It would be dark soon, the clouds were about ready to unleash a flood, and Mark didn’t have a clue where to look. All he knew was that he had seen that same red truck that had nearly run Kate down, cruising through town and headed toward the mountains and Panquitch Lake. When he called Kate and got a busy signal, he had raced over to her house, all the time wishing Kate had a cell phone—some alternate way of reaching her. But when he confirmed that she and Jason weren’t home, he knew they were up at the lake and that they were in danger. He only prayed he could get to them in time.
If only he knew the location of their cabin. It wasn’t going to be easy finding them in the dark, in the middle of a storm, and without any directions. He drove up and down every road that was passable—and some that weren’t—hoping to see the SUV, but so far he had come up empty. That’s when he spotted the old man in the raincoat, with the rifle slung over his shoulder, skulking through the woods beside the road. Kate and Jason had talked enough about Chester Greeley that Mark had no doubt about the old man’s identity, but it had taken some fast talking—and some serious, silent praying—to convince Chester to pinpoint the whereabouts of Kate’s cabin. The last thing he had called out to him as Mark drove away in his jeep was, “Tell that nosy young woman and her confounded boy to stay off my property!” How Mark prayed he would have the chance to do so.
The rain was relentless now. Driving as fast as he dared, Mark raced in the direction of Kate’s cabin. As he turned a corner, his headlights illuminated a flash of red behind the trees, and he knew it was the truck that had almost hit Kate. He pulled over and doused his lights, turned off the engine and climbed out of his jeep, then hurried the rest of the way on foot.
Please, God, he repeated silently, as he stumbled down the muddy road and through the darkness, please let me get there on time….