Morgan stopped the car at the end of the dirt path, killing the lights. He kept the engine on for a minute longer, keeping them both warm while they considered their options. “You think we should drive all the way up?”
“No.” Mason doubled over to peer up at the trees through the windshield. “If she really is up there, she might see us coming. She has your kid, so it’s probably not a good idea to rush in without knowing what’s what.”
“You’re right.”
They sat in silence, hot air blasting through the vents. Morgan felt it was too much—sweat was already threatening to sink into his collar, and although the heat was partially to blame, the thought of losing his son had something to do with it.
“How do you want to play this?” Mason asked.
“No clue. What would you do?”
Mason chuckled. “You don’t want to do that. We’d be cleaning up blood for months.”
“Right.” Morgan found no humor in this. Maybe he would at a later time, in a future where Robin was safe and they could all sit around a picnic table talking about that time a psycho bitch was loose in Washington. But right now? “Let’s head up by foot. We’ll take the trees and stay low. No lights, no weapons. Just a look.”
“Works for me.”
Morgan led the way, yanking the key from the ignition and exiting the car. They left the doors ajar so as not to alert anyone with the slamming sounds and then they headed into the trees. Morgan stayed in front, crouching down and stepping carefully over rocks and fallen trunks. Brambles and thorns clung to his clothes like captives begging to be rescued. Morgan jerked away, tearing them from his jacket and letting them fall to the ground.
A little farther up, he felt a groove under his feet that made him stop.
“What’s wrong?” Mason asked.
Morgan didn’t say anything. He pulled his phone out and lit up the screen, crouching lower and holding the light toward the ground. What he found filled him with both horror and hope at the same time, and the combination made his gut weaken.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mason said, tapping his shoulder. “The light.”
“Look at this.” Morgan pointed at the ground.
Sighing, Mason lowered to a knee and studied the footprint. His face was a picture of the same fear Morgan had felt. He dropped his gaze and turned stiffly, aiming his finger at a discovery of his own. “That must be where she set the bag down for a second.”
“Where?” Morgan shot up and leaned over him, directing the phone’s light right at the patch. There was a rectangular imprint about the same size as Robin’s baby bag and beside it was a scrape. Maybe from the strap’s buckle, he thought. “Oh.”
Mason stood. “Come on. We’re close.”
“Yeah.”
Switching off the phone light, Morgan stood and fell in behind Mason, who had found his way into leading the expedition. It didn’t matter much to him—his mind was occupied by all the nightmares an imagination could dream up, each horrific thought worse than the last. He didn’t really consider himself reliable enough to stay in front. Besides, at least this way a path was being cleared for him, and he wouldn’t have to get scratched up by thorns again.
A little farther up, a cabin came into view. The lights were on inside, and there was a small spotlight that lit up a picnic area littered with dead leaves. They both stopped, waiting. Morgan saw a silhouette pass by the window. Faintness breezed through him.
“Don’t move,” Mason said.
The front door swung open, and Morgan realized he didn’t need the advice. If anything, he found himself paralyzed by what he saw: Erika Givens stepping outside and rubbing her arms. For the briefest second, he heard the screams of a baby from inside the cabin.
Until the door slammed shut.
“Robin’s in there,” he whispered.
“Shh.” Mason flapped his arms and scowled.
Beside the cabin, Erika took a stroll. Morgan’s spirits lifted, and he considered the possibility that he could rush in and grab his child right now. If it weren’t for Mason’s arm swinging out to stop him, he would have. Instead, he frowned at Mason and then turned back to Erika, who had disappeared behind the cabin.
“Where did she go?” Mason asked.
“Let’s check it out.”
Once more, Morgan took over. They kept their cover behind the trees, navigating in the darkness and praying they didn’t encounter a wild animal. The woods looped around the grounds of the cabin, and they crept quietly until Erika was in clear view again. She had her ears covered and lunged from one area of the grounds to the other, her lips moving but her voice inaudible. That was the downside to keeping a safe distance.
“What’s she doing?” Morgan whispered.
“Damned if I know.”
Intrigued, Morgan took one step closer.
One wrong step was all it took.
A branch broke underfoot, snapping in two. The sound echoed through the woods, carrying across the open air and causing Erika to spin around. Morgan ducked behind the nearest tree, probably making more noise by doing it. Sweat covered his forehead, and he kept still. Mason stared at him from the cover of another tree. Anger filled his face.
“I know you’re out there!”
The voice was tormented and shrill. It sounded to Morgan like someone who had totally lost her mind, demanding to fight her wildest fears by screaming as loud as she could.
“Come any closer and I’ll kill the baby. You hear me, asshole?”
Morgan exchanged horrified glances with Mason. They held their position, although Morgan had never been so tempted to dash toward someone and rip their head clean off. It was one thing to threaten him or Rachel, but to harm their son? That was asking for trouble, and Morgan had no problem delivering it.
They waited behind cover until they heard the door slam. Morgan knew it was safe to come out, and Mason hurried to his side. “Don’t let that get to you,” he said.
“Hard not to.” Morgan watched the silhouette move back and forth by the window again, this time with a baby-sized shape bobbing up and down in her arms. The image twisted his guts, making him weak and dizzy.
“We can’t do anything,” Mason said.
“Not right now, no.”
“Let’s go make a plan.”
Mason went back the way they came, and Morgan followed. It ached to know that his son was in the hands of some mentally ill woman and he was leaving the scene, but there was one thing he had to remind himself, no matter how bad it got.
They would think this through and come back.
That much was a promise.