ugly and scary as Tragg.

Zack stepped closer. The two back doors had lever handles but there was no way he could reach them from the ground. He would have to climb up. And that would take time they might not have.

He checked Nolan. The man was still weaving but getting closer. If a car came along, or he recovered enough to start running . . .