“No!” Tio’s cry spurred Kit into action. She launched through the archway into the room, peripherally taking in the scene, the bound and gagged women and terrified kids. In the center of the room, her back to the fireplace, was Elena, holding Dee in a headlock with a semiautomatic pistol pressed to her temple. Mr. Espina, his eyes wild with pain and grief, struggled against the duct tape holding him to a chair.
If Kit could’ve stopped, she would’ve at the sight of a white-faced Dee with a gun to her head, but her momentum pushed her forward. All she managed to do was drop the knife so that she didn’t accidentally cut the little girl. Shock froze Elena in place just long enough for Kit to reach her. Pushing the hand holding the gun up, she took both Elena and Dee down in an inelegant tackle.
As they fell, Kit scrambled to grab the gun and shove Dee to the side, out of Elena’s range. They hit the floor and slid as Dee wiggled free of the struggle. Everyone was shouting—some of the words muffled by duct tape—adding to the confusion. Now that Dee was clear, Kit narrowed her focus on Elena. If she could neutralize the threat, then the rest could be dealt with later. She squeezed Elena’s wrist, hard, and the gun hit the floor, spinning in place just a few feet away from their fighting bodies. Both of them reached for it, but Kit’s reach was slightly longer. Elena drove a fist into Kit’s kidney, sending a flash of pain through her. Her body involuntarily stiffened, and her hand jerked. Instead of grabbing the gun, she only managed to shove it farther away.
With a roar of rage, Elena drove up her hips and flipped them so that Kit was on the bottom, cracking her head painfully against the floor. Cursing herself for underestimating Elena, Kit struggled to shake off the wave of pain and dizziness from the hit to her head. In her peripheral vision, she saw Dee scurry closer, and Elena swung a fist toward the little girl.
No! Kit mentally screamed, lifting her spinning head to crack her forehead against Elena’s nose while reaching out and knocking the other woman’s arm away before Elena’s fist could connect. Dodging the hit, Dee grabbed the fallen kitchen knife and scrambled out of reach. Pain flared in Kit’s skull, but it was worth it. With a roar, Elena unleashed a flurry of punches on Kit’s face and midsection that she blocked as best she could, but the room was spinning and hazy from the double hit to her head.
Elena landed a lucky right hook to the left side of Kit’s face, the pain and shock jarring her just long enough for Elena to roll toward the gun. Kit held on, going with her. She knew that if she allowed Elena to recapture the gun, everyone in this room would likely die. She used the momentum to keep them rolling, fighting to regain the upper position.
As they tumbled over, Kit’s head cracked against the brick hearth, a bright flash of white filling her brain, wiping out her thoughts. As soon as the shock of pain faded, she scrambled to her feet and lunged for Elena, but it was too late. Elena’s fingers closed around the grip of the gun. Turning, she aimed the pistol at Kit. Everyone in the room froze, and Kit realized that Sarah, Grace, the twins, and Dee were missing, and Jules and Sam were free of their bindings. The knife. Dee must’ve freed them while Kit was grappling with Elena. Despite her terror as she stared down the gun barrel, Kit felt a rush of relief that some of them had escaped.
“I sent for backup!” Kit tried to think, but the blinding pain in her skull and fear made it difficult. She swayed slightly before catching herself. “More officers should be arriving any second.”
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Elena’s face before she sneered. “I don’t believe you. No one is coming.”
“Wes dropped me off and then went to get the chief. Listen, you can hear the engines of the squad cars coming up the driveway.” They both listened, and Kit was thankful that the wind had picked up again, covering her bluff.
“I don’t hear anything.” Despite her words, Elena shot a quick glance at the covered window before quickly taking in the room. Kit was pretty sure she’d just noticed that most of her hostages had escaped. Her lips tightened along with her grip on the gun as she refocused on Kit. “Guess I’ll just have to kill the rest of you quickly, then.”
She aimed the gun straight at Kit’s heart.
Kit froze. She forced herself to not flinch away, to stare straight at Elena, to make the woman look right into her eyes as she killed her.
Elena’s index finger whitened as she curled it around the trigger, and Kit braced herself for the shot.
“Alex!” Mr. Espina’s voice cracked through the room, making Elena’s head snap toward him. “Don’t do this. It ripped me apart when I thought you’d been killed. We have a second chance to be a family. I want my sister back. Please, Alex. I love you.”
Elena stared at him for so long that Kit started to hope that her brother had gotten through to her. Maybe this horrible day wouldn’t end with another needless death.
“Your sister did die that day,” Alex said.
Turning the gun toward her brother, she pulled the trigger.
