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filled with compassion. “It’s the best plan I have for now.”

They were both exhausted and cold, but being with Jason somehow made it bearable.

They ran for what felt like miles. The ground leveled out. They passed an area that was fenced off with barbed wire, but there were no cows or ranchers, no sign of life anywhere.

They drank from a mountain stream, the water icy cold as she cupped it in her hands. Isabel stood up from the creek and put her hands on her hips. With the terrain so flat, she could see for miles and still there was no sign of people.

“I guess we were pushed farther back into the hills than I realized.”

They heard the sound of a vehicle on the road before they saw the headlights. Any noise echoed in the quiet. Both of them moved toward some brush and crouched. If it was someone who could help them, they’d have a hard time catching up to him, but they couldn’t risk being spotted if Nick or one of his cohorts came looking for them.

The battered old truck came around the bend and stopped. A man got out and peered down the road, shining a flashlight. Their tracks where they’d made their way down to the mountain stream were clearly visible.

“It’s not Nick. Not his build.” The truck hadn’t been one of the ones in the parking lot at the snowplow facility.

Isabel jumped to her feet and waved. “Hey.” She ran across the field as the man took notice of her.

Jason followed her.

She hollered as the man came to the edge of the road. “Boy, are we glad to see you.”

The man was maybe thirty years old. Fringes of red hair peeked out from beneath a knit cap. He pointed across the field. “Saw your tracks. Not many people come up Copper Junction Road. You folks break down or something?”

“You could say that. Could you give us a ride back into town or at least some place where we can phone for someone to come pick us up?”

The man pulled his hat off and rubbed his hair. He wasn’t wearing gloves. “Sure. I can do that.”

They made their way up the hill. Isabel got into the cab first. Jason squeezed in by the passenger-side door of the old truck as he and the man made small talk about fishing and hunting.

The truck lumbered down the road until they came to a crossroads and took a right turn.

Isabel tensed. Maybe she’d gotten all turned around when they were running away, but it seemed like town was in the other direction.

“There’s a little gas station up the road where you folks will be able to make your phone call,” said the man as though he had read her mind.

Maybe because they’d been running for so long and seen the dark side of humanity, her trust in the goodness of people had been dismantled. She couldn’t let go of the feeling that something wasn’t right.

The man continued to drive down a two-lane that didn’t connect with a main road.

Isabel squeezed Jason’s leg just above the knee to get his attention. She raised her eyebrows, hoping he would indicate that he felt the same uneasiness.

Jason kept talking about where the best fishing holes were, but he pressed his shoulder a little harder against hers.

The bleak unsettled landscape rolled by.

“How far did you say it was to that gas station?” She hoped her voice didn’t give away the fear that had taken up residence in her body.

“Oh, just up the road a piece.” The man shifted gears.

They came up over a hill.

Terror crashed through Isabel.

Down below was the warehouse with the snowplows. The man reached into the side compartment of the door and pulled out a pistol, which he aimed at Isabel. His voice grew sinister and dark. “Don’t think about jumping out or fighting back. I’ll shoot her faster than you can blink.”

The truck rolled down the hill so fast, it would have been dangerous to try to escape. The parking lot was empty except for one car. Theirs was nowhere in sight and Nick’s black truck was gone.

Isabel’s heart pounded against her rib cage. The man parked the truck, still pointing the gun at her. “Now we’re going to go inside. No funny business. Got that?”

They both nodded.

“I’ll get out of the cab first, understand,” the redheaded man said.

She stared at the barrel of the gun and nodded. Her hands were trembling, and her mouth had gone completely dry.

The man pulled the keys out of the ignition. He smiled. This time she saw the darkness behind his eyes. “Just in case you were going to try something.”

Snow swirled lightly out of the sky as the man marched them into the warehouse. Isabel glanced at Jason, trying to read his expression. It was two against one, even if one had a gun.

Jason lifted his head in a nod, indicating that they should try to take the man with the gun.

Isabel stopped.

“Keep moving.” The redheaded man aimed the gun at her.

Jason used the moment of distraction to whirl around and kick the gun out of the man’s hand. It flew, landing in deep snow. While she ran to find the gun, Isabel heard the slap of skin against skin as the men exchanged blows.

Heart racing, she scanned the snow for the gun while the men continued to fight.

Then she heard it. The click of a shotgun shell being ratcheted into the chamber. “Put your hands in the air.”

She turned, staring into the cold eyes of the short muscular man who had come after her at the Wilsons’ house. Mr. Gun.

“You too.” The short man aimed the gun at Jason.

The redheaded man scrambled in the snow to retrieve his handgun and then pointed it at Isabel.

“I told you not to try anything funny,” he said between gasps for air.

Jason and Isabel marched side by side. She wasn’t about to give up. There had to be a way to get free. The man

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