His boy’s freckled face blanched in fear the second his eyes opened. But his eyes were cloudy. If Hunter didn’t get some water, Kevin wasn’t going to have to worry about their captor’s plans. So plan A: Hunter would get the majority of food and water. With just a little fluid, Kevin’s spare tire would keep him going for another day or two. If Kevin was wrong and the supplies were drugged, he could only hope the dose wouldn’t be worse than no water at all—and that if the opportunity to fight for their freedom did come, they would be able to respond. Drugged, he couldn’t protect his son. But dead, he’d be of even less use. He refused to think about the horrors playing out in his head. Of his son helpless at the hands of a psycho and of Kevin powerless to protect his boy.

Of what the psycho was planning to do to them.

His instincts told him they were being kept alive for something. Something big. Something evil.

At the moment, he really had no choice. Hunter’s eyes were sunken, his lips dry and cracked. His skin lacked elasticity. He’d stopped crying sometime the day before. They’d start with a half cup of water and see how Hunter reacted.

Praying he was right, Kevin lifted his son’s shoulders and tilted the open bottle to his lips. “Drink this.”

Hunter drank. And Kevin prayed.

Just outside the door, boots scraped on dirt. Kevin automatically shielded Hunter with his body. Someone was coming. Their captor walked into the barn, but the blond man barely glanced at them as he crossed to the tractor and started it up.

Where was he going?

Nathan checked on his captives, then drove the tractor to the edge of the lake, unhitched the boat, and launched it into the smooth water. The process was awkward, but beggars couldn’t be too picky. Other than the lack of a dock, the location chosen by his assistant was perfect. His demands hadn’t been easy to meet. The property was quiet, out of the way, and had a large enough outbuilding for his very special project.

He tied the boat to a fallen log, then moved the tractor back into the shadows of the trees. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He wiped his brow on his sleeve. So much work still to accomplish. Beltane occurred in just two more days. He’d earmarked today for hunting.

He needed four more sacrifices to fill his effigy.

Nathan rowed along the shoreline. On his last outing, he’d seen evidence that someone else was taking advantage of the isolation of the north end of that lake. A small, semipermanent encampment fashioned from scavenged bits.

Last time, the motor had frightened off his intended prey, but this time Nathan intended to hunt the man down as if he were a wary buck.