As they took off, Marg caught her looking out the side window at the second man. “Jack’s going to remain behind. He’ll let us know when they start looking for you. I figure, what? Ten minutes? Plenty of time to get out of town.”
They stopped at a red light—nothing wrong here, officer—and Marg continued to blab away. But under the blabbing, Willow heard a sound that made every hair on her body stand up. It was the sound of a howling wolf. A wolf in great distress, or furious anger. Perhaps both. Willow turned in her seat, barely catching a glimpse of a huge tan wolf careening around the corner of a building and running full speed ahead as the light turned green and Leery stepped on the gas, snapping her around.
“Ben,” she whispered.
“What?” Marg asked.
Willow swallowed hard. “So what have you been up to?”
One painted on brow rose. “Uh-huh.”
Tires squealed behind them, and several horns blared long and sharp.
“What was that?” Marg peered over her shoulder.
“Looks like some dog is loose.” Leery the gag king raised a shoulder, still eyeing her with undisguised interest anytime she caught him looking at her.
Willow gasped, turning and trying to see, yet terrified she’d see something horrifying. “Did it get hit?” Oh God, oh God, oh God! Ben, please be okay!
“You’re seriously concerned about a dog?” Tom was incredulous, looking from her to the wicked gun he had trained on her.
Willow bit her lip. “I’m worried about all God’s creatures.”
“Weird.” Tom shook his head.
“So, ah. How did you find me?” Anything to take her mind of Ben’s possibly broken and bloody body.
Marg lifted her chin forward. “Stephen here is Tim’s uncle, your partner at the community center. The boy has a serious crush on you. He uploaded some Christmas photos from his phone onto his Facebook account, and though your hair was short and brown at the time, your big blue eyes made Stephen curious.”
Fabulous. Outed by Facebook.
“Speaking of phones.” Marg yanked Willow’s purse from her grip.
“Hey!”
“Let’s see what we have here.”
By now they were passing through the edge of town, not toward the city of Togan, but toward Denver. Buildings became sparse as the forest took over. Soon they were alone on the road, apart from the occasional vehicle heading toward Woodcliff.
“A phone. How ordinary.” Marg wiggled it between two fingers. “Think this has a bug?” Willow knew it had a tracking device on it. Scott had told her. “So do I.” Cold air blasted them as Marg opened the window and tossed the cell phone out the window.
Willow only gritted her teeth and Marg continued to paw through her purse.
“Lip gloss. So not my color.” The tube followed the phone out the window.
“Stop that!” Willow tried to grab her purse, outrage at the loss of her belongings temporarily overriding her fear of the situation.
“Nu-huh.” The damn gun again.
“Fuck, it’s cold.” Up went the window and Willow slumped back in her seat, helpless to do anything but watch the bitch continue to rifle through her bag. Down went the window and out went her small manicure set. Up went the window.
By the nasty smile on Marg’s lips, Willow realized the woman was enjoying this slow and senseless torture. Each time the window went up, Willow might think the rest of her possessions safe, then down the window would go and another item was tossed.
Every item in her purse—minus the eighteen dollars Marg pocketed—were tossed like garbage onto the pavement, until nothing was left.
“Could be a tracking device in the purse itself.” Tom offered.
Marg’s eyes went snake-slit as she looked from her henchman to Willow. “Hmmm. See why I keep them around?” She kept her gleefully maniacal gaze on Willow as she tossed the whole bag out.
Willow jerked her face forward, refusing to give the other woman anything. Then it hit her and she had to bite her lip from laughing out loud.
Ben was a tracker, a wolf. His sense of smell was a million times stronger than a human’s and Marg—stupid, idiotic, hateful witch—had just left him a long line of breadcrumbs.
Unfortunately, they were now out of breadcrumbs. Now what?
“We’ve got lights behind us.” Stephen said.
“No matter. The side road’s just ahead,” Marg replied.
“Where are you taking me?” Willow whispered once they turned onto a dirt road, staring at the surrounding forest with dread. She’d thought they were going to Denver.
She wanted to live to see Denver.
“A nice older couple rented their vacation home to me,” Marg replied with a little smirk that didn’t bode well.