by Lara Lacombe
She cleared her throat. “I, uh, I hope we can find the radio on the trail back,” she said lamely.
Disappointment was a small stone in his stomach. “I hope so, too,” he said. What did you expect? he chided himself silently. That she would profess her undying love in the middle of a cave? He knew it was irrational to feel let down, but his heart wasn’t exactly logical. Besides, there was nothing stopping him from making the first move. There was no reason why he couldn’t confess his feelings to Rebecca. He couldn’t let the fear of rejection rule his life, especially where she was concerned.
I’ll tell her, he decided. He opened his mouth, then thought better of it. The cave wasn’t exactly an ideal location, and he still felt terrible. He didn’t want her to mistake his feelings as overzealous gratitude for her actions last night. Better to wait a bit until their circumstances improved. That way, she would know he truly meant what he said.
“I still can’t believe I lost it,” she said, oblivious to his inner monologue. He could hear the guilt in her voice and knew she blamed herself for their situation.
“Stop beating yourself up over it,” he replied. “It was an accident, plain and simple.”
“Yeah,” she acknowledged. “But I still feel bad.”
“If I had been the one to lose the radio would you be angry?”
She gave him a puzzled look. “No. Of course not.”
“Then be just as nice to yourself,” he said.
She studied him for a moment, as if trying to gauge his sincerity. A slow smile spread across her face. “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she said. “You make a good point.”
“It’s been known to happen,” he said drily.
“Do you want to stay here while I go look for the radio?”
He shook his head before she’d even finished asking the question. “No,” he said flatly. No matter how bad he felt, he wasn’t about to let her wander off alone. The morning light made last night’s danger seem remote, but Harry and his friends were still out there. Quinn wasn’t going to be able to relax until they made it back to civilization and the police had locked up the group.
Rebecca frowned. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to try hiking. Not to be overly negative, but you don’t look great. If you exert yourself, you might make your injuries even worse.”
She was right, but he didn’t see any other options. They had to get out of this cave and back to the ranger station. The only way that was going to happen was if they walked.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, hoping it was the truth. “We’ll just take it slow.”
Rebecca still looked doubtful, but she didn’t say anything.
Quinn took a deep breath and pushed himself up. Pain bloomed in his side and shoulder blades, making him sway a bit on his feet. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, searching for balance. After a few seconds, the knife edge of agony dulled and he could think again.
He could do this. He had to do this—he didn’t have another choice.
“Quinn?”
He held up a hand, acknowledging her unspoken question.
“I’m okay. Just need to get moving and loosen everything up.”
She tugged at the hem of his shirt, lifting the fabric to study his bandages critically.
“I don’t see any fresh blood,” she said. “Hopefully, they won’t reopen as we walk.”
“Fingers crossed.” Feeling marginally better, he tried for a smile. “Shall we?”
Rebecca shouldered the packs and slipped her arm around his waist. “Might as well.”
They began the trek back to the campsite, one careful step at a time. Rebecca let him set the pace, and Quinn focused on putting one foot in front of the other. It was slow going, but after a while his muscles did begin to loosen a bit and the pain dulled.
They were about fifty feet from the camp when Rebecca let out a triumphant yelp. “There it is,” she exclaimed. She released her hold on him and darted forward, intent on an object lying a few yards away. She scooped it up and turned back to him, her smile wide and one of relief.
“Now we can get some help,” she said, fiddling with the controls on the walkie-talkie. She wasted no time calling the station, and Quinn provided their location.
“We’re on the way,” said Aaron, one of Quinn’s fellow park rangers. “But given your location, it’s going to take some time to get to you. Are you in a safe place to wait?”
“We’ll stay at the tents,” Quinn said. “That will make it easier to find us.”
“Excellent,” Aaron said. He signed off, and Quinn released a sigh of relief. They weren’t totally safe yet, but at least help was coming.
“Are they going to bring a stretcher?” Rebecca asked. She sounded anxious, and he realized she was still worried about him hiking back.
Quinn shook his head. “Horses, more likely.” The animals were adept at navigating the trails, and he would be more than happy to get off his feet.
Rebecca slid her arm around him again and they started toward the tent. The fabric was bright in the sun, a beacon calling him home. Oh, it would be so nice to sit down and rest! He didn’t want to admit it to Rebecca, but he was rapidly losing energy. He needed to rest, or he might very well fall over.
