“No, I think you’re being oversensitive. He’s dead, Savannah. You gotta keep reminding yourself of that. He’s incapable of feeling cold or lonely or afraid or anything else. Hell, he wouldn’t feel a cattle prod rammed up his ass. I tried the front door, but it was locked, and I didn’t think it was a good idea to break any windows. Willard will be just fine where he is. His dad will let him inside later.”

“Right … whenever his dad wakes up. Or should I say if he wakes up.”

“Don’t worry. Thedford will come around. He’s not exactly a rookie when it comes to being drunk and unconscious.”

They had been quick in volunteering to drive Willard home from the Butlers’ house. They had told Farley Butler that they’d be happy to do it, seeing as how Willard was the only Jackrabbit there without a parent. Of course, they had failed to mention that they were also holding Willard’s father captive.

When they got back to the barn, they’d found Thedford in much the same condition as they had left him—securely tied up and snoring like a buzz saw. The only difference was that the whiskey bottle Cole had left within arm’s reach was empty. Thedford had clearly awoken during their absence, realized he was restrained, and decided to drink some more.

After removing the tack gear from the rancher’s wrists and ankles, Cole had simply left the man where he lay, a saddle blanket draped over his body. They’d then dropped Willard off back at the house, figuring that when the old man came around, he’d head up to the house to find his son waiting.

Savannah steered the Honda off the property and headed back toward town. Cole could see that she was still unsettled.

“Look,” he said. “I don’t want you to think that I’m comfortable with any of this, because I’m not. Whatever control I had over this thing is gone. It’s completely out of my hands until tomorrow. I couldn’t very well take Willard home with me. And I certainly couldn’t have stayed with him. You and I both know that Thedford wouldn’t think twice about shooting me if given a second chance.”

“But who’s to say he won’t kill his son? This morning he certainly looked capable of it.”

Cole looked at her.

“Right,” she said. “Okay, I got it, he’s already dead. But that still doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Let’s just focus on what we can control.”

“Fine. So where to now?”

“To the school. To see if your father’s there.”

“You think . . .” She stopped.

“What?”

“You think you’ll be able to get him on our side?”

“Well, you’re his daughter. I would hope so.”

“So what are you going to say to him?”