Final Touch (12 page)

I
sat in the front passenger seat, watching the road, trying to memorize every sign on the route as our headlights swept over them. The rolled-up T-shirt lay under my seat. Every once in a while, I pushed a sneakered foot against it, just to feel its bulk. Just to know it was still there.

After meandering off the tiny back road that led to the trailer, we’d reconnected with Highway 20 and followed it north, crossing into Montana. It then took us over the border into Wyoming, nearing Yellowstone National Park. Joshua turned north on Highway 191. We crossed back into Montana.

How did he know all these roads? It’s like he’d memorized a map.

A question that had bugged me popped back into my mind.

“How did you know about the jewelry van?” I kept my eyes on the road.

“Who’s askin’?”

Huh?
I glanced at him. He drove with one hand on the steering wheel, his right arm resting on the console. His full lips worked, and his beady eyes focused on the road with hunger, as if one more mile under our wheels meant one mile closer to “home.”

“
I’m
asking.”

He threw me a look. “The old Shaley, or the new Joshua’s girl Shaley?”

I forced myself not to grimace. I would
never
be “Joshua’s girl.”

“You obviously planned this really well. I can’t figure out how you did it, that’s all.”

He chuckled, a dry rasp in his throat. “You think about it some more.”

I watched our headlights eat up the road, obstinacy festering within me. I didn’t want to figure this out. I wanted to persuade Joshua to tell me. The more he talked, the more lax he might become. Maybe I’d hear something really useful, beyond satisfying my curiosity.

An eternal half hour passed. I lifted my hands. “Tell me about the van.”

“You can’t figure it out?”

“No.”

He grunted. “Must not be as smart as I thought.”

“Guess not.”

Joshua drew a long breath. “I’ve been planning this a long time. Just didn’t know when or how. Then God dropped the perfect opportunity into my lap.”

God? How
dare
this kidnapper, this
criminal,
credit God for this! I stared through the windshield, jaw tightening. The God I worshiped didn’t lead people to evil; he led them toward good. If Joshua didn’t know that, he was crazy.

Or merely rationalizing.

My shoulders sagged. How sad to think not everyone who called on God did it righteously. It made figuring out this world all the harder.

I pushed back the emotions, made sure my voice would sound even. “How did he do that?”

“You know that jeweler down by where you live? The one that did the rings? I know the security guy there, works at night. He told me he’d heard from an employee that the man’s ring didn’t fit when it was delivered.”

That would have been Friday. Not much time for planning.

“My friend said Rayne called the store and got all huffy. Said there was no time for them to fix it.”

I bit back a retort. It
was
a sloppy mistake. Mom had been upset, but I’d been even more furious.

“I asked him what they were gonna do. He’d heard that Rayne said she’d have to get a jeweler in Santa Barbara to resize it.”

Once more, I fought to keep my expression placid. To think this horror was all because of that mistake. “So you started checking out jewelry stores there?”

Joshua snorted. “Santa Barbara ain’t that big a town. It’s not like your fancy cars rolled in with nobody noticin’. I hung around downtown, dressed up fine to blend in. When I saw one of those limos stop at a jewelry store—that was it. I went into the store, pretending to look at watches. Heard one of them big muscle guys of yours—the one with the black hair sticking straight up—talking to the jeweler. Muscle Man said the ring had to be delivered before the ceremony and given to you personally. He gave exact orders where the van should go.”

I looked at my lap. Wendell had only been following my orders. I was so ticked about that ring I didn’t want anyone else handling it. “What if he hadn’t told the jeweler to deliver the ring only to me?”

Joshua cast me a long look. “Then you wouldn’t be sittin’ here, would you.”

My nerves prickled. It was too much to take in. My own anger and forcefulness over that ring had led to
this
? What if I’d kept my cool?

What if the ring had fit? What if Joshua hadn’t known that security guard?

I laced my bruised hands to keep them from shaking. So many little things added up to make this happen. The lack of any one of them could have derailed it.

Joshua laughed. “All I had to do was lie in wait for that van. I stashed the other car in the meantime, knowing we’d have to change over quickly.” He waggled his head back and forth, as if immensely pleased with himself.

How I wanted to say,
I know who you are, Joshua! You’re no prophet, you’re just a criminal who used to stalk me.

