My energy ebbed fast and before I was high enough, I had to stop and rest. I sat on a branch and looked out. There was little to see from here. Just endless emerald needles perfuming the air.
I let my feet dangle and took a deep breath. The wind whispered past.
Maya…
I rubbed the back of my neck and closed my eyes. Don’t do that. It’s just the wind.
A branch overhead creaked.
Help… Maya.
I swung up to the next branch so fast I almost lost my grip, and I sat there, trembling, looking down and thinking of what would have happened if I’d fallen. Then I thought about what Rafe’s fall must have been like. The terror of those few minutes. The despair of knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Had he regretted letting go? Had he thought Maybe, just maybe, I would have been okay if I held on? Did he blame me for not holding on to him?
Up again. Climbing, climbing, climbing until I was so high my empty stomach made me light-headed and I had to stop, eyes squeezed shut, until the feeling passed.
Then I looked out, and when I did, I wasn’t looking for a road. Wasn’t looking for a house. I was looking for him.
I told myself I was looking for his body. That if I could find it, I could mark the spot, make sure he got a proper burial. But that was a lie.
I was looking for Rafe. In spite of every bit of logic that told me he was dead, I could not stop myself from looking. From feeling he was out there.
Of course there was no sign of him and so, finally, I began scouring the landscape in earnest.
I made out the brown ribbon of a dirt road and a distant clearing that could be a town. However, if we were at the north end of the island, a clearing was just as likely to indicate a past forest fire or logging operation.
I was about to decide the road was our best bet when I spotted a thin line of smoke rising near the foot of the mountain. I found a better vantage point, and could make out the faint outline of a roof, smoke swirling above it. The sight was so incredible that I didn’t quite believe it at first, climbing yet another evergreen, until I was certain I wasn’t imagining things. There was a house or a cottage down there. And someone was home.
I scrambled down the tree and took off to find the others.
When I glimpsed the white of Daniel’s T-shirt, I started to run, grinning for the first time in days. Kenjii hit me in a full-on tackle, her vine-leash dangling behind her, as she knocked me down and licked me like we’d been separated for months.
“I saw a road,” I blurted as Daniel rounded a bend in the path, Sam right behind him. “There’s a road down there. I think there’s a cabin, too.”
“What?” Corey brushed past Daniel and Sam. “A house? You saw a house?”
Hayley barreled forward. “There’s a house? Where?”
I took a deep breath. “I think I saw a cabin. Whether there’s anyone in it or not—”
“Who cares?” Corey said. “It’s civilization. Let’s go.”
He broke into a jog, and his knee gave way. I managed to catch him before he fell.
“The only place you’re going is flat on your ass,” Daniel said. “Slow down. Even if it is a cabin, it’s not going anywhere.” He turned to me and I could tell he was struggling to play it cool. “You said there’s a road?”
“I did. That part I’m sure of. And where there’s a road, there are people. In theory.”
The grin burst through. “In theory.” He threw an arm around me, a half-embrace, whispering, “Good work,” and I started to shake a little. It was over. Our ordeal was almost over.
Except it wasn’t. Our real problems—being subjects in a supernatural experiment—had only begun.
I took a deep breath and hugged Daniel back. We’d worry about that later. For now, we needed to get to civilization.
Before we continued, I insisted on checking Corey’s knee.
“Looking good, huh?” Corey said as I cleaned the scrapes. “You’ve got the touch.”
Apparently, I did. The bruises were fading already.
When we set out again, I motioned for Daniel to walk up front with me. No one tried to join us. They figured we were discussing the situation and planning our next move, and they were happy to leave that to us.
“You want to talk about Sam?” he said. “I take it you guys had a falling out.”
I gave him part of the story—that I’d told her my theory about Salmon Creek and the people chasing us, and she’d reciprocated by insulting me.
“She blows hot and cold, and it makes me nervous,” I said. “I feel like when she is being chummy, she’s putting it on to get what she wants. It’s almost…”
“Sociopathic?”
