SATURDAY, 8:37 A.M.
BRIDGER-TETON NATIONAL FOREST
Austin still couldn’t wrap his mind around Sheriff Haines’s involvement.
He’d picked up Charlie’s trail as she’d run from the sheriff. Austin crept to the edge of the bluff, his heart sliding up into his throat. The Grayback River Canyon. Here, it wasn’t so steep, but up farther he would get dizzy if he stood too close. He remembered that much from his childhood.
He crouched to study the ground. The sheriff had been cutting through the woods quickly and left a trail, whether he wanted to or not. He’d caught up with Charlie too. They’d been here all right. He couldn’t be sure, but the footprints suggested someone had gone into the river. What he didn’t know was if the sheriff had shot her first. Or stunned her.
He rose slowly, watching the swift current and the white water. If she remained conscious, uninjured, could she survive the river?
Failure wrapped around his chest and squeezed. He scraped a hand down his face. Lifted the rifle and peered through the scope, searching downriver, but the river curved and twisted out of sight. He couldn’t follow the river and catch up to her. Either she made it on her own or she was already dead. He could make it back to Heath and save his brother.
Twisting on his heel, he stomped back into the woods, following the same path in reverse. Realization hit him. He pressed his back against a tree—the same path the sheriff had taken, according to Heath. Why hadn’t he run into the guy? Had Charlie already gone into the river when they met up with Haines? Whatever the timeline, Haines wasn’t here and Charlie was gone. A measure of fear corded his neck. Heath and Willow were back there. He’d left them.
He’d left her when he’d said he never would.
God, why are my choices not choices at all?
The faintest sound drew his attention. He remained pressed against the tree, then slowly peeked around it. Movement in the forest caught his eye. The forms were distant, but he could make out two people. He peered through his scope.
The sheriff had someone. Charlie?
No . . .
Terror fisted around his heart and squeezed. Sheriff Haines had taken Willow.
What had happened to Heath?
Anguish engulfed him. He had to take this guy down once and for all. Watching them through the scope, he hoped he had the opportunity. As if sensing he was being surveilled, the sheriff turned his head in Austin’s direction, then tugged Willow close. Using her as a human shield?
His finger trembled against the trigger. Could he do it? Could he pull the trigger? And if he did, would he save Willow’s life or end it?
The forest thickened and the two disappeared. The window of opportunity had closed. Just as well.
Austin understood the sheriff’s plan. He would draw Austin to him. He’d already killed Heath, or so he thought, and now he would eliminate everyone who knew Charlie’s true identity. He must have some plan to explain this. He was the sheriff—he could make it look any way he wanted.
The scent of fear and desperation wafted up to him—his own.
Please, God, give me a plan.