Lies! Nothing but lies!
But lies written in her own hand . . . and all-too-real locks of hair stuffed in her backpack.
Her memory entirely black since Monday night.
How could she defend herself against the falsehoods if she didn’t have the truth on hand? If she went back now, she’d be thrown in prison, or even worse, locked away someplace for the criminally insane. Then she’d never be free of doctors who only made her worse and pills that made her crazy instead of sane.
She sneaked a glance between the boulders and saw no one. There was still time to make a run for it. Looking down, she watched her hands working busily, loading her pack, smoothing the ground to remove any trace she’d ever been here. Apparently her brain had overridden her heart without even notifying her. And rightly so, she thought, as she stealthily made her way across the rocky terrain, moving farther and farther from the voice.
She put one foot in front of the other.
Slowly, staying very, very quiet.
She was getting away!
The heavy burden crushing her soul lightened.
Her heart raced with excitement, then slowed again.
Even if she did manage to evade the searchers today, the knee-buckling truth was she didn’t know what she had or hadn’t done.
She stuck her chin up.
She wouldn’t be locked up and drugged, not again. No one deserved to have to live like that. If she’d truly done what the letter said, maybe she should reconsider and end it all. Spare her parents the humiliation of a trial, the pain of visiting her in prison or in a mental institution. She didn’t want to watch them try to pretend she wasn’t a monster as their world crumbled around them.
She fell to her knees and lifted her hands in supplication.
Please don’t let it be true.
Then she heard a voice, but this one wasn’t carried to her on the wind. This was a voice in her head. A voice made of memory instead of sound. Dr. Duncan’s reassuring words, telling her she wasn’t crazy: Your confusion is a combination of post-traumatic stress, survivor’s guilt, and too many tranquilizers. Let’s give you a trial off medication, give your head a chance to clear. I want you to believe in yourself, to learn to trust your own eyes and ears. You haven’t done anything wrong. I know you, Laura. You’re a good person.
Dr. Duncan was smart. And he believed in Laura. Even Dr. Webber said he didn’t think she’d killed Angelina—though he invariably reminded her he couldn’t be absolutely certain. Dr. Webber gave her the benefit of reasonable doubt. And she could cling to reasonable doubt in this circumstance. Her monster could’ve forced her to write that note when he brought her to the cabin and planted the locks of hair.
Reasonable doubt.
It wasn’t much, but it would have to do for now.
Scanning the area around her, she realized she was still alone. She rose to her feet and brushed the dirt and ice from her knees. She would not take her own life—she’d promised Dr. Duncan, and more importantly, just hours ago, she’d promised herself. Whatever the truth was, sooner or later she was going to have to face it, because there was a monster in her life.
It was real, and it had to be stopped, no matter who or what it turned out to be.
Suddenly, from behind, she heard the sound of footfalls coming straight for her.
Both dread and hope shot through her.
Two emotions. One result: paralysis.
She had no idea what to do next. She felt better than before her nap, yes, but not like she could outrun an able-bodied person. Finally, blessed instinct kicked in, and she sank behind a rock. Hiding, holding her breath, waiting for the footsteps to catch up to her. She barely had time to find a good spyhole when a slender young woman appeared.
Panting.
Laura covered her mouth with her hand, trying to muffle the sound of her own heavy breathing. The woman with wild, dark tresses stood with her hands on her knees not more than a few feet away. Her face was red from exertion, and her blue eyes glowed with energy. Those eyes reminded Laura of Angelina, and of herself, before her own eyes had turned from ocean blue to the dull slate-gray of impending doom. She hadn’t known that hopelessness could physically change a person, but it had indeed changed her.
Maybe because the woman resembled Angelina, Laura felt drawn to her by an undeniable, tangible, pull. It was as if the air up here had magnetized her. It took all Laura’s will not to leap out from her hiding place and surrender.
Instead, she decided to follow her.
Chapter 18
Thursday, October 24
6:00 P.M.
Eagles Nest Wilderness
Colorado
With a broad motion, Caitlin swept the light back and forth in front of her, carefully following the trail of crushed vegetation that appeared beyond the boot print she’d found. Because the grasses had not yet rebounded, she guessed the trail was fresh. She was definitely onto something and needed to go slow. The time to hurry had passed.
A scrape coming from behind a large boulder made her stop short, and her ears prick, but then a squirrel scampered over the top of the rock. A shriek of wind, then all was quiet once more. Straightening, she turned full circle, straining her eyes to catch a glimpse of Pandy or Spense. But there was none. Hadn’t either of them heard her calling out?
She clicked the button on her radio, but it didn’t crackle to life. She turned it upside down and saw that the thin plastic battery cover had come loose, and the compartment was empty. The battery must’ve dropped out when she hit her hip on that rock, but it was too late now to go back and hunt for it. At the moment, she had more important quarry to track.
Worst-case scenario, that boot print belonged to Pandy, and Caitlin needed to find her anyway. It seemed every forward step consumed an eternity of time, as she swung her light to and fro. The crushed vegetation led toward a scree-covered slope, and she knew when the grasses ended so would her lead. Then her flashlight hit a spot of mud and more prints.
