Cassie’s heart nose-dived, but she refused to give up. She spied a sickle hanging on the wall and grabbed it. Just in case. Then hurried outside to the exterior stairs leading to the loft over the garage, the quarters Jake Turnquist had claimed for his own. At the landing, she found the door unlocked. Just like all the others. Inside, Turnquist’s suite of rooms were dark and cold and appeared just as she assumed he’d left them. She swung the flashlight’s beam over the living quarters. Two soda cans, an empty beer bottle, and a couple of microwave dinner boxes littered the counter. Flannel pajama bottoms hung on a hook by his bedroom door. Beyond the door, his bed was unmade, the closet empty, a disposable razor lying by the bathroom sink.
In the living room his equipment—cameras, night goggles, and handgun—had been left behind on the coffee table. He didn’t have his gun with him?
Something was very wrong here.
The more she saw, the more she was convinced that her children were unsafe. In danger. Who would do this? And why?
And how? How did someone—a single person, presumably—come in, overpower Turnquist, silence the dog, and kidnap the girls? Or was Turnquist in on the abduction?
Fear feeding her headache, she returned to the house where Rinda, back to the fire, was talking rapidly on her cell phone, her free hand gesturing wildly, as if whoever she was speaking to could see her actions. Spying Jenna, she cut herself short. “Just a minute. She’s here now. Nothing, huh?”
“No.”
“Damn.” Rinda’s face fell as she handed her phone to Jenna. “I finally got through to Shane. Talk to him.”
Jenna nearly cried out in relief. As ridiculous as it seemed, just a connection to Carter gave her strength. “Hi.”
“Rinda filled me in,” he said, and his voice washed over her like balm. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Sorry I didn’t answer earlier—too many calls at once. Some didn’t get through. The circuits are on overload. Any sign of Turnquist?”
“No. There’s no one here. No kids. No friggin’ bodyguard no dog, no one,” she said, her panic galloping unleashed, her voice cracking. It was all she could do to hang on to a thread of self-control.
“Okay. Listen. I want you to lock all the doors now. Keep Rinda there with you. Hole up in a room with only one entrance and lock and block the damned door. I’m sending someone over, an OSP unit that’s not too far from you, and I’ll be there in half an hour. Sit tight. Keep me on the phone if you want.”
“I’m going out to check the stable and the barn.”
“Wait until an officer gets there.”
“I can’t, Shane. I have to find them.”
“A few more minutes won’t make any difference.”
“A few more minutes might make all the difference in the world. They could be outside in this damned blizzard, freezing to death. Every minute counts.” She stared out the window to the snowy landscape, the drifts, the looming, dark buildings with their icy, black windows. “Or he could have them. Right now. I already got a weird phone call, so he’s around.”
“A call?”
“On my cell. He’s taunting me, Shane.”
“Stay put!”
“I’ll be okay. I’ve got the shotgun.”
“Keep it with you. In the house.”
“I gotta go,” she said.
“I’ll be there soon.”
Hanging up, she handed Rinda the phone.
“You’re not going out again.”
“Of course I am. You would, too. If it was Scott.”
Since the cells were working again, she found her phone in her pocket and hit a speed-dial button.
Her first call was to Cassie’s cell. No answer. Four rings and a quick transfer to voice mail, where Jenna left a quick message instructing Cassie to call home. Her second phone call was to Allie’s cell. As she listened, she heard Allie’s phone ringing and found it stuffed in the cushions of the couch in the den.
“Damn.”