by Tess Diamond
“It’s all a competition with this guy,” Paul said disgustedly.
Zooey’s black brows scrunched together. “It’s a competition,” she echoed, her eyes narrowing. And then they widened, almost comically huge and she smacked Paul hard across the shoulder with the notebook she was holding. “It’s a competition!” she said again. “Boss, it’s a competition!”
“Zooey, elaborate,” he said. “My brain doesn’t work as fast as yours.”
“Competition! That’s what the missing girls have in common. They were all athletes! I just didn’t think it was important because they all did different sports so there was no crossover. But what if the crossover wasn’t the sport? What if it was the coach?”
The hair on the back of his neck stood up. “Wait, you mean . . .”
“When I talked to Dr. Jeffrey about what he remembered from the ME pages he gave to Sheriff Baker, he mentioned that on Cass’s skin, he found traces of urethane.”
Zooey was looking at him like she expected him to be blown away by this fact. “I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s a chemical commonly used in cleaning supplies. Specifically, in the stuff they use to clean gym floors. Or, if you’re a psychopathic killer and have it handy, it’s the stuff you use to clean up after you’ve killed someone.”
“Oh, my God.” Paul reared to his feet, realization hitting him.
Robin’s wrestling coach . . . the one who hadn’t wanted her to join the team.
Coach Patten.
Coach Patten had coached Cass in softball all those years ago.
He coached the girl’s soccer team, which is probably how Keira Rice got on his radar. He would’ve been a normal sight at sporting events around Northern California.
His chest tightened. His fingers itched for his gun.
Coach Patten was Dr. X’s apprentice. All these years, he’d been sitting in Castella Rock High School’s gym, the pick of his victims spread out in front of him. A steady stream of girls coming in and out from all over Northern California, as they competed against his teams.
It was like a fucking buffet to a sicko like him.
Paul’s stomach clenched. His training was screaming at him to call the sheriff, to call the highway patrol, to call in his own team from DC.
But the time for training was gone.
Now?
It was time for action.
“Get Cyrus on the phone,” he told Zooey. “Tell him we’re going hunting.”
Chapter 36
Abby came at Coach Patten swinging. The bucket cracked across his face, splitting in half with the force of her blow, spraying the contents everywhere.
“Robin! Run!” she yelled. The girl dashed past her and the wrestling coach, and Abby was right behind her as the man staggered toward her, dazed and spitting out whatever filth had splattered into his mouth.
“Go, go!” she shouted at Robin, who bolted. It was dark, she could barely see anything in front of her, but she slammed the shed door closed and darted after Robin, running up the hill. Her thigh muscles burned as she scaled the top of the hill, looking around frantically, trying to get some sort of sense of her surroundings. She registered the sky, trees in the distance, and a light in the distance—Patten’s house.
“Get to the trees.” She grabbed Robin’s arm, wrenching the girl in the right direction. Even this far from the shed, she could hear a kicking sound.
Any second, he was going to kick down that door and come for them.
“Hurry, hurry,” she urged Robin as they ran down the slope of the hill, disappearing into the tree line.
It was even darker in here, their every step a loud crackle as they moved deeper into the forest.
“Robin, find a weapon,” Abby hissed. “A big rock. A stick. Anything you can use. Do not let go of it.”
There was no way they were going to outrun him. This was his forest. This was his home.
They had to outsmart him. Surprise him.
Abby bent down, scooping up a long, thick branch that was more like a baseball bat. She hefted the weight of it in her hands, and then tossed it to Robin, who caught it.
“Come on.” Abby pulled Robin through the woods, moving as fast as they could. Minutes passed, their panting breaths the only sound. But then she heard it: whistling.
“It’s him,” Robin whispered. She was shaking next to Abby, her grip on her makeshift club trembling.
Abby scanned the area, trying desperately to find something—a tree, a bush, a gully—to hide in. Somewhere he wouldn’t easily find them.
