Page 121 of Finding Amanda

She loved Mark, and she couldn't stand the thought that he might live the rest of his life and never know the truth.

Please, God, don't let it be too late. Help me. If You're there, please help me.

But why would God help her now? For some reason, she'd been spared in that car accident. And what had she done? She'd become involved with a married man. She'd almost broken up a family. She should have died—that's what she deserved.

She couldn't think about that. She didn't want what she deserved.

The car made a sharp turn, and Amanda's head smashed into the metal behind her. She rubbed the tender spot as the road became rougher. Her right side was almost numb from the pressure of her body against the metal plate of the trunk's floor. It took some maneuvering, but she managed to turn herself over. Something jabbed into her hip. She reached her handunderneath her and found nothing there. Whatever it was, it was in her coat.

She gasped. Could it be? She twisted onto her back and reached into her inside coat pocket. It closed around a small, round can, which she tugged out. Though she couldn't see it, she knew exactly what it was. Pepper spray.Thank you, God.

The car slowed down as the road became rough and bumpy. And then the car stopped. She felt it settle as Gabriel parked.

She was out of time. Should she spray it as soon as he opened the trunk? No, because then she'd be stuck inside, and he could close the trunk until his eyes recovered. How long would that take? Why hadn't she asked Mark more questions about how it worked?

She'd have to wait for an opportunity. She stuck the pepper spray in her coat pocket. It was her only chance.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Rolling through a stop sign, Mark checked the screen of his cell phone against the road signs. He was on Route 28 headed north, looking for Route 11, but this wasn't it. He accelerated, careful not to slide in the snow. He'd been driving as fast as possible on the narrow roads leading from Concord to Alton, but with the traffic and the weather, that wasn't very fast. Whoever had his wife was fighting the same obstacles.

Slow them down, Lord. Speed me up.

He'd been praying since he'd left the bookstore a half an hour earlier.Protect Amanda. Give her peace. Guide her. Give her wisdom. Draw her to Yourself. Let her call out to You. Oh God, make her Yours! If she dies tonight, let her find You first.

That last prayer brought tears, which he wiped away to focus on the treacherous road.

He'd let Amanda go because he'd believed it was what God wanted him to do. He'd thought that by letting her go, he might somehow win her back, or at least have the opportunity to share his faith with her. But if she died tonight, she would die not only without knowing Christ, but also believing Mark didn't wanther anymore. Angry with God for allowing Amanda to be kidnapped, trying to trust God to protect her, and desperate for God's help, all at the same time. It was too much.

With a quick shake of his head, he forced himself to focus on his mission. He had to find her and save her. He couldn't let his emotions get in the way.

His phone rang just as he spotted the sign for Route 11.

He flipped on his turn signal and answered. "Chris?"

"I've pulled up the satellite image of the property. It looks like the house sits on about twenty acres. It was built in the sixties, and it's been in their family ever since."

"What can you tell me about it?"

"Well, I think it's safe to assume they won't go inside the house. They're probably?—"

"I doubt Alan is with them. If he wanted to kill her, he'd have done it long before now. He probably just delivered her to Sheppard." His voice cracked. "It was her biggest fear."

"You're going to find her, Mark."

He wanted to argue, to demand to know how Chris could be so confident. "What can you tell me about the property?"

"It looks like the house sits a couple hundred yards from the road. Beside the house, there's some sort of storage building or detached garage. I don't see any other structures."

"Roads going in?"

"There's only the long driveway. But . . . I can't tell from here, Mark. It looks like there are other paths that may be wide enough for a car to travel. Not roads really, nothing paved. I just don't know."

"Okay. If you were going to . . ." Mark swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. "If you had to bury a body, is there any obvious?—?"

"Not that I can see. On the satellite, it looks like thick forest. You'll have to find them when youget there."

Despair seeped in through the cracks of his demeanor. "And how am I supposed to do that?"

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