Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“No,” Rachel said. “I will tell my audience what I witnessed, and then, hopefully, we’ll get an interview with Captain Rivers.”
Roger snorted and wiped rain off his face. “You’re crazy. You accused that guy of killing all those women by the rivers. He’s never going to talk to you.”
“He’ll talk to me if it’s in his best interest, or in the interest of the public,” Rachel said quickly. And it would be. Rumor had it that Abbott might be dead, but she had a hunch there was still a serial killer out there.
She hadn’t been completely serious in accusing Huck, but he did have ties to all three victims. It had been easy for her to make a case against him. Perhaps she should delve deeper into the investigative side of these killings instead of just reporting the facts. If she actually solved a serial killer murder, every podcast she created for the next month would go viral with very minimal effort.
Plus, if she could show Huck Rivers that she was just as smart as that stiff Laurel Snow, perhaps they’d have a chance again. “I’ll see you in the studio later this morning, Roger,” she said.
“You betcha.” He turned toward his van, which he’d parked off the side of the country road.
She shook her head. While around her age, he would never attain the success coming her way. That was hers and hers alone.
The rain increased in force, so she ducked her head and hustled to her compact, which she had parked off the road away from the emergency vehicles. It was much easier to sneak up on a scene on foot than by car. The authorities always waved cars away.
She slid inside and turned on the ignition before blasting the heat. She hadn’t realized how cold her fingers had become. Humming softly, she dreamed about the Pulitzer someday coming her way. If she had to destroy Huck Rivers to get there, she would. Although she’d much rather reach that red carpet with him at her side.
It had been a mistake to ruin their relationship in Portland. But considering he was so dedicated to his job that he worked even when supposedly on leave, he should be able to understand how important her job was to her. Righteous anger filled her, but she pushed it away. That wouldn’t get her anywhere. She had learned long ago that honey worked much, much better with Huck than vinegar.
She drove slowly on the pothole-riddled road for several miles, noting the storm becoming even worse. Sometimes a rainstorm was more perilous than a snowstorm. When would summer arrive? How wonderful it would be to have the sunshine again. She turned down another road, winding through the forested area.
Why would anybody want to go camping for a day and a half? Who cared about a stupid merit badge?
The truck hit her out of nowhere, zooming from a side road, smashing into her passenger-side door. She shrieked and held on to the steering wheel as her compact spun and crashed into a tree. The sound of metal crunching filled her head as the airbag smashed into her face and then deflated.
Her ears rang and darkness poured into her for a moment.
She blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what had happened, when rough hands grabbed her arm and yanked her from her vehicle. She screamed, fighting, trying to see, but the guy was too strong. He held her against a hard male body and lifted her toward a dark form.
He shoved her face-first against a truck and forced her hands behind her back, quickly tying them. She struggled, trying to see, but her vision remained cloudy. He pulled a blindfold over her eyes. She kicked back, screaming as loudly as she could, her voice competing with the wind. A door opened, and then he easily lifted her up and shoved her into some sort of crate. The metal door clinked shut, and then the truck door shut.
She scrambled around, flopping on her side, having to curl her legs up. The smell of wet dog filled her senses, and she burrowed into a blanket, trying to reach out with her knees. He’d forced her into some sort of small wire crate. She sneezed from the wet dog smell. The truck light came on, but she could barely see from behind the blindfold.
Then her kidnapper hefted his weight into the truck and slammed the door. He smelled like pine and the storm outside.
“This is kidnapping. Nobody has seen you. Let me go,” she said.
He didn’t answer. The engine was already running, and she could hear him move the gear shift, and then they started driving.
Terror filled her. “I’m not kidding. Let me go.”
She tried to kick out, but the crate was too small. Then it hit her. She was in the back seat of a Fish and Wildlife truck—in a dog’s crate.