Mending Places (33 page)

At last they unloaded the men from the van and eased away from the curb, going as fast as the low visibility would allow. Driving absorbed most of her concentration but not all. “You should have listened to me, Micah, and not gone on that trip.”

“It worked out fine.”

“You could’ve died up there.” She spared him a glance, but even his red-tipped nose and rosy cheeks elicited sympathy. “What were you thinking?”

Micah warmed his fingers with his breath. “I was thinking we could make it back before the snow started.”

“You were wrong.” Her body began sweating under the thick coat, but she left on the heat for his sake.

“I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“You should be.”

“I’ll listen to you from now on, boss lady.”

She heard the smile in his voice and glanced his way in time to catch his wink. “You better.”

The ride to the lodge seemed interminable at the slow speed, and Hanna felt her shoulders tensing. When they finally arrived, Mr. Eddlestein took his wife home.

“Drive carefully out there.” Hanna shut the door behind them.

Micah went to warm up with a shower, and Hanna dropped her purse in the office, then went to gather wood from the stack outside. Even if the electricity didn’t go out, a nice toasty fire always seemed comforting. They fixed sandwiches for dinner, then her grandma made
homemade hot chocolate, a treat usually savored only during the winter months.

Gram called the Eddlesteins to make sure they’d arrived home safely, then they settled on the sofas to watch TV for a while. Every few minutes a blue bar swept across the bottom of the screen announcing the winter storm warning. The National Weather Service continued to predict a heavy snowfall with blizzardlike conditions, and they declared a snow emergency.

“Well, I guess it’ll be quiet around here for a few days,” Gram said.

Hanna rubbed her temples, trying to diminish the tension headache she’d had all evening. “Let’s just try and enjoy the reprieve.”

Gram stood. “You two sit here and enjoy it. I’m going to bed.”

They said good night, then Hanna got up to flip off the old floor-model set, pressing a hand to her temple to abate the throbbing.

“Headache?”

She nodded, and he motioned her to sit on the floor between his knees. When she leaned back, he began massaging her tense shoulder muscles. “That feels heavenly.”

He kissed her softly on top of her head. “Since I’m probably the one who stressed you out, it’s the least I could do.”

She smiled. “Good point.”

“Have you taken anything?”

She leaned her head forward while he massaged her neck. “Mm-hmm.” His strong fingers felt so good against her skin, and the heat from his hands seeped into her muscles.

By the time he finished, she felt a bit better. She stayed on the rug, leaning back against his knee while they talked for a long time. When the mantel clock struck eleven, Hanna stood up and stretched. “It’s my bedtime.”

Micah stood and gathered her to him. He rubbed her nose with his own, and she smiled at the endearing habit they’d formed. The smile left her face as his lips claimed hers, gently at first, then with controlled passion.
His touch never failed to stir a fire deep within her belly. By the time they parted, her legs felt shaky, like she’d gone days without a meal.

“Night-night.” He gave her a soft peck on the lips.

“See you in the morning.” As she walked to her room and readied for bed in her warmest flannel pajamas, she was unable to wipe the giddy grin from her face.

Something pulled Hanna from the depths of sleep. She tossed about the bed, her mind hovering somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Finally, the throbbing in her head dragged her into consciousness. She peeked at the clock. Three-seventeen. The ibuprofen had worn off, leaving her with a full-sprung migraine. She turned over and closed her eyes, willing her body back to sleep.

After ten minutes she knew she wouldn’t sleep until the pulsing pain stopped, so she stumbled to the bathroom for more medicine. She squinted against the florescent light and opened the medicine cabinet, searching the rows for the familiar teal label. Not finding it on the first pass, she scanned the rows again.

Where was it? Then she remembered tossing the empty bottle weeks ago. Her purse. She had another bottle in her purse. She walked to the dresser, stopping when she saw it wasn’t there. Her gaze skittered across the room. Where had she put it?

The office. When she’d come in from picking up Micah, she’d dropped off her purse in the office. With one longing gaze at the bed, she reluctantly snapped the keys up off the nightstand and left her room. She held her temples as she walked and tried to keep her head steady to curb the throbbing.

Even with the heat on, the air had grown cold in the night, and she shivered. The keys jingled with each step, and she wondered briefly how much snow had fallen since she’d gone to bed. She considered pulling back the drapes for a peek, but decided she didn’t want to wake herself by doing anything more than the bare minimum.

Silence filled the lobby, making her steps on the wooden plank floor seem loud. Her heart cringed from the darkness, but she was closer to her office than the light switch. She put the key into the door’s lock and turned. The key twisted easily. Too easily. She thought she’d locked up last night.

She pushed open the door. The computer screen flickered, sending eerie shadows across the walls. She reached for the light switch.

A hand grabbed her from behind. She tried to scream, but a gloved hand muffled it. She kicked and fought. He grabbed her around the abdomen with his other hand and carried her from the office.

Oh, God! Help me!
She kicked and thrashed, banging her foot into the counter wall, knocking over a Rubbermaid trash can. Screams escaped her lips only to be swallowed by his hand. She fought for breath, clawing at his hand. He carried her across the lobby toward the door.
Where is he taking me? Help me, Micah!
She had to get loose before he took her away.