Her hand rose to her throat.
These prints were from a four-legged creature.
She touched her belt to reassure herself her pepper spray was still there and had not gone the way of her battery. Then she squatted down for a closer look.
M shaped.
Three pads.
Not a bear print—the bears would already be hibernating. This print was large . . . and catlike.
Her heart picked up speed.
A mountain lion.
But, if she was right, there was no need to panic. Mountain lions didn’t usually trouble humans—at least not fully grown ones. They preferred to prey on smaller creatures, though she was certain if provoked, they would attack. She made a clucking sound with her tongue, and found a stick to tap the rocks to give plenty of warning. She didn’t want to surprise a mamma lion and her cubs, and she had to hope that if Laura was out here, she’d welcome a rescue party.
The more noise Caitlin made, the better.
She reached the talus-covered slope, and sure enough the trail disappeared. With nothing but instinct to guide her, she decided to skirt the slope, rather than climb it. As she marched ahead, continuing to give as much warning as possible, she heard a melodic sound coming from the east.
She aimed her flashlight in that direction.
Its beam found a grove of dwarfed bristlecone pines. She headed toward them, her boots thudding loudly on the ground. And then she heard the soft noise again.
Her breath whooshed from her chest.
A human voice.
It wasn’t the wind whistling through the trees as she’d imagined before.
“I’m here!” The feminine voice unscrambled itself into words as Caitlin drew nearer.
Pandy.
Or perhaps . . . “Laura!” Caitlin cupped her hands around her mouth. “Laura, help is on the way! Stay right where you are. I’m coming to you.”
A thunder of branches answered back.
“Don’t run! I’m here to help!” s
he yelled, tearing across the rough terrain toward the little grove of trees. From nowhere, a root jumped up and caught her ankle. She sprang forward, reached out to stop her fall, but it was too late. Her head thunked against the hard ground, narrowly missing a pointy rock. Her cheek pressed against the earth, and the earth rumbled beneath it.
A loud roar set her body vibrating, rattling her teeth.
A bone-chilling scream sounded, just as she lifted her chin and saw a blur of muscle covered in sleek, tawny fur flying through the air.
Oh dear God!
The dark cavernous jaws of the mountain lion gaped open. It sprang again, knocking the slight, redheaded figure to the ground. The sound of thundering branches had come from the charge of a wild beast, not from a woman running away.
“Pandy!” she cried out.
About a dozen yards from where Caitlin had fallen, the petite ranger now lay stretched out, unconscious, like a Raggedy Ann tossed away by a child.
As it circled the fallen ranger, the lion’s roar changed to a low growl.
Caitlin’s pulse boomed in her ears, and her breathing all but ceased.
Time slowed as she struggled to process the situation.
Child-sized Pandy was completely vulnerable, a choice target for the beast. But what had angered the mountain lion? The cougars weren’t docile creatures by any means, but they didn’t hunt humans. Something must’ve provoked it to attack.
Had Pandy surprised the animal?
A thousand thoughts flashed through her aching head.
If she jumped to her feet, she might startle the lion. It hadn’t made contact with Pandy after knocking her down. It continued to circle her, ominously enough, but a sudden movement might spur it on to deadly action.
Still, she couldn’t just lie there with Pandy in jeopardy. Her entire body went numb, as her thoughts continued to race. How did one handle a mountain lion? Not by fleeing. That much she knew for sure. It was either freeze, or make yourself big and bad to frighten it away.
Two completely opposite tactics, and she couldn’t recall which one was supposed to work.
She had her pistol, but from this distance, the chance of infuriating the cougar was far greater than the chance of hitting it.
Her heartbeat counted down the seconds until she would be forced to make a decision, knowing the wrong one might cost both Pandy and her their lives.
Chapter 19
Thursday, October 24
6:00 P.M.
Eagles Nest Wilderness
Colorado
The open terrain, save for a few scattered boulders and dwarfed pines, made it difficult to follow the dark-haired woman undetected, but Laura did her best. Luckily, the woman moved with great care, so it was easier to keep up. Each step she took seemed to be in slow motion, and she kept her gaze ahead, rarely looking back at ground already covered. Twice, Laura was able to read the woman’s body language and anticipate her turning in time to conceal herself.
What she didn’t anticipate was the other voice, then the dark-haired woman bolting for a grove of pines…the scream.
Laura willed her legs to spring into action, but they responded with a whimper. She limped to the trees and found a hiding place where she could get a decent view. In the clearing, a cougar circled a young girl who lay prone on the ground.
Laura’s breath caught in her throat.
Curling her hands into makeshift binoculars, she brought them to her eyes. The narrowed visual fields allowed her to focus on the downed figure.
Not a child at all.
This was a small redheaded woman, helpless against the stalking beast.
Do something, Laura!
She didn’t want to die, but better her than an innocent. If it were the only way, she’d walk straight over and punch the lion in the gut. She’d never be able to take the animal down, but if it turned on her, that just might give the woman on the ground time to escape.