I lifted my brows.
“Someone who can be charming to achieve their own ends, but ultimately doesn’t care about others. And, no, I’m not studying crazy people. I’ve read case studies in my uncle’s texts.”
Criminal law texts. Daniel wanted to be a lawyer, and although he was still two years from university—and even more from law school—he was already preparing.
“Do you get that vibe from her?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’m not sure I would, if she’s the same thing I am. But I agree about the hot and cold part. I don’t think she’s a sociopath, but it is—”
“Troubling. I shouldn’t take off alone with her anymore. None of us should.”
“Agreed.”
It was a quiet walk, but the silence became peaceful, happy even. We weren’t lost any longer. We were walking through wilderness just like the one surrounding Salmon Creek. A wooded playground. Lakes to swim in. Streams to fish in. Cliffs to climb. Hollows to fill with bonfires and beer bottles. Nothing scary about that.
No one trudged now. No one bitched when I led them through thick brush to get a drink. We were still a long hike from the cabin, and everyone was thirsty.
When we found the stream, tumbling over rocks into a pool below, you’d think it was the first time we’d seen a waterfall. Shoes and socks came off. Shirts followed. Or Corey’s and Daniel’s did, then mine, Hayley gaping like I’d stripped naked, though I was wearing a bra. She kept her shirt on. Sam didn’t take off anything, but she sat on a rock, looking almost content, as the rest of us splashed in the water, washing off the filth.
As we got out, I imagined lounging out on the flat rocks surrounding the pool, dozing in the sun, letting my aching muscles relax. But there was no time for that kind of break. We’d had our drink. Time to hit the trail. The end was near.
We’d reached the bottom of the mountain when Kenjii stopped. Her ears swiveled forward and she glanced up into the trees.
“Cat,” I said to the others.
Corey looked at Kenjii, who was silently scanning the treetops. “Yeah, you can tell by the way she’s going crazy, barking and racing around to drive off the despicable feline. Your dog is weird, Maya.”
“No, she’s just accustomed to Fitz,” Daniel said.
True, but Kenjii hadn’t minded felines even before Fitz—a three-legged bobcat—adopted us. She’d grown up with a wild cat—a partial one, at least.
A sudden yowl made Hayley jump and Kenjii stiffened, her expression not nearly as friendly now.
“Cougar,” I said, motioning the others back.
A flash of tawny flank ten meters overhead confirmed it. I continued to back everyone up slowly. The cat was high in the tree, stretched out on a sturdy branch. A female. I could tell by the size, and the first thing I thought was It’s Annie. She’s come looking for Rafe.
But it wasn’t. Like me, Annie had a paw-print birthmark on her hip. There was no mark on this cat’s flank.
The cat peered down at us, her black-tipped ears swiveling, long, thick tail flicking. When I kept moving the others back, Corey said, “I get that cougars are dangerous, Maya, but this one doesn’t look that big.”
“Because she’s way up there,” Daniel said.
I nodded. “It’
s a female. She’s smaller than a male, but she’s still bigger than Kenjii. One chomp of those fangs would be the last thing you felt. And she wouldn’t hesitate to do it if you got in her way. So let’s just give her some room. Please.”
The cat yowled again, then got up and stood on the branch, lowering her head to peer down at us.
“I think she’s hungry,” Sam said.
I shook my head. “It’s not winter yet. She isn’t starving, and she wouldn’t attack five of us even if she was. Something’s wrong.”
It wasn’t odd that the cat had let us get so close. Cougars are masters of camouflage. We might have passed right under her if it wasn’t for that yowl. Which is how I knew something was bothering her. No way should she have let out that cry and given herself away.
Something was bothering me, too. A black pit of anxiety swirled in my gut. I found my gaze drawn up to the cougar. As I met her eyes, I felt a fresh jolt of fear. The cat paced along the branch, and I knew it wasn’t my own anxiety I was feeling.
