Black Hills
Page 126

“What kind of weird?” Lil asked and was already on her way out of the office.
“Creepy weird-to me. He was saying stuff like we caged the animals like prisoners.”
“We get that sometimes. What did he look like?”
“Long hair, beard. Baseball cap, denim jacket. He had fresh scratches on his face. He kept smiling, but, well, it just made my skin crawl.”
“It’s okay. I’ll head over to the center, just in case. Do me a favor? Tell Matt I’m handling this, and I’ll be over to help with Baby and the others as soon as I’m done.”
“Sure. It was probably nothing. It’s just he hit the red zone on my Creep-O-Meter.”
They parted ways, with Lil veering toward the center. Her phone rang, and absently, she pulled it out of her pocket. Seeing her mother’s number, she clicked on. “Hey, Mom, can I call you back? I need to-”
“She can’t talk right now either.”
A chill arrowed down her spine. When her fingers trembled, she gripped the phone tighter. “Hello, Ethan.”
“Funny, that’s what she said. Like mother, like daughter.”
A terrible fear had her shivering, as if she’d plunged into an icy river. But she fought to keep her tone calm and even. Steady, she thought, stay steady with him as you would with anything feral. “I want to talk to her.”
“You want to stop where you are. You take another step back toward the office, I’ll cut off one of her fingers.”
She stopped dead.
“Good girl. Remember, I can see you. You’re wearing a red shirt, and you’re looking east. A wrong move, she loses a finger. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Start walking toward your own cabin, around the back. If anyone comes up to you, calls to you, wave them off. You’re busy.”
“All right. But how do I know you didn’t just steal my mother’s phone? You have to give me more than that, Ethan. Let me talk to her.”
“I said she can’t talk right now. But you keep walking. I left you something on your back porch. Right up on the table. Yeah, that’s right. Run.”
She bolted, rounded the cabin, sprinted up the short steps. Everything inside her stopped, heart, lungs, brain, for one terrible instant. Then she made herself pick up the small plastic bag.
Inside was a hank of her mother’s hair, and her wedding ring. Blood smeared the gold band.
“I figure you recognize those, so you know I’m not bullshitting you.”
She gave in to her shaking legs and lowered to the porch. “Let me talk to her. You let me talk to her, goddamn you.”
“No.”
“How do I know she’s still alive?”
“You don’t, but I can guarantee she won’t be in two hours if you don’t find her. Head due west. I left you a trail. If you follow it, you’ll find her. If not… If you tell anyone, try to get help, she dies. Toss the phone into the yard. Start now.”
He could see her, she thought, but she had the porch rails and pickets for partial cover. She curled into a ball, angling her body toward the house. “Please don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt my mother. Please, please, I’ll do whatever you say, whatever you ask. Just don’t-”
She pushed end, cut off the call. “Please God,” she whispered, and punched Coop’s number. She rocked, made her shoulders shake, let the tears come. “Answer, answer, answer.” She squeezed her eyes shut when it switched to voice mail. “He has my mother. I’m heading west from the back of my cabin. He can see me, and I only have seconds. He gave me two hours to find her. I’ll leave you a trail. Come after me. God. Come after me.”
She clicked off, pushed to her feet. She turned to face west, hoped Ethan could see the tears, the fear. And she threw the phone away. Then ran.
She picked up the trail right away. Trampled brush, broken twigs, prints in soft ground. He didn’t want her to go astray, she thought. He might be leading her miles from wherever he had her mother, but there was no choice.
Her wedding ring smeared with blood. The hacked-off hank of her beautiful hair.
She forced herself to slow, to breathe. If she rushed she might miss a sign or follow a false one. He might be watching her still, so she’d have to take care in the markings she left for Coop.
He’d given her two hours. Had he taken her mother from home? It seemed the most logical. Wait until she was alone, then take her. On foot or by horseback?
On foot most likely. A hostage would be easier to control on foot. Unless he’d forced her into the car and… No, no, don’t think that way, she ordered herself as panic bubbled into her throat. Think simple. Under it, he’s simple.
Two hours from her cabin-and he’d want to push her, want it to be close. She put a map in her mind. Somewhere accessible and solitary from the cabin and from the farm. If she was alive-She was alive, she had to be alive. He’d have to hide her. A cave would be best. If he…
She stopped, studied the tracks, the carelessly trampled wildflowers. He’d backtracked. She drew a breath, then another, steadying her nerve, and did the same until she found where he’d laid the false trail.
She scuffed out his prints, used her penknife to mark the bark of a tree so Coop wouldn’t make the same mistake. She picked up the trail again, then picked up her pace. She had an idea where he was leading her and knew she’d need nearly all the time he’d allotted.
JENNA WORMED AND rolled. She’d lost all sense of direction, could only pray she was inching her way to the mouth of the cave. He’d blindfolded her before he’d left so her dark was complete. Whenever she had to rest she lay still and tried to judge if the air was any fresher. But all she smelled was dirt, her own sweat, her own blood.
She heard him coming, screamed against the gag, struggled against the rope.
“Just look at you, Jenna. You’re a real mess. And with company coming.”
When he yanked off her blindfold the lantern light burned her eyes. “She’ll be along soon, don’t you worry. I’m going to clean up a bit.” He sat cross-legged on the cave floor, and with a travel razor, a broken piece of mirror, began to shave.
AT THE REFUGE Lena waved to Eric. “Hey! What did you think of Creepy Guy?”
“I never saw him. He must’ve gone right through the center, or changed his mind.”