She must have heard the horses’ hooves, because she turned around to look. He couldn’t see her face in the shadow of the floppy hat, but suddenly the bike fell over, and he watched as she took off through the grass on the side of the road, into the trees . . .
Running for her life.
It had to be Deni! Who else would run from a rig like this? Doug stood up on the wagon. “Deni! Deni! It’s Dad! It’s me! Deni!”
The pounding rain muffled his voice, and the thunder cracked overhead. Doug jumped out of the wagon.
He took off into the woods after her.
Deni tripped over a stump and picked herself up, kept running with a bleeding knee. The rain poured and the sky thundered, and she ran as if the very demons of hell were chasing her. Vic had found her!
She had to get away. She couldn’t let him catch her. He would kill her for sure, and bury her in these woods, where no one would ever find her.
She ran, scratching her legs against a bush, slipping in the mud, stepping over logs and dodging branches . . .
And then in the distance, through the rain and thunder, she heard a voice calling her name.
“Deni! Deni, it’s me, Dad! Deni!”
Deni kept running. It sounded like her dad, but how
could
it be . . . ? No, it was a trick. Vic was imitating her father, trying to make her turn around.
“Deni! It’s me!”
She wouldn’t be fooled. It sounded like him, but why would her father be in Vic’s wagon?
She tripped again, picked herself up, and searched frantically for a place to hide. A cave, a log . . . anything!
“Deni, please! I’ve got Vic in the back of the wagon, tied up! He can’t hurt you anymore. It’s you and me, sweetheart, just like that day when the planes were crashing, and the guy stole our bike—”
She hadn’t told Vic anything about that. How could he know?
She slowed and turned around, bracing herself as he emerged through the trees. It wasn’t Vic but her own father, soaking wet in the rain, his rifle swinging on his back.
He had come for her.
“Daddy?”
“Oh,
honey
!”
She ran into his open arms. Weeping, he lifted her off the ground and swung her around. “Oh, baby! I’m so glad I found you! Thank You, God!”
“But the wagon! It’s his. How did you—”
“I was looking for you and I found Vic. I know about the couple he killed. He’s tied up in the wagon, baby. He can’t hurt us.”
“Is he dead?”
“No, he’s alive. I’m taking him to Atlanta to turn him over to the police.”
She slipped out of his arms and backed away. “But I don’t want to go near him, Dad. He’s evil.”
“I know he is. But he’s helpless now. Trust me.”
She knew she had no choice. She let him lead her back out of the woods to the wagon where her enemy awaited.
“I have to see him, Dad. I need to make sure he can’t break free.”
“Of course, honey. I’ll show you.”
He pulled her up on the wagon. Taking hold of his rifle, he chambered a round, just in case. Then he grabbed the sleeping bag that covered Vic and pulled it off.
Vic sprang up and knocked the rifle out of Doug’s hand.
It fell into the dirt.
And then she saw that Vic had his revolver, pointed right at her father.
Deni screamed.
Doug stared down the barrel of Vic’s revolver as the rain pounded down. Thunder cracked over Deni’s screams.
Deni leaped off the wagon and scrambled for the rifle.
Vic’s voice stopped her. “Don’t move or I’ll kill him.”
She froze, looking up at him.
Doug knew Vic would kill him first, then turn the gun on Deni. He had to buy time, distract Vic somehow, and get that gun out of his grip. He was clearly still in pain, and held his wounded hand curled against his stomach, the severed duct tape still stuck to his wrists. Maybe Doug could use that injury against him.
Please, God, help us . . .
It came to him in a flash.
Stroke Vic’s ego.
Doug swallowed hard. “Guess I underestimated you, Vic. How’d you do it? How’d you get the gun?”
Vic let out a bitter laugh. “Thought you could get the best of me, Branning?” His words rasped through his teeth. “Thought I was just gonna lay there and let you ruin me? You forgot that I’m the one who packed this wagon. I knew where another box cutter was. It took some doing, but I managed to back up against it and get it out. Cut myself free. Your second mistake was putting my revolver in the ammo pack on your belt. You never even knew when I pulled it out.”
His thumb flipped the safety, and Doug knew the man was going to kill him.
How had it come to this? He’d come all this way to protect his daughter. God had laid out a path for him, and led him to her in spite of all the odds.
Was He going to let it end this way?
Vic would blow them away right here, then return home like nothing had happened, thinking he could resume his life as an upstanding citizen.
No, he couldn’t let that happen. If he couldn’t save his own life, he would die saving Deni’s.
With all his weight, Doug lunged forward and grabbed Vic’s injured hand. The pain knocked Vic back, and he screamed like a wounded dog. Doug went for the gun, but Vic pulled it away . . .
Deni stood frozen in the line of fire.
“Run, Deni!” Doug yelled, but she just stood there as Vic’s finger closed over the trigger.
The gun fired.
Deni dropped to the dirt.
Had he hit her? Was she dead?
Fury exploded in him with ballistic force, and Doug wrestled the gun over Vic’s head, and knocked him to his back. “Deni!”
