Page 36 of Disappearance at Angel's Landing
His boot met the edge of the upper rim. And then he saw it. The drag marks about ten feet down. They were similar to those he’d found in the landslide. Scrambling to get a better look, he scrubbed water from his face. These marks were much deeper than the ones he’d come across before, and he gauged the distance between this position and the top of the rim.
She’d been…pushed. Branch scanned the surrounding area. And found another set of drag marks. Rocks and bushes acted as obstacles between the first point and the second, but there was no denying the pattern. He descended the incline and froze. Blond hair clung to the branches of a scrub brush. Her hair must’ve caught on the way down, ripping free from her scalp. He untangled the strand, too many images assaulting his brain as he played the scenario marked in the earth out. The killer had injured her, then pushed her down the hill.
Blood seeped in the stone there. Another cluster of hair suctioned to a prickly pear cactus a few more feet down. His heart worked overtime as the pieces of her disappearance came together. Pushing himself down the last few feet, he crouched at the base of the incline. Next to the largest impression cast in mud, where she’d landed. “What happened to you, Barbie?”
Standing, Branch circled outward from the point of her last known location until another set of tracks took shape. A smooth boot tread with a slight drag behind it. Son of a bitch. He’d taken her. But where?
He didn’t have time to think of a strategy. Only time to act. But the radio was already in hand. He called through to Risner and relayed his location. He’d burned through whatever calories the oatmeal from this morning had provided. His legs ached, his energy levels had gone well beyond exhausted, but he couldn’t stop. “Hang on, Lila. I’m coming.”
The fear he’d given into that had driven him away from Lila had no room in his chest as it was slowly replaced with need. For her. To have her within reach. To hear that rare laugh she reserved for certain people. To absorb that inner sunshine to counter his darkness. In that moment, Branch was convinced he’d die without it. He needed her more than he needed his next breath.
Blackened tree branches clawed at his face, clothes and pack as he navigated the base of the valley, but the sting was nothing compared to the agony tearing through him at the thought of being too late. Each track in the mud he recovered was lighter than the one before it. Soon, he’d lose the trail altogether. Lose her forever.
Not an option.
Branch broke through a dense collection of trees ahead, into some kind of clearing he’d never seen before. Desert grass had overtaken the area, camouflaging evidence the killer had dragged Lila through. The trail here was a little more worn without the protection of trees keeping rain from corrupting the boot prints. There was no next step to follow. As though the killer had vanished into thin air.
In an instant, he was lost. About what to do next, where to go. Except that invisible thread that’d developed over the course of the past few days—the one tied directly to Lila—tugged harder.
He had no other choice than to follow it. He was her last resort. The only person who hadn’t given up on her. The storm was only growing worse, pinning Risner and the SAR team in place. Lila’s family had betrayed and shunned her when she needed them the most. Their fellow rangers wanted nothing more than to see her fail. And he…he’d turned his back on her.
That connection—however bruised and broken after what he’d said—was still there, guiding him forward. His feet were moving without conscious effort, leading him straight ahead.
A rise in the valley wall took shape to his left, and he slowed. To listen. To wait. Despite everything she’d faced, Lila Jordan was without a doubt the strongest person he’d ever met. Stronger than him. And she would figure out a way to stay alive until help arrived. He just hoped she didn’t give up before then.
Grass parted as he maneuvered through the clearing. The rain lightened into a drizzle, slowing the destruction of evidence,but the damage had already been done. Mere rings of mud bled through trampled grass every so often. Branch pulled up short. The grass. Broken and bent stalks of wheat-like feathers swayed under the influence of the wind, revealing the path the killer had taken through the field.
A second burst of adrenaline filtered into his veins. She was close. He could feel it, feel that tug in the center of his chest. He didn’t know how to explain it, and he didn’t care what it meant, but as long as it was there, he’d follow. He’d fall to his knees for his woman. Hell, he’d crawl if she asked him to.
He’d cut himself off from everything and everyone to keep himself from getting attached to another human who could hurt him. Love had ruined him once. He’d done whatever it took to avoid it from happening again, but he’d never been a match for Lila. Not chasing it was impossible when it came to her. He wanted Lila to ruin him. Because she was worth whatever chaos she brought into his life.
The trees grew dense along the outer edge of the clearing, the grass thinner. He was on the verge of losing her again, but he wasn’t about to give up. Not when everyone else had. Lila Jordan had crawled beneath his skin and carved her name with manicured nails on his heart. He was a marked man. Entirely hers.
Movement rustled through the blackened forest about a hundred yards ahead, though he couldn’t make out what had disturbed the trees. Then came a dull pounding. Unsteady, hurried. Footsteps? Every cell in his body hardened with battle-ready tension. Branch ducked behind one of the larger trees. Waiting.
Then he saw it.
That flash of familiar blond hair.
Lila. She threw her attention over her shoulder, one arm clutched to her side. Her uniform had torn in places, streakedwith blood and caked in mud. But he’d recognize her in the dark or completely blind.
“Lila!” Swinging himself into her path, Branch secured his arms around her middle, bringing her into his chest. Where she belonged. Hints of her scent drove into his lungs and released the vice in his chest. He could breathe easier, see clearer, think better with her here. As though the world had gone from black and white into full-blown color with her mere presence alone. That was what she’d done for him. Bought him back to life after losing all meaning. She was his meaning now. His purpose. “I’ve got you.”
Her fist connected with his jaw, throwing his head to one side. “Let me go!”
Lightning erupted behind his eyes. Damn it all. This woman. Tightening his arms around her, he pressed his mouth to her ear. She was in survival mode. Desperate to escape. “It’s me. It’s Branch. You’re safe.”
“No.” Tears streaked down her face as she struggled to get free of his grasp. “I’ll never be safe. Not from him.”
“Look at me.” Branch framed her chin in one hand, turning her attention to him.
Lila’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. Just before she collapsed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
She liked the dark. She could admit now that part of her had missed it.
Stab wounds tended to do that. Made you think about all your life’s choices and regrets. They weren’t lying when they said your entire life flashed before your eyes in your last seconds. Lila could see where she’d gone wrong. How she’d deluded herself into believing—down to her very core—that becoming someone else hadn’t fixed her problem. It’d just made them worse.
