Chapter Thirty-One
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Looking forward to surprising Heather and enjoying a delicious lunch, Blake was driving down the road towards the campground when he thought he saw Heather’s truck coming towards him. But it was traveling fast. He was sure he must be mistaken, but as it sped by, he was shocked to see Joe Meyer and Courtney McCallum in the front seat. Abruptly pulling to the side of the road, he looked in his rearview mirror and saw them taking the turn-off to Lake View Point.
“What the hell…?” he muttered, grabbing his cell phone and calling the sheriff.
“Yeah, Blake, what’s up?” the sheriff asked gruffly.
“I just saw Joe Meyer and Courtney McCallum in a pick up driving into Lake View Point, and I could swear it was Heather’s truck.”
“She wasn’t in the front seat?”
“Not that I could see.”
“Thanks, Blake.”
“Wait—”
But the sheriff was gone.
His mind racing Blake dialed the restaurant.
“Moonshine Restaurant”
“Hi, Heather Hunt, please.”
“Uh, sorry, she’s not here at the moment.”
It was all he needed to hear.
Hastily cutting off the call and suddenly fighting panic, he did a fast u-turn and accelerated forward. In seconds he was at the turn-off to Lake View Point, but abruptly realized if Heather was in danger he couldn’t charge in. Hitting the brakes, he drove slowly through the entrance, then pulled to the side and jumped out.
* * *
While Joe had found cover for the truck it wasn’t behind the big boulders, but shrubbery. When he’d climbed out he’d discovered it wasn’t high enough to cover the top of the cab. He’d frantically tried to break off branches to lay over, but with only one hand he’d found it impossible.
“You do it,” he barked at Heather.
“I’m not tall enough, and in case you’ve forgotten you tied my hands behind my back. By the way, what did you use? It feels like a sock.”
“That’s because it is a sock,” Courtney hissed, “and you shouldn’t be complaining. At least it’s soft. Joe, take it off. She can pick up all twigs and crap on the ground. That will help.”
“Sorry, Courtney, that will take too long, and I have a better idea,” Joe said thoughtfully. “If we can get past those big boulders facing the lake we’ll be out of sight. If anyone does come across this truck they’ll think it’s parked while whoever owns went hiking. We only have to wait a few hours until it gets dark, then we can leave.”
“Besides the fact there are more holes in that plan than Swiss Cheese, how the hell can I climb around rocks with my ankle?”
“I’ll help you.”
“There’s no way I can do that without my hands,” Heather declared. “You can forget it.”
Scowling, Courtney hobbled towards her.
“You’re tough, I’ll give you that, but your clock is ticking. In fact, time has just run out. Joe! That big flat boulder,” she exclaimed. “The one jutting out into the water. That’s perfect.”
“For what?” Heather demanded as a rush of fear suddenly surged through her being. “Courtney, tell me, perfect for what?”
“My revenge!”
* * *
Staying close to the low bank that flanked either side of the entrance, Blake had moved quickly and cautiously across the small, smooth rocks. But as the magnificent lake had come into view he’d heard voices. He’d strained to listen, but the only words he’d been able to hear clearly were my revenge.
Now pausing his step and peering around the bank, he caught his breath. Joe Meyer, with what appeared to be a bandaged hand, was carrying Courtney towards the edge of the lake. With no sign of Heather, and confused by what he was witnessing, Blake continued to watch as Joe made his way onto a large, flat boulder jutting into the water. As he set Courtney gently down on one foot, Blake saw bandaging around the opposite ankle.
“What are you doing, and where the hell is Heather?” Blake muttered under his breath.
Wishing he’d brought his shotgun, he was about to step out when Joe started jogging back and disappeared into the bushes. Just minutes later he reappeared holding Heather by the hair and hustling forward.
My revenge.
As the words flashed through Blake’s head he knew exactly what Joe and Courtney planned to do. Snatching his phone from his pocket, he texted the sheriff.
Joe and Courtney, Lake View Point. Urgent but approach with caution and stealth. No sirens. Heather in serious danger.
Praying the sheriff would heed the warning, Blake crouched down, hurried to the cover of the abundant bushes, then searched the ground for a weapon. There was nothing of any substance. With his anxiety and panic growing, he studied the thick stalks.
* * *
Now standing on the rock with Joe’s hand grasping a fistful of her hair, Heather tried to control the fear pulsing through her body.
“That water looks inviting, don’t you think?” Courtney sneered, hobbling closer.
“Why are you doing this to me?” Heather asked, barely able to get the words out. “I don’t understand. What have I ever done to you except buy Henry?”
“I’m not doing anything to you. Well, that’s not strictly true. I am, but this is about doing something to that bastard cowboy of yours.”
“What? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Blake! He turned me into the cops! I ended up in jail because of that bastard. Now he’ll suffer—probably for the rest of his life.”
“But…how…why?”
“Why do you think? I’ll make sure he knows I threw you into an icy grave because of him. He’ll blame himself for your death.”