Everyone went still, the room deadly silent. Elena stared at her bleeding brother, her expression as shocked as if her hands hadn’t held the gun. “Mateo,” she breathed, sounding small and scared as she stared at him, slumped in his chair, only the duct-tape bonds keeping him from falling to the floor.
Dragging her gaze from Mr. Espina’s unconscious form, Kit lunged for Elena, hoping to take advantage of her distraction. Before Kit could reach her, though, Elena snapped out of her daze and raised the gun again, just inches from Kit’s chest.
“Cut your losses,” Kit said, trying to keep her voice calm and reasonable even though she wanted to scream. “Your brother is dead. More cops are coming. You aren’t going to accomplish anything today. Save yourself. You’ve worked so hard on this. Why would you throw it all away now? You’re out of time. Even if you manage to shoot a couple of us, you won’t escape unless you leave right now. What good is your plan if you spend the rest of your life in prison?”
When Elena sent another hunted glance toward the window, Kit knew she had her. All she had to do was make sure that no one died before Elena took off.
“Fine,” Elena said, refocusing on Kit. “But you’re coming with me.” Moving behind her, Elena held the gun to Kit’s upper spine and shoved her toward the archway. “If you do anything, I’m going to blow a hole in you. Even if you survive it, you’ll never walk again. Remember that.”
“W-wait!” Sam cried out as he stepped in front of them. Until that point, Kit had managed to contain her fear enough to function, but the sight of Sam putting himself in the line of fire sent utter terror running through her.
“Sam, no!” she cried, and he gave her a frightened but resolute look before refocusing on Elena.
“T-t-take m-m-me, inst-t-tead,” he said, and Kit tensed, ready to do whatever she had to do to keep that from happening. Kit knew that whoever left as Elena’s hostage was most likely not coming back. She was willing to take that risk with her own life, but not with Sam’s. Not Sam.
Before Elena could respond, Kit blurted out, “Take me. You don’t want to kill a kid.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Elena growled, and Kit hid a wince at her blundering misstep. Despite her fear for Sam, she needed to be smart.
“If you take him, I’ll chase you down.” The gun barrel jammed harder into her back, but Kit ignored the pain and the way that her head injuries and adrenaline were making the room spin. She couldn’t mess this up. Sam’s life was at stake. “Think of how much you hate me. I ruined all your plans. How good will it feel to use me as your hostage and then kill me? It’s got to be better than feeling guilty for shooting an innocent kid.”
For a frozen moment, Kit thought she’d failed.
“Walk,” Elena said, shoving the gun into Kit’s spine again. The pain was almost a relief. She wasn’t taking Sam as a hostage. He was safe. Kit’s knees grew watery, threatening to dump her on the ground, but she forced herself to stay upright and walk toward the door.
As they passed, Sam gave her a tormented look. “K-K-Kit…”
She tried to smile at him, even as her mind worked. She needed to survive—for herself and for Wes and for Justice and for Sam. Whatever it took, she’d fight tooth and nail for her life.
With her hold on Kit’s arm and the gun in her back, Elena pushed Kit down the hallway and through the kitchen at a jog. She didn’t hesitate when they burst outside, steering them across the backyard and into the woods. Elena pressed her into a run, speeding up until all Kit could concentrate on was placing her feet so she didn’t trip. Her relief at getting Elena and her gun away from everyone was mixed with terror. If Elena’s plan was successful, Kit was going to die. Her only hope was to get away.
Thinking of an escape was almost impossible, though, with branches whipping her across the face and rocks wanting to trip her and send her sprawling onto the snowy ground. Her eyes were fixed on the game trail in front of them, hunting out roots and holes that threatened to trip her and possibly get her shot on the way down.
Even in their mad dash through the trees, she recognized the deer trail they were following. She and Justice had covered this ground before, and she knew they were headed toward the burned house. This was Murphy’s territory.
Murphy’s trapping territory.
Her gaze snapped back to the ground, this time with more intent. She looked for unnatural bunches of leaves or man-made markings, showing where he’d hidden one of his traps. It was a long shot, she knew, but it was better than no plan at all.
“Where are you going?” she gasped, wanting to keep Elena distracted. “Do you even have a plan?”
“Of course.” It was a small comfort that Elena sounded just as winded as Kit was. “I always have a plan and a way out of town.”
Way out of town. As her gaze continued searching the ground, she turned over Elena’s words in her head. There was no public transportation in Monroe, so the only way out would be by car—or helicopter. Since there was no metal bird hovering over them, she assumed that Elena had a car waiting—or maybe a driver? An accomplice?
