by Lisa Harris
“She’s not here.”
“But maybe she was.”
Cassidy looked up, eyes wide. “You think so? Did you see something?”
“Nothing specific, but somebody was here. The kidnapper could have moved her.”
“If she was ever here at all.” The despair in Cassidy’s voice frightened him, especially after her remarks on the hike up about how nobody would grieve her.
He would grieve her. If something happened to Cassidy… He couldn’t even finish the thought.
“If we were on the wrong track,” he said, “then why did someone steal our food?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
He ignored the hopeless words. “When they figure out who did it—”
“They never will.” She straightened, staring at the cave wall not five feet across from them. “They’ll never find out the truth because they think it was me.”
She made a good point.
They sat in the cool air. What was she thinking? Would she turn herself in now? He could vouch for the existence of this place, but would that deter Vince and Detective Cote, who were so sure she was guilty?
One thing was certain. He couldn’t quit looking for the kidnapper. He wouldn’t. Now that he was convinced Cassidy was innocent, he had to keep searching—for Ella’s sake, Reid’s sake, and Cassidy’s sake.
And Hallie’s and Addison’s as well. They deserved justice.
She shifted beside him, lowered to a prone position, and pointed toward the rear of the cave. “Do you see that?”
He glanced the direction she pointed but saw nothing.
“You have to get down here.”
He lay beside her. Sure enough, from this angle, he saw something deep in the cave. A…glimmer of light. “What is it?”
“I saw it when Hallie and I were tied up, but I didn’t know what it was.” She stood and walked that direction. The ceiling lowered, and she crouched, then crawled forward. “When he came back, he untied us. I guess he felt safe because he stationed himself at the mouth of the cave. There was no way to get past him.”
The ceiling lowered more. James had noticed this place but hadn’t explored it in his perusal of the cave because Cassidy had gone straight to this spot and looked. He got on hands and knees and followed.
In front of him, Cassidy wiggled, doing something, but he couldn’t tell exactly what. Then, she twisted around until she faced him and handed him her handgun. “I don’t think I’ll be able to squeeze through with that on.”
He took it, studied it. A Glock 9mm. Good gun.
Cassidy crawled backward. To where, he didn’t know. It seemed they’d reached the end.
Except she kept going.
“What is it?” he asked.
“A way out.” She disappeared down a shaft so narrow, he hadn’t noticed it and was sure he wouldn’t fit. He crept forward and looked. The ground gave way to an opening. The stone overhang lowered here, so that the space was barely wide enough for Cassidy’s thin hips. No way he could go forward. But she was gone.
“You okay?” he called.
“Can you make it through?”
“No chance.”
“Back up. I’ll come around the other direction.”
The thought of her out there, alone, sent acid to his stomach. “Can you just come back through?”
“Hard enough getting out. Not sure I can get back in. Hey, while you’re in there, will you look around? I lost… something special to me back then. I think it came off when we were getting away.”
We?
As in, her and Hallie?
He’d ask her about that later.
He took out the flashlight and backed toward the mouth of the narrow passage, eyes open for whatever Cassidy had lost. There was nothing—
“Wait!” She called. “I found—”
A gunshot cut off her words.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Cassy!” James’s shout reverberated off the narrow stone passageway as he crawled out. It widened and he hurried on hands and knees until he crawled into the cavern, jumped to his feet, and bounded out of the cave. He held her gun at the ready, running too fast along the narrow path between the steep wall and the sharp drop-off. He sprinted past the spot where they’d climbed up and around a bend, then slid down a short slope and around another corner. He skidded to a stop behind the thick branches of a pine that grew out of the hillside below.
Cassidy lay facedown on the ground, arms covering her head. A protective posture, which suggested she was alive.
He lurched forward. “Cassy! Are you—?”
“Get down!”
He hit the rocky soil just as another gunshot rang out. He peeked up from his prone position beside Cassidy. Aside from the occasional treetop, this area was exposed. The shooter had to be below them on the mountain. On this side, with the lake between Mt. Ayasha and Mt. Coventry, there were no other ridges with a vantage point. James should be safe if he stayed low. He crawled to Cassidy’s side. “Are you hit?”
She lifted her head to face him. Blood gushed from her hair.
He tried to get a better look. “What happened?”
“I don’t… I don’t know.”
“Can you flip over?”
Keeping low, he gently turned her onto her back so he could examine the wound. Just behind her ear, an inch-long gash had blood pouring from it.
His first aid supplies were in his backpack at the bottom of the hill.
Cassidy had wrapped her sweatshirt around her waist, so he tugged it off and pressed the fabric to the injury.
“Did you see anyone?” he asked.
“No.” She was shivering, and he wrapped his arms around her, trying to warm her. She couldn’t go into shock, not now. They had to get out of there.
“You’re okay.” He moved her hand to the sweatshirt. “Hold that in place.”
