Page 62 of Her Final Hours
“And I want to see you two alive. Head in if it gets cold.”
With that said, he hurried back to his vehicle and tore out of there. The journey back was hellish. The storm was relentless; his windshield wipers worked overtime to clear his view. Any attempt to come after the girl out here would be madness. The wind howled, lashing against the Bronco, and snowflakes pelted the windows with a ferocity that threatened to send him off the road at any second.
Noah glanced at the clock. It was late. Gretchen would be wondering where he was. She still hadn’t phoned him. He assumed that she figured the weather was holding him up.
The narrow, winding road to his property was barely recognizable, covered in a thick layer of freshly fallen snow. Noah’s knuckles turned white as he tightly gripped the steering wheel; his senses heightened as he strained to see the path again. Every few seconds, he would feel the tires of the Bronco struggle for traction, sliding perilously along the icy road, but he persisted in inching forward with unwavering resolve.
The wind whipped against the sides of his vehicle, and the sound of cracking branches added a sense of urgency.
As he finally arrived home, the icy embrace of the storm seemed to tighten around him. The house stood stoically againstthe elements, a beacon of refuge amidst the whiteout. He breathed a sigh of relief as he parked the Bronco, its engine sputtering to a halt. He took a moment to steel himself before stepping out into the biting cold.
In the driveway was Gretchen’s Toyota SUV, covered in a thicker layer of snow. There was no way he would let her drive out in this weather. As Noah reached the porch, his breath visible in the freezing air, his numb fingers fumbled with the key as he unlocked the door, grateful for the immediate reprieve from the cold.
“Hey Gretchen,” he said, shaking off the snow as the warmth of his home enveloped him like a comforting embrace, thawing his chilled body. “I think it might be best you stay here tonight. The weather is really….”
His words trailed off as he entered the living room and saw Gretchen seated and Ethan still awake. There was something odd. His eyes bounced between them. There before them on the table was a phone.
“What’s he still doing up?” Noah asked.
Nervously, Gretchen pointed to the phone. Confused, he stepped forward, glancing off to his right and left as if this was an ambush. The only thing that stood out to him was that the curtains were wide open. Gretchen always closed them at night and brought down the blinds. He scooped up the phone and immediately realized it didn’t belong to the house.
It rang.
Still confused, he hit the button to connect the call.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Good evening, Mr. Sutherland. I have your daughter.”
21
Wednesday, March 21, 10:50 p.m.
Panic took hold.
Noah’s chest tightened. His heart raced as he gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white. The voice on the other end sent chills down his spine, its tone sinister and commanding.
“What?” His breath caught in his throat, his mind reeling with fear and disbelief. He glanced at Gretchen, her face a picture of horror. Noah struggled to steady his voice, laced with confusion. How? It was impossible. She had been there the whole night. “Is this a joke?”
“I can assure you it’s not.”
“Where is my daughter? Is she okay?”
“Now that’s what I like to hear — a concerned father. You know how many parents aren’t concerned? It’s surprising. Your daughter is alive, Noah. For now. But her life rests inyour hands.”
There was no attempt to mask his voice. It was as if he didn’t expect to be caught or wasn’t worried. Had Noah heard it before? It wasn’t familiar. Gretchen and Ethan watched him intently, their eyes filled with worry. Noah’s mind spun in circles, trying to make sense of the situation. How? She was home. Kerri had dropped her off. Gretchen had updated him to say they’d eaten supper.
“Who are you? Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”
“I want what you have. And you want what I have. It’s quite simple, an exchange.”
Noah crossed to the window and looked out, his arm reaching up to close the curtains. “Go ahead, close them,” the man said abruptly before his tone became soft and menacing. “It won’t help,” he said. Noah swallowed hard, his eyes scanning the curtain of snow outside. How could anyone see anything through this? Then again, he said that it wouldn’t help. His eyes roamed the room. Was he being watched?
Noah’s mind frantically searched for answers, wondering who could be behind this. His immediate thought was someone connected to the Ashford family. After the stunt they’d pulled with his brother, he wouldn’t put it past them to try it with him. “Do you work for the Ashfords?”
“Ashfords? Come on. You can’t be that naïve. Think, Noah. Think hard.”
Then it dawned on him — the girl found wandering the tracks.
