Run to Me (24 page)

He’d thought about praying, asking forgiveness. Perhaps he had, he couldn’t remember. But now, blessedly, it didn’t matter. Vanessa was here. She hadn’t gone off without him after all. How she’d found him he couldn’t imagine and cared even less. All that mattered was that she had.

He opened his eyes again searching for that image of hope and reassurance. But something
was wrong. She hadn’t moved. She was just standing there looking down at him. Her face devoid of all compassion.

‘For Christ’s sake, help me.’

Without a word she stepped aside and another figure took her place. Nolan felt all hope seep away into the ground beneath him.

‘Hey there, buddy.’ The man’s smile was a work of pure evil.

‘Tragg. Oh God, please, you gotta help me.’

‘Well, sure I will.
That’s why I’m here.’

The false assurance stole the last of his courage. Nolan sobbed. ‘I know I screwed up, I know I lied but . . . Oh, man, please. I can’t feel my foot.’

‘No? How about now?’

Nolan screamed.

Darkness returned.

Thirty minutes later Vanessa walked cautiously up the cabin’s front steps. Throughout her comprehensive search of the area she’d been dogged by the alternate screams
and silences of Tragg’s interrogation of Nolan. But ten minutes ago she’d heard a single echoing gunshot and knew Nolan was finally out of his misery.

She hadn’t wanted to return to the cabin before that moment for fear Tragg, in the blackness of his current mood, might turn his rage on her as well. Now that he’d vented the worst of his anger, she felt it relatively safe to enter. She crossed
the porch and peered inside.

Tragg was there, standing once again over Farrell’s body. He didn’t stir as she stepped through the door, didn’t look around as she crossed the room. Assuming he hadn’t noticed her, she stood uncertainly beside the couch.

‘What did you find?’

Despite having half-expected to hear it, his voice made her jump. She cleared her throat. ‘They headed into the woods on
foot. I picked up their trail leading down to a stream but there weren’t any tracks on the other side. Could be the woman had a boat or canoe.’

Tragg stood another moment in silence. Then he stooped to examine the wooden ladder that lay full-length over Farrell’s body. Gently he pried the dead man’s fingers from the top-most rung. He inspected the brackets fixed to its shafts then looked up at
the loft to which they’d been bolted.

‘Tear this place apart. I want an address book, letters, computer files, emails – anything with the name and address of someone this bitch might go to for help.’

He prodded one of the holes in the bracket and a loose screw fell out into his hand. He clenched it in his fist. ‘And while you’re at it, find me a map. I want to know where that stream ends up.’

Shyler stood frozen. The rifle. Where was it? Dear God, she’d left it back by the fire!

If she ran for it now the moose might charge. At the moment it was simply watching them, but that would change the instant it felt threatened. And to make matters worse – what the animal perhaps hadn’t noticed yet – was that Jesse, poised amid a break in the rocks, was blocking its only access to
land.

Shyler motioned him to hold where he was, then leaned to one side to see around him. The bull stood in shallows not ten yards beyond, head high, nostrils flaring – a creature she would, at any other time, have considered magnificent. Now all she could see were the massive antlers, the body nearly seven feet high at the shoulders.

Her stomach dropped. Even if Jesse were one hundred per
cent healthy he couldn’t outrun a charging moose over open ground. He wouldn’t make it to the nearest tree, let alone the fire.

Legs trembling, she hissed her instructions. ‘When I tell you, run for that boulder. If you can’t get up on it, circle around it. Keep it between you and him. Understand?’

Jesse’s nod was barely perceptible. Despite her warning to remain motionless, he’d shot a quick
glance over his shoulder and now knew the monster lurking behind him. His eyes were huge in his ashen face. He was hardly breathing.

But his fear would work in his favour at this point. If he just stood frozen a few moments longer . . .

The bull snorted and lowered its head. Swinging its hind-quarters around, it charged.

Spray flew before it as it lunged for shore.

‘Run!’ she yelled and started
forward.

Jesse veered, taking uneven strides towards the boulder. Even at its present lumbering gait, the giant was gaining. Once it cleared the resistance of the water . . .

