Stranded

She was struck by the fact that the cabin couldn’t be seen from the river. Trees surrounded it. Tall long-leaf pines crowded together with not a shoulder-width between them. Other hardwood trees were interspersed. Scrub bushes, junipers, tall grass, and vines grew so thick it made it impossible to walk without them scraping skin or snagging clothing.

Maggie sneaked back to the live oak that she and Tully had hid behind earlier. She hadn’t climbed a tree since she was a little girl, but within minutes she was perched high above the ground with a perfect bird’s-eye view of the cabin’s only door. And she could see the river all the way to the first bend.

She knew that Otis and Jack had taken both troopers’ service revolvers along with Tully’s Glock and her Smith & Wesson. And Jack already had what she believed to be a Glock. Surely they wouldn’t take all five weapons with them. After all, Jack didn’t like to use guns. He preferred to cut.

She decided to watch them leave. Then she’d wait. How long? She had no idea. She’d depend on her gut to tell her.

By her wristwatch, it had been nineteen minutes since she and Tully had left the cabin. Jack had promised them thirty. At twenty-one minutes she saw the cabin door open. Her body went still, her back pressed against the bark. She did not move a muscle. A breeze ruffled the leaves around her and sent the smaller branches swaying. Her heart had been banging against her chest the whole time she hobbled Tully across the river and into hiding. But now she found herself remarkably calm, her breathing steady and her mind clear.

She watched Jack point to something on the ground. Footprints.

Would they be able to tell that she had come back? Or did it simply look like two frantic people, ru

Then the men split up. Jack followed the riverbank. Otis disappeared into the forest behind the cabin.

Maggie checked her watch again. She’d give herself ten minutes. Anything more would be dangerous, but ten minutes was all it should take.

CHAPTER 71

Eleven minutes.

Maggie couldn’t find the guns anywhere. Where would Jack have hidden them?

She crawled along the floor, ducking under the windows and staying low. She had already searched every cabinet and cubbyhole in the cabin. She’d looked under furniture, between the mattress and box spring, under the sofa cushions, even behind the chemical toilet. None of the floorboards was loose. The walls were solid. She had rifled through the only two drawers of clothing and patted down folded towels. She picked apart the wood and kindling crate and shoved her hand into the ice chest beneath the carton of milk and packages of ground beef.

No guns.

Twelve minutes.

Maggie scooted under the window that overlooked the river and stole a glance out. She’d never see them return in time to escape.

She tried to remember. It was raining hard by the time they got to the cabin. Neither man had gone out. Otis had brought a duffel bag in with him from the boat. Gray, canvas. She still hadn’t come across it. She needed to go through the cabinets again.

Then she heard something. Her body froze and she held her breath. It sounded like a dog barking.

Creed. It had to be Creed.

Relief swept over her before she caught herself. Grace had never once barked. If Creed had found the bodies in the clearing and followed them here, he would never allow his dog to bark and give them away.

And suddenly Maggie’s pulse began to race.

CHAPTER 72

Maggie’s breath came in quick bursts. All the calm and steady resolve she had built up now threatened to break apart. She started to race from the cabin, then stopped herself.

Was it a trick? Jack claimed to know everything about her. Did he know she was a sucker for dogs? And especially dogs in distress.

Once outside she could hear the barking again. It sounded like it was coming from the same direction she had seen Jack headed. And the dog was frantic.

Instead of following along the riverbank, Maggie stayed back in the forest. Her eyes searched while she darted from tree to tree. The knee-high brush jabbed and poked. It was impossible to walk through the forest and be quiet. Branches snapped. Closer to the riverbank, clay sucked at her boots. Birds fluttered out of her path. Water rushed over a logjam.

And suddenly it occurred to her and she stopped dead in her tracks.

Would Jack have a dog to help track her and Tully? Had the dog already found Tully?

No, the barking came from the opposite direction.

She started walking again, only this time she took careful steps, watching ahead for movement and frustrated because she still didn’t see any. The ground sloped enough that she needed to climb. She kept a steady pace and glanced over her shoulder. Streaks of daylight created shadows as well as blind spots.

Maggie slowed her pace as she got closer to the barking dog. Just over this next slope she knew she’d be able to see the commotion. She slammed her back against a tree, then dropped into a crouch. Urgency fought a battle with caution. The trees came right up to the edge of the river. Keeping low to the ground, she hid behind the shrubs and fallen branches. Now she could hear the dog’s sharp bark and growls within a hundred feet. But she also heard rushing water. She eased herself up to take a look over the edge of the riverbank.

Down below she could see an inflatable blue-and-white boat pulled up on a sandbar. Two men wrestled and rolled in the sand while a huge dog barked and snarled from its perch inside the boat. The dog had on a bright yellow vest and harness. And then Maggie realized one of the men was Creed. The other was Jack. Her eyes caught a glint of sunlight off the knife blade in Jack’s hand.

She stumbled to her feet and searched for a way to get down the bank. She’d have to cross the river to reach them. A tangle of debris—branches and stumps and roots, three and four feet thick—prevented her from charging down. When she looked up again, the dog had given up barking from the boat and now danced and snapped around the men, but they were locked and rolling in such a tight clench that even the dog couldn’t get a bite of its owner’s attacker.

Maggie started to yell. Jack wanted her, not Creed.

The gushing water filled her ears and drowned out her voice.

The debris was all along her side of the bank. She couldn’t get to the water without plunging down and hoping not to get tangled in it. She sat on the slick clay bank and slid her legs over the edge. She tested her feet, then her weight on some of the thicker branches in the snarl of debris.

Just as she was getting ready to push herself from the bank she saw Otis. He was coming out of the trees from behind Jack and Creed.

The dog whimpered. Maggie saw a spray of blood as the dog jumped back.

“Damn it, Jack. Stop!” she yelled, pushing off and stepping onto the debris.

Immediately wood snapped and cracked, sending her right leg down into the mess of twisted roots, fallen branches, and a snare of twigs and vines. Something stabbed into her calf and she could feel the rush of cold water. She pulled her leg up and tried again. Instead of walking over the tangle, she crawled. Almost to the water, the debris swallowed her again as wood snapped.

The men had not stopped. The dog had joined the fight, again. There was more blood on the sugar-white sand.

She shoved and yanked, back and forth, ripping and pulling at the sticks and branches and vines that trapped her. Her feet kicked and splashed at the water underneath. Over the pounding of her heartbeat and the rush of water she thought she heard the helicopter again.