CHAPTER SIX
The call came like a lightning bolt. The voice was shallow, hoarse and desperate, hardly recognizable. He pulled himself up in bed. It was 3:00 am.
From the first pleading, “Please, please!” to the halting, “I’m hurting, please…” Randi Savoy couldn’t have sounded any less like herself, but there was no mistaking who it was. Mike Rushton leapt from bed before his brain started working.
911. He should call 911… Right … or maybe not… he gazed around frantically, his mind a crazed mess at this hour. He grabbed for his clothes, knowing he had to leave, had to find Randi. Minutes later, he was out the door, cell phone in hand, gunning the engine of his pickup and roaring off down the street.
On the outskirts of town, off the old lake road, Mike saw Randi’s car by moonlight, tucke