“Uh, Maya?” Corey called. “You said she was dangerous, so can we leave the kitty alone now?”
“Something’s really bothering her.”
Daniel walked over. “Is she hurt?”
“I don’t think so. Just … upset. Anxious.”
“Um, yeah,” Corey said. “Because there are a bunch of teenagers and a very big dog blocking her way down.”
“That’s not it,” I said. “She—”
The cat’s ears swiveled and she looked sharply to the east. I caught a high-pitched whine.
“An ATV.”
The others glanced about until the sound got louder. Corey heard it first and grinned.
“Hallelujah,” he said. “I never thought I’d be happy to hear one of those damned things.”
I flashed back to the last ATV I’d seen—driven by the people who’d set the fire. Daniel caught my eye, obviously thinking the same thing.
Corey hobbled forward. “It’s just over there. Heading this—”
The ATV headlight bobbed into view. Daniel shoved Corey to the ground, yelling “Down!” to the rest of us. Sam and I obeyed. Hayley looked around, confused, until I grabbed her hand and yanked her.
“What the hell?” Corey whispered.
“Have you forgotten the last time someone ran toward rescuers?” Sam hissed. “Nicole?”
Hayley paled and flattened herself against the ground.
“That was on the other side of the hill,” Corey said. “How would they even know to look for us here?”
“They had ATVs before,” Daniel said. “If they’re the same guys, they’ve had plenty of time to load those ATVs on a truck and bring them up. We should back into those bushes and watch.”
The bushes were about ten meters away. As we crawled into them, we startled a couple of deer on the other side. They bolted, heading straight for the ATV.
There was a thud and a shout. The ATV motor died.
“Son-of-a-bitch!” A man’s voice rang through the forest.
A radio squawked. He answered it.
“Yeah, that was me. Just hit a deer. Remind me who had the bright idea to use these damn things? Some project manager sitting in his fancy L.A. office, I’ll bet. Never seen a forest, much less tried to search one. I could have hit one of the kids for all I would have noticed, whipping around like this. I can barely see through these woods. Can’t hear anything. But you can bet your ass those kids can hear us.”
“And a good thing, too,” Corey muttered.
A voice tried to interrupt the man’s tirade, but he cut it off, saying, “Calvin’s got the right idea, searching on foot. I’m leaving this piece of crap here. If the Nasts want it, they can come get it. Tell Calvin I’ll meet him at the bend in ten.”
We heard the man stalk off, branches crackling in his wake.
“Now that’s sweet,” Corey said when he was gone. “An ATV, just sitting there, ours for the taking. The ride goes to the handicapped guy.”
“I thought you were doing fine,” Hayley said.
“My knee’s acting up again.” He stretched his leg and mock-winced.
“No one’s taking the ride,” Daniel said. “Even if it’s still running after hitting a deer, it’s too noisy.”
“Let’s wait for them to finish searching this area and move on, like they did last night,” I said. “Then we’ll check out that building I saw. If we can’t get help there, we’ll see if the ATV still runs.”
After lying low for about twenty minutes, Daniel and I decided we should start for the cabin. We left Kenjii behind with Corey.
The cottage was a hunting lodge—a cabin lacking a single flourish that turned it from a functional building into a vacation residence. It was off-season, but these places often did double-duty as a “getaway from the kids and the missus” refuge for men. I have to admit, I don’t get that. Shouldn’t you be able to take some time to yourself without lying about “going hunting” for the weekend? Maybe my expectations for honesty are too high. I’ve been told that before.
It seemed as if the cabin owner was on such a break from domesticity, because while no smoke came from the chimney now, a massive pickup sat in the drive.
I started forward, but Daniel caught my arm and wordlessly pointed. I followed his finger to see the elongated shadow of an ATV that was parked on the other side of the cabin.
I swore.
“Ditto,” he whispered.
We backed up into the forest.
After a harder look at the pickup, I kicked myself for not making the connection. It was big and it was gleaming new, out of place beside the rundown cabin.
