That engine roared in the distance. Coming closer and closer.
Panicked, Janel jumped back into the front seat and threw her car in reverse. Caring about nothing but setting herself free.
I screamed, “No!”
Tires screeched and dust billowed. It was so loud, the engine and my screams and Frankie’s cries, and I couldn’t make sense of the picture, nothing except her car hitting the street, shifting into drive, and then tearing down the road in the opposite direction of Rex’s truck.
No. Frankie Leigh, oh God, no.
It was a prayer from my soul. A cry from my lips.
A strangled sound of relief left my throat when my eyes landed on Frankie. She was crying, sprawled face-down on the dirt where she’d been thrown.
My eyes drifted back, and horror took to my throat.
Missy was dead in her place.
A heap at the side of the road.
Missy had saved her. Pushed her out of the way.
Rex’s truck jerked to a stop in the middle of the road, and he stumbled out, the glare of headlights cutting into the descending night. A cry wrenched from his mouth. “Missy. Oh . . . no . . . oh God . . . what . . .Frankie!” Second he saw his daughter, he went rushing her way. Stunned, he looked over his shoulder to the taillights disappearing in the distance, his expression shattered when he turned back to the scene.
But that was the thing. This loyal man had no clue just how much worse it could have been.
41
Rynna
Pain throbbed at the back of my head. Blinding. Excruciating. I fought it, swallowed the nausea and forced myself to climb to my knees. My hands fumbled around, searching the floor for my phone.
Gone.
It was gone.
Mumbled voices echoed from the depths of the kitchen. They were coming from the old break room and office.
Fighting the terror lining my veins, I pushed myself to standing and squinted through the darkness. I pressed my back against the commercial ovens just inside the kitchen. I fought to stay as small and quiet as possible.
Slowly, I edged toward the voices.
Sinks lined the far back wall. A huge dry storage pantry was to the right of them and the old office was down a short hall to the left.
Keeping myself plastered against the metal, I shifted so I could peek into the murky depths.
A flashlight and the flickering flame of a candle cast the small room in leaping shadows. Two people were inside, their silhouettes striking against the wall as they moved.
Where was Frankie?
A cold sweat broke out across my nape, and I squeezed my eyes again, gathering courage, calculating whether I could make it to the phone that rested on the old desk that sat right inside the office.
I eased down the short hall, those voices coming clearer with each step I took. Panicked whispers, frantic as they searched.
“Where is it?”
“The question is, where the fuck did you hide it?”
“It has to be here . . . I . . . it’s been a lot of years. I’m not leaving without that money. That money and my daughter and that goddamned tape.”
“You think they aren’t already going to be looking for you since you took that kid? That was so stupid, Janel. I warned you that was the dumbest thing you could do. Going back to his house. What were you thinking?”
“I’m not leaving my baby behind. Not again. It wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.”
“Yeah, and what’d you expect? Me just to sit on the sidelines while you cozied up with that arrogant asshole again? Taking what’s mine? You’re insane if you thought I was going to let you stay there.”
“Just shut up and help me find it. None of that matters anymore.”
I kept edging closer, footsteps subdued, my heart threatening to pound right out of my chest.
“Yes! Here it is . . . it’s here!” Janel suddenly shrieked, coming into view when she jumped to her feet with a box in her hands. A box she had to have found beneath the floorboards.
I knew I didn’t have any more time. I rushed for the phone that was four steps away. I grabbed the receiver, fumbling to hit those three simple numbers.
I made it. I made it. One second before the receiver was yanked out of my hand. I started to spin around, caught off guard when I was shoved in the side.
Hard.
My feet flew out from under me.
I slammed against the wall. But this time, I was ready. Ready for this fight. A fight that’d been coming for years. For what felt like forever. I was fighting for Rex. For Frankie. I was fighting for me. “You coward, taking a little girl.”
I charged her. Rammed my shoulder into her chest as hard as I could.
Pain splintered through my head, but it was worth it. It was worth it because Janel stumbled back, arms flailing and hair whipping around her. The box she’d had in her hands went sailing through the air and crashed to the floor.
I dove for it. A hand fisted in my hair, yanking it back. “You stupid bitch, always in my way. Not this time. Not this time.”
I threw an elbow back and caught her in the ribs.
She heaved out a cry.
I spun around and rushed her just as she was rushing me.
Our bodies collided.
A clash of souls.
I hooked her around the neck, trying to pin her, hold her.
She jerked free, so frenzied that she reeled, her footing gone. She stumbled back until she hit the desk.
I dove on her, and we slid across the slick wood, knocking everything that had been on the top to the floor.
Papers and the phone and the candle.
And we fought. Arms and fists and ripping hair. Fought until a big body was yanking me off. I screeched and kicked and fought. Fought in fury. In hate. In the desperate need to get to Frankie.
Frankie.
Frankie Leigh.
Aaron’s cologne filled my nose, the memory of it making me gag. I struggled to break out of his hold, but he was too strong. He tossed me aside. As if I was nothing.
Trash.
Just the same as he’d treated me before.
Aaron grabbed the box from the floor and then snagged Janel by the wrist. “We have to get out of here. Right now.”
My attention caught on the floor across the room. A tiny flame leapt to life. The candle a match to a piece of paper that’d floated to the floor.
Part of me wanted to go for it. Stamp it out. Protect my gramma’s legacy. But none of that mattered if they got away with Frankie. I couldn’t—wouldn’t allow it to happen.
Hand-in-hand, Janel and Aaron ran down the short hall and escaped out the back door. The door they’d most likely broke in through.
Frankie was my only concern. Not a building or its memories or the hopes of what it may be one day.
Only that little girl.
Crying out in pain, I struggled to get to my feet, chasing right after them. By the time I made it out the door, they were sprinting toward a black Durango parked in the back lot. In my periphery, I could see the spark of fire.
And I knew my grandma’s restaurant was getting ready to go up in flames.
I didn’t slow, only pushed myself harder, desperate to get to Frankie.
Aaron tried to force Janel around to the front passenger seat, but she diverted and wrenched open the back passenger door. “Frankie . . . Frankie?”
Janel started to panic, shouting it again. “Frankie!”
Struggling to jerk out of his hold, she whirled on Aaron. “Where’s Frankie?”
I stumbled to a stop halfway across the vacant lot, heart crashing against my ribs.
“Warned you, Janel, but you wouldn’t listen. We’re not taking that fucking kid. We’re getting out of Gingham Lakes and out of this country, and I won’t have anything slowing us down. Now, let’s go.”
“Where is she?” she screamed.
Even though he seemed to avoid it, Aaron’s attention darted back to the diner, expression twisting in the briefest flash of guilt.
Guilt aimed at my gramma’s diner that was going up in flames.
No.
Oh my God.
Slowly he shook his head. “Didn’t expect the fire. That’s not on me. Now get in or I’m leaving you behind.”
Janel’s expression froze in horror. And I thought maybe it was the first time I saw any true humanity in her. Any true care. Just as fast, it was gone, and Janel started around to the front of the SUV.
She was just going to leave her.