The whistling was getting louder. They had to move. Now.
“Up the tree,” Abby hissed, pushing Robin toward the old oak tree up ahead. “Climb it. Get out of sight. Keep hold of that stick.”
She had to draw him away from Robin. If he was chasing her, he couldn’t chase Robin. It was a temporary solution, one that’d likely get her killed, but it was the only one she had.
She’d be damned if he snuffed out another young life.
Robin scrambled up the tree, Abby handing her the club. “Don’t move,” she ordered. “Remember your martial arts training. I’m gonna draw him away from here and then I’ll circle back.”
She dashed away, dodging through the trees with her heart in her throat. She bent and scooped up another club for herself, holding it close to her chest as she moved as swiftly as she could.
She wasn’t careful, crashing through the underbrush, snapping twigs and branches, and catching her hair on bushes as she went. She wanted him to follow her, to be drawn to the noise she was making, not searching for Robin.
If she could just hold him off . . .
But as the ground beneath her feet started to climb, the forest floor steepening as she ventured farther into the mountains, a dreadful kind of surety began to fall over her.
For them to get out of this alive, Coach Patten had to go down.
And Abby had to make sure he wouldn’t get back up.
Her fingers tightened around the club, and her lungs felt three sizes too small as she scaled the cliff overlooking the forest floor. She’d be able to see him coming from here.
But then he could see her too. She hesitated, flattening herself against a tree, torn.
No one was coming to save them. Paul . . . Paul didn’t even know where they were.
Her heart thumped wildly. If she and Robin managed to outrun Patten, they’d end up so deep in the wilderness, it would likely kill them before he did.
She closed her eyes, searching the forest for any sounds of pursuit. She thought about her father, taking her out in the woods, the endless hours of quiet as they stalked deer. How careful he had been. How silent. How swift.
She needed to be like her father now.
She needed to be cautious.
She needed to be hard.
She needed to be fearless.
She heard him before she saw him, that damn whistling floating through the trees. She crawled belly down along the ground, to the very edge of the cliff that overlooked the forest floor. When he came into sight, she went very still, praying he wouldn’t catch sight of her hair in the moonlight.
She watched as he drew closer. He was practically meandering. Hands in his pockets, whistling a jaunty tune, like he was on a pleasant evening stroll.
Her fingers clenched tight around the club, her feet digging into the fall leaves and dirt that covered the ground. Just . . . one . . . more . . . step . . .
There.
Abby sprang over the edge of the embankment, soaring through the air. Patten let out a surprised huff as she slammed into him from above, his body breaking her fall. They rolled along the forest floor, grappling for supremacy. He grabbed a chunk of her hair and ripped it from her head along with a scream from her throat. Then she spat in his face, scrabbling across the ground, searching for the club that had fallen from her hand.
“Bitch,” he snarled at her, the first word he’d spoken.
Her fingers closed aroun
d a rock, and she swung up her arm and smashed it against his temple. It made him jerk back, his hold on her loosening. She wiggled out from under him, coughing and panting, spinning in a confused circle, trying to figure out which was what which.
“You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Patten panted, getting to his feet.
Run, Abby’s mind screamed.
“You’ve never been my type, Abigail,” he said, his dark eyes glittering under the weak light of the moon pouring through the trees. “But God, you are persistent, aren’t you? Wah, my best friend was killed. Wah, her killer isn’t the right one! Wah, her boyfriend doesn’t love me.” He smiled mockingly at her. “You’re such a child.”
“Says the guy who keeps abducting teenage girls in a bid to prove a point to his daddy,” Abby spat. He wasn’t charging at her, he seemed almost relaxed, even with blood dripping down his forehead where she’d struck him with the rock. If she could keep him talking, at least he wasn’t looking for Robin.
“My father has no nuance,” Patten said, rolling his eyes. “He was a means to an end.”
