Stolen(87)
Her hand shook as she raised it. As high as her spirits had climbed, there was also trepidation. What if the monster came back here?
She pulled in a breath. Then she would’ve accomplished her aim. She’d have found him. And that meant she’d have a chance at stopping him. Hesitating only a heartbeat more, she steeled her shoulders and pushed through the door to Frank’s Cabin.
And nothing terrible happened at all.
She smiled, sighed, and slipped her pack from her shoulders.
Yes!
The bed was stripped, but clean. The floors scrubbed. Even the cracked glass windowpane had been repaired. The forest service must’ve come in and fixed the place up after it’d been cleared by the cops. Which made sense since so many hikers relied on it in winter. In fact, the rangers had probably replenished the supplies she’d raided from the cellar. At the very least, she guessed she’d find clean sheets and a blanket. She eyed the bunk bed again. How wonderful to sleep on something other than the cold hard ground.
Yes, this was definitely her safe place.
No one would ever expect her to come back here.
She crossed to the table and shoved it aside to expose the woven throw. Then she dragged the rug away and bent to grab the handle of the trap door to the cellar. A scraping noise sounded beneath the floorboards, making her shoulders jump. She cast a glance around and saw no sign of anyone else. No jacket cast aside, no cap hanging from the wall hook.
She heard the noise again, and this time, she shrugged off her worry.
Probably a mouse.
After everything she’d been through, she wasn’t going to let a mouse keep her from opening that cellar door and climbing down to claim her treasures. Bracing one hand on the floor, she clasped the handle tightly with the other. Suddenly a great force from below pushed the door up.
The hard metal slammed into her face.
She fell back, knocking her skull against the floor.
A sickening crack sounded in her ears as the world began to tilt away from her grasp.
Do not lose consciousness. No way are you taking the easy way out. Not this time.
She blinked hard, trying to bring her surroundings into focus.
Oh, dear God.
No!
Her monster loomed above her, straddling her between his legs.
No! Please, not Cayman!
“Help!” she screamed, but there was no one there to hear.
“Laura, get up.”
She cowered away from him, slithering on her back toward the wall. The floor shook beneath her from his footsteps as he followed.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
“Laura, do exactly as I say. And I’m warning you, do not scream again.”
She saw, for the first time, the pistol in Cayman’s hand.
“Y-yes. Anything you say.” She lifted her shoulders off the ground and gathered herself into a sitting position.
“Get up, Laura. I’m not going to hurt you.”
That was a lie.
He was a monster.
It was him all along.
He’d stayed in the room next to hers on all those trips, and he’d known she was drugged and sound asleep when he went out on his night excursions. Cayman killed those women. He killed Angelina. And now he was going to kill her.
Let him try.
Something deep inside crackled to life, snapping her arms open like her wrists had been zip tied and then suddenly cut loose. “I—I can’t stand up. Will you help me?”
He reached down to pull her to her feet.
As soon as she had her balance, she shoved him, hard.
Bam!
A gunshot rang out.
As the stench of gunpowder filled the room, a bright flash blinded her. She touched her forehead—it was wet and warm. She brought her hand in front of her eyes, staring at the blood in disbelief. Her skin had gone cool and numb. She couldn’t feel her heartbeat.
Gasping, she collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Chapter 47
Tuesday, October 29
1:00 P.M.
Borderline Road
Edge of Eagles Nest Wilderness
Spense could tell it had irritated Caity when he’d insisted on driving. But he hadn’t imbibed so much as a drop of whiskey back at Asta Rundstrom’s house, and the road up to the Eagles Nest Wilderness was closed to the public for a reason. It was soupy and icy and he was the one with experience in tactical driving. At times, he’d struggled to keep the four-wheel drive Jeep they’d rented upright and in forward motion, but they’d made it to the top, and now here they were.
No mistake, this was the place.
The stone house had been built on two different levels to accommodate the mountainous terrain. Its gothic gables and flying buttresses, meant to guard against the heavy winter snows, lent the house a medieval tone. Spooky was an apt description.
Caity let out a low whistle as he helped her down from the Jeep. She’d been banged up enough already. He didn’t want her slipping in this mud.