As they got closer to the burned house, Kit racked her brain. She’d done the canvass, for goodness’ sake. Of anyone, she should know if there were any suspicious vehicles in the area, especially with so few people around. Mrs. Jones had been one of a sparse handful of people still in the area, and she would’ve immediately noticed a strange car parked in the neighborhood.
Mrs. Jones. She’d been missing her keys. “Planning on stealing the old Lincoln?” she puffed.
When Elena jerked in surprise, Kit knew she’d guessed right. It probably wouldn’t save her life, but she was still happy to have one more piece of the puzzle—and to know exactly where Elena was heading.
A gleam of metal caught her eye, and she saw the unmistakable curve of a leg-hold trap buried in the leaves. She leaned sideways, using her weight to make Elena veer left.
“Knock it off,” Elena growled, shoving the gun against her spine painfully. “It’s just as easy to shoot you here.”
Saving her breath, Kit gave Elena one more shove and then jumped, praying that it was far enough, that she would clear the spot. Elena made a surprised sound at the sudden movement, and her hand was jerked from Kit’s arm. Just as she landed, Kit dropped, hearing the dull metal clang and a scream just before the crack of a close-range gunshot.
A sharp, agonizing pain shot through her thigh. Kit stumbled, almost falling. Blood pulsed from a hole in her leg, immediately darkening the fabric of her pants with hot liquid that chilled quickly. She stared at it, shocked, but then ripped her gaze away. She needed to run. Elena was still too close and had the gun. It would be easy for her to kill Kit right now. Adrenaline kicked in, and she stumbled forward, feeling a fresh gush of blood running down her leg as jagged pain stabbed her with every step.
Drops of red dotted the pristine snow, leaving a trail Kit knew a kindergartner could follow, but there was nothing she could do. If she stopped to bind it, then Elena would catch up with her, and then she wouldn’t just have a hole in her leg—she’d have a matching one in her head. Gradually, the pain faded and the wound went numb, leaving only a strange wobbliness to the injured leg. She sped up, weaving through the trees, trying to put as many things as possible between her and the gun.
“Bitch!” Elena shrieked behind her, right before the gun fired twice more. “I’ll track you down and kill you slowly for this! You can try to run, but I’ll find you!”
Risking a glance back, she saw Elena prying open the vicious jaws of the trap that had locked around her ankle. Blood reddened the churned-up snow around the trap, and Kit felt a base pleasure in the fact that she wasn’t the only one hurting. Turning back around, Kit fled, flying along the narrow path faster than she’d ever run before, ignoring her numb and shaky leg, even as it tried to buckle under her weight. She dodged around evergreens and plowed through brushy blockades, resisting the urge to look behind her, knowing that would just slow her down. She had to take full advantage of her head start, or she would be dead.
The ground sloped down, and Kit used it to run even faster. The snow and dead leaves under her boots were slick, and the rocky surface didn’t give her any traction. Soon, she was going too quickly to stop, and her boot skidded on a loose rock. Her bad leg gave out, and her arms flailed out to the sides as she tumbled down, sliding and rolling and twisting as she bounced painfully off a tree trunk.
It took several seconds for her to realize that she wasn’t moving. Her leg was starting to hurt again, but the throbbing helped her hold on to consciousness. From the stain soaking her pants, she was losing too much blood. Shaking her head to clear her brain, the urgent need to get as far from Elena as she could hit her again, and she tried to scramble to her feet. As soon as she shifted her right leg, pain tore through her, and she sucked back a scream that wanted to escape.
The second time, she managed to pull herself to her feet, but she only got a few feet before the world spun and her leg folded underneath her. Her brain threatened to panic. Elena was coming to kill her, and Kit couldn’t even move her leg, much less stand. She slammed the mental door on the fear, desperately focusing on her breathing to keep the pain from overwhelming her common sense.
She needed to move. If that was impossible, then she needed to hide. If she couldn’t run or walk, then she needed to crawl or even drag herself to a hiding spot. Looking around, she spotted a downed pine thirty feet away that would provide some concealment. Having a plan, even one as basic as that, helped to calm her shattered nerves, and she tentatively moved her leg again, gritting her teeth against the need to cry out. Just that small shift made black spots overtake her vision. Blinking rapidly, she managed to focus again, but she knew she couldn’t hold on to consciousness for long.
There was no way she was standing or even crawling, so that left dragging herself across the ground. One arm at a time, she pulled herself toward the log, each movement sending jagged spikes of pain through her right thigh. Grabbing a sapling in her outstretched hand, she tugged her lower body across the patchy snow, using her left knee to propel her forward. Her injured leg hit a mostly buried rock, and agony shuddered through her, strong enough to cloud her brain and narrow her vision. Glancing back, she saw the bloodstained trail she was leaving in her wake, the red vivid against the white of the snow.
