by Kyla Stone
Recognition flickered in Ruby’s eyes. She shook her head dully. “No. No one else. Just me.”
“Think! Did you hear anything? See any sign of him? A second voice. Footsteps up there. A notebook filled with really good drawings of ducks and fish and stupid stuff like that.”
Ruby kept shaking her head. Her eyes rolled loose in her eye sockets like marbles. Ruby didn’t know anything. She needed a hospital. She needed adults to help her.
Despair threatened to choke her. If Cody wasn’t here, if he’d never been here—
There had to be a clue. An answer. Somewhere. It had to be here. This made no sense. It wasn’t right. Couldn’t be right.
She could feel it, could feel her brother, like he was hiding in the walls, trapped between the studs and the drywall, duct tape over his mouth but he was calling to her, trying desperately to reach her.
She couldn’t hear him. She couldn’t hear anything.
Pure instinct made her look up.
It was like static electricity, a cobweb brushing against her cheek. A ghost breathing down the back of her neck.
Shiloh seized Ruby by her skinny upper arm and steered her to the bedroom to the back door. “Go.”
Ruby gave her a look of pure terror. “Don’t leave me.”
Shiloh understood then how foolish she’d been. How dangerous the game she’d played by coming here. She could not fight the windigo alone.
She needed help. She needed Eli. And she needed Jackson.
“I’m coming. But if we get separated, if something happens, you need to know where to go. There is a deer trail between the shed and the stack of firewood. Follow it half a mile east to the creek. There’s an ATV trail that will take you to Snow Road—”
They both heard the engine at the same time.
Ruby’s eyes went round with terror.
Shiloh made the decision in a heartbeat. If they both ran, Boone would hunt them down. If Shiloh managed to wound or kill the monster, Ruby would have a chance.
She hadn’t saved her brother yet, but she could do this.
Shiloh pushed Ruby out the back door. “Go!” she whispered. “Run!”
“I’m too scared. I can’t—”
Shiloh looked her hard in the eyes. “You chewed through your own ropes, bitch. You don’t need me. Go get help! Go!”
Ruby turned and staggered down the uneven back steps. From the doorway, Shiloh watched her run to the tree line, red hair a flame behind her.
Footsteps outside. Coming from the front of the cabin.
He was here.
56
LENA EASTON
DAY SEVEN
It was dusk by the time Lena arrived at the cave.
With communication down, Jackson had been forced to hike back out and drive to her father’s house to collect her. She’d been unpacking but dropped everything and left with him, grabbing her SAR backpack at the door which held everything she needed.
Bear spread himself out along the length of the backseat, panting with excitement. There was work to be done, and he was eager and up to the task.
The truck raced through town. In the passenger seat, Lena checked her pump and hurriedly ate a granola bar. Minutes later, they jostled along the logging road.
As he drove, Jackson filled her in. She felt it radiating from him. The fear. The tension. The desperation.
His fears became her own. Shiloh out there, alone. A monster likely hunting her.
They had to find her first.
They made the hike in silence. At the cave, Eli was waiting. Her heart gave a jolt at the sight of him. He paced like a panther at the cave’s entrance. He wore a cloak covered in leaves and twigs, a rifle slung over his shoulder, pistol in one hand, his other hand a clenched fist at his side.
As Lena and Jackson approached, Bear trotting at her side, he turned to face her. Those coal-black eyes, slanting cheekbones, the firm line of his mouth.
“Lena,” he said.
Time stopped. Her heart stopped with it. A charge like static electricity passed between them. It felt like being struck by lightning. The years didn’t matter. She was twelve again, then sixteen, then twenty-five.
A girl in love with a boy with too much darkness in his heart to love her back.
She’d known it and loved him anyway.
“Eli,” she said in a strangled voice. She felt a million things when she looked at him. A thousand memories, a hundred things to say, the words down deep where she’d locked them away. Whatever lay between them, now was not the time.
