24 Hours

Suddenly he moaned and held his ribs. Abby climbed over the seat and took hold of his right hand. “Wake up, Beast.” She shook the hand again, then pinched it. “Can you talk? Daddy didn’t mean to hurt you!”

A loud boom sounded behind her, followed by a whoomph that made the air around the car glow for several seconds. Terror for her father went through her like a knife.

“Beast! Wake up!”

His right eye blinked, and he groaned in pain. “Run,” he whispered.

“You’re hurt.”

“Run, Jo Ellen,” he said in a raspy voice. “I smell gas. And there’s a bad man coming. Run to Daddy.”

Jo Ellen…? And then she remembered. Huey’s little sister was named Jo Ellen. Abby looked down at the floor. Belle and the carved bear and child lay in a mosaic of shattered glass. She picked up Belle and put her in Huey’s lap, then grabbed the bear and climbed out of the passenger door. She wished she could pull Huey out, but trying to pull Huey would be like trying to pull a mountain. She turned away from the car and looked up the steep hill.

A chill of fear made her shiver.

A tall man was looking down at her out of the sun. She couldn’t see his face, only his silhouette. Then the shape of the man stirred something in her.

“Daddy?” she said hesitantly.

The shadow began running down the hill.

Cheryl crawled off the shoulder and onto the grass of the median. Her knees were cut to pieces. Her hair stank of gasoline, her eyelashes were gone, and her left forearm had a big red blister on it.

But she had the money.

Behind her lay what was left of the plane, a burning mass of twisted metal in the wake of a log truck that had only managed to stop a few seconds ago. A mile-long line of cars had stacked up behind the wrecked plane, and dozens of people were coming forward, gawkers and rubbernecks in the lead.

Cheryl coughed up black smoke, and the spasm hurt like a wire brush raked over the inside of her rib cage. She thought she might have breathed fire during the explosion. What the hell. It was a small price to pay.

She flattened her hands on the grass and got to her feet, then picked up the blackened briefcase and started up into the trees.

Karen lay against the passenger door of the Camry, staring at the small hole in her upper abdomen. Hickey was gone. He’d shot her and left her for dead. She couldn’t tell how badly she was wounded. Abdominal wounds were tricky. They could kill you in five minutes or put you through weeks of hell. In any case, the gunshot had been enough to knock her against the door and keep her off Hickey while he raced after Will’s plane.

Through the windshield she saw cars in front of her and cars behind. But no plane. She’d heard an explosion a few moments before, one she hoped was a car wreck and not Will’s Baron. But it could have been Will. Landing on a busy interstate was Evel Knievel stuff. And if something had happened to Will, Abby might be alone up there with Hickey and the others.

Karen opened the Camry’s glove box, found a wad of Kleenex, and stuffed it into the bullet hole. Then, steeling herself against the pain, she forced herself to turn and pop open the Camry’s door.

Falling half onto the road, she decided to let her legs follow. After they did, she rolled onto her stomach and lay there, annoyed by the numbness of her midsection. Getting up seemed a theoretical impossibility, like surpassing the speed of light. Then the smell of burning aviation fuel reached her, and she changed her mind.

Will angled down the hill toward Abby, pumping his legs like an extreme skier in a barely controlled fall. Abby took several steps up the shoulder, her eyes bright.

“I knew you’d come, Daddy!”

He snatched her up and hugged her as tight as he dared.

“Where’s Mom?” she asked. “Is Mom with you?”

He had no answer. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s find her.”

“Wait. Huey’s hurt.”

“What?”

“He’s stuck in the car. He’s bleeding!”

Will didn’t especially want to help Abby’s kidnapper, but he moved close enough to the Rambler to see that the man was badly hurt. The tang of gasoline was in the air. If the car caught fire, he’d be burned alive.

“Help him, Daddy!”

Will set Abby down and ran to the driver ’s door. It had not been jammed shut in the crash, but Huey was most definitely jammed behind the wheel. He weighed over three hundred pounds, and Will could scarcely budge him.

“Huey!” he yelled. “Help me! Move!”

The man’s left forearm was like a ham. Will grabbed it with both hands and pulled with all his strength. With a groan like an annoyed bull, Huey twisted in the seat and heaved himself out onto the ground. There was just enough slope for Will to roll him down and away from the car. That was all he could do.

“Let’s go find Mom!” Abby called.