She did, and he slipped off his T-shirt and tore a strip off the bottom. Gently, he lowered her hand and pressed the T-shirt over the wound, getting a better look at it. It was still bleeding heavily, but… “It’s just a flesh wound. It’ll heal.” He tied the T-shirt in place.
As soon as he was finished, she cuddled in beside him as if she were considering a nap. As if she felt safe there. But they weren’t safe.
He kissed her temple. “We need to get moving.”
She nodded, then closed her eyes and tensed as if the slight movement had brought pain. If a nod hurt, what she needed to do next would be torture.
“Let’s get this sweatshirt on you.” He set her away from him and lowered it over her head, careful of the wound and bandage. She was all but limp in his hands as he worked her arms into the sleeves.
How was he ever going to get her out of there?
He pulled his cell from his front pocket hoping that, since they were near the top of the mountain, they might have service.
Nope. Zero bars.
He pulled up the navigation screen and took a screenshot. That would suffice until he got back to the paper map and plotted their location.
Aside from the occasional birdsong, the mountain was silent. It was too much to hope that the shooter had given up. Was he making his way closer? Looking for a better vantage point?
“We’re going to crawl back to the hill we came up. You think you can get back down?”
Her eyes widened. “No. I can’t go down that way. We’ll take the other path, the longer path.”
He didn’t like that idea, but only because he didn’t know that way. He knew this one, and his backpack, all their supplies, were at the bottom of that hill. How much time would the long way around take? How much time did Cassy have before the loss of blood affected her ability to move, to think?
“Can you find it?” he asked.
She swallowed, started to nod but stopped, and then flipped onto her stomach and crawled.
He followed, staying low. In this direction, the forest thickened again, and, when they were safely away from where the shoot
er had to have been perched, they stood.
Cassidy seemed firm on her feet, thank God. He handed her gun to her, and she slipped it into its holster. She hurried forward, still crouching low, whether from instinct or pain, he didn’t know.
He’d have led, but she seemed to know where she was going.
They followed a very narrow path, but more of a path than what they’d taken to get up there.
It wound downward until, suddenly, Cassy stopped.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t…” She looked around, then back up the slope. “It’s been so long. I don’t know how to get back to where our stuff is. I only went that way the one time.”
Did they need their backpacks? He didn’t care about the packs themselves. His sleeping bags, his tent, the Jetboil… None of that mattered. But the map with the coordinates of where they’d been was in there.
That didn’t matter now. They’d found what they were looking for.
But the medical supplies.
In the silence, he listened for any sounds that didn’t belong. Only forest noises surrounded them.
Where was the shooter?
What should they do?
He urged Cassidy into the cover of trees, easing her to a sitting position against a maple out of sight of the path. “Rest a second while I figure out where we are.”
She didn’t argue, leaning her head against the trunk and closing her eyes.
He didn’t ask if she was in pain. The answer was written in the tension on her brow, the hunching of her shoulders.
Looking at her, thinking what could’ve happened…
Averting his gaze—better to concentrate—he studied the too-small map on his phone, trying to figure out where they were in relation to the bottom of the rocky cliff they’d climbed. He needed his map with the markings. This digital one showed nothing but green. Useless.
He crouched beside Cassidy, set his handgun on the ground, and gently lifted the fabric from her wound. Fresh blood filled it, but less than before. He returned the bandage and pressed. “How you holding up?”
“I’m all right.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No. Nothing.”
He gazed into the forest all around them. No signs of another human being. But someone was out there.
They needed help. They needed protection and guidance. Needed what only God could offer right now. Not that he had the right to ask anything of God after his years of silence, but he took her hands and closed his eyes. “Father, we need help. Hide us from the shooter. Guide us back to our packs and my Jeep. Please stop the bleeding in Cassy’s wound and protect her from further injury.” He opened his eyes to find her watching him. “Anything to add?”
“No. Just…” Her eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head as if to rid it of the overflowing emotions.
He kissed her temple, and a scripture welled up in him until he couldn’t contain it. “God is our refuge and fortress. He’ll cover us with His feathers.”
“We’ll find shelter under the shadow of His wing.”
James couldn’t help the smile crossing his face. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who’d studied the Psalm. “We won’t fear the terror of night or the arrows—or bullets—that fly in the daytime.”
“I don’t remember the rest,” she said. “Something about no disaster coming near our tent.”
“We needed that one last night.”
She sniffed, her own smile breaking through the fear in her expression. “He’s brought us this far,” she said. “He’ll get us safely through.”
James sat beside her and studied the map with fresh eyes. Lead us, Lord.
He closed his eyes, pictured the paper map, pictured the route they’d walked to get to the cave, the one they’d just come down. If he weren’t mistaken…
“I think we need to head back up a little ways.”
“Okay.” She leaned on one arm to prop herself up.
He jumped to his feet and helped her stand, worried about the wooziness that had her gripping the tree trunk for more support.
Lord, infuse her with strength.
