parasol, anything that would alert him to her presence. But something in his gut told him she never went there. He turned and scrutinized the deserted houses that were falling in on themselves from disuse. They were both locked and boarded and had no port of entry.
He studied the warehouse and shook his head.
She wasn’t here. But she hadn’t gone to town. So where was she?
Maybe she’d attempted to run away from Butch, only to have him recapture her before she could reach the road. But even as that possibility crossed his mind, he didn’t want to believe it.
He started toward the warehouse. He would inspect it further to see if he’d missed any clues the first time he’d been inside. He slowed as he passed the first of house. Nothing there had been touched in months, if not years, except by weather and wild animals.
When he reached the second house, he couldn’t see a trace of anyone having been inside that house either. Until he reached the back of the house. A board had been adjusted near one corner. The movement was almost imperceptible, but the slight exposure of darker wood told him that someone had recently tampered with it.
He crossed to the area and dropped to one knee to inspect the suspicious area. He grazed his fingers along the ground and made contact with slivers of damp wood. When he shifted the board, it moved aside with surprising ease, revealing a gap, one that would be impossible for a man of his size to squeeze through. But not impossible for Victoria.
He trailed his fingers along the ridge. At the touch of something satiny, he stopped. He plucked the material loose and held it up to the sunlight. Blue silk.
He stood and almost felt faint at the prospect that Victoria had made it into the house. There could be no other explanation. She’d clearly crawled through the gap.
With a new urgency to his step, he approached the door, unsheathed his knife, and used it to pick the lock. He had it open within seconds and nearly ripped the door from its hinges in his haste to get inside. He ducked under a ceiling beam that hung down and stepped around a mound of debris.
His heart raced as he clomped from one room to the next searching for any sign of what had happened to her, for a scuffle of some kind, for evidence that Butch had somehow been there and already gotten to her.
But he found nothing. As he stood in the middle of what had once been a kitchen, he almost felt like weeping again. Where was she? What had become of her? Maybe she’d already left. If so, where would she have gone next?
A faint sound nearby silenced his internal rampage. He tried to identify what he’d heard. A breath? A sniff? Or maybe just a mouse in the wall?
He listened for at least thirty seconds but didn’t hear anything again. However, he scrutinized the wall and was rewarded with the sight of the faint outline of a cupboard. In two swift strides, he shoved aside the fishing net and jerked open the half door.
A jagged piece of plate sliced through the air, aimed directly at his leg. He caught it just before the sharp edge reached his flesh. “Victoria. Thank God.”
She was crouched on her knees, hardly able to fit into the space. Her hair hung in disarray, and tears trickled down her dirty cheeks. At the sight of him, she dropped her weapon, gave a soft cry, and buried her face into her hands and sobbed.
Tom dropped to his knees and gently pried her out of the tight space. Then he sat back on his heels and lifted her onto his lap. She didn’t resist. In fact, she pressed her face against his chest, her broken sobs muted but desperate and heart-wrenching.
His own throat ached with the need to cry out his relief. He wrapped his arms around her and held her, his heart beating fiercely with all of the love he had for her. He laid his lips against her temple, and the strong beat of her pulse there reassured him she truly was alive, that she’d survived the horrific ordeal.
He tilted his head back and lifted a silent prayer heavenward. Thank you. God hadn’t been obligated to save Victoria. God hadn’t been obligated to do anything for him. But He hadn’t let him go, had loved him, and promised him hope. Now, He’d