Paranoid(124)

“He wouldn’t.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Oops.”

“‘Oops’? What does that mean?” He acted as if they were playing some kind of weird game. What a dick! Leaning against the passenger door, arms crossed over her chest, she glared at him. “Where is he?”

“Waiting,” Lucas said, toying with her.

Her eyes narrowed and she felt all of her senses go on high alert. Something was wrong here. Very wrong. “I don’t like this.”

No response.

“Take me home.”

“No can do.”

“What? Lucas, I mean it,” she said with more authority than she felt. “Take me home. Now!”

“And disappoint Xander?” He shook his head, blond hair shimmering oddly in the dash lights. “Don’t think so.”

She glanced through the windshield and saw that they’d left town and he’d slowed in the darkness, turning onto the long, pockmarked lane leading to the old fish-packing plant. It loomed in the distance, an aging behemoth settling onto old piers over the river. “Why are we here?” she asked, her anger dissolving into fear.

“Geez, Harper. What’s with all the questions? We’re here to meet Xander, just like I said.” Hands on the wheel, he slanted her a quick smile. Meant to be disarming.

It wasn’t. Something was up with Lucas. Something terrifying.

The Jeep bounced along the lane until they reached the chain-link fence sectioning off the riverfront part of the property. A sagging metal gate, rusting in places, was hanging open, the chain that usually secured it cut and dangling over a side post where a long-handled bolt cutter had been propped.

He’d broken in. To this evil place where his father had died, at the hands of her mother.

“I don’t like this.” Dread was pumping through her bloodstream. Somehow Harper had to tell her mom where she was. Or her dad; that made more sense. He’d know what to do. She swallowed hard and though she was so scared she was nearly shaking she felt for her phone, sneaked a peek, and hit her father’s name on her contact list. The phone was still on silent mode so, hopefully, Lucas wouldn’t know what she was doing.

“But you will. Like it. Even love it. I promise.”

It was a lie. She knew it.

“You broke into the cannery?” she asked, giving away their location.

“I guess if you want to get technical. Well, yeah.”

“I’m not going in there, if that’s the idea,” she said, and pointed at the cannery. What the hell was this? She had to escape. Get away from him. Avoid that damned packing plant like the plague. This was wrong. All wrong.

But Xander? Where was he? In that menacing old building? Her stomach curdled at the thought.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” he was asking, cutting the engine.

“Where’s your sanity?” she threw back at him, then thought to use his name. “Lucas, this is nuts!”

“Don’t think so.” All joviality was gone. Now he was dead serious and she fought a rising sense of panic. She had to get away. Run. Think, Harper, think. He was a football star, remember? A runningback or something? He’s faster than you even though you ran long distance in track. You have to be smarter than he is.

“Okay, let’s go.” As the engine ticked and cooled, he pulled the key from the ignition, and when he opened the door and the interior light flashed on she saw him withdraw a gun from the pocket of his jacket.

Oh. God. No.

“You have a gun?” she said, hoping the phone was recording her dismay.

“Think of it as insurance.”

“For what?”

Cold, numbing fear crawled through her.

“To make sure you do as I say.” He glared at her across the front seat, his face in shadow. She thought, for a second, of another man, one she’d known all her life, one who had no connection to him. The image—of a picture of her grandfather at a younger age—dissipated. She licked her lips. Lucas wasn’t kidding. His face was set in stone, his eyes those of a killer.

In her mind’s eye she saw the woman hanging from the bell ropes last night giving up her last dying breath, and in that split second she knew she had to get away. Now.

“Move it!” he ordered, wagging the pistol across the seats. “You’re going with me into that fuckin’ packing plant to meet with Xander and then you’ll text your mother from your phone and she’ll come to save you and I’ll be waiting.”

“For . . . ?” A new terror seized her.

He stared at her as if she were the dimmest person on the planet. “For revenge, Harper. Haven’t you been reading the papers? Don’t you know that she killed my father and never paid the price? That she got off scot-free after pulling the trigger? She killed him, Harper. Your mother’s a goddamned murderer and the only reason she wasn’t convicted—the only damned reason—was because she was the kid of a cop and her stupid, fucking friends lied for her, came forward and lied about what they saw and heard. So they had to pay, too.”

Horrified, Harper shrank away from him. If only she had a weapon. Xander didn’t own a gun but there had to be something in this Jeep. He had a toolbox and camping gear in the back cargo area, behind the backseat, but she couldn’t reach either. “That’s not how it was,” she argued.