| |
"NATE."
The word felt whispered from far away. A hand on his neck. "Thank God. You're alive."
Was he?
Marisa.
He tried to get his eyes open. Felt gravel and dirt in his mouth. Spit it out.
"Let me help you."
Brady helped him sit, and it all came back.
"You see it? You see the car?"
"My guys are moving in as we speak."
Nate looked around, saw men in dark uniforms sneaking silently toward the cabin.
"What are you going to do?" The words made Nate's head pound, and he pushed his palms into his temples and dropped his head between his knees.
"I have to go."
"Go."
Nate didn't look up but heard Brady's soft footfalls fade.
He took a deep breath, wished he knew how long he'd been out. Probably not more than a few minutes. But still, something might've happened. Maybe Rick had taken Marisa and Ana and left while Nate dozed on the roadside.
No. Rick's red Audi was still there. They hadn't gone anywhere.
He stared toward the cabin. Forced his gaze to stay up. Forced himself to his feet. His head was still pounding, but the black cloud around his vision was gone.
He staggered to the side of the road and leaned against a tree. He could be here when Marisa and Ana were rescued. At least he could do that. And he'd made the call.
Yes, he'd done something good. And they would be rescued.
Thank God.
He closed his eyes. Countless terrible scenarios flittered through his vision. Shootouts, stabbings. Death.
A sound had his eyes snapping open. A voice.
"Move."
A man's voice. It came from the wrong direction. Nate peered toward the lake, closer to the cabin he'd come from. There, two figures picked their way slowly between the trees and shrubs. A tall man, broad-shouldered, with a grip on a slender woman. Rick pushed Marisa forward. She stumbled, kept upright.
No child.
He didn't want to think about what that might mean.
Nate moved silently along the road, parallel to them. His head still pounded, but the dizziness had passed. The adrenaline helped.
He lost them when they passed behind a cabin. He ran to the other side, peered around it. There they were. He could only see black, one taller than the other, in the light of the hazy half-moon above.
The figures kept moving, and Nate did, too. He reached for a pocket—nonexistent on his pajamas. He must've dropped his phone on the road.
Another cabin, he raced to the other side, saw the two figures emerge. They passed behind another cabin, and he followed. Nate was keeping their pace easily. Though the trees were sparser between the cabins than they would be in the forest, they were still thick.
Nate felt better, stronger. His head still pounded, but he was regaining his strength.
They reached the cabin where he and Marisa had been staying. Nate crept around the side, stopped at the back corner, and looked into the trees for some kind of weapon. He found a branch, but when he touched it, it felt nearly rotted. He dropped to his knees. There had to be something.
The man said, "Where are the truck keys?"
"I don't know."
Nate dug beneath the bracken. Surely, surely...
The man did something Nate couldn't see, and Marisa answered with a pained gasp.
"Don't lie to me."
Nate's adrenaline soared. He just had to give Marisa a chance to escape.
"Maybe..." she said. "He sometimes left them on the kitchen counter."
Footsteps on the deck.
Nate's fingertips hit a cold, hard something, and he dug it out. A misshapen rock the size of a baseball. Thank God for the granite state.
The back door rattled in its frame. Rick swore. "I don't have time for this." He blew out a breath. "Whatever. I can get in the front."
The deck was nearer Nate's side of the cabin than the other side. He gripped the rock and crept back to the cabin wall. Here he was again, just like before. Terror rose up inside of him. He'd faced evil before, only this time it was Marisa's life in danger. If Nate blew it, it would be Marisa who paid the price.
He leaned against the wall and begged the air and the universe and God for help. He knew himself enough to know he couldn't do this alone.
Nate listened to Rick's footsteps cross the deck floor. Marisa's bare feet were silent, but he knew she was there.
The sound changed. They were on the steps.
Then near silence.
From far away, Nate heard Brady's voice. "Police. Open up."
Banging.
Nate willed Brady to shut up and pressed himself against the wall.
Marisa turned the corner, saw Nate. Eyes wide.
The man was right behind her. He gazed toward his abandoned cabin and the ruckus there. He didn't see Nate.
They passed.
Nate lifted the rock.
The man angled away at the last second. Swiveled toward him.
Dropped Marisa's arm.
"Run!" Nate swung the rock toward Rick, but the man was too quick, Nate's swing too sluggish.
Marisa dashed away.
Rick backed up, reached in his pocket.
Nate didn't want to know what was in there. He barreled forward, tackled, landed on top of Rick. Nate lifted the rock again, aimed at the man's head, brought it down.
Rick dodged, and the rock glanced off his temple.
Rick kneed Nate in the side, and pain crashed through him. He concentrated on keeping hold of the rock. His only chance.
Rick kneed him again.
Nate ignored the pain, shifted to swing the rock a third time when he saw the glint.
A knife.
He twisted. It sliced his back. He stood and scrambled away from the deadly weapon.
Rick stood, too. Nate's back was to the cabin wall. Not that he would run.
Of course he'd brought a rock to a knife fight.
But Marisa was safe. And Ana was probably safe. And this man... He'd pay for what he did, even if Nate wasn't the one to exact revenge.
Rick's gaze darted to the street. He seemed unsure. He turned to run.
Not on Nate's watch. He lunged, tackled, and brought Rick to his knees. Nate was still sluggish. But maybe he could slow him down.
Rick swiveled, thrust with the knife. It sliced into Nate's left side.
The kidnapper stood. "Should have killed you when I had the chance."
"Your mistake."
The sounds of the police just down the road drifted. They were getting closer. A light had gone on in the cabin next door.
"You're not getting away," Nate said. "We know who you are."
"You don't know anything."
"Is that so, Richard?"
The man's eyes rounded like the moon before they narrowed into evil slits. He lifted the knife, aimed for Nate's chest.
Nate parried with his left hand, diverting the knife's aim. Brought the rock down on the man's head. Hard. Then again.
Rick stumbled, crashed into the cabin's wall. Dropped the knife.
Nate grabbed it, stepped back, and raised his arm again. Blood gushed through his pajamas. Reality overpowered adrenaline, making him weak. He couldn't wimp out now. This was for Marisa. And Ana.
But Richard Gray didn't move.