“Go.” Sheriff Huggins reached for his radio again. “I’ll get backup on the way.”

Charlie had only one prayer as he and Frost sped down the highway. God, please let me get there in time.

“Y-you don’t have to do this.”

Lane cast a sideways glance at the woman holding a gun to her head. The car bumped along the dirt road and Miguel groaned from the back seat. The Benedict House came into view. The empty plantation mansion would soon be the home to recovering veterans, but tonight, with its dark windows and their lives in Annika’s hands, it held an ominous threat.

“Park the car around the back.”

Lane obeyed, her palms sweaty and her head woozy from her own accident. Fear for her life was the only thing that kept her from giving in to the temptation to black out. “Please, I have a little boy.”

“Funny. He wasn’t a good enough reason to stop you from trying to kill yourself before.”

Lane hated the truth in Annika’s words. Right now, she’d give anything to see Noah again.

“Let’s go.” Annika kept the gun pointed at Lane as she and Miguel climbed from the car. “Around the front.”

Lane’s body trembled next to Miguel’s as they made their way to the front of the house and up the steps to the porch. His blood was thick and stained her hands as she tried to stem the flow.

“He’s bleeding too much.”

“That’s the least of my problems. Or yours.” Annika held the gun to her back and shoved them both inside. Only the moonlight shone to guide them into the dark house as Annika slammed the door shut behind them. A second later, illumination from a spotlight mounted on scaffolding filled the house.

The odor of fresh paint filled the newly renovated space. The first floor of the mansion had been remodeled into one large open area separated only by a semi-circle desk that butted against the back side of a large brick fireplace. Coiled electrical wires hung from holes in the ceiling where light fixtures would be installed. In the corner were boxes. Some marked with pictures of the decorative items within. Others plain. Lane saw the painting she gave Meagan sitting behind them.

“Move him here.”

Lane helped lean Miguel against the stone hearth of the fireplace. His body slid to the floor. Sweat coated his forehead. There was a rag on the floor. She used her toe to drag it over and wrapped it tightly around his arm, causing him to wince. “Sorry.”

“She was just a girl.” His fist tightened. “You didn’t have to kill her.”

“She was a pawn.” Annika bent over Miguel and tapped the barrel of the gun against his forehead. “Just like you. And from the lucidity in your eyes, I see you’ve stopped appreciating my gifts. Those pills weren’t cheap, ya know.”