She saw Booker slide as the ground gave way beneath him, layer upon layer of loose dirt and leaves unable to support his weight. The week of drying from the rains had left the ground moist, but loose.
“Lance!” she called. He struggled to control his descent, but he slid faster and faster, then started to roll.
He hit the bottom. Half covered with debris, he didn’t move.
Miranda scrambled down the mountain as fast as she dared. It was easier with all the loose dirt gone.
“Lance, are you okay?”
He rolled over, but when she got to the bottom of the gulch, winded, she saw he was in pain.
“What happened?”
“I think I cracked a rib. It might be broken.”
Her heart beat so hard she thought it would burst through her rib cage. They were at the bottom of the gulch. Alone. And the Butcher would be coming back sometime tonight.
She had to get Booker out of here, but there was no way he could make it up the mountain. And it was more than a five-mile trek down the gulch to the other side-they might be able to make it, if they stopped frequently.
But what about Ashley? How could Miranda leave her when she was so close? When the Butcher was going to come back?
“Go find her,” he said as if reading her mind. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not leaving you. That’s one of my rules-when your partner falls, you stay until help arrives.”
“These are extraordinary circumstances.” He sat up, wincing. “I’ll go with you far enough to find a place to hide.”
Miranda helped him up, grimacing at the pain on his face. “You’ll be okay, Lance. But if you have trouble breathing, you can’t move. If your rib is broken, sudden movement could puncture a lung.”
“It just keeps getting better and better.”
They backtracked along the boulders until they found Larsen’s trail again. But with the rocks it was difficult to see where he’d come from before heading up the mountain.
“Look around, Lance. Any sign where he went?” The few raindrops had turned into a misty drizzle. It felt good now, but soon it would make visibility poor.
“There,” Booker said, pointing across the creek toward the rich, thick growth that bordered that side of the gulch.
Sure enough, a small sapling had been trampled.
It could have been done by a bear or a mountain lion. But it was the closest they had come to a trail, and they took it. As they went deeper into the woods, it was obvious by the soil prints that a two-legged predator had come this way.
“You okay to go on?”
“I’m fine for now.”
Still, they went slower than she would have liked. She took out her radio and called her location in to Charlie. Charlie was on Miranda’s team and had ten years more experience than she did. Though filled with static, it was good to hear his voice. Charlie’s team was ten minutes from the Parker Ranch.
That meant it would take them at least an hour to get to the bottom of the Gulch.
“Charlie, I’m out.”
“Roger that, take-”
“Wait.”
Then she saw it: the shack.
“Miranda?”
“It’s here. I think I found Ashley. I’m checking.”
“Proceed with caution.”
She swallowed. “I am. Out.”
The dilapidated wood structure sagged with age and Montana’s cold, wet winters. The tin roof was rusted in spots, but unlike Rebecca’s prison, this one had at least one window.
Every pore of her body screamed, “Be careful!” He could be here. David Larsen, the Butcher.
“Miranda,” Booker whispered. He stood right behind her. He looked pale and was sweating profusely.
“You have to sit down,” she said quietly.
“I can’t. What if he’s there?”
“Be backup.”
They drew their guns. She was surprised her hands weren’t shaking, although every hair on her body seemed to be tingling.
Holding her gun with both hands, she cautiously approached the structure. Booker motioned for her to go one way and he’d take the other. She pointed to the window. He nodded, and she squatted beneath it, trying to keep her breathing under control. She was almost gasping, her fear bubbling to the surface.
Not now. Please, not now. Ashley’s life depended on her. If she failed…
No. She couldn’t, wouldn’t fail.
Slowly, she peered into the room. As her eyes adjusted to the near dark of the cabin, she saw a naked woman tied on a filthy mattress in the middle of the floor. Her blonde hair looked dark from dirt and blood.
Sharon.
The pain, the anger, the humiliation came flooding back, overwhelmed her, and she sank to her knees. Oh, God, why? Why did you create such a monster?
It wasn’t Sharon, it was Ashley. And Ashley needed her.
What if she was already dead?
Miranda took a deep breath and stood, looking through the window again. As she watched, she saw the rise and fall of the woman’s chest. She was alive. Maybe there was a God after all.
Then Miranda realized Ashley wasn’t alone.
Miranda was ready to shoot the man through the window. He was lying next to Ashley as if basking in the afterglow of sex. She’d shoot him and cut off his balls and stuff them down his throat. Hate and rage filled her and she lifted her gun.
She paused when she saw a glint of metal. She tried to see the man’s face, but couldn’t. He was restrained, tied with rope, his hands and feet bound behind his back.
The body was familiar. Dark hair. Beige shirt.
Nick.
He was alive!
CHAPTER 31
Miranda rushed around the side of the shack. Damn, the door was chained.
She pounded on the door. “Nick! Nick it’s Miranda! I’m going to shoot off this lock and get you out of there.”
She heard a faint voice but couldn’t make out what he said. Ashley cried out, a cross between pain and joy.
“Booker! Where are you?” Miranda glanced from side to side, but didn’t see him.
“Here.” His voice came from the other side of the cabin, faint. She feared his injuries were worse than he’d let on.
“Nick’s inside the shack with Ashley. I’m going to get them out. Larsen is nowhere in sight, but keep a lookout.”
Silence.
“Lance? Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”
Dammit, now she had two seriously injured cops and a civilian. First things first: free Nick and Ashley. Then she could figure out a way to get them all out of here.
She aimed her gun at the lock. It took two bullets to bust it, then she kicked open the door.
The stench of blood, violent sex, and human waste filled her senses, sickening and familiar. She gagged and turned her head. She and Sharon had lived in such filth.
She froze. She wanted to go in, make sure Nick was okay. But her feet felt filled with lead, embedded in cement, and the harder she tried to make them move, the heavier they became.
Her body trembled. Just the thought of crossing the threshold of the shrinking space numbed her. Slowly, her peripheral vision closed in.
No. Not now. Please.
She fell to her knees. I can do this. I can go in. Save them.
No I can’t. I’m weak. He defeated me. He’ll come back and finish the job. He took Sharon and I ran. I couldn’t save her. Now I can’t even save myself.
“Miranda?”
Nick’s voice. Gruff and raw.
“Miranda!” Still raw, but commanding.
“Nick. I-” She took a deep breath. She was going to hyperventilate if she wasn’t careful.
“I need you. Ashley needs you. Get in here. He’s going to return.”
After all these years, the Butcher would defeat her. He made her claustrophobic. He gave her fear.
“I. Can’t.”
“You can, Miranda. I know you. I trust you. Take a deep breath.” He sputtered and coughed, struggling to get the words out. “You can do it,” he said, ending on a gasp of air.
She could, couldn’t she? She could overcome her fear. She had to. For Nick. For everything he’d done for her, for his support and encouragement and friendship. She hadn’t come this far to fail.