The truck flew toward them, full speed, the thick fog blurring the driver’s vision.
Miles swerved again, skimmed the side rail and barreled around a sedan, then swung toward the exit. Free and clear, he skidded to a stop on the side of the road.
He slammed his fist on the steering wheel with a curse. “Dammit, we lost him.”
Jordan sighed with relief, her hand still clenching the dash. “Maybe the police will spot him.”
“I’ll call Johnny. The chopper is our best chance.” Miles punched in Johnny’s number, praying he was on Dugan’s tail. “I lost him,” Miles said. “Where are you?”
“I’m flying over the highway, but it’s so foggy I can’t see a damn thing.”
“I’ll phone the sheriff and see if they’re tailing him.” Miles’s stomach churned. They had to find him. He couldn’t lose Timmy.
When he hung up, Jordan was watching him. She looked pale, her face bruised from the blows Dugan had inflicted. Dried blood still dotted her forehead and hair, and she was gripping her arm at an odd angle.
“What do we do now?” Jordan asked.
Flashes of his son haunted him. Timmy’s scared face. His mother’s dead body.
Dugan holding the gun to Timmy’s head.
He fought through the blaze of panic paralyzing him and forced himself to think like a cop. “There’s no need to just drive around. We’ll go back to the ranch, pick up our passports and take care of your injuries.”
Jordan touched his arm. “Miles, we don’t have to take the time to do that.”
Miles grunted. “What else can we do now?”
A pained silence fell between them.
“Maybe the police are on him,” Jordan said.
Her calm voice snapped him from the overwhelming terror holding him prisoner, and he nodded, then dialed the sheriff’s number.
A pause while he waited on the sheriff to pick up. “Sheriff, it’s Detective McGregor. We lost Dugan. Have any of your men spotted him?”
“No, but I’ve put out a statewide alert for him and the deputy’s car.”
“And an Amber Alert?” Miles asked.
“Yes, I’ve already put it on the news, but if you have a picture of the boy I’ll get that out, too.”
Miles started the engine and turned the car back toward the ranch. “I’m on my way there now. Ask Brody and he can give you one of the pictures from the camp. They took photographs the first day.”
“I’m on it,” the sheriff said.
“Thanks, Sheriff, I have to go.”
He disconnected the call, then turned to Jordan. “Did Dugan tell you where he might be headed?”
“Not exactly.” Jordan pursed her lips. “We talked about his family. He kept saying you ruined his life, that everyone believed he was guilty, even the woman he loved.”
“The only woman we know about is Renee Balwinger, the one who gave him an alibi, but she’s dead.”
Jordan shook her head. “I think there’s someone else he was involved with. Maybe back before the murders and trial. Her first name was Janet.”
Miles’s pulse jumped. “Did he mention a last name?”
“No,” Jordan said. “But perhaps she attended the trial. There would be records. Or maybe she visited him in prison.”
“I’ll ask Blackpaw to look into it.” Miles sped up, anxious now to reach the ranch. “What else did he say?”
Jordan leaned her head back against the headrest. She looked exhausted and scared, but he knew she wouldn’t give up. “I think his mother lives in Mexico, too.”
Miles raised a brow. “So he’s going to see her?”
“It’s possible.” Jordan twisted her hands together. “Judging from our conversation, he was abused. And she might have been a prostitute.”
Miles sucked in a sharp breath.
“That abuse triggered his hatred of women. He kept referring to his victims as whores.”
“He’s killing women who look like his mother.”
Jordan glanced his way, her eyes glinting with worry. “Yes. Because she’s the one he really wanted to kill all along.”
Hell. “So he’s going to Mexico now to finally make her pay.”
Jordan nodded again, resignation in her eyes this time.
Miles accelerated. God. Poor Timmy. He’d already witnessed one murder, and now...would Dugan force him to watch another?
And when he was finished with his mother, what would he do with Timmy?
* * *
TIMMY HUGGED THE DOOR. He wanted to get out. Open the door and jump. But he was too scared. If he did, he might get runned over by the other cars. Or the mean man might shoot him.
He was going so fast the tires made noises. The car bumped over rocks and swerved. The man said dirty words and went faster.