It appeared as if they were heading northeast, back toward the barn about a quarter mile from the camp. That barn was empty now except for bales of hay, and fairly isolated from the rest of camp.
Had Dugan parked near there so he could escape?
He spotted a piece of another blanket caught on a branch, then more footprints. A medium-sized boot print that looked as if it belonged to a woman. Jordan’s. They were interspersed between the others. Occasionally he noticed toe drag marks in the dirt.
Jordan had intentionally made the indentations, leaving a bread trail for him to follow.
His admiration for her rose another notch, and he forged on, his heart pounding wildly with every second. A few more feet and he spotted a button, one that looked as if it had come from the shirt Jordan had been wearing before he’d left for the prison.
He sucked in a sharp breath, hoping she’d pulled it off and dropped it as a sign, not that Dugan had done it.
He scanned the area, the bushes and weeds, to make sure Dugan hadn’t hurt her and left her to die, but thankfully he didn’t find her.
Another few feet and he spotted the barn.
“Dear God, please let them be all right,” he whispered.
Then he drew his gun, braced it to fire and headed closer.
* * *
“YOU HAVE to LET US GO,” Jordan said as she gestured for Carlos and Justin to secure the boys against the haystacks. “Miles and Brody are probably already looking for us.”
Rory made a whimpering sound, and Malcolm spit into the dirt at Dugan’s feet.
Dugan raised his arm to hit the boy, but Jordan stepped in front of him. “So far you haven’t hurt any of the children,” Jordan said. “Doing that will only make matters worse for you.”
Carlos squared his shoulders as if he was a man accustomed to fighting people like Dugan every day. A testament to the hard life he’d lived. “Leave her alone.”
Dugan raised his weapon and aimed it at Jordan’s face. “If you don’t want anyone hurt, keep them quiet and make sure they don’t try to pull anything.”
He cut his eyes toward Carlos in warning. Carlos started to step forward as if ready to fight, but Jordan pressed her hand against his chest to stop him. “Stay calm, Carlos. It’ll be all right.”
She raised her chin a notch. “If you don’t want trouble, then put away the gun.”
Rory whimpered again, and Justin pulled him over to comfort him. Timmy was staring wide-eyed at Dugan, his body shaking violently.
“Listen, you have me as a hostage,” Jordan said, desperate to protect the boys. “The kids will only slow you down, so take me and leave them behind.”
“No, Jordan,” Carlos pleaded.
“I’m scared,” Wayling whispered.
Dugan waved the gun toward the kids who were now huddled in a group, as if sticking together could keep them safe. Both Justin and Carlos had bravely placed themselves in front of the boys as protectors.
These poor kids had seen violence before, but now they showed more courage in the face of danger than anyone she’d ever known.
“Robert,” Jordan said, resorting to Dugan’s first name to make a personal connection. “I know you must have had a bad childhood yourself.” She gestured toward the boys. “Just like these kids. Think about how you felt when you were a little boy.”
Pain and a wild kind of fear creased his angular face. “You don’t know anything about how I grew up.”
She wished she had researched his past, but she hadn’t, so she had to make a guess. To assimilate a profile.
His M.O., the fact that he chose women to murder, that they all looked similar, except for Marie, and the fact that he’d called them whores suggested an abusive past. Maybe sexually, definitely emotionally. “I know your mother hurt you. That you wanted her love but that she must not have given it to you.”
Fury flared in his eyes. “I told you not to talk about my mother.”
“Then tell me about your father,” Jordan said calmly. “What was he like?”
“How the hell should I know?” Dugan shouted.
“So you didn’t know him?”
“I didn’t even know his name,” Dugan said. “Hell, my mother didn’t know it. But that’s not what this is about.”
So his mother must have had men. A lot of them.
“Maybe not.” She forced herself to soften her tone, to sound sympathetic. “Remember what it was like when you were that little boy. When you were scared and all you wanted was your mother or someone you loved to hold you.”
Dugan stared at her for a long minute, his expression so agitated that Jordan feared she’d gone too far. But she had to defuse the situation.