I could not live the rest of my life with this man. As his
wife.
I
couldn’t.
New, clawing panic gripped me, curling my fingers into my palms. I had mere hours left, almost all of them in darkness. Even if somehow the police knew about the Camry, who would see the license plate at night on this nearly deserted highway?

The clock read 11:31. Despair descended over me. Every mile took me closer to my fate.

Just past midnight we hit Bozeman, Montana.

“We’ll stop for gas here.” Joshua aimed me a chilling smile. “And this is where we hit the freeway for a while. All the quicker to get us home.”

T
he night wore on, my defiant hope fading with each mile. We drove on Interstate 90 for less than an hour, the night hiding me from any eyes that may have recognized me, that may have helped. I thought of the evidence I’d left in the Explorer and knew that it was all for nothing. Of the book in the trailer, in which I’d written my name and a note. Why had I even thought that would help? I didn’t know the name of the town close to Joshua’s cabin, and Montana was a huge state. Police could search for years and not find me. I knew Mom and Dad would never give up. But the imaginings of what would happen to me for months…years as they searched dried up my heart.

I sat in the Camry’s passenger seat, beyond numb. Part of my mind refused to believe I even existed anymore. I was a shell of a body hurtling through darkness. No way out for me. No help. No hope.

God, where are you?

Joshua no longer tried to get me to talk. With every minute he sat straighter. As if it didn’t matter now what I did, trapped in this car while he drove. What mattered was when we got “home.” When he would make me do whatever he liked, and no one would be close enough to hear my cries.

I couldn’t look at him, not even a glance. In my mind he grew uglier and more contemptible as the hours ticked by.

At a town called Big Timber, we turned off the freeway onto Highway 191. It ran through the small, dead town, then crossed railroad tracks and a river. After that—north into more nothingness.

Sometimes I stared dully at the deserted road. Sometimes I closed my eyes and imagined Mom and Dad’s wedding. By now they would have been on their honeymoon at a quiet resort in the Fiji islands. Brittany, the band, and I would have been back home in Southern California. How far away that all seemed now. Like a dream. Like someone else’s life.

We hit another town. Lewistown. I barely noticed the sign. What did it matter anyway? We’d drive through here and be gone, no trace of me left behind.

Joshua turned off Highway 191 onto some smaller road. “Heading east,” he said, as if I cared. Then it hit me. I’d thought he was taking me north toward Canada. Maybe he’d lied. Which meant my note in that paperback in Ed and Jean’s trailer would only send searchers in the wrong direction.

With that realization, the last bit of fight in me died.

A
round four thirty in the morning, the first streaks of light shimmered across the sky and through the front windshield. Dawn was coming. The first day in my new life.

Fear seeped through me until my limbs felt useless.

We were still headed east.

I pressed my foot against the balled-up T-shirt under my seat. Such hopes I’d had for that shirt. Now it would be no help at all.

“We’ll turn before too long.” Joshua was wide awake, the fingers of his right hand drumming against the steering wheel. “North. After that it’s only about an hour.”

North.
The word echoed in my head.
North.

A tiny flame sparked within me.

“What’s the name of the town?” I asked.

“Told you, we’re not livin’ in a town.”

“But you said one’s close. What is it?”

He turned to me, a leering grin on his face. “Peace. Peace, Montana.”

I glanced at him, then looked away. “You’re making that up.”

“Nope. That’s the name.”

Peace. Didn’t that just fit. About as misnamed as Joshua’s being a “prophet.”

I watched the sun peep over the horizon directly ahead of us. Never had I seen such a depressing sight. Joshua and I put down our visors, but it didn’t help. The sun was still too low.

Everywhere I looked I saw emptiness. The landscape was mostly
barren hills with scattered scruffy trees. This world was vast and dry. I couldn’t imagine living in it.

At five fifty Joshua slowed and turned left onto an even smaller road. “Just one hour to go,” he gloated.

The newly risen sun shone into my window.

I moved the heel of my right foot back and forth, rubbing against the T-shirt. Here was my chance. I could use it now after all. There was only one problem: not one person was around to see it.

I slumped down in my seat, thinking,
What’s the use?
I might as well show the T-shirt to Joshua, admit my “sin,” and plead for forgiveness before he found it. Maybe that way he would hit me less.

Peace,
a voice in my head whispered.
Peace, Montana.

Maybe we would drive through the town.

I pulled in a breath and held it. That tiny flame I’d felt a while back flickered a little higher. Maybe I still had a chance.