“He has plenty more to say about you,” Abby said, licking her lips, trying to think fast. Patten was obsessed with proving himself to Wells, no matter what he said. They were obsessed with each other. That’s why Wells had finally decided to see her. He’d finally decided to teach his son a lesson, through Abby.
“When you found him, did he tell you he didn’t know about you?” She widened her eyes. She could do mocking too. “Did you really believe that lie? Of course he knew about you. But he didn’t think you were good enough.”
“Shut up!” Patten snapped.
“And then when you tracked him down, well . . . I guess he thought you had potential.” She sighed, shrugging. “I guess great men do sometimes make mistakes.”
“I’m the great man,” Patten hissed. “He’s a loser. I beat him,” Patten said. “I always beat him.”
“Yet here I am,” Abby said.
She caught a sliver of movement over his shoulder in the darkness. She tried not to tense up when she saw the figure moving toward them. Patten was still facing her, determined to prove himself, and she had to keep it that way.
“You really think you’ve won this time?” Abby asked, trying not to stare too hard over his shoulder. Who was that? Had Paul somehow found them? Were he and Cy heading toward her right now? God, she hoped so. At any second, Patten was going to snap and go for her, and she couldn’t outrun him.
“You’re not getting out of this,” Abby told him, her chin tilting up. “You can kill me, but they’re gonna find you. You coached Paul Harrison. You know what kind of man he is. He doesn’t give up. He’ll find you.” She waited a beat, her heart beating madly. “You’ve lost, Patten.”
His eyes bulged and he lunged toward her, intent on killing.
But he had barely taken that first step toward her, when . . .
Wham!
The makeshift club arced through the air, clipping him on the back of the skull. His head whipped to the side, spittle and blood flying everywhere as he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, unconscious.
Robin loomed over him, the stick clutched tightly in her hand. “Weaker sex, my ass,” the teen spat.
She raised her eyes—enormous pools of blue, brimming with tears—to meet Abby’s shocked gaze. And then promptly started sobbing.
“Oh, honey,” Abby said, hurrying over to hug her. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Thank you. That was amazing.” She kept one eye on Patten’s unconscious form. “We need to find rope or cuffs or chains or—”
“Robin?! Robin! Abby!”
She and Robin spun, Robin raising her club once again, a defensive move that was all instinct, as her adrenaline supply was supercharged.
Paul broke through the line of trees, coming to a halt when he saw the two of them.
“Uncle Paul!”
Robin dropped the club, rushing toward him. He swept her up in his arms, hugging her frantically, pushing her hair back, looking into her eyes, checking her pupils, firing questions at her that probably made her head spin.
Cyrus came hurrying down the embankment, a pair of cuffs in his hand. He bent down, securing them around the still-unconscious Coach Patten’s wrists, then checked for a pulse.
“She didn’t kill him,” Abby said quickly.
“Robin did this?” Cyrus asked, looking impressed. “Guess you two didn’t need our help,” he said.
“We got lucky,” Abby said, thinking about how scary it was, running through the woods. How she was sure it was going to be the last thing she ever did.
“Lucky? Smart, I’d say. Ambulance is en route,” Paul said, trying to sweep Robin up in his arms.
His niece batted his hands away crankily. “I’m fine, Uncle Paul,” she said, even though she still had tears tracing down her face. “Go check on Abby. She’s the one who had to fight him. I just knocked him out.”
Paul looked at Abby, his eyes saying everything. She wanted so badly to lean on him and she knew he was feeling the same, but they had Robin to think about. She was the priority here. They needed to get her to the hospital—and then home to her mom and dad.
She’d been through a deeply traumatizing experience. Abby was so relieved that Patten hadn’t done anything to her beyond lock her in a shed. Who the hell knew what kind of torture the other girls he’d taken had suffered in the months—or years—he kept them there. She thought about that rusty red stain on the concrete floor of the shed, felt sick again, and looked down at Patten’s prone body, wondering if she would be a terrible person if she kicked him a few times.
“Abby, she’s right, come on,” Paul said. “You need to get checked out.”