Shyler roared and waved her arms. Never in her dreams would she have imagined herself playing chicken with a charging moose. But a brute this size surely wouldn’t get challenged often. If she could startle it, even just
confuse it, she might buy Jesse the seconds he needed.

The bull hadn’t slowed. Heading straight for her, it broke from the water. She turned and ran. Her best hope now was to lead it away.

Ten paces on, she dared a look back. Jesse had reached the massive rock, but with no footholds he couldn’t climb up. As she’d instructed, he started around it. But the bull had fixed on this new moving target
and swerved to follow him.

Shyler cut left, paralleling the animal’s course. Jesse vanished behind the boulder; the bull slowed, sniffing the air. Though hardly enough protection to suit her, the rock was proving an effective barrier. As long as Jesse stayed out of sight –

She froze in horror. A small running figure had appeared further left, heading across the rocky spit that banked the stream’s
inlet to the pond.
Jesse, no!
She sprinted after him.

Even as she angled down to meet him, the bull emerged through the rocks and saw him. By the time she reached him, the animal had resumed its charge.

Jesse stumbled; she helped him up. The spit was littered with river stones and cluttered with jumbles and slabs of granite. The moose hadn’t gained any distance yet. But the same loose footing
that was slowing its progress was slowing theirs.

She glanced around. The forest was now even further away. Would they make it before the bull was on them? Even if they did it was no guarantee. Yet surely better than out in the open.

She grabbed Jesse’s arm and pulled him aside.

‘No! This way!’ He broke free and started in the other direction.

She darted after him. ‘Jesse! Wait!’

Ahead, a
cluster of car-sized rocks stood tightly spaced amid the rubble. A fallen pine tree leaned across them, creating a small but protected crevice. All at once, she understood.

They reached the shelter with seconds to spare but one of the branches blocked the entrance. Together they pulled it until it snapped. Her bandage caught. She wrenched her arm free, feeling something tear at her flesh. Then,
to the clatter of approaching hooves, they pushed through into the tiny space.

Wrapped in the woman’s solid embrace, Zack stared down at the monster’s muzzle snorting just inches from his foot. They’d huddled together for several minutes as the bull tried various ways to reach them.

With each failed attempt he grew more relieved. Now that the danger was largely past, he felt embarrassed being
held in her arms. He pushed himself forward and swung around to sit facing her.

Shyler did her best to sound stern. ‘You, mister, are in big trouble.’

‘Why? What’d I do?’

‘I thought I told you to stay by that boulder.’

‘I couldn’t! There was this massive rock on the other side blocking the way. If I’d stayed there that thing would’ve had me trapped.’

A long quivery sigh escaped her. ‘Okay,
you’re off the hook. But what made you head in this direction?’

‘I saw all these rocks and figured there had to be a place to hide.’

‘Oh, did you? Well, you were right.’ She reached out and brushed some dirt from his face. ‘Clever boy. You were very brave.’

‘I was?’

‘Are you kidding? You saved us. I was headed back into the woods. And I’m not all that sure we would’ve made it.’

The smile
lingered, her face glowing with pride and affection. He loved it when she looked at him like that. God, why couldn’t things stay this way? Why couldn’t they each just pretend to be what the other one wanted?

Turning away, he checked the entrance. No muzzle, no sound of movement. ‘You think he’s gone?’

‘Probably. But we’ll sit tight for a few more minutes just to be sure.’

Zack laid his head
back, swallowing against a wave of nausea. The throbbing had started in his leg again and the longer he sat, the worse it got. ‘It’s hot in here.’

Again she reached out and touched his face. When she drew back this time her smile had vanished.

Chase drove slowly down the wooded track. From the map Patricia O’Neil had drawn him he’d found the old logging trail without any problem. Locating Shyler’s cabin from here would simply be a matter of taking the next turn-off he came to.

A narrow track appeared on his right and he made the turn, slowing at the sight of a sunlit clearing just beyond. Shafts of golden rod, purple loosestrife
and Queen Ann’s lace swayed in the Indian summer breeze. Sumac lined the meadow’s verge like a ring of fire.

Chase drove on, moving at his previous turtle’s pace. Truth be told, he wasn’t lingering to enjoy the scenery. He hadn’t yet decided how best to approach Shyler with his concerns. Given how remote her cabin was and the extremes she’d gone to to keep him from finding it, he couldn’t very
well drive up and say, ‘Hey there, I just happened to be in the neighbourhood and thought I’d drop in.’

