Allison Brennan - The Hunt

She went back to the entrance. “Nick?”

He still lay on the floor. She hadn’t realized he was so badly hurt. She took a deep breath, hesitated only a moment, then plunged back into the airless cabin.

She knelt next to him. “Nick, get up.”

“I can’t. My head. I can’t see anything.”

“I’m going to get you out of here, but you’re going to have to help. Can you walk?”

“Probably some.”

It took several minutes, precious time, to bring Nick from the shack. She sat him down next to Booker.

His head was covered in dried blood. He felt hot to the touch. Too hot. His eyes were unfocused. He had a severe concussion, and most likely a raging infection.

There was no way he’d walk out of this canyon.

He needed a hospital.

“Miranda, go. Take Ashley and get out of here before he comes back.”

“I can’t just leave you here. He’ll kill you.” But she couldn’t see another solution.

“I’m giving you a direct order, Miranda.”

“Don’t pull rank on me!” She rested her head in her hands and took a deep breath.

“Dammit, Nick, I thought you were dead and it tore me up. Don’t do this to me. Don’t even think of doing anything stupid.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m not going to make it on foot, Miranda.”

She touched his head where an ugly, bloody gash had dried. “Nick-you have a fever. You need a doctor.”

“Well, call one when you get to town.”

“Lance, who did you reach? What’s their ETA?”

“I talked to Charlie. Forty to forty-five minutes.”

What could she do? Carry two grown men miles over rocky, open terrain? What about Ashley?

David Larsen might be five minutes away. They couldn’t sit here and wait for a rescue. He’d pick them off one by one. And she wasn’t about to leave anyone. By the time she returned with help, it might be too late.

She glanced at the girl, still hunched over, hugging her knees, rocking back and forth. The dark green sweater Miranda had given her-for warmth and camouflage-stretched over her body.

Her face was bruised, her hair filthy and matted. She smelled of her own waste. The cuts and bruises on her body were now concealed, but Miranda had seen them and knew Ashley was in pain, emotionally and physically. Miranda had been there. But over time the wounds had faded, all of them.

She found strength in Ashley. The girl needed her. They couldn’t sit here and wait for help. Not when they didn’t know where Larsen was.

She bit her lip and looked around. The shack was at the far end of the canyon. Seventy feet behind them it narrowed. There would be no easy way to get out. In front of them the canyon widened, stretching to hundreds of feet wide in places, narrowing to as little as thirty feet in others. But she knew exactly where the gulch led. Right here, there were few places to hide. Definitely no place for four adults.

And Miranda couldn’t possibly leave the injured men and Ashley while she searched for a better hiding spot until help arrived. Yet there was no way Nick and Lance would be able to walk far.

She turned back to Nick. “Here.” She handed him her extra gun.

“I won’t take your gun.”

“I have another, Nick. I’m not leaving if you don’t take it.” She took his hand and wrapped it around the grip. He held it tight.

She slipped her map into a plastic cover to prevent the drizzle from soaking it and showed Booker her route. “I’m heading east through the gulch. It curves south here. It doesn’t end for miles, close to Big Sky, but I know a shortcut at the bend that will get us to-” she pointed “-here.” She looked from Lance to Nick. “I’m going to stick to the canyon as much as possible, but to hide our path we might have to trek up one of the slopes. I have my radio, but I’m setting it to sixty-four. Okay? That’s all-silent, no chatter. The best thing you can do is keep yourselves alive.”

Miranda looked around and pointed fifty feet up the slope. “Lance, see those boulders up there?”

He followed her finger. “Yes.”

“Can you get Nick up there?

“I think so.”

“You have to. You’re both sitting ducks out here. Get up there and hide. Radio Charlie and tell him the plan. If you see Larsen, call my frequency and tell me how much time I have.” She adjusted her radio. “If he sees you… shoot to kill.”

It wasn’t the best plan, but they were running out of time.

She squeezed Nick’s hand. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

She glanced at her watch, rubbing mist from its face: 4:35. It had been only fifteen minutes since she’d first seen the cabin. It seemed much longer.

They had three hours until sundown. They wouldn’t make it out before then, even if they ran the whole way.

“Ashley, we have to go.”

“No, no. I can’t. Let me stay with them.”

“He’s going to be looking for you.” In addition, there was barely enough room up slope behind the boulder to hide two men.

Miranda had faced her fear in the cabin and won. If she could conquer her claustrophobia, she could certainly lead Ashley to safety. But only if the girl would cooperate.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“I can’t,” Ashley wailed, tears running down her cheeks.

“Yes, you can. Don’t let him win.”

Nick said, “You’re stronger than you think, Ashley.”

Something in his tone made Miranda look at him. Though his eyes were closed, she saw on his face that he was worried. And more. A quiet understanding. He knew. He’d lain next to Ashley and witnessed her rape. Miranda hated that he’d been through that.

But for the first time in her life, she didn’t dwell on what happened all those years ago. She’d escaped the Butcher then, and she would elude him now.

“We need to go,” she said. “Lance, don’t forget to call Charlie as soon as you’re hidden up slope.”

“I will.”

Ashley whimpered, her body heaving with dry sobs. But she seemed resigned to going with Miranda as she slowly got to her feet, her arms still wrapped tightly around herself.

Miranda turned one last time to Nick as she strapped on her backpack. “I expect to see you alive when I get to the end of this canyon.”

Quinn searched the Parker residence with Deputy Jorgensen while two other cops searched the grounds.

“Clear,” Quinn called.

Richard Parker looked ghostly, his face drawn, when Quinn stepped back out on the porch. “He could have killed Ryan. He could have killed Delilah.”

“Ryan’s safe,” Quinn reminded him. “I sent a deputy over to the Moore place to watch over him. Every available cop is looking for Delilah and David.”

“She didn’t know. She couldn’t have known.”

Parker had been repeating this mantra in the car until Quinn was ready to slug him.

“Agent Peterson!”

One of Nick’s deputies came running up. “We were checking out the south meadow like you said and heard faint gunshots down in the gulch.”

“Where?”

“It was hard to tell with the echo, but it was from the bottom most certainly. It’s obvious that several people have walked down the slope; there’s recently disturbed dirt and plants.” The deputy wiped a hand over his face. The drizzle had been steadily increasing, but it wasn’t fully raining yet.

A series of four-wheel-drive trucks came down the driveway. Quinn recognized the driver of the first truck, Charlie. Quinn didn’t wait for him to get out, but met him next to the gravel area by the barn.

“I just talked to Lance Booker,” Charlie said. “They found the girl. And get this: Nick’s with her.”

Quinn slammed his fist on the hood of Charlie’s truck. What was Miranda thinking going down into that canyon alone? He didn’t care that she had a deputy with her; she wasn’t a cop, she wasn’t a federal agent. Why?