Blind Run by Patricia Lewin Page A

shoulder, keeping his voice low and his eyes on the desert. “You in there?”
    No answer.
    Ethan sidestepped to the door, stopped, and swung it open while keeping his back pressed to the wall. He counted to three, took a deep breath, and swivelled on the balls of his feet, leading with the .38 through the open door.
    Again, nothing. No kids. And no sign of a struggle.
    He moved a little deeper into the cramped space, past the narrow galley to the head, and flicked open the door. Empty. Then he took the few extra steps to the bedroom at the end of the hall, which was no more than an unmade bunk, a couple of built-in drawers, and a small closet. It was the last possible hiding place in the tin trap of a trailer, and it was as quiet as he’d left it.
    Unable to escape the inevitable any longer, he shoved Anna’s unloaded gun into the waistband of his jeans, then reached beneath the bed and pulled out a metal box. Inside was the Glock he’d put away three years ago, telling himself he’d never take it out again.
    He smiled grimly at his own naÏveté.
    He’d spent most of his life with a gun in his hand, and he’d most likely die that way. Picking up the weapon, he checked the clip and headed back outside.
    Again he scanned the desert, the throbbing in his head taking on a life of its own. Could he do this? So far he’d been acting on reflex, pulling out rusted skills that had once been as much a part of him as breathing, but his head ached and his hands trembled. The kids were gone. He couldn’t do a damn thing about it, and hadn’t that been what he’d wanted?
    Not like this.
    Then he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and whirled around, again leading with the gun. A small, dark head rose from behind a clump of boulders at the edge of the cliff. The boy cautiously stepped from behind the rocks. His sister appeared beside him, and together they started forward.
    Relief swept through Ethan, followed by a surge of anger. He met them halfway. “What the hell are you doing?”
    Danny glared at him. “How were we supposed to know it was you? I figured it was safer to hide.”
    It had been a smart move, but Ethan wasn’t about to tell the kid that. Besides, he wanted answers. “What’s going on?” What could these two possibly know about the likes of Marco Ramirez? And what line had Anna been unwilling to cross? “Who’s looking for you?”
    “No one. Anna rescued us,” Callie said quickly.
    “From kidnappers,” Danny added. “And she promised to find our parents.”
    “And then she got lost . . .” The girl threw a guilty look at her brother, realizing her mistake. Anna Kelsey lost?
    The boy tried to cover for her. “And so she came looking for you. To help.”
    What a load of bunk, Ethan thought as he studied the two earnest faces. He had to give them points for creativity and spunk, though not for honesty.
    “Come on,” he said. His questions would have to wait. “We need to get out of here. You can tell me the truth later.”
    To their credit, neither kid argued as they followed him toward the trailer. “Did you find Anna?” Callie asked in a quiet voice.
    Ethan hesitated, looking into the child’s impossibly blue eyes. He couldn’t break her heart. “We have to hurry,” he said, instead of answering her question. “We may not have a lot of time.” He scanned the area for a flash of metal or other sign that Ramirez had found them.
    “She’s dead, isn’t she.” Behind him, Danny’s voice was deadpan and certain.
    Ethan glanced back at the boy, surprised at the slight quiver at the corner of his mouth. So he wasn’t as brave as he wanted the world to believe. For a while Ethan had forgotten Danny was just a kid, holding himself and his sister together by a thread.
    Just a kid. Eleven, twelve maybe, a few years older than Nicky would have been if he’d lived. “Yes,” Ethan answered, steering his thoughts away from that particularly painful place. “She’s