Calder Pride (Calder Saga 5)

“When was this?”

“I’m not sure. She called a few minutes ago.” She paused a beat. “Logan, she’s following them. She called me from the mobile phone in the ranch pickup.”

“Give me the number.” His mouth tasted tinny and dry. She read it off to him. He hung up and dialed the number with sharp, impatient strokes. When Cat answered on the second ring, Logan wasted no time.

“Cat, where are you?”

“Logan. Thank God it’s you.” He heard her voice waver, heard it steady. “I’m on the main north road, almost to the gate. The van is less than a mile ahead of me, heading for the highway. They took Quint. I tried to stop them—”

“I know, I know—”

“It must be the same two men, Logan. They wore ski masks and cut the phone line just like before. They shot Ty in the shoulder. I don’t know how bad he is.”

“Listen to me, Cat—”

She broke in again. “Logan, they’re turning east on the highway. They’re turning east! They’re in a dark-colored van. I don’t know what the make is. And I haven’t been able to get close enough to get a license number.”

“Cat, pull over. Do you hear me? Pull over,” he ordered harshly. “I’m only a few minutes away, and the highway south of town is blocked. They can’t go anywhere.”

“But they could turn onto a side road,” she argued.

“Damn it, pull over and stay where you are. I’ll find them. Don’t follow them any farther.”

“Logan, I’m almost sure they don’t know I’m behind them. My lights aren’t on and—They’re slowing down. Logan, they’re slowing down.”

“Stay back. For God’s sake—”

“Oh, my God,” she murmured.

“What is it? What’s happening?”

“They’re turning off, Logan.” Her voice sounded strange. “They’re turning into the old Simpson place. That’s where Lath Anderson lives.”

“I’ll handle it from here, Cat,” he spoke carefully and clearly. “You just stay right where you are and wait until I get there.”

“Logan, hurry. He’s got Quint.”

“I’ll take care of—” He heard a click on the other end. “Cat? Cat?” She had hung up. He swore viciously.

About a mile from the head of the rutted lane, Cat swung the pickup onto a section of grassy shoulder and killed the engine. Common sense told her not to go any farther; she didn’t know how long the driveway was. Logan was right, she decided. She should wait until he got there.

Cat rolled down the window and listened for the wail of a siren. There was nothing. It was impossible; she couldn’t just sit there. She had to go look, see where they were, maybe find out what they had done with Quint.

When she started to climb out of the truck, her legs became tangled in her long nightgown. Stretching across the seat, Cat rummaged through the glove compartment and found a razor-edged box cutter. Using its sharpness, she sliced through the side seam and started ripping, shortening the nightgown to mid thigh.

Unimpeded, Cat stepped to the ground, noticed a denim jacket stuffed behind the cab seat, and pulled it out. It looked like one of Ty’s. Knowing it would be miles too big, she put it on and rolled back the sleeves, hesitated, then picked up the box cutter and stuffed it in a side pocket. It was a weapon of sorts, the only one she had. After her last experience with Lath, Cat knew better than to rely on it. Just the same, she felt better having it.

After a quick scan of the lane behind her, she took off, running alongside the rutted track, following it as it led her toward the old Simpson ranch yard. At the first glimmer of light ahead, Cat slowed and ducked into the trees, her breath coming quick and fast, her heart pounding.

The sudden, harsh gabbling of guinea fowl momentarily froze her near a tree trunk. Through the trees she could see the lights of a house trailer. An angry mutter came from somewhere nearby. She crept forward with caution.

“…worry too much, little brother.” Lath’s voice; Cat recognized that cocky drawl instantly. Rage rose up like bitter bile in her throat. “In the first place, ain’t nobody gonna come here lookin’ for him. Even if they did, you aren’t gonna hear a peep out of him. That sleepin’ pill will knock him out in five minutes flat. And they’ll never find him in there otherwise.”

Where was “in there”? Cat stole a look, glad of the denim jacket’s dull blue color that hid the paleness of her bare shoulders and the satin sheen of her nightgown. The two men were walking toward the trailer, coming from a hillside area off to the left. Both were dressed in ordinary jeans and plaid shirts, the ski masks and gloves gone.

Rollie mumbled something.

“Hell, I’ll just stick those guns in the next shipment. If they ever surface again, it’ll be somewhere in Texas,” Lath replied with a strut in his voice. “I tell ya, I got this all figured out. Ma’s got a whole bottle of them pills. We can keep the kid doped up for a couple weeks if we have to.” He thumped Rollie on the back. “Wouldn’t you love to see Calder’s face about now?”