“Sorry to interrupt the reunion, but we have work to do.” Jackson said. “Lena, what do you need? Tell us how to help you.”
Lena cleared her throat and focused on the task at hand. “Is this the PLS? The Point Last Seen? For Bear to find her scent, we need a starting place.”
“This is it,” Eli said.
She withdrew a paper bag from her pack and handed it to Eli. “I need an item of Shiloh’s. Preferably something she’s worn recently. Use the bag. Try not to touch it and contaminate it with your scent.”
Without a word, Eli strode into the cave and returned with a heather gray T-shirt emblazoned with Yoda on the front, Do or Do Not scrawled in yellow print. “She wore this yesterday.”
Jackson turned to Eli. Indecision twisted his features. “I could use your help out there. God help me, but I do. I know your skills, your training.”
“I killed people for a living.” Eli spoke in a low voice. “I will not hesitate to kill more. You’re out here with an untrained civilian and a dog and no back-up. No partner. No SWAT team. No one to have your back.”
“I’m quite aware.” Jackson didn’t break eye contact. “Are you going to have my back, Eli? Or are you going to shoot me in the back the first chance you get?”
Lena didn’t breathe, didn’t move. Neither did Bear. He stood stock still, watching the two men facing off, his hackles raised.
“You’ll have to trust me.” Eli’s lip curled in derision. “Like I once trusted you.”
“That’s not an answer. I need to know, Eli.” Jackson’s jaw bulged. He looked uncertain but determined. “This is bigger than you and me. I need to know you understand that.”
“I do.” Eli leaned in close. “And make no mistake, I will do what needs to be done. Hate me all you want, but you do need me.”
Jackson blew out a breath. He took a controlled step backward and relaxed his fists. He shifted his gaze to Lena. Pain in his face, doubt and fear. “Eli is right. It’s dangerous.”
“I know the risks.”
“We should have back-up. A SWAT team. A swarm of deputies combing the forest. With the rioting in Detroit and in the Soo, I don’t know how long it will take for anyone to arrive, if they will. They have bigger fish to fry.”
“You aren’t responsible for me. I’m responsible for me. This is my job. This is what I do.”
Jackson looked at her, searching her face, and she knew he saw the fear there. She couldn’t hide it. She didn’t attempt to hide it.
She was afraid. Terrified. Not for herself, but her niece, out there alone somewhere. Or worse, not alone. With a monster who wanted to hurt her.
For so long, Lena had let fear dictate her future. Fear had made her obey her father, had made her flee the UP, leaving her loved ones behind. Fear had made her abandon Shiloh and Cody.
She wouldn’t let that fear best her now.
“Lena,” Jackson said again. “This perp is a predator backed into a corner. Like any wild animal, he’s going to fight back because he has no other choice. He knows we’re onto him.”
Eli watched her; those black eyes betrayed nothing. “That’s why I’m here. Any threat out there will have to go through me first.”
Lena met his gaze, her stomach knotted. She knew he had been with the 75th Regiment, a skilled tier one operator. Even afraid, she trusted Eli. Never, not once, had she ever feared him.
She hadn’t doubted him back then, not for a second; she’d
doubted herself.
And when she’d failed to save him, after failing to save her sister—it had been too much to bear. That stain marked her still.
Lena patted the M&P pistol tucked against her hip. It was loaded with a round chambered. “I’m prepared.”
Eli gave her a nod of approval.
“How can we help?” Jackson asked. “Tell us what to do.”
“Do you have a topographical map?”
Jackson pulled one out of his windbreaker pocket and handed it to her. “Here you go.”
“I have one purpose out here. So does Bear. Find the missing. And find them as quickly as possible. I’m following Bear, but I’m also handling him. When I’m out on a search, I’m a detective, a tracker, a psychologist. And when I find our missing person, then I’m also a paramedic, a priest, a best friend and comforter.”
“We’ll be right behind you,” Eli said.