The truck was transportation for the ATVs. There was another vehicle on the other side of it. Transportation for the rest of the search party.
“They’re squatting in the cabin,” I said. “Using it as a base of operations. We should still get in there if we can. Not just to search for phones or radios, but to get food. Without it, we won’t be in any shape to run or fight back if we’re caught.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Yes, I know, it’s a ballsy move,” I said.
He smiled. “All right. Let’s check it out.”
ELEVEN
DANIEL STOOD GUARD WHILE I checked out the cabin. The terrain here was rocky grassland—sparse trees, lots of bushes, sections of tall grass. So I crawled through the grassy sections to the cabin. Then, I stood and slid along the back wall until I could peek through the window.
There was a woman inside. She was drinking from a juice box and munching peanuts. Even the sight of it made my stomach growl. As she ate, she leafed through a file.
I crawled back and told Daniel that I thought the woman had just stopped for a snack before resuming her search. We found a good place to sit it out and watch the cabin.
After a few minutes, Daniel said, in a low voice, “So you think Sam’s right. About me.”
“I do.”
He studied my expression, then nodded. “Okay.”
“You don’t?”
“My head says it’s crazy, but my gut… It feels like when I spend all night struggling with a math problem and finally the answer comes. There’s this click, and I know it’s right even before I check my work. Lately, there’s been a bunch of things that just seem … wrong. With me. About me. When Sam explained, I felt that click.”
“Good.”
He nodded, but he didn’t look convinced that it was “good.” It would have been easier for him if Sam had explained that he was suffering from a hormonal imbalance or even mild mental illness. That he could believe. This was a lot harder.
“Guess now we know why my dad hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” I said.
“Maybe. He doesn’t like me much, though. He knows what I am. I think he didn’t find out until my mom left and now he suspects I’m not his kid.”
“You are. I think pretending otherwise is just … easier for him. Your mom drops this bomb before she leaves, and
he doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s confused. Maybe even a little scared of you. He doesn’t like feeling that way about his son, so he tells himself you aren’t his son.” I caught his gaze. “Whatever it is, it has nothing to do with you. Not your mom leaving. Not your dad being angry. She made choices she couldn’t deal with, so she dumped them on him. He couldn’t deal with them, so he dumped them on you. They aren’t your problems. But you’re handling them just fine.”
“Thanks.”
His lips curved in a faint smile. It wasn’t enough. I wanted to make him really smile. Make him happy.
“So now do we get to talk about your problem?” he said.
“Hmm?”
“Whatever you’ve been wanting to tell me and haven’t.”
“I—”
“You’ve had a lot on your mind, and you can’t seem to find the right time or the right way to say it.”
I nodded.
“It’s about these people,” he continued, waving at the cabin. “You’ve found out something else. Something about you, not me.”
“Does your new bag of tricks include mind reading?”
He laughed. “Only when it comes to you, Maya. So, do I get the story now?”
I nodded. “It’s… It’s about Rafe. Kind of. Why he came to Salmon Creek. He was looking for something. Someone. We…”
I struggled to think of a way to finish that line. Daniel waited patiently.
“It… It’s about his sister,” I said. “Or it starts there. Kind of. Do you remember the tattoo artist? Her—”
The bang of a screen door made us both jump. Footsteps thumped on wood. Then the woman stepped off the front porch and strode to the ATV.
“I guess I have to wait a little longer to hear the rest,” Daniel said.
When the woman disappeared on the ATV, we headed for the cabin.
The interior looked like I expected. Two rooms—a main one and a tiny bedroom. Dusty stuffed fish and moth-eaten elk heads on bare walls. A wood plank floor that seemed as if it hadn’t been swept in years. Cobwebs decorating the ceiling. Furniture that would have been rejected by Goodwill. Mouse droppings everywhere. A few dark furry bat forms hung from the upper eaves. In the city, the place would have been condemned as a public health hazard. Here, it was just a typical hunting shack.
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