Free Long Lost by David Morrell

chilled me when I realized that Petey had forced Kate to tell him our ATM number.
    “It looks like he drove until nightfall, then used the cover of darkness to carjack another vehicle at the rest stop outside Casper. The likely target would have been someone traveling alone, but the driver wasn’t found near the rest stop, so we assume that he or she is in the car with your wife and son. Until the driver’s reported missing, we won’t know what kind of car to search for.”
    “Three people trying to breathe in a trunk? Jesus.”
    Something in the detectives’ eyes made me guess what they were thinking. As dangerous as Petey was, it might be only
two
people trying to breathe. He might not have let the driver live.
    “Wyoming? But why in hell would he have gone to Wyoming?” At once, I remembered something Petey had said. “Montana.”
    “You sound like that means something to you,” Pendleton said. “What are you getting at?”
    “
Montana’s north of Wyoming.
”
    They looked at me as if I was babbling.
    “No, listen to me. My brother said that when he saw me on the
CBS Sunday Morning
show, he was having breakfast in Montana. In a diner in Butte. Maybe that’s why he’s heading north. Maybe something in Montana’s drawing him back.”
    For the first time, Webber was animated. “Good.” He hurriedly pulled out his phone. “I’ll send descriptions of this guy, your wife, and your son to the Montana state police.”
    “We’ll contact the Butte police department,” Pendle—ton quickly added. “Maybe they know something about this guy. If he’s been arrested, they’ll have a photograph of him that we can circulate.”
    “Assuming he called himself Peter Denning up there.” I stared dismally down at the floor.
    “There are other ways to investigate. Kidnapping across state lines means the FBI will get involved. The feds will do their best to match the fingerprints we find with ones they have on file. If this guy ever used an alias, we have a good chance of learning what it is.”
    I tried hard to believe what they were saying.
    “Have you a recent photograph of your wife and son?”
    “On the mantel.” I looked in that direction. The beaming faces of Kate and Jason made me heartsick. I’d taken the photograph myself. Normally, I hardly knew which button to press on a camera, but that day, I’d gotten lucky. We’d been to Copper Mountain skiing, although falling down was more what Kate and I had done. Jason had been a natural, however. He’d grinned all day. Despite our bruises, so had Kate and I. In the photo, Kate wore a red ski jacket, Jason a green one, the two of them holding their knitted ski caps, Kate’s blond hair and Jason’s sandy hair glinting in the sun, their cheeks glowing.
    “We’ll return it as soon as we have copies made,” Pendleton said.
    “Keep it as long as you have to.” The truth was, I hated to part with it. The empty place on the mantel reinforced my hollowness. “Anything else—anything at all—just ask.”
    What they need more than anything, I thought, is for God to answer my prayers.

3
    Throughout, the phone had rung frequently. I’d been vaguely aware that a policeman had answered it. Now he handed me a list of who’d called, mostly reporters wanting an interview—TV, radio. What had happened would be all over the state by evening.
    “Jesus, Kate’s parents.” Hurrying, I left Webber and Pendleton in the living room. In the kitchen, my bandaged hand shook when I pressed numbers on the telephone.
    “Hello?” an elderly man said.
    “Ray …” I could hardly make my voice work. “Sit down. I’m afraid I’ve got bad news.”
    It made me sick to have to tell them, to hear their lives change in a minute. Neither of them was in good health. Even so, they immediately wanted to drive the three hundred miles from Durango through the mountains to Denver. I had a hard time convincing them to stay home. After all, what were they going to accomplish in