What’s more, she might consider it an invasion of privacy that he’d gone to see her mother. Was she in hiding as much from her family as everyone else? Was it her choice, and not Patricia’s, that the two had so little contact with each other?

The problem was he was flying blind. He had no
idea how profound Shyler’s condition actually was. Or even if she had one, for that matter. There was still the chance he was wrong about her and all her ‘symptoms’ had a perfectly logical explanation, though at this stage he very much doubted it.

What little Patricia had told him could explain some aspects of Shyler’s behaviour but certainly not all. Guilt over her father’s death might contribute
to her being reclusive, even self-harming, but he couldn’t see it causing her hyper-vigilance and heightened anxiety. Those were more symptoms of PTSD.

Yes, post-traumatic stress disorder did seem a better fit in some ways. But the problem with that was, her father dying of a heart attack, however hard that might have been for her, just didn’t seem traumatic enough to have been the cause. Which
meant there were still some pieces missing from the puzzle. A lot of pieces.

Spotting a cabin through the trees, Chase took a deep breath. He’d just have to wing it. Do the best he could to gain Shyler’s trust and let her know help was available if she wanted it. He couldn’t force it on her if she didn’t. At the very least he could check her injuries and make sure she hadn’t done any more damage
to herself.

He pulled around the front of the cabin, came to a stop and shut off his engine. Any doubts he was in the right place were allayed by the sight of Shyler’s old Chevy standing at the foot of the cabin’s steps. But something was odd. The car had not one but two flat tyres. She must have been driving over some pretty rough terrain to have caused that much damage.

With a frown he climbed
from the Land Rover and stood, taking in his surroundings. There was a strangely desolate feel to the place. The cabin’s front door stood open but the area within looked dark and lifeless. There wasn’t a sound above the wind and the birds. Steeling himself, he started forward.

Disquiet exploded into all-out fear as he climbed the steps. The windows were smashed. Glass lay strewn across the porch.
The spots on the logs he’d thought to be knots were actually bullet holes. He ran inside.

The interior confirmed his darkest fears. Rushing through the bullet-torn living area he stumbled to a halt at the sight of the man lying dead on the floor.

Chase stood gaping. He had treated victims of all sorts of injuries, attacks with weapons of every kind, but never had he been first on a murder scene.
Somehow it was different. Seeing the violence laid out before him, frozen like a snapshot, chilled him through. At the thought there might be more bodies here, other victims . . .

‘Shyler!’

And at once he was running to search the cabin.

Gravel spewed from the Land Rover’s tyres as Chase took a corner at high speed. His office was just a half mile further – the nearest place he knew of with a phone, since Shyler’s cabin hadn’t had one. He had to report his gruesome discovery to the police.

Driving one-handed, he tried again to get through on his mobile. Still no signal. Either the cloud cover was too thick or it was
all the trees. He threw the phone on the seat beside him but it bounced to the floor.

Looking up he saw the car was drifting, nearly off the road, and yanked it over. He fought again to rein himself back. It wouldn’t help anyone if he ploughed into a tree before making his call. Certainly nothing could help the victims. But the memory of what he’d seen at the cabin, and what more it could mean,
kept spurring him faster.

He’d found the second man lying outside. The sight of the massive trap clamped to his leg had made him feel sick. With the thought there were more of the things around he’d suddenly felt he was standing in a mine field. Before moving closer he’d picked up a branch and used it to test every patch of ground he intended to step on.

When he’d finally got a good look at
the victim, he’d made a bewildering discovery. While the man in the cabin had died hours ago – twelve at least, judging from the rigor – the one in the trap appeared to have been shot much more recently. From yesterday afternoon to this morning. Had the siege gone on for that long? Or had someone come back and finished the second man hours later? If so, why?

But by far the most disturbing fact
he’d uncovered was that there was no sign of Shyler anywhere. Both her car and truck had been disabled so either she’d fled into the forest on foot or there’d been more men there and they’d taken her away. And the heart-stopping prospect of this last possibility was what had driven him here at such speed.