Only Tara didn’t wait.
Stamping hard on the gas, she roared up the ridge and onto the road, praying no car would slam into her. She could see Jem waving his arms behind her and heard his angry shouts, no longer muffled lest someone hear, but reckless and loud.
What was she doing? Where could she go? Her heart beat like a hundred jackhammers. It had been years since she’d driven a car. The thing lurched and growled so noisily that she was sure everyone in Stony Point could hear. They’d come after her. They’d find Annie’s stolen canvases in her possession. For now, they were safe from Jem’s grasping hands. But where could she take them? What should she do?
“Don’t let fear keep you from doing the right thing.”
Suddenly she thought of Carla’s last advice to her. The shelter wasn’t far; she knew the way, having walked or ridden Annie’s bike to the animal shelter so many times. Two miles. She could get there and call someone. Annie? The police? They weren’t likely to believe her. She could be arrested! Maybe Jem would even report that she’d stolen his vehicle and call the law in an ironic twist of madness!
Everything could come crashing down—all the false hopes, all the lies! But she was through pretending. She was going to do the right thing.
She drove on until the line of pens at the rear of Carla’s property appeared. The van might be hidden from the road there! She cut the lights, which in spite of Jem’s order she had turned on when lurching onto the road. The dogs began to bark. She scrambled out the driver’s door and frantically called out to calm them. They knew her voice; perhaps they would stop before Jem got close enough to hear, if he guessed where she went.
Would he guess? Would he follow her here? If he ran straight for the shelter it wouldn’t take him long. Was she putting Carla in danger too? The seconds flew; the seconds dragged. Time was meaningless—only her fear and her determination were real. Annie must not be robbed of her treasures!
“Don’t let fear keep you from doing the right thing!”
Carla’s words, so fresh in her mind, rang in her ears as she banged her fists on the door. Carla might be sleeping, or she just wouldn’t open the door. She would simply holler for whoever it was to go away. Tara gasped for breath and shivered beneath the pale moon. She’d be left on the sagging shelter porch that offered no shelter!
“Tara!”
She felt herself falling into the room. Then she was caught in a pair of strong arms.
“What is it, girl?” Carla’s voice—sharp, yet kind.
“Lock the door! Turn out the lights!” she croaked, pressing further into the front room turned office where Carla stood, dressed in rumpled blue shirt and jeans.
“What is it?”
Tara raced to the hallway where she nearly collided with Boomer, the old dog who seldom barked. Recognizing her, he nudged his wet nose against her knee. Carla followed, and the two women and the dog huddled there.
Tara struggled to compose herself. “I—I didn’t know where else to go.” Haltingly, she explained how she’d been forced to steal needlework from Annie’s attic, and how she’d left Jem and raced away in his camper. “Annie’s things are in Jem’s old van parked behind the pens. “I don’t know what to do now, but I couldn’t let him take them.”
“Has he followed you?” Carla asked, pale brows furrowed over eyes that were amazingly sharp even in the darkness.
“I don’t know!” Tara wailed, feeling the wave of panic roll over her once again. “It’s all my fault.” She blurted out the whole story of how she’d come to Stony Point with Jem for the purpose of stealing from Annie. How she’d tried to make Jem change his mind. How she hated herself for all the lies. “Annie’s gone with Mr. Butler somewhere … I don’t know when she’ll be back.”
“We’ve got to find her—tell her what’s happened.” Carla brushed hair back from her face and chewed the inside of her cheek. “You’re a brave girl, Tara.” She said this with a kind of awe or pride or something Tara couldn’t describe. Of course Carla would understand—she who had suffered so long over her own mistakes. “Now, listen to me. It’s going to be all right.” She looped her arm through Tara’s. “My phone’s in the office. Do you know the num—”
But Carla’s words suddenly died when a raucous barking erupted from the dogs outside. Then came the banging of fists and rattling of the office door. Boomer gave a low, asthmatic growl but remained by Carla’s side. Tara felt her heart leap to her throat. Jem had found her. He was here! They were trapped—an aging convalescent and a skinny, weak girl!