Page 21 of Manhunt in the Narrows
She didn’t wait for an answer, pressing her back against the rock wall. Dark clouds kissed the peaks above, and that chill she couldn’t get rid of only worsened as crystalized air brushed over the exposed skin of her face and neck. It was only then she realized she’d lost her hat to the river below. Risner would definitely be taking it out of her next paycheck, but she’d stomach the cost if it meant getting out of this alive.
“Fine.” Patrick swung his pack to his front, his eyes a little more glazed than she remembered from the outcropping she’dwoken up inside. Not as hard. “Two minutes, and don’t even think about trying to run for it. I will catch you, and I will make you pay for trying.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She’d expected an argument, which meant he’d been experiencing lightheadedness and didn’t want to admit he might not have been as prepared for this escape as he wanted to let on. One shot. That was all she had. Sayles maneuvered her own pack front-side and drove her hand inside. Around the rock she’d stashed at the bottom. She didn’t know how to do this. Hurt someone. The inclination had come so easily to her ex. “It’s called acute mountain sickness.”
Patrick took a second too long to divert his attention from the opposite cliff face to her. “What?”
“That thing you’re feeling right now.” She gripped the rock tighter, still hidden by her pack. “The sluggishness, disorientation. Your brain isn’t getting enough oxygen at these elevations. You’ve probably had a headache since yesterday, but the longer you’re here, the worse your symptoms will get.”
“I know what altitude sickness is.” A hint of breathlessness softened his bite. “Start walking.”
“Sure. But climbing higher isn’t going to help you. At this point, nothing will.” Sayles extracted the rock, sure to keep it hidden as she reset her pack on her back.
Then swung.
The impact of rock against skull reverberated through her hand. It hurt. A lot. The shock waves forced her to drop the weapon entirely. His groan punctured through the too-fast thud of her heart between her ears. She spun, launching herself ahead. Not looking back. She couldn’t get enough air. While she’d acclimated to the park, adrenaline flooded her veins and took control.
“You b—” His rage seared down her back. Too close. Too close. The pounding of boots closed in.
Muscles she’d only recently developed protecting this park locked up at the sudden demand of exertion. A cramp skewed her calf as the trail dipped lower, and she nearly face-planted from the change in angle. Mud suctioned to her boots, providing a clear path straight to her. No matter where she went, he would find her. He would catch her. He would kill her. Faster. She had to run faster, but the unfamiliarity of the trail demanded caution she couldn’t afford to spare. Aches screamed for attention. Her breathing too shallow. Black edged into her vision. No. She wasn’t going to pass out. Not yet. Sayles searched for somewhere—anywhere—she could hide. To get her bearings. To gauge how close he’d gotten.
A quick check over her shoulder confirmed she’d added some distance between them. But was it enough? She turned face forward.
And caught sight of the sheer end of the goat trail.
Momentum threatened to throw her over the edge. Pulling back, she threw her hands out to grab on to anything that might keep her from going over. Her fingertips met nothing but smooth rock face, but she’d stopped just in time.
Giving Patrick a chance to catch up. She had to keep moving. Hide.
Except there was nowhere to go. Out of breath, Sayles gauged the distance between her side of the goat trail across the cavern of emptiness to the other. The rains surged down the slope between the two halves of the trail. Could she make it? Would the soggy ground support her weight? She didn’t have a choice, did she? Not unless she wanted to end up as another notch in the Hitchhiker Killer’s belt.
She backed up a couple feet. Determination similar to that she’d relied on to escape her ex surged. Shifting her weight into her toes, Sayles charged forward.
Searing pain rippled across her scalp.
Her back hit a wall of muscle, the growl in her ear pooling dread at the base of her spine. “Going somewhere, Ranger Green?”
“Please.” She didn’t know what she was begging for. He hadn’t taken mercy on the five victims he’d slaughtered. Why would her pleas make any difference? She couldn’t stop her whimper as desperation and survival won out.
“I warned you what would happen if you ran.” Fisting her hair, he angled her head back into his shoulder. Exposing her throat. The tang of blood burned in her nostrils.
“You’re going to want to take your hands off my partner.” Elias’s mass solidified in her vision, dangerous and formidable. “Right the hell now.”
The world shifted as Patrick—the Hitchhiker Killer—swung her around. Using her as a shield.
Elias. He was alive. He’d come for her. The relief was temporary as she took in the bloodstain spread across his torso. His breathlessness.
“Agent Broyles, you made it just in time.” Patrick released his hold on her hair.
Just before he shoved her over the cliff.
Chapter Sixteen
Her scream would follow him into his nightmares.
“Sayles!” Elias charged forward, hand outstretched as though there was a damn thing he could do to stop her from falling. Blood drained from his upper body in a rush. Dead. She was dead. Added to the growing list of victims in this bastard’s wake. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. How? How had this happened? How had it gone so horribly wrong so quickly?
The man in front of him peered over the edge where the ranger had gone over. Not an accident. Pushed off. Blood rippled down sharp features and caught in the killer’s facial hair. A wicked, slithering smile spread the bastard’s lips thin. “Well, will you look at that. Ranger Green has claws.”
