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NATE COULDN'T MOVE, but from far away, the swoosh of fabric was followed by Marisa's soft gasp.
A menacing voice.
Then Marisa's. "What did you do to him?"
A threat.
Nate had to move. He couldn't make his eyes open. Couldn't make his body obey.
The noises faded.
He had to get up. Dear God, he had to get up.
He forced his head off the pillow. His torso up. His eyes open.
The room spun, and nausea churned in his stomach.
He closed his eyes and pushed to his feet. Stepped forward, nearly fell. Turned and felt around on the nightstand.
There. His phone.
He opened his eyes, squinted in the bright light, and found the number. Dialed.
Staggered forward, nearly fell again, and gripped the door jamb.
"Detective Thomas." Brady's groggy voice.
"He was here. He took her."
"What? Nate?"
"He was here." He couldn't make his voice sound forceful. Could barely make his legs move. His head pounded like the bass drum at a screamo concert, and the accompanying confusion resembled the screeching of the songs. Nate pushed into the living room and supported himself on the back of the sofa as he made his way to the front door.
"Nate, tell me what's happening."
"Please, come. Fast."
"Are you hurt?"
"He took her. Hurry." It was getting better. He could almost see again.
If only the room would stop spinning.
Brady said, "Tell me what's going on."
The front door was open. Nate stopped at the screen and looked outside. How much time had passed? He'd thought, if he hurried, he could get a glimpse of a car. But there was no car.
He almost pushed out the front door but stopped. There they were.
Two forms frozen in the middle of the road. The man was hurting Marisa, and a wave of rage overwhelmed Nate.
The rage brought with a fresh course of throbbing.
He could hardly move. He took a deep breath.
"Nate?"
"They're..." He watched as the man pushed Marisa, and she walked farther down the gravel road. "They're walking."
"Can you follow?"
"I can try."
"Okay. I'm on my way. Keep the connection open. I'll mute my end."
Nate kept his eyes on Rick and Marisa. He took a deep breath. His strength was returning. He touched the screen door's latch and worked it silently.
He pushed the door, slowly, slowly. The slightest creak. He froze. Watched to see if Rick turned.
The kidnapper didn't react.
They were a few cabins down the street now, and Nate strained to keep them in sight as they passed behind the trees and shrubs that lined the road.
Nate pushed the door all the way open and stepped outside. He lifted the phone to his lips and whispered. "I'm following."
"Don't do anything until I get there."
Nate kept the connection open and crept down the stairs.
He stumbled to the street and followed, keeping to the edge blocked from the moon's rays, hoping between the trees and the bushes and the darkness, he would be hidden in the shadows.
His head felt like it might explode. Black circled his vision, tried to close in. He stopped, leaned against a birch tree that edged the road, and waited until the feeling passed. When he could see again, he pushed his feet forward.
Marisa and her captor were out of sight. Nate moved faster, desperate, around a bend until he saw them again.
Nate watched as the man pushed Marisa toward a cabin. Past a car. Through a door.
The black came again, pinching his vision. He lifted his phone. Started across the street to get closer. Maybe he could hear. Maybe he could rescue.
"Brady." He whispered the word, hoped his friend could hear.
"Where are they?"
"Beyond..." The black was winning. "A cabin." The world spun. He squeezed out the last two words. "The car."
He hit the ground with a thud.