She twisted and struggled, but her aggressor was too strong. When he removed the hand from her waist to open the door, she twisted and struck at his jaw with her elbow. In the cloak of darkness, he was a black monster from head to toe. A ski mask covered his head, but eyes glittered at her through the material.

He opened the door, then snatched her against him again. She kicked violently at the door as they passed.

“Stop it!” he hissed, then called her a vile name.

He half carried, half dragged her across the porch and down the steps. She fought all the way, pulled at his hands, tried to twist from his arms.

The snow bogged down his steps, and when her kick caught him in the shins, they fell forward.

His body collapsed on hers, crushing the air from her lungs and shoving her face into the cold, wet snow. He spat a string of curses and covered her mouth again before dragging her to her feet.

They stumbled forward. Her strength drained with each step. Where was he going? What was he going to do to her when he got there?

Dizziness overtook her. She couldn’t faint. She stilled in his grasp, trying to pull in oxygen around the woolly glove. She could fight later, but for now, she had to stay conscious.

Where were they? Her eyes took in the snow-lit area, and she saw the lake to one side.
Think, Hanna, think!
There was nothing out here. Just a shed used for boat storage and maintenance.

He stumbled again, but caught them before they went down. His arm tightened around her midsection, cutting off her breath. They passed the docks. He was taking her to the shed.

There were only two things he could do to her there, and neither was an option she wanted to consider. She had to find a weapon. Her mind spun through the items in the shed. Gas can, oars, tools. Tools. If she could just get to the toolbox and get a screwdriver or saw. Anything.

He burst through the door and dragged her inside. The door hung ajar, allowing the reflection of the snow to illumine the shadowed interior. When he removed his hand from her mouth, she opened it to scream, but a rough, woolly cloth took its place. She thrashed and kicked, but he pushed her to the ground. Her face struck the rough, wooden slabs, and the cloth cut into her lips as he straddled her back and tied it behind her head.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
 

A muffled thump wrenched Micah from a pleasant dream, and his eyes snapped open. His sleep-hazed mind took a moment to clear. Had he heard a noise, or had he dreamed it? He rolled over to look at the clock, then groaned. It was the middle of the night.

He shivered in the night air. The last thing he wanted was to get out of bed and investigate some imagined noise. He turned over, pulled the sheet up to his chin, and closed his eyes. Slowly, the fog of slumber closed over him, enveloping him in a blanket of peace. He hovered on the brink of sleep, his thoughts still churning in a pleasant, quiet manner, the precursor of genuine rest.

A sound dragged him fully awake. His eyes popped open. Had he heard a squeal? His pulse jumped, and he lay frozen, listening. He threw off the sheet and pulled on the clothes he’d worn the day before.

When he opened the door, he paused on the threshold to listen. Silence hung heavily in the air. Only the high-pitched buzzing of the Exit light broke the stillness. It had probably been an animal. Or the cold air seeping through the windows. He should go back to bed. That’s undoubtedly where Hanna was now, sleeping like an innocent newborn.

He wavered on the doorstep, peering down the shadowed corridor. Finally, he stepped out into the hall and walked to the lobby. In the darkness his foot connected with something that scuttled across the floor at impact. He flipped on the light. The trash can. What was it doing in the middle of the floor?

He saw papers at his feet that looked as if they’d fluttered to the floor from the counter. The front door was cracked open.

A shiver snaked up his spine. His arms prickled at the base of every tiny hair. Something wasn’t right. In front of the door, he saw puddles of water spaced evenly apart on the wooden planks. A pea-size clump of snow sat melting in the middle of one puddle. Someone had been here, and it hadn’t been long ago.

Indecision swamped him. He had an overwhelming urge to check on Hanna, but the clues left behind told him there may have been a struggle. He hurried to the phone and dialed 9-1-1. When the operator answered, he gave her the pertinent information, then set the phone on the counter. She’d told him to stay put, but there was no way he was going to sit and wait for help. He grabbed the flashlight from the battery pack on the wall.

Flipping off the porch light, he slid out the storm door and shined the light around. His eyes adjusted quickly to the night. At the base of the porch, he saw marks in the snow that looked as if something had been dragged through the snow.

He stopped and shined the beam out as far as he could see. The trail continued toward the lake. Again, he felt the urge to check on Hanna. But if Hanna was in danger, he had to act fast. He listened for a moment. Snowflakes batted about his head, falling from a clay-colored sky. The blanket of snow illumined the night, allowing him to see quite some distance even without the flashlight.

He rushed onward, following the path. As he neared the lake, he heard something. He stopped and listened.

At first he heard nothing. Then muted sounds of a struggle reached his ears. He flipped off the flashlight and followed the sounds. Why hadn’t he gotten a weapon of some kind? What if the intruder had a knife or a gun?

His heart echoed heavily in his chest, booming violently in fear of what he would find.
Dear God, let her be all right.

The sounds grew louder on his approach to the shed. He crept to the shed, conscious of the snow crunching under his shoes. At the door he waited for his eyes to adjust. Just then he heard a muffled cry and the shuffling sounds of struggle. It was Hanna; he knew it in his heart.

He wanted to charge in and protect her, but he knew he had to be smart. He peeked around the doorway. A black, shadowed body pushed her to the ground. He winced when he heard her smack the floor.