The Novels of Nora Roberts, Volume 5 (57 page)

“Look here. Got something out of it.” He pulled the sidearm out of the holster, brandished it. “Spoils of war.” Shoving the body over, he dug out the wallet. He slapped the gun back in the holster, unclipped it, and fixed it to his own belt before pushing the wallet in his backpack.

“Get up, help me drag him.”

“No.”

He walked over, pulled the gun again, and pressed the barrel to her temple. “Get up or join him. You can both be wolf bait. Live or die, Jenna. Decide.”

Live, she thought. She wanted to live. Fighting sickness, breathless from the pain radiating from her back, her face, she got to her feet. Maybe he wasn’t dead. Maybe someone would find him, help him. His name was Derrick Morganston. His wife was Cathy. He had two kids. Brent and Lorna.

She said his name, his family’s names as she followed orders, took the feet and dragged the body farther off the trail.

She said nothing when he used the rope to tie her to a tree so he could retrieve Derrick’s radio, go through his pockets for anything else he found useful.

She kept silent when they began to walk again. Nothing more to say, she thought. She’d tried and failed to find some place in him to appeal to. There was no place inside him. Nowhere to reach.

He wasn’t covering the tracks, and she wondered what that meant. She wondered if she would live through the day, such a pretty spring day. See her husband again, her home. Hold her children. Would she speak with her friends, wear her new shoes?

She’d been washing the skillet, she thought, when her life had changed. Would she fry bacon again?

Her throat burned, her legs ached. Her palms throbbed where she’d scraped them against the bark. But those discomforts meant she was alive. Still alive.

If she had the chance to kill him and escape, would she? Yes. Yes, she would kill him to live. She would bathe in his blood if it meant protecting Lil.

If she could get his knife or the gun, a rock. If she could find a way to use her bare hands.

She concentrated on that, on the direction, the angle of the sun, the landmarks. There, she thought, look at the brave pasqueflowers, blooming. Delicate and hopeful. And alive.

She’d be the pasqueflower. Look delicate, be brave.

She walked, one foot in front of the other, with her head down. But she kept her eyes, her body alert for any chance of escape.

“We’re home,” he announced.

Confused, she blinked sweat out of her eyes. She barely saw the mouth of the cave. It was so low, so narrow—like a slitted eye. It looked like death.

She spun around, launched herself at him to fight. She felt the pain, and the satisfaction when her fist connected with his face. Screaming, she used her nails, her teeth to claw and bite like an animal. And when she tasted his blood, it thrilled.

But when his fist plowed into her belly, he took her breath. When it rammed into her face, the sun went dim in a wash of dark red.

“Bitch! Bitch whore!”

Dimly, she heard the harsh wheeze of his breath. She’d hurt him. That was something. She’d given him pain.

He used the rope to drag her over the rough ground and into the dark.

She fought as he bound her hands and feet, screamed, spat, and cursed until he gagged her. He lit a small lantern, and with his free hand dragged her farther into the cave.

“I could kill you now. Carve you up and send the pieces to her. What do you think about that?”

She’d marked him, was all she could think. Blood welled and dripped from the grooves she’d scored in his cheeks, on his hands.

Then he smiled at her, wide and wild, and she remembered to be afraid.

“The hills are honeycombed with caves. I’ve got a few nice ones I use regular. This one’s yours.”

He set the lantern down, then drew out his knife before he crouched. He turned the blade so the soft light stuck the edge. “Need a couple of things from you.”

Joe, she thought. Joe. Lil. My baby.

And closed her eyes.

 

 

 

IT TOOK LONGER than he’d hoped, but he was still well within the time frame. The rush, the incidental kill, the unexpected fight left in the mother bitch all added a fresh anticipation. The best part was walking right into the refuge like any other paying customer. It was the biggest risk and the biggest thrill.

But he had no doubt Lil would give him more of both.

He smiled at the pretty intern through the beard he’d grown over the winter. It hid most of the scratches the mother bitch had given him. He wore old riding gloves to cover the ones on his hands.

