Page 67 of Scorched

Elise wasn’t sure her car could make it down and back up the muddy road. Unwilling to risk Brandon’s safety any more than she had, she parked her car at the top and turned in her seat. “Brandon.”

“Yes, Mama.” His head popped up over the back of the seat, his eyes wide and shiny in the lights from the dashboard.

“I’m going to get Luke.” She touched the cell phone in his hand. “If I don’t come back in ten minutes, you find Agent Fletcher’s name on my favorites list and call him. Tell him you’re at the Guadalupe River Bridge on Highway 474.”

“Why don’t you call him now?”

“The man who has Luke said I shouldn’t call anyone, or he’d hurt Luke.”

“Then why do you want me to call?”

“In case Luke and I don’t come back, you need to get help for yourself.”

“I want to go with you.”

“You can’t. As the man of the house, you need to do what I tell you.”

His lip trembled. “I don’t want to be the man of the house. I want to go with you.”

“Please, Brandon. Please do as I say. Wait ten minutes and call Paul. He’ll help.” She reached for the door handle, peering through the windshield into the dark.

Tires had spun up the mud on the tracks leading down to the river, but she couldn’t see what awaited her there. She turned back to her oldest son. “Brandon, if anyone but me comes back up here, you get out of the car and run as fast as you can away from here before you call Paul. Do you understand?”

He nodded, a tear trickling down his cheek.

“I love you, Brandon. And I promise that I’ll do my best to come back. With your brother.” She leaned across the seat and hugged him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I love you so much.”

Elise dug a flashlight out from beneath her seat and got out of the car. She slipped and caught herself on the door, fumbling to keep the light in her hand. After righting herself, she set off down the muddy track to theriver and her youngest son. Rain blurred her vision, mixing with the tears welling in her eyes. Blinking only seemed to make it worse.

She couldn’t go soft now. Luke needed her. Brandon needed her and Luke to return. Her oldest son would never forgive himself if something happened to either one of them. Failure wasnotan option. She slipped in the mud. Water filled her shoes and soaked her stockings. As usual, hindsight was twenty-twenty, and she should have changed into tennis shoes before she’d left the house. In the ballet flats she’d worn to school that day, she got little traction in the miniature river flowing down the hill in the rutted tire tracks.

Elise fell on her butt in the mud, rose and continued her descent into the darkness, shaking the slick, cold slop from her hands and holding the flashlight as steady as possible. She shone the light back and forth, hoping to catch a glimpse of Luke.

When she reached the bottom of the road near the banks of the river, her heart beat an erratic pace, and she began to think maybe the killer had set a trap for her or her son. Frantic now, she whirled, her light barely penetrating the rain that had picked up since she’d left her house. A black SUV stood beside the river, the interior dark and menacing. Elise shone her light into the interior, but nothing moved. Luke was nowhere to be seen.

The river flowed heavily, swollen from the rain to ten feet deeper than usual. The dull roar of water rushing past masked most noises.

A faint cry carried over the top of the vehicle, over the noise of the river. Elise spun toward the bridge. Had the cry come from there? Elise shone the flashlight beam toward the underpinnings of the bridge. At first, she could see nothing but dark shadows and rain. Then the shadows moved and a man holding a small figure emerged

“Luke!” Elise ran toward them, her light bouncing across the gravel and brush, flashing on and off the man and boy. “Luke!” She called out, tears streaming from her eyes, washed away by the drenching rain.

“That’s far enough,” the man yelled.

Elise halted, holding her flashlight on the man and boy.

He had something pointed at Luke’s head.

Her stomach tumbled over and over as she realized what it was. Oh, God, he had a gun pointed at her son’s head and it wasn’t Stan. It wasn’t even a man she recognized. Yes, he had brown hair and dark eyes like her former husband, but it wasn’t Stan. Elise wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or not.

He’d already killed two women, and he held her son at gunpoint. But knowing it wasn’t Stan had a strange impact on her. Almost relief, if she could have allowed herself the luxury of relief in such dire circumstances.

“Mama!” Luke reached out his arms.

Elise stumbled and fell to her knees. “Please, don’t hurt him.” Her chest tightened, her breath catching inher throat on a silent sob. “Please. You want me, not him.”

“You got that right.”

“Let him go. I’ll go with you. I won’t even put up a fight.”

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