Page 145 of Captivated

“What’s happening?” he asked a woman who was staring into the sky for some reason.

“They’ve closed off Main Street so the chopper can land,” she told him.

He blinked. “Someone’s landing a helicopter here?”

She pointed to the ambulances. “The police said some guys got beaten up pretty badly. They must be taking them to the hospital.”

Nate squinted in the late afternoon sunlight, trying to get a better look.

Then he froze.

A black truck was parked on Main Street, close by the ambulances. On its side was one word emblazoned in yellow.

Salvation.

Panic choked him, and he was suddenly dizzy. He couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen into his lungs. Logic told him there could be any number of reasons why the truck was there.

There could also be one terrifying explanation.

Nate pushed through the throng to where two officers stood, talking quietly.

“Officer!” His voice cracked.

One of them turned. “Can I help you?”

Nate pointed a trembling finger at the Salvation truck. “The injured guys… do they have any connection to the Salvation ranch? Because I was just on my way there. I might know them.”

The officer’s grave expression filled him with dread. “I think someone said they both work at the ranch.”

Oh dear God, no.

“One of them’s in a bad way,” the officer continued. “We’re waiting for the helicopter to take them to the hospital.”

“Which hospital?”

The other officer came over. “It’ll probably be Bozeman Health Big Sky Medical Center. They’re best equipped to treat injuries and trauma, but they’re an hour from here. The chopper is the fastest transport.”

“Please, is there any way of knowing their names?” Nate was battling the urge to throw up.

He hesitated for a second. “You say you know people who work on the ranch?”

Nate nodded. “I’m about to start work at Salvation, but I know everyone there.”

Please, let them be wrong.

“We could ask,” the second officer said with a shrug.

The first officer talked into his radio in a low voice. “Do we have the names of the victims? We’ve got someone here who might know them.”

Victims. Oh Jesus.

Nate waited, unable to suppress the tremors that coursed through him.

“Okay, thanks.” The officer gazed at Nate, his face grave. “According to their ID, their names are Toby Merrow and Zeeb Nolan.”

Despite the temperature, it felt as though Nate had been plunged into a tub of ice water.

“Has the ranch been notified?” he croaked.

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