Iris Johansen - Bonnie

“Where is Eve, you bastard?” she asked grimly. “Give me an answer in ten seconds, and you’ll live for a little while longer.”

Eve. He should not have run away even if he’d been sick about killing the boy. Eve was still alive. He had failed Bonnie. It would be okay. He could make it right. But he had to get away from here first. Then he could concentrate on finding Bonnie’s mother again.

“Is she dead?” Catherine asked.

He shook his head. “She fought me and ran away. She shouldn’t have done that. It’s not what the little girl wanted.”

“Where is she?”

“With the boy.” He was sobbing. “I killed the boy.” Too much pain. Get away. Get rid of her.

He dove sideways and kicked out and struck her gun with the toe of his boot.

It fired and the bullet ricocheted off the wall of the canyon. Then he was running into the brush, the thorns and branches whipping at him.

She was running after him.

Pull to the side and ambush her.

Not now.

Keep running.

Keep running.

Keep running.

Run away from those children in the flaming house in the mountains of Syria.

Run away from Ben, with blood blossoming on his shirt.

Run away from Bonnie, lying so still in the trunk of his car.

Bonnie.

“You have to stop.” It was John calling from behind him. “Don’t make me come after you.”

John was hurting. He could always tell when the boy was hurting. How many times had Ted chased after John when Ted’s brother had beaten him? John had always tried to hide it from him, but he always knew.

“You have to make it right,” John’s voice was hoarse with pain. “I’ll try to help you through it, but you have to give yourself up. And you have to tell me where you left Eve.”

He kept on running.

“Stop,” John said. “For God’s sake, stop. Or I’ll have to shoot you. Don’t make me do that.”

He looked over his shoulder and saw John aiming his gun.

He kept on running.

He didn’t hear the shot until the bullet entered his kneecap. Pain. He fell to the ground. Then, as he was levering himself up against a tree, he saw Catherine Ling come out of the shrubs ahead with a gun in her hand.

She was staring at him with no expression. “You should have stopped, Danner.”

John was beside them now. “I would have done it, Catherine.”

“I believe you. But you would have given him every chance to surrender, and I was tired of pampering him.” She bent over Danner and plucked his gun from his jacket. “Is Eve still alive? I want an answer, and I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Yes, she would know. He had thought when he had first seen her that she was a demon, a Delilah, who was as lethal as she was beautiful. “Yes, but you can’t have her. It wouldn’t be right. I’ll fight you. She belongs to the child.”

“Wacko.” She turned to John. “I’m going to call Joe and see if he knows anything about Eve. If you can persuade Danner to talk, do it. Or I will.”

John pushed past her, closer to Danner. “Why?” His voice was ragged. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were sick? It wouldn’t have mattered to me. I would have helped you. I loved you, dammit.”

Danner shook his head. John’s words were hurting, scalding him with shame. “I couldn’t do it.”

Catherine hung up the phone and turned back to them. “Eve is safe. She and Joe are together. I told him where we are.”

John breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” He turned back to Danner. “You didn’t hurt her. Maybe we can still make this-”

“Go away, John.”

“I can’t go away,” he said harshly. “You didn’t kill my daughter. I know you didn’t. Say the words.”

Of course, he could say the words, Danner thought. It was the demon, Black, who had killed Bonnie.

But what if it wasn’t?

Bonnie.

His head was exploding, he could feel the veins of his neck swell and distend.

Bonnie.

“No!” He lunged forward and got to his feet.

He was running, trying to get away from that hideous truth.

“Don’t move,” Catherine said.

He paid no attention, he was hobbling, his leg buckling with every step.

Catherine took a step forward. “Stop, Danner.”

Bonnie!

He slipped, fell, and was tumbling from the path down the sandy incline toward the bottom of the canyon.

“WHAT THE HELL,” EVE BREATHED.She and Joe had stopped on the cliff above the trail where Catherine and Gallo stood. She watched Danner skidding down the side of the incline. “He’ll be killed!”

“Maybe not. The ground is very sandy, that means soft.” Joe took her elbow and was running toward the trail. He added grimly, “But I may take care of that when I get down there.”

He meant it, Eve thought, as she tore down toward the canyon floor. She was angry, too, but she was also filled with dread and wrenching sadness. It wasn’t what she had expected to feel toward Danner. He was a murderer. He had tried to shoot Joe. He had killed Bonnie, and he might have killed that boy, Ben. Why couldn’t she just feel the anger and the thirst for revenge? Why did she keep seeing Danner as he had been when he’d smiled down at six-month-old Bonnie in her stroller and handed her the rabbit she had dropped?

Tragic.

But all tragedies had to end.

She stumbled, almost fell, but Joe caught her.

Joe was always there to catch her, to protect her, to stand by her.

As Danner had been there to protect Gallo. If things had been different, if Eve had let Danner into their lives when Bonnie was a toddler, would he have been there to love and protect her, too? Would everything have been changed?

Stop trying to second-guess every action she had taken. She was human. All she could do was play the cards she’d been given.

“Just below,” Joe said as he took her hand and started skidding down the incline. “I see Catherine, but not Gallo.”

“And Danner,” Eve said. “I don’t see Danner. Maybe he-”

AND THEN SHE SAW DANNER.

Blood.

Danner was lying on his back near the bottom of the canyon. He had fallen on a large branch and the force of the fall had broken the branch and caused the jagged point to pierce his body and exit from his chest.

She stopped beside Catherine, who was standing a few yards away from Danner. Gallo was kneeling beside him, examining the wound.

“Is he dead?” she whispered to Catherine.

“I don’t think so.” Catherine was short of breath, her chest rising and falling. “Not yet. We just got down here, and Gallo has been trying to see if he has a chance.”

Eve’s gaze flew to Gallo’s face. He was pale, his eyes haunted, and there was a long scratch on his right cheek. He was going through hell, and he looked it. “It doesn’t look good.”

Catherine shook her head. “I’ll try to get some help for him.” She glanced at Eve. “If that’s what you want. He’s probably not going to last anyway. Tell me what you want me to do. I know how long you’ve been searching for your daughter’s killer. If you want him dead, I’ll let him go.”

And cause Catherine to shoulder the blame for killing Danner?

Eve shook her head. “I don’t think he’s going to make it either.” She looked at Gallo. “Make the call. If he lives, then we’ll deal with him.”

Catherine took out her phone. “We’re surrounded by this rock canyon right here. The best I can do is get out from under these trees and hope I can pick up a signal.” She moved toward an opening in the trees several yards away. “Joe, you’ve got a satellite phone; come with me, and you try if I don’t get through.”