Stay conscious. Stay conscious.
Her mantra worked, and the woods around her came back into focus.
“Well, now, that’s just pathetic.” Elena’s voice was close, too close. Kit turned onto her side, terror muting the tearing pain that movement sent through her, and saw Elena just a few feet away, limping. There were tears and bloodstains on the calf of her right leg, and Kit felt that vicious satisfaction again that Elena wouldn’t escape completely unscathed. It made Kit’s inevitable death a little less bitter. She knew the final shot was coming. Even if Kit could stand, there was nowhere left to run. She was trapped, just like a rabbit in one of Murphy’s traps.
With a chilling smile, Elena raised the gun and took aim.
* * *
As Wes pulled his truck behind the chief’s squad car, he felt his stomach twist in fear. The previously sleepy house had erupted into chaos. People and dogs were everywhere, their frantic motions projecting the emergency situation. He couldn’t see Kit.
Quickly tying an improvised leash onto Justice’s harness, Wes jumped out of the truck with the dog, running up to the closest person.
“Sam! Where’s Kit?”
Sam turned toward him, and Fifi moved with the teen, pressing herself close to his legs. Sam looked terrified, with a green cast to his pasty-white skin. From his expression, Wes knew that the answer wasn’t going to be good.
“Elena t-took h-h-her.” His tone was thick with concern and self-recrimination. Turning away from Wes, he looked down at his dog. “F-Fifi, f-f-find K-Kit! C’mon, g-girl. You c-c-can d-do this. F-find Kit!”
“She’s not trained yet, Sam,” the chief said, his voice kind despite the tension underlying it. “Justice will find her, but you need to stay here.”
Unable to bear another second of just standing there, Wes tightened his fingers around Justice’s twine leash. “What door did they leave through?”
“The b-b-back,” Sam said, and Wes ran through the side yard to the back porch, Justice, anxious and hyper, bounding along next to him. Sam started to follow, but the chief stopped him. Tuning out their argument, Wes focused on Justice.
Crouching down in front of the dog, he put a hand on either side of Justice’s face. This was it. There was no more time to waste. Kit was out there with a homicidal Elena, and Wes needed to find her—now. Justice looked up at him, his body unusually still, as if even he understood the gravity of the situation. “Justice, find Kit.”
Justice started circling, his nose to the snowy ground. After just a few seconds that felt like an eternity, he bayed and took off for the trees. Wes ran, Justice in front of him, pulling the leash tight. They crashed through the brush, ignoring the evergreen branches dumping their load of snow down his back and over Justice. The dog seemed to fly in front of him, and he cursed his own human legs for slowing them down. He ran faster, weaving through the trees, not knowing what Elena’s plan was or how long she would keep Kit alive. Wes was grateful that he was used to running through the woods around his tower, that his lungs had become accustomed to the high altitude so that he could keep up with Justice as they sprinted after Kit.
Justice didn’t hesitate, following the trail without slowing, but it still felt too slow. As they plunged through a grove of aspen, a gunshot rang out, clear and loud in the cold winter air. Wes froze at the sound, his heart plunging into his stomach, and the dog’s momentum yanked him forward again. His legs felt numb as he ran, but he still pushed them harder, imagining Kit shot and bleeding and dying in the snow.
He almost tripped over the sprung leg-hold trap. The fresh blood smearing the trap and dotting the trail made fear rip through him. From the tracks, it was obvious that one of the women had gotten caught—but which one?
He ran after them again as fast as he could, only pausing for a brief moment to unhook the twine leash when it got caught in some brush. The trees thinned a little as they ran over the crest of a hill, enough so that he saw the two figures—one on the ground and one standing—at the bottom of the incline. He sped up, dodging trees and rocks, and Justice pulled him to an even faster pace. The dog started baying, and both women turned their heads.
Elena was the one standing, and her arms were outstretched, the dull black of a handgun in her hands. It felt as if Wes’s heart stopped at the sight. Time slowed down, but that didn’t help, since there was no way he could get close enough in time to stop what was going to happen.
Elena was going to shoot Kit, and there was nothing Wes could do but watch.
* * *
The sight of Wes and Justice made hope leap in Kit’s chest for one illogical moment before she realized they were too far away. They couldn’t help her. Kit felt around for a rock or a branch or some kind of weapon so that she could at least go out fighting, but there was nothing except leaves and snow and sandy dirt.
“My plan didn’t go like I wanted,” Elena said, adjusting her aim, “but at least I get to kill you. You were the most aggravating part of this place.”