Laura was willing to do whatever it took to give her a chance.
As a child, her mother taught Laura to pray.
If ever there was a time to consider her soul, it was now.
She closed her eyes.
One tear slid down her cheek, followed by another.
Prepare to die.
She pictured herself leaping onto the lion, rolling around on the ground.
Ready.
Set.
And then . . . her heart stopped as suddenly as a bird that had soared blindly into the sheer rock walls of a mountain.
She opened her eyes.
The monster was far more dangerous than any mountain lion.
If Laura died before she had a chance to expose it, the monster would go on living, and that meant more victims—more young women would die.
Yes. She had to save the woman from the cougar, but she owed it to the other victims to stay alive.
As she filled her lungs with untainted mountain air, her resolve grew steely.
She made a decision: She had to find some way to distract the lion that would give the woman time to escape, and Laura the best chance to stay alive. In her weakened condition, if she attacked the lion directly, it would mean certain death.
Her eyes darted in all directions and eventually landed on the scree-covered ground.
Her thoughts sharpened, and her heart quickened.
If she hurled one of those small rocks to the opposite edge of the clearing, it should startle the lion, and hopefully it would turn away, stalk toward the new threat—away from both Laura and the woman on the ground. If the woman was conscious, she’d have a good chance of escaping on her own, but if she wasn’t, Laura would enter the clearing and drag her to safety.
All she needed was a little bit of luck, and her plan would work.
Only trouble was Laura had never been lucky.
Caitlin considered her plan of careful observation and masterful inactivity a success—thus far. Her lungs were working so hard she might as well have been doing push-ups instead of lying quietly on the ground, but the lion seemed to be calming down. Its growling had grown softer. Now and then, it paused to look at something other than Pandy.
Ten more seconds passed.
Pandy remained untouched by the beast, and Caitlin remained unnoticed at the periphery of the grove. Any minute now, the wind might shift and carry her scent to the lion, but just as likely, it would grow tired of its game, decide Pandy was no threat, turn and stalk away.
Caitlin focused on melding her mind with the lion’s.
Walk away, Mamma.
The lion halted midstride, lifting one paw.
That’s it, girl. Go home to your babies. No one here wants to hurt you.
Bam!
A rock landed near the lion’s head, sending a landslide of scree raining down.
The lion let out a great roar, shaking debris off its fur like a wet kitten—only this was no kitten. It crouched, eyes locked on its target—Pandy.
Caitlin’s do-nothing strategy went up in smoke.
She catapulted to her feet, threw her arms above her head, and made herself as big as possible. Using all the energy left in her lungs, she pushed out a mighty roar.
The lion pivoted.
Their eyes locked.
Her heart beat not at all, and then much too fast.
“Run, Pandy! Run!” she screamed.
The lion crouched, ready to vault at Caitlin.
No time to run.
Every muscle in her body contracted in anticipation as the beast became a blur of color and motion.
Boom!
The lion’s paws hit her square in the chest.
All the air rushed from her lungs, and her feet dropped out from under her. Her body, now on autopilot, squeezed into a protective ball. One hand tightened into a fist. She drew it back, then landed a blow to the lion’s skull. The impact reverberated down her arm like the kick of a gun. Blood dripped into her eyes, obstructing her vision. Her heart revved in her chest, fueling her muscles with oxygen.
Then all thought fled, as she fought for her next breath with every ounce of her being.
The wind carried a faint cry to Spense.
Caity’s voice.
No other sound got his attention that fast. Not a siren, not a gunshot, not anything. In a split second, his world tunneled down to her. Other beats and tones existed, but held little importance. The noise of his feet pounding against the ground as he ran full tilt mattered only because it told him how fast he could get to her.
It was as though his mind had tuned itself to a radio station that only played one song.
His vision, too, recalibrated. The soft evening sky became a vibrant crimson. Ground cover greener, snow patches a blinding white. Objects swept past like a landscape viewed from a speeding train. He couldn’t feel his legs moving, but saw that his position on the earth was changing.
He had no idea how long it took him to reach the grove of trees, but when he did, he saw everything unfolding in front of him at once. Images viewed on a split screen.
Pandy up on her knees, first rocking on them, then crawling toward him.
Caity!
She was a blur of motion. Wrestling a tan, powerful beast.
Mountain lion.
Caity’s name exploded from his lips.
Then he detached completely.
He went to that place where muscle memory took over—the result of his special training. He played the scenario the same way a pianist plays a concerto; fluidly, automatically—without fear.
His hand found his Glock.
Too dangerous.
Caity rolled with the lion, her legs wrapping his body, her hands lifting to block her face.
He followed Pandy’s gaze to a thick tangle of ground cover. Something long and brown stood out among the twisted vines.
His blood surged.
Hurdling knee timber and rocks, he reached the rifle.
Ripped it from the grip of tangled vines, hefted it to his shoulder.
The weight was lighter than expected, a confirmation the gun was loaded with tranquilizer darts, not live ammo.
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