“Is something wrong with the lion?”

“No, not a thing. She’s getting her teeth cleaned. Cats especially need regular dental checks, as they tend to lose teeth.”

“Because they’re caged up.”

“Actually, they’ll keep their teeth longer in the refuge than in the wild. We provide them with bones once a week, an important element of dental hygiene. Cats’ mouths tend to be full of bacteria, but with regular cleanings, good nutrition, and the weekly bones, we can help them maintain that smile.” She added one of her own. “Our vet and his assistant are making sure Sheba’s teeth are healthy.”

It made him sick, made him furious. Brushing the teeth of the wild animal, as if it were a kid who ate too much candy. He wanted to drag the smiling girl off, plunge the knife into her belly.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Fine and dandy. I thought this was a nature preserve. How come you don’t let it be natural?”

“Part of our responsibility to the animals here is to give them good, regular medical care, and that includes their teeth. Nearly all of the animals here at Chance were rescued from abusive situations, or taken in when they were sick or injured.”

“They’re caged. Like criminals.”

“It’s true they’re enclosed. But every effort has been made to provide them with a habitat natural to their needs and culture. It’s unlikely any of the animals here would survive in the wild.”

He saw the concern, even suspicion in her eyes, and knew he’d gone too far. This wasn’t why he was here. “Sure. You know more about it.”

“I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have about the sanctuary, or any of our animals. You can also visit our education center. There’s a video on the history of the refuge, and on the work Dr. Chance has done.”

“Maybe I’ll do that.” He moved along before he said something to make her worried enough to call for assistance. Or before he gave in to the urge to batter her bloody.

He understood the need. He’d washed carefully, but he could still smell the ranger’s blood. And the mother bitch’s. That was sweeter, and the sweet wanted to stir him up.

He needed to do what he’d come to do, and get out before he made a mistake.

He wandered, pausing at each enclosure even while the resentment burned in his gut. When he reached the cougars he expected to find his center again, to look into the eyes of his spirit guide and see approval. A blessing.

Instead the cat snarled, showing fangs as it paced.

“You’ve been caged too long, brother. I’ll come back for you one day. You have my promise.”

At his words, the cougar called a warning and hurled itself against the fence. In the compound, guests and staff came to attention. Ethan moved on quickly, and the cat screamed behind him.

She’d corrupted it, he thought as rage shook through him. Turned it into a pet. No better than a guard dog. The cougar was
his,
but it had come at him like an enemy.

Just one more sin she would pay for, and soon.

 

 

 

ERIC HURRIED ACROSS the compound to check on Baby. The usually playful cougar continued to pace. He leaped into his tree, over to the roof of his den, leaped down again to rise on his hind legs at the gate at the rear of the enclosure.

“Hey, Baby, hey, take it easy. What’s got you all stirred up? I can’t let you out for a run. You need your teeth checked first.”

“It’s that guy.” Lena jogged back to Eric. “I swear it’s that guy.”

“What guy?”

“That one. He’s heading toward the ed center. See him? Ball cap, long hair, beard. His face is all scratched up, too. You can’t see it from here, but he’s got some nasty scratches under that ugly beard. I was talking to him a few minutes ago and, I don’t know, something creepy. Something in his eyes.”

“I’ll go check him out.”

“Maybe we should tell Lil.”

“Tell her what? Some creepy-eyed guy’s taking the tour? I’ll just keep an eye on him.”

“Be careful.”

“My middle name.” He walked backward. “There are a couple of groups in the center, and a few of us in there, too. I don’t think creepy-eye’s going to cause any trouble.”

Ethan didn’t go to the center, but cut over and circled back to leave the present he’d brought with him on the table on Lil’s back porch.

By the time Eric crossed the compound he’d melted into the trees. He moved fast from there. The next phase of the game was about to start. Once he’d reached the watching post, he settled down, took out his field glasses. He washed trail mix down with water and played with Jenna’s cell phone.

