The audio switched over to a feed from the news conference. “Caroline, if you’re out there,” my father said in a strong, clear voice, “I will do anything and everything in my power to bring you home. I will find you. God help the persons who get in my way.”

Hearing his voice was like a punch in the gut. My heart hammered in my chest and I clutched my hands to hide their shaking. Most people would have taken his words as a loving father who was out of his mind with worry over his missing daughter. I heard a man who had issued a very clear threat.

In the back of my mind, I could hear my father telling Jake, “You don’t have to be married long. We can arrange an accident just like her mother’s.”

I’d tried to snuff the memories out, to contain them, because they had the capacity to break me. Helplessness clawed at my throat. I knew what he’d done, but there was nothing I could do to make him pay. He had every resource imaginable at his fingertips and I was just a third-grade teacher on the run.

“Whoever took my bride…” Jake said, his voice breaking, “we just want her back. Please.”

It almost sounded like he meant it. I would have believed him if I hadn’t heard him beg my father for “what he’d promised.”

“We’re offering a five-hundred-thousand-dollar reward,” my father said. “Send any and all leads to bringcarolinehome.com or this number.” He called out a number, but I sat stiff in my seat, trying not to freak out and clue Wyatt in that something was wrong.

The announcer’s voice returned. “Caroline is thirty-one years old and is described as being 5’4”, one hundred and twenty-five pounds. She has long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a one-inch red birthmark on her lower left abdomen. There’s a photo of her on our website, along with the tip line number.”

“I don’t know about you,” a female host said, “but I could sure use that half million dollars. With Blakely Oil, you know Randall Blakely is good for it.”

“I hear you, Jane,” the male announcer said. “I may go look for her myself.”

The announcers shifted to a discussion of an upcoming Christmas tree lighting ceremony in Johnson City, but I was still trapped in my freak out. Would my friends in Arkansas be safe? I hadn’t disguised my looks while living in Henryetta, and I’d left for fear my father was hot on my trail. What about Austin, my friend in Dallas who had hidden me those first two nights? He’d gone as far as to give me his mother’s old car for my escape. Last time I’d checked in with him, he hadn’t even been contacted by my father’s people, but what if Dear Old Dad had started digging deeper into my circle of friends? Based on what I’d learned the night of my rehearsal dinner, he had the resources—not just money but a circle of criminals who’d been breaking the law and getting away with it since before I was born.

What would my father do to him?

I needed to call Austin.

Instinctively, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the screen. No service. I’d sent Ruth a text saying I’d caught a ride back to Drum, but it occurred to me I wouldn’t even see her reply, if she’d replied, until I returned to Greeneville in the morning.

“Do you have service out here?” I asked Wyatt.

“Nope. You thinkin’ about callin’ in a tip?”

So he had been listening. I was totally blowing this. He was probably wondering why I seemed so interested in the news segment. “Maybe,” I hedged. “I think I might have seen her in Gatlinburg.”

“Gatlinburg, huh?” he asked, shifting slightly in his seat but keeping his gaze on the road. “I thought you came from Georgia.”

Had I told him that? I couldn’t remember, but maybe he’d made the connection because of my Georgia plates. Still, I was telling too many stories to people, and I was having trouble keeping track of my lies. “I live in Atlanta, but I spent a few days in Gatlinburg.”

“And you think you saw this Caroline Blakely there?” he asked, sounding unconvinced.

“Hey,” I said, “why not? Stranger things have happened.”

“You were there by yourself?” he asked.

Great, we were back to twenty questions.

“What does that have to do with whether I saw her or not?”

“If you were with someone else, they might want a share of the reward money,” he said in a lazy drawl.

“You seemed pretty skeptical it could have been her,” I said.

He shot me a grin, then parroted back, “Stranger things have happened.”

We were silent for a moment before I said, “I’ve heard some people get cell phone service in Drum. Do you know what service they’re using?”

“Thinkin’ about switchin’ cell phone plans?” he asked dryly.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

His lips twisted and he turned to look at me for a second before turning back to the road. “There’s a smaller service that recently put up a cell phone tower. Most people think it was due to the influence of my father, Bart Drummond.” His hands shifted on the wheel. “I would guess you’ve heard of him by this point.”

“His name has come up,” I conceded.

“The cell phone company is Allegon.”

“Never heard of it,” I said.

“Like I said, it’s small, but my father convinced them to put up a tower so the community could have cell service. Only most people can’t afford a monthly plan, and Allegon doesn’t offer pay-as-you-go plans.”

“Is there an office in Drum?” I asked.

Wyatt sat up straighter. “Why would you be interested in getting a cell service that likely won’t be of any use when you get to…” His eyes narrowed. “Where is it you were headed?”

I nearly told him it was none of his business but decided I didn’t feel like fighting. “Wilmington.”

“And what waits for you there?”

I shrugged, deciding to tell him a partial truth. “I’m between jobs. I was on my way to Wilmington to search for a new one…and I figured I’d take a vacation while doing it.”

He didn’t say anything, and we fell back into silence. I couldn’t help but stew about Austin. I needed to find a way to contact him, but I couldn’t risk calling him from a landline. I’d gotten a VPN account with my new identity, which would prevent anyone from tracing the source of any emails I sent, I just needed to find a computer to use.

“Does the library have computers?” I asked.

Wyatt’s brow lifted. “Uh…yeah. But good luck gettin’ access to one. The library’s only got three computers, and seein’ as how it’s the only internet most people have access to around Drum, there’s usually a waiting list to get on them.”

“But I can sign up to use one?”

He turned to study me as though trying to figure out whether he should tell me something. Finally, he said, “I have a computer at my shop,” he said. “I use it to search for parts, but you can use it if you don’t want to wait on the library.”

I tried to hold my suspicion at bay. “Why would you help me?”

He grinned. “If anyone at the library figures out you’re tryin’ to turn in a tip about Caroline Blakely, they’ll try to horn in on it to get a portion of your reward.”