A boom echoed through the trees, and Kit’s eyes snapped shut. She braced for the hit, wondering if it was going to hurt, sending a mental apology to everyone who’d be heartbroken at her death. She’d failed to stay alive, but at least she’d saved the others. Despite the comfort in that thought, she still felt a rush of fury and grief as she waited for the bullet that would end her life.
There was no impact. Opening her eyes, she realized that she was alive and unhurt and that Elena was the one on the ground, a hole through her middle and her eyes wide with shock.
Kit looked around, trying to understand what had just happened, how she’d been saved. Her gaze landed on a camouflaged figure standing in the trees a short distance away, smoke curling from the shotgun as he lowered it to his side. “Murphy?”
He gave her an odd half salute before he turned and walked away. Then Wes was there, and her attention was focused on him and Justice, one who was patting her down, looking for bullet wounds, and the other who was focused on licking her face.
She was alive. Despite everything, she’d survived. Wrapping an arm around Justice and the other around Wes, she felt a moment of sheer happiness.
At a low groan, she turned her head to see Elena’s sprawled and bleeding body. Forcing herself to release Wes and Justice, she dragged herself to Elena’s side. Grabbing the gun sitting in the snow by the other woman, Kit slid it toward Wes. “Clear that,” she ordered roughly.
As she felt for a pulse, she used her other hand to cover the bleeding hole where the slug had entered. Elena’s heart beat sluggishly, throbbing weakly against her fingers, and Kit turned her entire focus to stopping the bleeding. Elena may have been a monster, but Kit was still a cop—and she had to help. She couldn’t let even Elena die if there was some way she could prevent it.
“Are medics following?” she asked Wes without turning toward him.
“I’m not sure. Justice and I just took off.” His voice shook, and she wished she could spare a moment to reassure him, but she was too focused on stopping Elena from bleeding out and keeping herself from passing out. “We had to find you.”
She opened her mouth to thank him for coming after her, for having her back, when she felt a sharp pain prick her stomach. Glancing down, she saw a knife blade pointing at her belly. It seemed surreal, so small and yet so deadly as it pressed against her skin. Shocked, her gaze flew to Elena’s face to see her small, cold smile. In that moment, Kit could read everything in those dark eyes. Elena was going to punish Kit for interfering in her plan, for seeing through Elena’s act when everyone else had believed her. Before she died, Elena was going to drag one last person with her.
Kit knew in that second that she was going to die in these snowy woods after all.
A loud boom rocked the world around her, making Kit flinch, and she saw the moment Elena’s hand slipped off the knife, leaving it to fall harmlessly into the snow. When Kit moved her stunned gaze back to Elena’s face, the smile was gone…and so was most of her head. Dark hair was caught in a spreading halo of blood.
Everything was quiet as Kit turned her head to look at Wes.
His arm was extended, Elena’s gun smoking in his hands, a grim look on his face.
“Thank you,” she said, the words echoing strangely inside her head. She could hardly believe everything that had happened. “You saved my life.”
He stared at her, his gun hand falling to his side. Without looking away from Kit, he dropped the magazine and cleared the chamber, letting the bullet drop into the snow. Sliding the gun in his pocket, he crouched next to her and pulled her gently into his arms. Once she was pressed against his chest, his arms tightened until she could barely breathe.
She didn’t mind, though. The pressure reminded her that she was alive.
Justice pressed against her other side. Wrapping an arm around the dog and the other around the man, she hugged them both tightly to her. “How am I not dead?” Her voice shook, but she forgave herself for that. After all, she’d just come closer to dying than she ever had—and considering the insanity of the last half hour, that was saying something.
Finally releasing her, Wes ran his gaze over her, quickly finding the bullet wound. “I thought I was going to have to watch you die.” His hands trembled as he tore the fabric of her pants, exposing the bloody hole in her thigh. For some reason, that shakiness made her start to cry.
“I’ll be okay,” she said as much for her own reassurance as his. “I’m not dead. I’m not even injured that much. Well, except for my leg, but that’s just a bullet hole.”
His huff of breath was shaky at best. “Right. Just a bullet hole. Over here!” His last two words were a shout.
Everything was getting fuzzy around the edges, and her leg had pretty much stopped hurting again, even though Wes was pressing on it.
“Thanks for saving my life again,” she said, unable to keep her words from slurring. Other voices around them caught her attention for a moment, and then they slipped away from her. Even Wes’s face was getting a little blurry. “You seem to be making a habit of it.”
This time, when unconsciousness tugged at her, she let it take her. Wes was here, and he’d keep her safe.