Lena signaled to Bear, who’d been nosing Shiloh’s sleeping bag inside the mouth of the cave, but he trotted over at his handler’s command.
They had work to do.
Find what was lost. Bring the girl home.
57
SHILOH EASTON
DAY SEVEN
The doorknob turned.
Fear seized Shiloh. No time to think or plan. Nowhere to hide. Her chest pounded.
She heard the door swing open. The creak of a footstep. She felt his presence like crackling electricity in every cell of her body.
She had a second, maybe two.
Soon as he saw the disordered living room, he’d know.
Shiloh took three quick steps and exited the bedroom. She darted into the living room, crossbow against her shoulder, stock against her cheek, finger on the trigger. Trembling, she planted her feet, disengaging the safety as she brought the bow to her line of sight.
Walter Boone stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He looked up and froze.
Time slowed.
She sighted his chest through her reticle.
A startled look crossed his face. And then he gave her a friendly smile. He was an ordinary man. A harmless man.
For half a second, it threw her off.
Which was exactly what he wanted.
He lunged at her.
She squeezed the trigger.
Panic made her fumble, the crossbow shifting as the bolt released. Instead of striking his chest, the bolt drilled into Boone’s right bicep.
With a howl, he staggered back.
It wasn’t enough. Her fingers trembled as she fumbled for a second bolt. Backed up against the bookcase. Nowhere to run.
He reached her first. With his uninjured hand, he seized her by the face—long slim fingers splayed across her cheeks, gripping her chin, nails digging into her jaw—and slammed her head against the wall.
Darkness exploded across her vision. Bright stars of vertigo. Nausea churned in her stomach; she nearly vomited.
Dazed, her body refused to obey her. Her muscles like spaghetti noodles, wet and floppy.
He ripped the crossbow from her fingers and threw it across the floor. Then he seized her by the hair and threw her to the floor. She attempted to punch him, scratch or hit, anything—nothing happened.
She tried to clamber to her hands and knees. He kicked her twice in the stomach. Pain exploded through her body. She curled into herself, hands over her head, screaming insults through stinging tears.
He stood over her, breathing hard. The bolt had punctured his right arm through his bicep. Blood dripped down his arm.
This man was no kindly uncle. No polite neighbor.
He wore a mask and underneath was the heart of a killer.
“I’ve been waiting to meet you. I think you know that. I thought you’d slipped through my fingers, and then what do you do? You show up at my doorstep. In my secret place. My sacred place.”
Her brain wasn’t working correctly. His form swam in and out of focus. Time went away for a while. When she blinked back into consciousness, he held a rope in his good hand.
He rolled her onto her belly. Her chin bumped the floor. Growling with pain, he forced her arms behind her back and twisted the rope around her wrists. The nubby fibers scratched her skin.
She tried to fight, to resist. Her thoughts barely clung to consciousness.
Footsteps clattered. He moved away. The bedroom door swung open and he disappeared inside. Swearing, feet shuffling. A cabinet door opened and closed.
She tried to open her eyes and keep them open. It didn’t work. Tried to get her legs to move, to get her the hell out of here. Nothing worked.
He returned to the living room. There was a scraping sound, the creak of the trap door opening.
Boone cursed. “You let her out.”
“She’s long gone,” Shiloh spat through bloody teeth. “She’s getting help.”
He gave her a long, steady stare. As if considering her words. “I don’t think so. There are miles of wilderness in every direction. Someone like you can find your way around the woods, but not that one. She won’t last a mile. I’ll find her.”
“Screw you.”
Boone squatted beside her, a pained smile on his lips. He knew. And he knew that she knew. He was the cat and she was the mouse. And he had her.
He leaned forward and with his good hand, he pushed a strand of hair back from her face, stroked her cheeks. “You and I, we have a reckoning coming.”
The cadence of his voice. That bland smile. Those eyes that didn’t leave hers. Her gaze dropped to the boots. Black leather. White stitching. Red laces.
