Page 77 of The Secrets She Keeps

"But burning it all? Dude, that's some serious money we're flushing," Sheep this time. He was all about the money. And being paid what he was owed. By number three.

The bossnumber three.That was how they had referred to the man. The one Powell had seen in Wyoming. They called himThree.

Heather wasn't going to forget.

"Take care of the bitch," Harvard ordered. Heather’s blood chilled at the menace in his tone. Yes, he didn’t care if she was dead soon or not.

"We aren't taking her with us?" Scarface almost whined. "Thought we'd share her tonight and everything."

"I'm not into that bastard Wilson's seconds or sharing. I’ve told you that before. I don’t care who she is fucking related to either. She’s a liability," Harvard almost snarled it. Heather hadn't gotten a good look at his face, but sheknewshe had heard his voice somewhere before. She just couldn't remember where. "Kill her, and let's get out of here. Torch this fucking shit and run."

"It's going to go up like a firecracker. This shitburns," Sheep said. "Stand back, then we need to get the hell out of here."

"That's the entire point, moron. Kill her, and let's go. Or don't. Just leave her to fry in the flames. Roast that girl piggy alive,"Harvard said.

"I'll do the honors. I want to make it personal," Scarface said. Heather tensed. It was now...or never. She could just see them in the office, through the open door of the closet where they'd tossed her."Get out of here. I'll deal with her, maybe have a bit of a quickie, and grab the rest of what we need, then torch this place. Meet up in Montana." He took something from the desk and slipped it into his pants pocket. “Don't want to lose this. Three would fucking kill me himself if I did. Has everything on it.”

Heather cataloged details automatically.

Every detailmatteredright now. It just did.

“Told that moron not to leave something like that just lying around,” Harvard almost snarled. No love lost there between him andThree.

“Hey, Three’s the man in charge now, remember? We do what we are told, or we don’t get our share of the money.”

She pulled against the tape. Her hands broke free. Heather reached into her jeans. The box cutter was the industrial kind. The heavy kind. It wasn't the kind thatbrokeat the least bit of provocation.

She was like that box cutter. Dangerous, efficient. Strong. She wasn't going to break at the least bit of provocation either.She just wasn't.

Heather stretched down. Sliced through the tape holding her feet together.

She held the box cutter in one hand. And slid her other around the one thing those bastards had missed. They hadn't even known it was there. But she had. She had. For hours.

And it had given herhope.

A four-foot chunk of two-inch diameter pipe had been beneath her body the entire time they'd kept her in there.

Like a gift from above.

Heather was going to use it now.

To do what she had to do to get back to her daughters.Nothingwas going to keep her away from her daughters. Nothing.

54

Her name was Annabeth,she was fifty-nine years old, and she’d worked on a small ranch for more years than Powell had been alive. Her cell phone was almost as old. By the time Powell had a signal on the older phone, they were pulling into the parking lot. At FCGH.

Powell wasn’t even certain how they’d gotten there.

“I know you said the police, but honey, you are going here first. For the baby.”

Powell had told Annabeth all about the baby. About Gunnar and how much all Powell wanted was to see him again. To be with him.

Powell just nodded. There would behelpinside. People she knew.

She climbed out of the truck and let Annabeth help her inside. And then she just stopped. And waited. Right there. In the lobby of FCGH. She just waited.

“Powell!”someone called her name. “Powell! Thank God!”

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