Page 81 of All Wrong
“Can we focus, please?” Nick said irritably. “Rip me a new asshole later. Right now, my gut’s telling me Corinne’s in trouble.”
He held his breath while Nicki stared into his eyes. She must have found what she was looking for because she nodded and called Ian back.
A few minutes later, she put down her phone. “He said to give him an hour.”
An hour. Not a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, but at that moment, it sounded like an eternity.
He stood abruptly. “Thanks. I’m going to take a run out to her place.”
Nicki stood too. “I’m coming with you.”
“Not necessary.”
“Shut the fuck up. I’m not asking.”
As Nicki paused to lock the door to the office, one of the teens came around the corner. “Hey, have you heard anything from Coach Buckman? He never showed up for flag football.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
CORINNE
It was dark by the time Corinne made it to the plateau where the vehicle was parked, the sun long set by hours, not minutes. Her progress had been slow. There had been several scary moments when she slipped and had to regain lost ground, accumulating more bumps and dents and scratches.
But she’d had no choice. The alternative was to stay perched precariously on the incline, in the dark, among coyotes, black bears, bobcats, and timber wolves, not to mention nests of snakes that might be holing up in crevices beneath piles of warmth-retaining shale.
The SUV, sitting alone on the narrow patch of flat space, was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
The rear hatch was still open, the interior light having timed off a long time ago, but the nearly full moon provided more than enough illumination. She closed the rear door, then climbed into the backseat, locked the doors, and promptly passed out.
The sun was high in its ascent when she stirred again. Her body protested every movement, but at least she was able to move. She’d take the pain over the alternative any day.
After peering through the windows and assuring herself there was no immediate threat, she crawled out of the SUV and looked around. Nothing but incredible views as far as the eye could see. Under different circumstances, it would be a beautiful spot to unplug and pitch a tent with enough provisions to last several days.
Without a phone, keys, food, or water, the scenery lost some of its appeal.
Something glinted near the edge. When Corinne got closer, she saw that it was a knife. Presumably the one they’d used to cut her zip ties. She picked it up, thinking it would come in handy.
Her survivalist training kicked in. She had shelter. She needed water first, then food.
A thorough search of her vehicle netted a tin of Altoids, a bottle of water that had rolled under the backseat, and a crushed and gooey protein bar of questionable age.
Fine dining to her parched throat and empty belly.
She ate half of the protein bar, forcing herself to chew slowly, and sipped the water she wanted to guzzle. Swallowed the over-the-counter tablets she’d fished out of her emergency first aid kit, then pulled out the minimal assortment of supplies and performed a self-triage. A deep gash on her shoulder that would undoubtedly require stitches got a spray of antiseptic and a slap of tape to hold the raw edges together. The torn flesh around her wrists received not-so-fashionable bracelets of sterile gauze. The badly twisted and swollen knee got the twist-activated ice pack, held in place with a strip of cloth ripped from the shirt she’d taken off a dead man. The rest of the cuts and scrapes, the ones she could reach, got swipes of antibiotic ointment.
She tried to remain optimistic as the morning wore on. When the temperature rose, she sought outthe cool shade of trees, unwilling to lose any more bodily fluids to sweat.
She debated whether she should stay with her vehicle or attempt to seek help. It wasn’t much of a debate. She was injured and miles away from anywhere. The chances of someone finding her if she went wandering were slim. The chances of someone finding her vehicle? Much better.
Lacie had told her once that every vehicle in the family—including hers—had been equipped with tracking chips after Brian’s wife was targeted by a serial killer and disappeared. At the time, Corinne had thought it was overkill. Now, it might be her only chance of getting out of this alive.
It might take a while, but someone would come. There was nothing for her to do but wait. Wait and prepare, in case the ones who found her first had been behind her capture in the first place.
She gathered stones into piles and placed them strategically around the immediate vicinity. When her energy flagged and the aches returned with a vengeance, she sat down and whittled sticks into sharp points with the knife she’d found. Small ones, like daggers. Longer ones, like spears.
When the sun disappeared below the horizon, she climbed back into the SUV, locked the doors,and slept in restless segments of an hour at a time. More, if she was lucky.
After two days, she came to several conclusions. One, it was unlikely that anyone was coming to finish the job. She’d been over every minute she could remember, with some parts rising to the surface in that murky space between sleep and wakefulness. One of those was the conversation she’d overheard when they were about to toss her over the side. The guy with the phone had told his boss that everything had been taken care of even though it hadn’t and that they were on their way back even though they weren’t. He’d also told his partner that their plans had changed, and they were to head north and lie low.
