Page 115 of Silent Bones
Panic gripped her. The chloroform smell still clung to her face like a chemical burn, making her eyes water and her head pound with each step. Avery stumbled forward along the narrow trail, her bound hands making it impossible to balance properly on the uneven ground. The rope around her wrists had rubbed the skin raw, and every time she tried to slow down, Dale's hand would shove against her shoulder blades, driving her onward.
She'd been drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like hours, the world swimming in and out of focus as the drug worked its way through her system. But when they'd pulled off Keeses Mill Road into the small parking area, she'd seen the weathered brown sign clearly enough: St. Regis Mountain Fire Tower - 3.1 miles.
Her legs felt like rubber, but her mind was finally starting to clear. Clear enough to be terrified.
"Dale, please," she said, her voice hoarse and cracked. "This is insane. What happened... it was an accident. We are just teens. We didn't understand?—"
"Shut up." His voice was flat, emotionless. "Keep walking."
"We never meant for anyone to get hurt!" The words came out in a rush now, desperation bleeding through. "It was Jesse who moved the warning signs, not me. I didn't even know he'd done it until afterward. He thought it was just about keeping people out of the good camping spots. We were stupid, but we weren't trying to?—"
"You didn't listen," Dale cut her off, his grip tightening on her arm as she stumbled over a root. "You never do. None of you ever listened. Now keep moving."
She tried to plant her feet, to resist, but he was too strong. His fingers dug into her bicep and yanked her forward so hard she nearly fell.
"Get off me! You're hurting me!"
Dale's laugh was harsh. "You don't know the meaning of hurt. But you will." He leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear.
The trail stretched ahead into the growing shadows of late afternoon, winding upward through dense forest toward whatever nightmare Dale had planned at the abandoned fire tower. Behind them, Avery could hear no sounds of pursuit, no voices calling her name.
Only the sound of her own ragged breathing and Dale's steady footsteps, driving her forward.
The hand-drawnmap spread across the hood of Noah's SUV like a medieval treasure chart, its lines and careful notations revealing the mind behind it. Dale had marked every landmark, every trail junction, every geographic feature between his wilderness cabin and the red circle that marked his final destination: St. Regis Mountain Fire Tower.
"He's not trying to hide anymore," McKenzie said, studying the route with a tactical eye. "This thing's so detailed it's practically GPS coordinates."
Noah traced the path with his finger, recognizing the terrain from years of hiking these mountains. The route Dale had chosen wound through some of the most remote wilderness in the High Peaks region. A collection of steep climbs, dense forest, places where cell service died and civilization became a distant memory.
"It's a three-hour hike to the tower in good conditions," Noah said. "Maybe four, considering he's moving with a hostage."
Callie was already on her radio, coordinating with dispatch. "We need air support. Helicopter with thermal imaging and a tactical team. This terrain's too rough and we're losing daylight."
"Copy that," came the dispatcher's voice. "State Police chopper's inbound, ETA twenty minutes."
Noah folded the map and tucked it into his jacket pocket. Around them, the wilderness pressed in on all sides. The ancient pines and hardwoods created a canopy so thick it felt like standing in a cathedral. Somewhere ahead, Dale was forcing Avery through this same forest, following the path he'd carefully planned and marked for them to follow.
"Why the fire tower?" McKenzie asked. "What's special about that place?"
"Don't know," Noah replied.
They shouldered their packs and began following Dale's route, moving in single file along what appeared to be an old game trail. The map proved unnervingly accurate, every boulder, every creek crossing, every change in elevation exactly as Dale had marked it.
Fifteen minutes in, Callie spotted the first evidence.
"Blood," she called softly, kneeling beside a granite outcrop. "Fresh drops, maybe an hour old."
Noah examined the dark spots splattered across the gray rock. Not a lot of blood, but enough to suggest injury. "Could be from forcing her through rough terrain. Or something worse."
They photographed the evidence and continued, the trail climbing steadily now through stands of birch and maple. The helicopter's distant rotors were audible above the canopy.
“Ground team, this is Air One,” came the pilot's voice through their headsets. "We've got visual on your location. Thermal imaging shows two heat signatures approximately three miles ahead of you, moving slowly up the mountain trail."
"Copy that, Air One. Can you confirm both signatures are mobile?"
"Affirmative. Both targets appear to be walking, though one seems to be lagging behind the other."
Noah felt a surge of relief. Avery was still alive and still mobile.