He snatched his gun from the bracken, laid his free hand on her back, and led her to the path. They climbed up, him alternating between studying the map and gazing at the surroundings, looking for any sign of a shooter.
It was impossible to know where to go, but somehow, they made their way around the hill where the cave was hidden and to the base of the rocky slope.
He pulled her off the path to the rock where they’d hidden their backpacks.
But the backpacks were gone.
He settled Cassidy against the rock. “I’m going to look around. They have to be here. I must have forgotten where—”
“He took them, James.”
He wasn’t willing to accept that answer. He needed his map.
He walked around, checking behind trees, in a depression, around rocks. The backpack, his map, the medical supplies—all gone.
Settling beside Cassidy, he leaned against the rock and, once again, studied the woefully deficient map on his phone. The last thing he wanted was to go back the way they’d come. There had to be a faster way to the Jeep—or any road—from here.
Yes. There was a road—not the one they’d come in on, but another one—that seemed like it wasn’t too far down. “If we can make it down to here”—he pointed to the spot—“we should have service enough to call the police and—”
“What? No. You can’t do that. They’ll arrest me.”
“You were shot. We need—”
“I was grazed.”
“You could’ve been killed.”
Her eyes filled. “I know. I know.”
“We need to report it.”
“When I’m safely away, you can call the police. I’m not going to jail today.”
Surely they wouldn’t take her to jail. Rather than argue, he stood and held out his hand to help her up.
Gun in its holster, gaze on the map, he led Cassidy in the direction of the road. One way or another, they needed to get back to his Jeep. He didn’t know how they’d do that if she refused to let him call the police. It wasn’t as if he could call his friends for a ride. Neither Vince nor Reid would look kindly on the fact that he’d gone on this journey with Cassidy.
Lead us, Lord.
They needed all the help they could get.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The loud bangs had scared Ella, and she’d tried to scream, but the gag the man had shoved in her mouth kept the noise from coming out.
She lay still on the ground, waiting for another bang, but none came.
The man had tied her hands behind her back, her feet together. And he’d wrapped her chain around a tree trunk so she couldn’t get away.
She’d asked him what was wrong, and he’d only said that the cave wasn’t safe anymore. Could it be more dangerous than when the bear got in? What kind of monsters were there now?
He promised he’d be back for her and left her in the woods, all alone. Where was he? What was he doing?
Why didn’t Daddy come?
She laid there a long time, her tummy still feeling yucky. Bugs crawled over her skin. Icky bugs, not her crickets. She felt them in her hair and on her back. But with her hands tied, she couldn’t swipe them or her tears away. They were probably gonna eat her up while she laid there. And then wouldn’t the man be sad. His sister dead because she got eaten by ants.
Two squirrels chased each other in the tree limbs above her head. Up and down, round and round the trunk, acting all silly and free. She wished she could play chase with them. She wished she were a squirrel and could run away. The man could never catch her if she were a squirrel.
Ella and her friends liked to race each other in her backyard sometimes. Everybody always wanted to play at Ella’s house because she had the best daddy. He didn’t sit inside and ignore them when they played like other parents did. No, he came outside and played with them. O
nce, when it was really hot and they were all sticky and sweaty, her daddy snuck outside and attacked them with a giant water gun, and all the kids laughed and giggled and begged to be shot next. And then he turned on the sprinkler, and they played until the backyard was a muddy mess. When Papa came over that night and scolded Daddy for ruining the yard, Daddy said, “My daughter is infinitely more valuable than grass, Pop.”
What was Daddy doing right now? Was he missing her? Was he crying like she was crying? Or was the man right? Did Daddy not want her anymore?
No. Daddy loved her. He loved her, and he wanted her back. He was probably lost without her. Who was he eating Cheetos Puffs with? Who was he playing games with? Who was he kissing good-night now that she was gone?
Dear God, please. I wanna go home. I want my daddy.
The first squirrel hopped to another tree, and the second one followed, and they disappeared, leaving Ella alone with the bugs.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cassidy’s head pounded, her stomach roiled. She could hardly walk straight, much less think straight.
She followed James, trusting he had some idea where they were going and making no effort to help guide them. It took all her energy to stay on her feet. But she wasn’t about to tell him that. What she needed more than anything was food. And water. And an Ibuprofen or four.
When she was sitting, when she could put together complete sentences, she’d tell James why he couldn’t call the police. Because their having been shot at didn’t prove anything. It certainly didn’t prove Cassidy wasn’t a killer. For all she knew, somebody’d shot at her because he recognized her as the girl wanted in connection with Ella’s kidnapping. Maybe the shooter wanted justice for Addison or Hallie. Maybe it was a crazy out-of-season hunter.
Being shot at didn’t prove she was innocent any more than being the victim of a mugging would make someone innocent of a bank robbery.
The police would probably consider her murder sweet justice. Meanwhile, they’d think they had their kidnapper, and Ella would still be in danger.
Assuming the girl was still alive. Except… there was something, something she was forgetting.