The sun warmed the right side of my face.

I made a point of squinting. Turned my head slightly toward Joshua, away from the brightness. One hand came up, shielding my eyes.

My heart fluttered into a double-time beat. Did I dare try this?

If it went wrong, Joshua would beat me for sure. He’d pull the car over right on the road, and who’d be around to stop him? Maybe he’d get mad enough to strangle me.

I breathed deeply but quietly, trying to hide my fear.

The sun rose higher. More heat, more brightness. Before I could stop myself, I leaned over. Pulled the T-shirt out from under the seat.

“I’m going to put this in my window.” Did I sound normal? Did my voice betray me? My legs trembled. “So the sun’s not in my eyes.”

Joshua merely grunted.

Here goes nothing.

I had to unroll the shirt without allowing Joshua to see the writing on it. Suddenly I realized that was impossible.

And—
oh, no.
That eyebrow pencil was still inside the shirt. Why had I put it back like that? I should have shoved it under the couch in the trailer.

For a second I froze, heart clicking like a train going down a track. I should have thought this through better.

There had to be a way.

I put down my window an inch. Fresh, cool air blew over me. Turning away from Joshua, I unrolled the T-shirt until the eyebrow pencil came into view. With my right hand I pulled out the pencil and dropped it between my seat and the front door.

No reaction from Joshua. He hadn’t seen it.

I unrolled the T-shirt the rest of the way, until it remained merely folded in half lengthwise. My writing was inside that fold. With thumb and forefinger at each end of the fabric, I lifted the top fold, raised the shirt to the window, and draped it over the glass.

When I let go with one hand to close the window, wind blew the shirt down. It flipped over, exposing some of the writing.

I shot Joshua a frantic sideways glance. His eyes were on the road, a smile on his face.

Pulse racing, I snatched up the shirt. Tried again. The wind blew it off the glass a second time. Panic swept through me.

“You might as well forget that.” Joshua sounded amused.

“I don’t like the sun in my eyes.” Surely he heard how breathy my voice was. Surely he saw how I shook.

With clumsy fingers I rolled up the window a little until I could barely force the fabric through the opening. When the shirt was in place, I took away my left hand and slid my right hand all the way across the window, using my forearm and elbow to hold the T-shirt steady. Quickly, I hit the button to roll up the window. The T-shirt caught.

I pressed back in my seat, trying to steady my breathing. Shot Joshua a glance. He drove on, unconcerned.

Because of the curve of the car, the end of the T-shirt hung an inch or two out from the bottom of the window. Would that make
it harder to read the words on the other side? I rested my arm on the sill, forcing the shirt toward the glass.

Long minutes passed before my heartbeat began to slow.

After a while my arm started to go to sleep. I brought it down. No people around us now anyway. If we drove through Peace, I’d rest my arm on the sill again.

If
we drove through the town.
Please, God, let us do that.
How could anyone not help after seeing the message on that T-shirt? In big block letters I’d written:

HELP! I’M SHALEY. KIDNAPPED!

D
awn. Rayne walked the floor of her bedroom, every inch of her weighted with tiredness and grief. A second night with no sleep. Another day to face.

Why had no one spotted that Camry? It was as if Shaley and her kidnapper had dropped off the face of the earth. Were they holed up somewhere? Had that despicable man realized his mistake in stealing the Camry and ditched it for yet another car? What if he hadn’t stolen that Camry at all, and police were looking for the wrong vehicle?

So many questions.

Some minutes Shaley felt so close to Rayne—as if she could reach out and touch her daughter. As if, even separated, their hearts beat as one. Moments later Rayne would feel the miles between them as big as the galaxy.

She could not go on like this.

Rayne’s legs weakened. Sinking to her knees by the bed, she begged God to save her daughter.

An odd thing happened as the prayers poured out. A quieting seeped into her soul. For the first time since Shaley had gone missing, Rayne found herself not demanding
Why?
Instead came the thought—
God, how could I have lived through the last day and a half without you?

The prayers trickled away, followed by tears. Rayne slipped off her knees to lie in a fetal position. She sobbed weakly, breath hitching, wetness rolling toward her left cheek and onto the carpet. She cried until she could cry no more…then drifted into fitful sleep.

The next thing she knew, someone was knocking on her door. “Rayne? Rayne.”

She pushed herself to a sitting position, groggy and disoriented. “Yeah.”

“It’s Al. I have some news.”