Page 6 of Captive at Rescue Ridge

She ran her thumb along the fob, surprised at the warmth and comfort holding it in her hand provided. In an odd way, she felt a connection to Archer by having his possession in her hand. But she couldn’t afford nostalgia—nostalgia had gotten her into this mess.

Shaking it off, she stared out the front window of the vehicle she’d stashed off the roadway while she waited for night to fall. Traveling under the cover of darkness gave her a sense of safety. This time of year, the sun should disappear in another couple of hours, and she could shake the dust of this town off her boots. Annalee retrieved a protein bar and an apple from the bag of supplies sitting in the passenger seat and ate a late lunch.

She tilted the seat back and closed her eyes after she finished, balling up the protein bar wrapper before tossing it into the cupholder. Her head hurt, and she was tired. Sleep had come in half-hour spurts in the four days since she’d disappeared with the evidence. The backpack sat on the floorboard of the backseat. Despite growing up in various parts of Texas, she’d never learned to use a gun. Having one in the car left her unsettled. Her gypsy-like upbringing had led her to climb trees and learn which berries were poisonous versus which ones were safe to eat. She’d lived in houses with no electricity or indoor plumbing, as well as suburban homes with two stories, two parents, and two-point-five kids. She being the point-five. She’d been ripped from those homes at what felt like the whim of her caseworker and returned to her mother. Not that Annalee hadn’t begged to stay with her mother. The devil you knew was far better than the one you didn’t.

But a couple of those foster homes had shown her what a real home could look like with warmth, love, and kindness. The kind she could see herself having with someone like Archer. The others…

Annalee involuntarily shivered every time she thought about the abusers, the sickos, and the fakes who’d been cleared by social services to bring foster children into their homes.

Now, though, she was back in Saddle Junction. The one place her thoughts always returned to when she thought about home. The one place she’d found real love. The one place she would think about again and again over the years because of the one person she’d left behind.

Could she leave town a second time before figuring out if Owen had been abducted and was being held against his will? As much as she needed to disappear for her own safety’s sake, the answer was no. Annalee would never forgive herself if anything happened to Archer’s twin because of her. Archer and Owen’s bond ran too deep. Thinking back to the first time Archer had asked her out, she’d thought he was pulling a fast one. He was from a wealthy family. Girls had lined up to get his attention, even though he’d never seemed to realize it. She’d convinced herself he had to have noticed and was just playing it cool. A player. But he’d persisted, and she’d eventually caved, agreeing to a date. The two had been inseparable after.

Part of her hadn’t been able to accept this beautiful person could have fallen so hard for her. Getting to know him, she’d seen firsthand the abuse he and his siblings had suffered at the hands of the wealthiest man in town. Beaumont had been one of those looks-good-on-paper people. He’d built a successful horseracing operation. His reputation had said he gave money to help others. In reality, he’d given money for political favors. It turned out that everything the man had done had been calculated. And the way he’d treated his children had been unforgivable. It was a wonder any of them turned out decent. Yet, they’d been good people as teenagers, and she assumed they’d grown into fine adults—adults most parents would be proud to call family.

Somehow, she figured Beaumont had only seen faults. It hadn’t surprised her to learn that every one of his kids had taken off the minute they’d been old enough. Chloe had taken off before she’d reached legal age, which spoke volumes about the way Beaumont had treated his only daughter.

If anything happened to Owen because of her, she’d never be able to forgive herself.

As those thoughts looped through her mind, she closed her eyes and gave in to exhaustion.

3

“Ihave a theory. Hear me out before you make any judgments, okay?” The last—and only—time Archer had tucked his tail between his legs and run, he’d barely been old enough to have hair on his chest. Call him stubborn, but he had no intention of hiding from any threat, real or imagined. Not again.

Heads nodded, albeit some did so begrudgingly.

“What if there’s no threat of a break-in? What if someone at the funeral didn’t want me to be able to follow them?” The question was rhetorical. Everyone seemed to pick up on the fact.

Travis leaned forward and cocked an eyebrow. “Why? Was there someone in attendance that posed a threat to you?”

“I thought I saw a ghost from the past.” Archer’s tone must have given him away because Chloe immediately picked up on the implication.

His sister looked him straight in the eyes and studied him for a moment. “There’s only one person I’ve ever heard you describe as a ghost. Why would she come back?”

“What makes you think I’m talking about her?” It was an unconvincing attempt at deflection based on the looks he received from his siblings—looks that called BS when they heard it.

“Where do I begin?” Chloe asked, making him wish he’d filtered the question instead of spitting it out. “She is the only person who ever truly ghosted you. You haven’t been serious about anyone that I know of since her.”

He forced a smile. “But who’s keeping count?” The second attempt at deflection fell just as flat as the first. Archer issued a sharp sigh. “I’ve dated.”

Travis’s gaze shuffled back and forth like he was watching a tennis match. “I’m lost. Can one of you catch me up to date?”

Archer had no idea why it was proving difficult to say the words out loud. Did it make her presence more real? Or was he losing it? Had he seen someone who wasn’t there? Either way, the cat was out of the bag now. He might as well own up to what he believed he’d seen. “I could have sworn Annalee Copeland was at the remembrance.”

Travis’s gaze fixed the second he heard the name, like when someone was trying to recall something but couldn’t quite reach it. “Why does she sound familiar?”

“She was two years behind you and Kade in school. Transferred halfway through your senior year. She was in my and Owen’s grade.” When that explanation didn’t resonate with the sheriff, Archer continued, “Her mother’s name was Becca, and she worked at—”

“Travis snapped his fingers. “Now I remember who you’re talking about.” He blinked a couple of times. “Her mother worked at Inkspired Tattoos.”

“That’s correct. Annalee and her mother lived here for a couple of years, way back when.” It had taken half that time for Archer to convince Annalee to go on a date. From the first one, though, they’d been inseparable. Beaumont had hated it. Dating her to frustrate his father would have been motivation enough for Archer, but that hadn’t been why he’d asked Annalee out. It was simple. She’d caught his attention, and he hadn’t stopped thinking about her. She’d been hard to get to know. Some had snubbed her, calling her rough around the edges because she hadn’t worn the right clothes—whatever that meant—or curled her hair like a lot of her peers had done. Annalee’s long, straight, burnt red locks had complimented alabaster skin and the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. She’d been beautiful by anyone’s standard. Her looks had created a stir at Saddle Junction High School.

Everywhere she’d walked, heads had turned. The girls couldn’t stand her, and the boys couldn’t keep their tongues from wagging when she walked by, which was most likely the reason the young ladies couldn’t stand the ground she walked on.

Annalee was five feet seven inches of legs. She’d been lean back then, too skinny if you asked him, and he suspected there had been times when she’d had to go without meals. There had been lunches where she’d had no more than a chunk of hard bread to eat. It had happened enough that he’d started dropping off groceries on her doorstep early in the morning before Annalee or her mother had woken up. She’d asked him about it, but he’d never owned up, figuring her pride would demand that he stop. He’d just shrugged and then took her hand in his. He’d told her he didn’t know who was responsible, but there was no shame in taking the food.

Her long red hair wasn’t the color of fire but more like autumn. Those too-serious blue eyes had seen more than anyone should have based on the couple of foster home stories she’d opened up about when he’d asked about the scars on her arm and leg.

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