“I’m fine,” Abby insisted.
“You’ve got a cut on your calf that’s bleeding all over,” Robin said, pointing.
Abby looked down, surprised. There was a long, deep cut—probably from a branch or maybe from her swan-dive on top of Patten earlier—running down her leg.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she said.
“That’s the shock,” Paul said. “Come on. We need to get you out of the forest before the adrenaline fades and you start hurting.”
“I’ll stay here, make sure he doesn’t go anywhere,” Cyrus said.
Abby hesitated, not really wanting to leave. The idea of letting him out of her sight—even for a second—made something creepy and horrible crawl up her spine.
“Don’t worry,” Paul said, and his hand was suddenly in hers, the touch giving her strength she didn’t know she needed at that second.
She reached up and pressed her lips to his, not caring that Robin let out a little squeal when she did it—teenagers were resilient.
It was a quick kiss, a simple one lasting barely three seconds. But it made everything that had happened fade, just for a second when it was just him and her, and only them.
“Okay,” she said, softly, pulling away. “Let’s go.”
Abby wasn’t quite sure how they got to the hospital. By the time they had left the forest and saw the flashing lights of the ambulance heading down the road toward them, the adrenaline had started to ebb, and she was feeling distinctly spacey. She seemed to float from the ambulance to the hospital, where they stitched up her leg and tried to convince her to stay overnight.
“Absolutely not,” she said, pointing at the IV in her arm. “Get this out of me. I want to go home.”
“Abby.” Paul sighed, shooing the nurses away with an apologetic look.
“Where is he?” she demanded. “Has the interrogation started? I want to watch. I need to know what he says about Cass.”
“Abby,” he said softly. “Sit. Breathe.”
She pressed her lips together, annoyed. “I want to know,” she insisted.
“And I want you to rest,” he said. “Christ, I almost lost you.”
She felt a flash of shame. She hadn’t thought about how scary it must’ve been for him, to come back from the fa
rmhouse to find her gone. She jerked up. “Roscoe!” she said. “Oh, my God, what happened to Jonah? Is he okay? Is Roscoe?”
“They’re both fine,” Paul assured her. “Jonah’s got a bump on his head. Roscoe was wandering around the goat orchard. He’s with my mom.”
“Where’s Robin now?” she asked. “Is she okay? Are Georgia and Jason here yet?”
“Robin’s already with her parents. It’s okay, Abby. You don’t have to worry about anything. You just need to lie back and rest.”
“I—” Abby bit her lip. “If I stop, I’m afraid I’m going to freak out,” she confessed.
“Oh, honey.” He pulled back her blankets, sliding into the bed next to her. She leaned into the solid length of his body, already feeling better as he wrapped her in his arms and cuddled her close. He kissed the top of her head.
“You saved Robin,” he whispered. “I don’t even know how to thank you.”
“Actually, Robin saved me,” Abby corrected him. “She’s a total badass. When I was her age, I wouldn’t have been brave enough to clobber him like that. She has the Harrison guts, clearly.”
He smiled. “She wants to be an FBI agent.”
Abby tilted her head, taking that in. “She’d be great,” she said. “But Georgia’s going to have a fit.”
Paul laughed, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Please rest,” he said. “For me.”
She closed her eyes, telling herself she was just doing it to appease him. But he was so warm, and she felt so safe.
Abby fell asleep cradled in his arms, finally succumbing to the exhaustion, knowing he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
Chapter 37
Two weeks later
“Are you ready?”
Abby nodded.
Stan, the prison guard, opened the door leading to Wells’s section of solitary. She nodded as he pointed to the panic button like before.
“Thank you, Stan. I’ll just be a few minutes,” she said.
She waited until he had left, until it was just Wells and her, and only then did she turn to him.
There was still a fading bruise spreading across her temple. She had thought about trying to cover it with makeup, but she had a feeling that sort of effort would just delight Wells.
