Page 19 of Disappearance at Angel's Landing
She shook her head, forcing her gaze to the killer’s face. Memorizing everything she could about it. Though now that she thought about it, he’d probably planned on killing her to make sure she couldn’t identify him. Still, hostage or not, sometimes it was nice to be held. “I don’t have my first aid kit.”
“Then it’s a good thing I came prepared with more than a pocketknife.” Adjusting his weight, he took a seat on the ground alongside her, his injured leg nearly touching her hip.
She could run. Based on the amount of blood oozing from the injury at the back of his thigh, he probably wouldn’t be able to catch her. Then again, he’d obviously been able to stay conscious and alive since stabbing Sarah Lantos yesterday afternoon and managed to drag her to this campsite, so there was a chance she’d only be making her situation worse.
The weight of his attention curdled the coffee she’d substituted for breakfast this morning. “I will catch you, Ranger Jordan, and I won’t be as careful with you as I was bringing you here.”
One second. Two. She raised her gaze to his, shutting down the shiver working to break free up her spine.
“Get the kit.” He nodded toward a pack at the end of the sleeping bag she’d woken on. “Front enclosure.”
Her hands shook as she followed instructions. She couldn’t seem to get the zipper around the curve of the pack as she searched for the easiest route to run long distance. Years of traversing these trails had blessed her with muscles she couldn’t name. She had no doubt she’d be able to outrun this guy on a good day, but that meant leaving Branch behind. Possibly injured.
She got the zipper unfastened and freed the first aid kit inside. This was why she’d petitioned rangers outside of the lawenforcement division to carry weapons, but Risner had shut that down real fast. Accusing her of most likely injuring herself with a Taser rather than her intended target. When she got back to headquarters, she’d show him exactly how accurate her aim was for putting her in this position.
Lila made a show of zipping the front enclosure with one hand while prying the larger compartment open. A gun stared back at her. Sitting right on top. She couldn’t tamp down the shudder shaking across her shoulders as she shoved it deeper into the pack. Just in case. Crossing the sleeping bag, she settled the first aid kit in front of her and popped the lid. “You got a name?”
His laugh practically took physical shape between them. “Why are you asking?”
“Because saying, ‘Hey, asshole, this is going to hurt’ is awkward.” Tearing a slit up the side of his pants, she exposed the wound farther. Blood crusted around the edges, but whatever his victim had done hit deep, most likely nicking a major vein. He was still bleeding from an injury he couldn’t reach at the back of his thigh, and if she didn’t irrigate and clean the wound, he would suffer from infection and greater blood loss. Not enough to kill him, though. At least, not soon enough.
“You don’t need my name.” He flinched at her touch. Baby. She hadn’t even started cleaning the wound yet.
“Fine. Then I will assign one for you.” She used the gauze pads to scrub as much blood from the edges as possible, using his water to break up the flakes. She tucked the water bottle between her thighs for easy access when the time came. She wasn’t trying to be careful or mindful of his pain. In fact, she wanted this to hurt as much as possible, but other than that first flinch, the killer didn’t seem to feel anything. Had he felt anything when he’d killed Sarah Lantos? Lila put as much hatred into her expression as possible as she leveled her gaze with hisand dug her nails into the sides of the wound. “I’m going to call you Covid. For obvious reasons.”
Another laugh startled her. This one had more bite, and it stuck in her body and refused to get the hell out. The smile that contorted his face fell, and before she had a chance to react, the killer crushed his hand against her throat. And squeezed.
“You make jokes to distract yourself from what hurts. All of these additions to your uniform, the pink nails, the makeup, the bleached hair. Everything I see about you makes me think you work so hard to make the outside beautiful because the inside is rotten. What was it, Ranger Jordan? Mommy didn’t love you enough? Daddy hit you a little too often? Or was it something much, much more terrifying?”
Air lodged in her chest, and her defenses automatically had her reaching for his wrist to break the hold. But he wouldn’t budge. Panic flared, rolling through her and clenching every muscle she owned. He was so much bigger than she was. So much stronger. The pocketknife he’d held was right there. Her gaze darted down to it, then back up so as not to give herself away, but she was getting desperate. For air. For escape. For him to stop.
The killer dragged her upper body over his leg, close enough she could smell the sweetness of the apple he’d been eating on his breath. He scanned her from scalp to chin, those dark eyes seemingly undoing years of defenses. Loosening his hold, he let his fingers brush beneath the kerchief at her neck. Then untied the knot. The fabric fell away easily, exposing her—and the scar beneath—to him in a way she’d never allowed for anyone.
“You want people to take you seriously, but you keep them at arm’s length. You hide from them. Lie to them. Like a magician, you keep their attention on one thing while the trick is happening in another place altogether.”
“Everybody needs a hobby.” Lila tried to pull back, to put those precious inches back between them, but he’d locked his hand around her throat a second time. That unreadable expression focused solely on the marred skin across her neck. Her pulse thudded—too hard—against his hand.
“Tell me who did this to you.” His thumb pressed into the scar tissue spanning straight over her throat.
Her training failed her in every regard. She didn’t know what to do, what to think about his request. So similar to the one Branch had made of her.Who made you afraid?
Lila slid one hand around the metal water bottle she’d used to clean the killer’s wound. Then bashed it as hard as she could into his face. His groan punctured through the haze he’d created. The grip at her throat vanished, and she shoved to stand.
Lila ran toward the canyon mouth, unwilling to look back. And hoped she came out on the other side alive.
Chapter Fourteen
There was no other sign of her. The drag marks Branch had noted ended at a section of cascading boulders leading down into the valley. Even from this vantage point, it felt as though Lila had simply disappeared.
The killer couldn’t have taken her far. Not with the injury he and Lila suspected he’d sustained, but if they’d been wrong—if the killer had trained and compensated around a disability—Branch feared he might never find her.
But why take Lila in the first place? The killer hadn’t gone through her supplies as far as Branch could tell. Which meant he’d needed her for something. But what? And for how long?
His entire body ached with unchecked bruises, muscle strain and exhaustion as he navigated the maze of boulders leading down in the valley. It was the most logical path the killer would’ve taken. There were no caves in this area. Only sheer cliffs, decreasing blue sky and unending miles of trees and dirt. The canyon that led north was where Lila had predicted the killer would go, and so would Branch.
His socked foot slipped off the boulder beneath him, and his entire body shifted out of alignment. Slapping his hands out to stop himself from face-planting into the next rock, he breathed through the pain streaking up his ankle and into his calf. He dragged his foot from between the boulders. Still in one piece, but there was no telling how long that would last.
He growled to provide his frustration an outlet. In vain. There was no outlet. Not as long as Lila was out here, potentially in danger from the same killer who’d stabbed Sarah Lantos. That core tension would keep winding tighter and tighter until it suffocated him. It would only be released by getting eyes on her. Having her in his arms. Ensuring she’d live another day to threaten ending his.