And she remembered.
58
LENA EASTON
DAY SEVEN
At the foot of the cave entrance, Lena whistled to Bear. He stood in front of her, tail wagging, ears perked, alert and ready to work.
Adrenaline shot through her veins. The stakes were high and climbing with every passing second.
Lena opened the paper bag that contained Shiloh’s T-shirt and offered it to Bear. “This is Shiloh. We need to find Shiloh. She’s a very special girl. I need you to find her, boy. Find Shiloh.”
Bear gave the shirt several enthusiastic sniffs. He looked at Lena, his huge torso quivering with pent-up energy and excitement.
The Newfoundland was strong and smart. He was tireless. He would search for hours in any conditions, sun or rain, storm or blizzard, over any terrain.
Anything that Lena asked of him, Bear would do.
Lena signaled with her hand. “Find Shiloh.”
Bear lifted his snout in the air. For a minute, he scented and circled. And then he stiffened, hackles up, tail stiff straight out behind him. He’d alerted on Shiloh’s scent.
Together, they moved into the woods. Eli and Jackson trotted ten yards behind them, both men armed to the teeth. Eli took one side, Jackson the other. They constantly scanned their surroundings, checking for threats.
Red-bathed moonlight filtered through the canopy above her head. She couldn’t see the aurora through the leaves. The world transformed with a crimson cast, everything glimmering.
Within several hundred yards, they broke from the dense trees onto a narrow trail, which Bear followed. Hopefully, Shiloh would stay on the trail. Tracking someone cross-country at night would be a challenge, even with the aurora.
Bear bounded ahead of her. Every couple of minutes, the dog glanced backward as if checking on her, making sure she was following, letting her know that he was still hard at work.
The scent was easy to lose. The scent could loop or pool—wind and air currents constantly shifted depending on conditions and the terrain. Too much wind or humidity altered air current patterns. A stream or drainage ditch could funnel scents. On a hot day with no air movement, the scent wouldn’t disperse, limiting its range.
But Bear was good at what he did. She had absolute faith in him.
As they moved deeper into the woods, she made notes of landmarks as they passed and checked her compass to keep their bearings. I
t was her job to search for physical signs. Tracks, footprints, broken twigs and bushes, candy wrappers, abandoned articles of clothing, anything relevant.
Twenty minutes later, Bear alerted. His body went stiff, ruffle raised along the back of his neck.
He sniffed at the base of a stump. Small twigs were broken off at the stems, as if a girl had sat on the log to take a breather or drink some water.
“Good boy. Good job, Bear.” Lena flagged the alert with a piece of blue tape she kept in her backpack.
She paused to log in the location, the time, and the status on the notes app on her phone, which was freshly charged from her solar charger. The charge should last all night. After checking her pump—her numbers were good—they kept going.
Minutes later, Bear alerted again, this time on a footprint in a soft patch of dirt. Lena flagged the alerts with blue tape and used orange tape to mark their progress.
Normally, she’d call in their status and location to base. She would coordinate and receive updates from the other searchers.
This time, there was no base. No coordinators. No team.
Eli and Jackson were behind her. They stayed close, moving quiet as ghosts.
Bear moved briskly. He checked behind to make sure Lena was within sight. He scented the air, turned in a tight circle, tail stiff.
After a moment of hesitation, he kept moving in a general southeastern direction. Following the trail away from the coast, deeper into the Hiawatha National Forest.
An hour passed. She paused for a snack and water for her and Bear, then checked the compass and noted their location on the topographical map.
In the dark, it was easy to become lost yourself. The wilderness had never felt so foreign, so hostile. The dense woods bristled with malice.
Shadows stretched and quivered like beasts crouching behind boulders and trees, prowling the rocky outcroppings, the ravines and caves. She felt eyes on her, glowing pairs peering from the darkness. Waiting, watching.