He’d never owned one, never wanted one. But he’d practiced on others he’d stolen or taken from the kill. He punched and scrolled until he found the contact list, and smiled when he reached the entry listed as
Lil’s Cell.

Before much longer, he thought, she’d get a phone call she’d never forget.

 

 

 

IN HER OFFICE Lil answered the last e-mail on her list. She wanted to get over to the commissary and make sure the meat had been properly stored before she checked on Matt’s progress. She looked at the time, surprised to find it was nearly three.

She’d asked Matt to hold off on Baby and the other cougars until she could help out. Baby hated dental hygiene day. So she’d check Matt first, she decided.

As she rose, Lena tapped on her doorjamb.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Lil. It’s just . . . Baby’s acting up.”

“He probably knows he’s about to get put under and have his teeth cleaned.”

“Maybe, but . . . There was this guy, and he was weird, and that’s when Baby started up. Eric went over to check him out at the center. But I just got this bad feeling and wanted to tell you.”

“What kind of weird?” Lil asked and was already on her way out of the office.

“Creepy weird—to me. He was saying stuff like we caged the animals like prisoners.”

“We get that sometimes. What did he look like?”

“Long hair, beard. Baseball cap, denim jacket. He had fresh scratches on his face. He kept smiling, but, well, it just made my skin crawl.”

“It’s okay. I’ll head over to the center, just in case. Do me a favor? Tell Matt I’m handling this, and I’ll be over to help with Baby and the others as soon as I’m done.”

“Sure. It was probably nothing. It’s just he hit the red zone on my Creep-O-Meter.”

They parted ways, with Lil veering toward the center. Her phone rang, and absently, she pulled it out of her pocket. Seeing her mother’s number, she clicked on. “Hey, Mom, can I call you back? I need to—”

“She can’t talk right now either.”

A chill arrowed down her spine. When her fingers trembled, she gripped the phone tighter. “Hello, Ethan.”

“Funny, that’s what she said. Like mother, like daughter.”

A terrible fear had her shivering, as if she’d plunged into an icy river. But she fought to keep her tone calm and even. Steady, she thought, stay steady with him as you would with anything feral. “I want to talk to her.”

“You want to stop where you are. You take another step back toward the office, I’ll cut off one of her fingers.”

She stopped dead.

“Good girl. Remember, I can see you. You’re wearing a red shirt, and you’re looking east. A wrong move, she loses a finger. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Start walking toward your own cabin, around the back. If anyone comes up to you, calls to you, wave them off. You’re busy.”

“All right. But how do I know you didn’t just steal my mother’s phone? You have to give me more than that, Ethan. Let me talk to her.”

“I
said
she can’t talk right now. But you keep walking. I left you something on your back porch. Right up on the table. Yeah, that’s right. Run.”

She bolted, rounded the cabin, sprinted up the short steps. Everything inside her stopped, heart, lungs, brain, for one terrible instant. Then she made herself pick up the small plastic bag.

Inside was a hank of her mother’s hair, and her wedding ring. Blood smeared the gold band.

“I figure you recognize those, so you know I’m not bullshitting you.”

She gave in to her shaking legs and lowered to the porch. “Let me talk to her. You let me talk to her, goddamn you.”

“No.”

“How do I know she’s still alive?”

“You don’t, but I can guarantee she won’t be in two hours if you don’t find her. Head due west. I left you a trail. If you follow it, you’ll find her. If not . . . If you tell anyone, try to get help, she dies. Toss the phone into the yard. Start now.”

He could see her, she thought, but she had the porch rails and pickets for partial cover. She curled into a ball, angling her body toward the house. “Please don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt my mother. Please, please, I’ll do whatever you say, whatever you ask. Just don’t—”

She pushed end, cut off the call. “Please God,” she whispered, and punched Coop’s number. She rocked, made her shoulders shake, let the tears come. “Answer, answer, answer.” She squeezed her eyes shut when it switched to voice mail. “He has my mother. I’m heading west from the back of my cabin. He can see me, and I only have seconds. He gave me two hours to find her. I’ll leave you a trail. Come after me. God. Come after me.”