Chapter 47
Drew barely made it to the timberline when he heard yelling coming from the house. He thought about stopping to see who came out, but that would be a stupid move. He needed to get as far from the house as possible and then figure out where he was.
As he dodged limbs and brush in the dense woods, Drew tried to remember the different road surfaces they’d traveled now that his head was clearer.
Except there was little to remember after being injected with some kind of drug.
He did remember they had been on pavement.
He must’ve been totally out of it when they reached the house because he had no memory of a gravel road.
Drew jumped over a log and kept running. His lungs cried for more air. A cramp in his leg almost sent him to the ground. Ahead was a huge oak tree. If he could make it to the tree, he could rest . . .
Drew finally made it to the giant oak and slid to the ground, feeling the rough bark on his back. He listened for sounds that his kidnapper had found his trail, but the woods were quiet; not even a bird twittered. He just needed a few minutes, then he would push on.
Drew rested his head against the trunk and tried to remember . . . bits and pieces came back to him. He was pretty sure they’d crossed a bridge, but since he’d been tied up and blindfolded in the trunk, there’d been no way to know if it was the river or the dam they crossed . . .
How had the kidnapper gotten him inside the house? Drew weighed a hundred and sixty pounds and he would’ve been dead weight. That date rape drug he’d heard about. That was probably what he’d been injected with and why he had no memory.
He struggled to his feet. There was no need in trying to remember something that wasn’t there. He had to keep moving. But which way should he go?
Maybe he should walk back toward the house and see if his kidnapper had left. At least that way he could travel parallel to the road instead of wandering the dense woods around him where even the sun didn’t penetrate the canopy of leaves. It was getting dark too. He turned and hesitated.
Which way was the house? He’d been so intent on getting away, he hadn’t paid attention to direction or landmarks.
He turned, looking for broken branches, footprints .
. . anything that showed how he got here.
A twig snapped behind him, and Drew froze.
Before he could move, hard metal pressed against his neck.
“Don’t turn around.” Instead of Darth Vader, the voice was low and raspy.
“I-I won’t.” His mouth was so dry, he could barely get the words out. “What do you want?”
“I want you to walk back to the house without giving me any trouble. Now start walking—and don’t forget I have a gun pointed at your back.”
Drew did as he was told, but he wasn’t going back. That house reeked of death, and if he returned, it’d be him who was dead next. But how could he get away with the kidnapper holding a gun on him?
A low-hanging branch slapped him in the face, stinging his cheek. He grabbed the next limb and slowed down as he pulled it taut. When he was certain the kidnapper was right behind him, he let it fly. He didn’t wait for the scream that followed and took off running again.
“Stop!”
He ignored the command. A bullet whizzed by his ear so close Drew felt the heat. Another shot and pain burned his thigh. He stumbled and face-planted the ground.
The kidnapper kicked him in the side. “You’re almost more trouble than you’re worth. You know I could’ve shot you in the back instead of your leg.”
“But then you couldn’t get me back to the house.”
“You’re a real smart one, aren’t you.”
The kidnapper had forgotten to disguise his voice . . . but Drew didn’t recognize it.
“Good thing you’re worth more alive than dead,” the man said. “But you pull another stunt like that, and so help me, you’ll walk with a gimpy leg the rest of your life.” Drew felt the gun on his back. “Now, get up.”
Pain rocked his knees as he clambered to his feet and limped toward the house. “Don’t put me in that room with the dead rat.”
The only answer he got was a grunt.
“Inside,” the kidnapper said when Drew stopped at the back door. “And don’t turn around.”
Drew stumbled into the kitchen, and the kidnapper prodded him with the gun into another room. Must’ve been a dining room at one time. He almost turned when wood scraped across the floor.
“Sit in the chair and put your hands behind your back.”
A chair, that’s what the scraping was, but thank God they were in a different room. He winced as zip ties dug into his skin. “What do you want, anyway?”
The person pulled a rough burlap cloth sack over Drew’s head. “In due time. Sorry about the hood, but this way I don’t have to worry about you seeing me.”
After the first breath, Drew made himself take short, shallow breaths—that first one almost made him gag from the mildew and stink.
“Your aunt has a data drive I want, and in a few minutes you’re going to call her, and if she wants to see you alive again, she’ll bring it to me.” His kidnapper fell silent for a few seconds.
“I’m not calling my aunt.”
Pain rocked his head as the kidnapper slammed the gun against his skull, and a wave of nausea worse than before rolled through his stomach.
“You don’t call her and I’ll kill your whole family.”
“Why do you want my aunt?”
“Because her meddling is ruining my life.”
His head throbbed. Drew closed his eyes, trying to come up with a way out. But there wasn’t one, unless . . . “Look, I’ll give you the money you gave Jenny. I have all of it. Just leave my aunt out of it—she doesn’t know anything.”
The kidnapper didn’t respond. Was the person even still here? He strained to hear movement, but the only sound he heard was his heart pounding in his ears. Then he felt the pressure of the gun barrel against his head again.
“I want the money, and I want the data drive. So, one more chance. You blow it and you’re dead. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
Silence filled the room for more than a minute. Sweat ran down his face. He wanted to rub it away on his shoulder, but with the pressure of the gun against his temple, he was afraid to move.
“We’re calling your aunt.”
“She doesn’t have a phone—you broke it when you tried to run her down.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Now who was lying? Drew should never have admitted to having anything. He jerked his head toward the sound of someone pressing phone buttons.
“When she answers, tell her where the money and data drive are. Then tell her to get them. If you don’t do it, I’ll find her and kill her. And maybe your dad for good measure. That’s after I kill you.”
Drew’s heart stuttered. He didn’t know what to do, except pray.