She didn’t answer.
Dear God, he killed her!
Vic fought back, his teeth bared as he screamed in pain, but he lashed out with all the evil festering within him. Doug wrestled the gun over Vic’s head, fighting for his daughter, for his family, for the Abernathys and the Whitsons and that dead farm couple . . .
Doug closed his hand over the gun. He almost had it—
Suddenly Vic’s teeth clamped on Doug’s arm, sinking through the flesh. Doug lost his grip, and Vic got his bearings.
Before Doug knew what had happened, Vic was on top of him, pressing the gun between Doug’s eyes.
Please, God. One more miracle.
Doug squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself.
The gun fired. Doug’s body went rigid.
The fight was over.
Vic’s body dropped on top of him.
Doug pushed him off, and saw the bullet hole in his temple.
“Daddy?”
He swung around. Deni stood next to the wagon, his rifle trembling in her hands. He almost collapsed with relief. She was all right!
“Did I kill him?”
He took the pistol from Vic’s limp hand and checked for a pulse. “Yes, honey. He’s dead.”
She lowered the rifle, her body quaking as the moment caught up to her. “Thank God. I thought he was gonna kill you.”
He jumped off the wagon and took the rifle, and pulled her into his arms. Moments ago, when Vic fired his gun, Deni had dropped. But she hadn’t been hit! God had given them that miracle. And he’d been certain the second shot had come from the revolver. But it was Deni who had fired. He crushed her against him, feeling her sob into his wet shirt.
She was okay.
Thank You, God.
The horses whinnied, and the chickens cackled. “It’s okay, baby. It’s all right now. He’s gone.”
“But, Daddy . . . ,” her voice wobbled with despair, “. . .I killed him!”
“You had to.”
She couldn’t stop trembling.
“Come on. We have to find the police. We have to tell them what happened here, and about the couple at the farmhouse.”
“What if they don’t believe us?”
“They will. We’ll convince them. God will vindicate us.” He tried to coax her into the wagon, but the sight of Vic kept her back.
“No, I can’t. Let’s just leave him here. We can walk to town.”
He looked at her bike lying on the ground, its tire flat. “Okay. You can ride my bike, and I’ll walk yours.”
He got his bike down, then covered Vic’s body with the sleeping bag.
Then together, he and his daughter made their way to Atlanta.
Doug and Deni had been gone five days—an eternity in Kay’s mind. She’d floated through the week in a fog, reminding herself to eat, to sleep, to breathe . . .
Her thoughts ran in one long prayer, begging God for a miracle, despite the gnawing dread in her mind. If something happened to them, would she ever get word?
Her family did its daily duties the best it could. Logan hadn’t complained even once this week, and Beth hadn’t whined. Jeff had performed with little to no sleep, guarding their home with a vengeance. The neighbors brought them food and water, and Brad took care of some of the chores that needed to be done. Judith and Eloise comforted her like members of their own family, praying with her and reminding her that God was in control.
Why hadn’t He brought them home?
She tried to shove that question to the back of her mind, and forced herself to get on with her work. She had to sterilize the water so they’d have something to drink. She set the pot on the grill and waited for the water to boil. For the twentieth time that day, sorrow lodged itself in her throat. Once again, she turned it into a prayer . . .
And then she heard it. Logan’s voice, calling from the front yard. “Mom! Mom! They’re coming!”
Jeff, who’d been working in the compost pile at the back of the yard, dropped his shovel. Beth abandoned the water she’d been filtering.
“It’s Dad and Deni!” Logan shouted, and Beth launched out across the lawn. Kay sucked in a breath and took off running. Jeff followed as they rounded the house.
It was true. Doug and Deni were riding up the street, their bicycles side by side.
They didn’t make it to the driveway before Kay and the kids ran to embrace them, almost knocking them off their bikes.
Deni and Doug were both in tears as they hugged their family, all laughing and talking at once.
After a few moments, Kay pulled Deni into her arms and wept as she kissed her face. “I was so afraid Vic had killed you! I thought I’d never see you again!”
“He’s dead,” Doug said. “We left him with the police in Atlanta, with his wagon and all the evidence.”
Relief flooded through her as she turned back to Deni. But her weary, sunburned daughter had a hollow, distant look in her eyes. And then she knew. Deni had been the one who killed Vic Green.
Seeing the pain in her face, Kay pulled her into a crushing embrace, as her daughter dissolved into tears.
Deni lay on her bed, knees to her chest, thinking about the kick of the gun as she’d pulled that trigger.
I killed a man. God, can You ever forgive me?
“Honey?”
She looked toward her doorway and saw her dad standing there. “Yeah?”
“There’s somebody here to see you.”
Deni sat up. “I don’t want to see anybody, Dad.”
He stepped inside. “It’s Vic’s son, Mark.”
“No! Especially not him.”
Her father came and sat down beside her. “I know it looks bad for him but I have to tell you, I don’t think he was involved. He’s the one who let me into Vic’s house, took me around, and helped me discover all the stuff he had there. He was as surprised and shaken as any of us.”