Most likely, that bastard had been spying from the barn, with the direct view of the back porch and into the kitchen windows. He could’ve parked on the other side of the house, and I wouldn’t have seen his vehicle because I never drove past the ranch anymore. Not like when I’d lived in the foreman’s cabin. I hadn’t been there since my return from Quantico. Maybe that’s where he’d holed up and was keeping Sophie. It was close enough that he could keep an eye on both of us. It took every bit of control not to spin a U-turn and play a game of chicken with him. As I made the drive into Eagle Ridge, I went over the plan in my head several times, not knowing if it’d even work. But if this plan didn’t work, the next one would. And if not this one, the one after that. The thought of Sophie tied up somewhere, grieving, scared, mad, hungry, crying, hurting, and cold—that’s what would keep me going. At Besler’s, I parked in the space closest to the front entrance, but not under the streetlight.
