e9c12ac8d703d9a536f23183edf8b22c

The man got up, but wagged a finger in her face.“Are you going to behave? Cause if you won’t…”

“Then what?” she said defiantly, sitting upright again and massaging her painful arms.

“No more food for you,” said the guy after a moment’s hesitation.

For some reason she had the impression these were not professional kidnappers. In fact they both reeked of rank amateurism. The way they’d allowed themselves to be surprised by a mere slip of a girl told her everything about their preparedness. “I’ll behave,” she promised. “And I’m sorry about your friend. Will he be all right?”

The other man now stood bent over his friend, and said,“What did you do to him?”

“This,” she said, as she lifted the same tray and this time let it come down heavy on the second guy’s head. He immediately crumpled into a heap, on top of his larger and burlier buddy, and she watched with satisfaction how she’d managed to eliminate not one but two of her guards. The door to freedom once again beckoned, and she hurried out of the room, then slammed the door shut and turned the key in the lock. And she probably would have managed to escape this time, if not a third man had suddenly materialized, and leveled a very dangerous-looking gun in her direction.

“Not so fast,” said this person. And suddenly she thought she recognized the voice. She couldn’t immediately place it, but there was something very familiar about this person.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she demanded. “I don’t understand.”

“Get back in there,” the man growled, and reluctantly Angel did as she was told, and opened the door of her prison cell again. She’d had a chance to look around, and saw that she was in some kind of cabin—and she even thought she recognized it. She’d been there before!

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re not getting away with this,” she said as she entered the room, and stepped over the prostrate figures of the two men.

“What did you do?” asked the third guard. A note of admiration had inadvertently crept into his voice.

“I knocked them out,” said Angel simply. “And if you don’t stop this nonsense right now, I’ll do the same to you.”

But the man was holding onto that gun, and Angel had the impression he wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

“Back—step back,” said the guy, and gestured to the bed. Another black-clad and masked person had walked in at this point, and Angel had the impression this was a woman. “Help me carry them out,” the guy ordered. And together they carried first the smallest man, then the biggest one out of the room.

And since they were busy, Angel saw an opportunity and decided to grab it with both hands. So she accosted the woman, giving her a hard shove that sent her flying to the side, and then she was on her feet, racing for the door of the cabin. She had been here before, and she knew exactly where she was now, and who was holding her. The only thing she didn’t know was why. And she’d just made it to the door when another person materialized in front of her, held up a hefty club, and knocked her over the head with it.

And before she passed out, the last thought that passed through her mind was that she wasn’t going to make it out alive—these people meant business: deadly business!

32

“Are you sure about this, Max?”

“Well…” I said, hedging my bets. I have to confess that I’d lost some of my self-confidence since my last theory had proven a bust. I actually felt sorry now for suspecting Father Reilly. The man sat in the car with us, and so did Marigold. Chase was behind the wheel, and Odelia rode shotgun as we raced along the road out of town, once more to that wooded area where Angel had gone missing more than twenty-four hours ago.

“It’s funny,” said Marigold, “that you’re actually talking to your cat.”

“Oh, just an old habit,” said Odelia, feeling caught. “When I’m feeling nervous about a case, or just spitballing some theory, I like to ask Max, and pretend he gives me advice.”

“Just like Francis likes to talk to Jesus,” Marigold commented with a smile at her boyfriend.

“Marigold thinks you’re Jesus, Max,” said Dooley.

“I very much doubt that, Dooley,” I said.

“No, but she does.” He regarded me thoughtfully. “You don’t look like Jesus, though.”

“I know I don’t look like Jesus, Dooley.”

“No, but really you look nothing like him.”

“I know!” I turned to Odelia. “We have to hurry, Odelia. If we’re too late…”

“You better step on it,” said my human.

“You think she’s in danger?”

“I know she is,” said Odelia, giving me a glance of concern.

Apart from Dooley, Harriet and Brutus were also riding with us, and so was Shanille.

“How did you know, Max?” asked the latter now.

“Just a hunch,” I said, still not a hundred percent sure my hunch would play out this time. It was very much possible that I was completely off base again. Which meant I wasn’t just about to make a total fool of myself, but also of Odelia and Chase.

“But you must have had some clue,” Shanille insisted.