Which leaves another mystery. Hunter wouldn’t climb into a stranger’s vehicle. Who picked him up?
“You there, Darcy?”
“Never left, Eric.”
“Just checking. Think positive thoughts and remember how good we were as a team.”
She knows what Hensel is doing. Keep her talking, remind her of their partnership with the FBI. Eventually, he thinks, she’ll come to her senses and leave it up to the FBI and police to rescue her son. By then Hunter will be dead.
“A match made in hell.”
“Unbeatable, and you’re still an expert profiler. Your description was dead on. We know who the guy is.”
He wouldn’t have shared this information under normal circumstances. He’s desperate, trying any ploy to bring Darcy into the inner circle and turn her into a team player. It’s too late. Spotting the turn ahead, Darcy engages her signal.
“You found him?”
“Guy’s name is Richard Chaney. Born in Nebraska, but he rents a house a half-mile south of the public beach.”
He lived within walking distance of Darcy’s house. How many times did she pass him on the beach?
“Explains how he got from the cove to your house so quickly,” Hensel says, continuing. “Chaney flamed out as a network systems engineer and wandered from job to job the last two years. But get this. He purchased three round trip tickets to Buffalo, New York over the last eight months.”
“I think we know who he visited.”
“The next question is why he isn’t on the visitor logs. More evidence Rivers has someone on the inside working for him.”
The terrain glides higher before it drops into the valley bowl. Alder Park is only a mile away now. Darcy douses the headlights and shifts the motor over to electric. She’s a silent shadow, at one with the night.
“I can’t see the road,” Jennifer says, leaning forward.
“Don’t worry,” Darcy assures her daugher. “I can see it. Keep your seatbelt on.”
“Good God, Darcy,” Hensel says. “You have your daughter in the car with you?”
“Where did you expect her to be, Eric? She’s safe with me.”
He exhales and radios Ames about Jennifer.
“You damn well better wait for me, Darcy. It’s one thing to put yourself in harm’s way. Don’t put your daughter at risk.”
“I’m killing my lights, Eric. I suggest you do the same when you get here, unless you want Chaney to see you coming.”
For a terrifying moment, the dark swallows the car. Cuts them off from the world. She wishes Hensel would speak and settle her nerves. And hurry. Darcy will need Hensel to survive the night.
“The trail begins on the north end of the entrance,” Hensel says, interrogating a park map on his phone. “I’ll go in first. Detective Ames will take the high ground east of the rim trail. We stationed a police boat outside the cove in case this bastard has water transportation waiting, and Officer Haines will stay with your daughter and make sure nobody gets past the entrance. We’ve got all the bases covered, so hang in there a little longer.”
“Eric, there’s a turnoff on the left about a hundred yards ahead of the park entrance. I’m parking there and going on foot the rest of the way.”
“Shit. You’re really going to do this, aren’t you? Darcy, think this through.”
She stops the car on a gravel turnoff down the road from the park. Ahead, the forest thickens and deflects the moonlight. Too dark to see inside.
Darcy slips out of the car and stands with Jennifer. The few remaining crickets keep beat with the night.
“Okay, Darcy. We’ll be there in twenty minutes. Stay where you are, and we’ll go in together.”
“A serial killer has my son, Eric. If you want to help, you better drive faster.”
He’s mid-protest when she cuts the call and silences the phone. She glances at her daughter, and reality crashes down on her. This is too dangerous. She can’t rescue Hunter and protect her daughter at the same time. Darcy’s eyes adjust and pull the moonlit road into sharp clarity. Nothing about this meeting feels right. Hunter is here—she can sense him in the park—but Chaney brought her to Alder Park for one reason. To murder her and avenge the lunatic he serves. Darcy won’t see the light of day.
“Don’t leave my side,” she tells Jennifer, gripping the girl’s shoulders for emphasis. “And whatever happens tonight, I want you and Hunter to get to safety. The police are coming soon.”
The parking lot is vacant when she steps from the car. Too dark. Too much of it. The night slithers around her body and paralyzes her, takes her breath away.
“It’s okay, Mom.”
Darcy glances at Jennifer. She doesn’t think she can move, but her daughter holds Darcy by the hand and pulls her forward. Into the night. Into the unknown.
A red trail marker on the far side of the lot leads Darcy to the rim trail. Sticking to the shadows of old trees, she wonders who watches. Before fear freezes her again, she steps into the moonlight and starts up the trail.
The dirt path radiates silver and gray. Ahead, the trail climbs and disappears over the ridge. The overlook rests on the far side of the ridge, the trail lined by dense forest. A good place to spring a trap.
“Hunter?”
No answer comes. A stream gurgles beyond the trees to her right. Darcy’s gaze moves over the eastern hill. If the killer watches her approach, she doesn’t see him. Instinct urges her to remain cautious, but she won’t slow until Hunter is safe. With Jennifer by her side, Darcy breaks into a jog, knowing one misstep in the dark will snap an ankle. A necessary risk.
She quickens her pace. The cold burns her lungs and numbs her legs, yet Jennifer keeps up and encourages Darcy to run faster. The park entrance is far behind as she outraces the dead whispers of doubt in the back of her mind: Hunter isn’t here, the killer fooled us again.
Grasping the back of Jennifer’s shirt, Darcy slows to a stop halfway up the ridge. Her endurance is strong, but her sixth sense warns her to look before she advances.
Jennifer’s eyes widen and struggle against the night. She holds the strained, brittle look of a girl on the verge of crumbling if their rescue attempt fails.
“I heard something,” Darcy says, pulling Jennifer off the trail and into the forest.
A canopy of old pines loom overhead and stretch skyward, the scent cloying. For a long time, Darcy listens. Silence. She’s ready to creep back to the trail when a sound comes from the top of the ridge. A voice. They’re not alone.
A bed of pine needles cushions the forest floor. It silences her steps and allows her to move through the forest without drawing attention. Placing a finger over her lips, Darcy looks at Jennifer and tilts her head up the hill. The girl understands and follows as Darcy weaves between the trees, careful not to bump into low hanging branches and give them away. Traversing the forest takes longer than following the trail, but it gives Darcy her best chance to free Hunter and get Jennifer back to the car unscathed.
The Glock feels solid against her hip. She draws the gun when something rustles the needled path, probably an animal.
The sound comes again. Two voices, not far now.
No Hunting signs on the trees glow like dozens of eyes. She draws the dark hood of her sweatshirt over her head and motions at Jennifer to do the same. An extra measure of camouflage.
The voices become louder. And there are more of them. Darcy moves faster, keeping to a crouch as she moves behind the tree line. She pulls up when she recognizes a voice.