After what felt like a small eternity, they reached the tent. Quinn pulled aside the flap, his thoughts consumed with the promise of crawling inside to collapse on his sleeping bag.
But the bag was already occupied.
A tangle of hair caught his eye, and he jerked back before his mind had fully registered the sight of the dead woman in the characteristic pose. His heart dropped to his feet, his stomach cramping as realization dawned.
“Not again.” He cursed, anger and fear rising in his chest.
“What’s wrong?” Rebecca leaned over to look inside the tent. She stiffened and jerked back almost immediately. “Oh, no,” she whispered.
Quinn sank to the ground, the roar of blood filling his ears as adrenaline and shock set his heart racing. “Oh, yes,” he said grimly. “The bastard has done it again.”
Chapter 13
It was late when Rebecca finally pulled in to the hospital parking lot. After discovering the most recent victim of the Yoga Killer, she’d immediately radioed for the police, and then she and Quinn had passed an uncomfortable few hours while waiting for help to arrive. The park rangers had arrived first, and she’d insisted Quinn leave right away to get medical attention. He hadn’t wanted to go, but fortunately Aaron and the other rangers had talked some sense into him. They’d helped him mount one of the horses, and Aaron had stayed with her while Quinn and two others headed back.
The police had arrived soon after, along with a team from the coroner’s office. Rebecca had worked the scene with them, snapping photos and cataloging observations in the hopes of catching a break in this case.
It was clear this victim didn’t fit the killer’s usual pattern. The woman was older than the other victims, and her hair was dark brown, not red. Most telling of all, though, was her apparent cause of death—she’d apparently been stabbed several times, not strangled like the other women.
“Stabbed, just like Harry said,” she muttered to herself as she parked under a light. Had he decided to stop masking his identity since she’d already questioned him? Or had he grown so angry after his interrupted attack on Quinn that he’d let his rage take over? Either way, the killer had turned a corner. He was no longer displaying the cold calculation that was characteristic of his earlier murders. Now he was driven by emotion, and she knew from here on out his crimes would be increasingly violent.
She’d told the police about the attack last night, and they had assured her they would arrest Harry and his friends as soon as possible. But that had been several hours ago, and she still hadn’t gotten a call from the department telling her they were in custody. W
hat was taking so long? She knew they were a small force, but this case was a priority. It shouldn’t take that long to find Harry and his friends—she’d told them the exact location of their campsite.
After turning off the engine, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed the police chief. He answered on the third ring, sounding harried. “Yes?”
“Chief, it’s Rebecca Wade. Have your men been able to arrest Harrison Chambers and his associates?”
The man sighed heavily. “No. Not yet.”
Impatience rose in her chest, and she bit her lip to keep from snapping at the man. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not unless you’re psychic,” he said sarcastically. “We can’t find him.”
“He wasn’t at the campsite?”
“No. We went there soon after your tip, but the men were gone. We’re still searching for them.”
“I see.” She released a sigh of her own, knowing the case had just gotten more complicated. It wasn’t a total surprise that Harry and his friends had left the area, especially in the wake of this latest murder. But she was a bit puzzled by the timing—she’d used the binoculars to watch their camp soon after she and Quinn had arrived back at the tent, and she’d seen the men sleeping in their bags out in the open. Given the number of empty beer cans strewn around the site, she’d assumed they would be passed out for most of the day, making them easy pickings for the police.
They must have left while I was busy at the scene. After the rangers and the forensics team had arrived, she’d been occupied with helping to process the site. That must have been when the men had left, which meant she had no idea in which direction they’d gone or at what time they’d escaped.
“I’ll let you know when we find them,” the chief promised. She heard the fatigue in his voice and knew he must be feeling overwhelmed. A serial killer wasn’t the kind of thing a small-town police department was equipped to handle, and as the body count mounted, so did the pressure to make an arrest.
“Thanks.” She signed off and tossed the phone back into her purse. Then she ran a hand over her face, trying to erase the strain and fatigue of the day. She didn’t want to walk into Quinn’s room feeling so beat down.
She’d hated being apart from him today, but knowing he’d been getting medical attention had eased her mind. Last night had been one of the hardest of her life. She’d sat vigil over Quinn, watching him like a hawk, her ears tuned for any change in his breathing, any hitch or noise that would indicate he was in distress. She’d been so afraid of falling asleep, convinced that if she let down her guard, he’d slip away and she’d wake to find him dead. It was silly, but she’d managed to convince herself that if she stayed awake and kept watch over him, he wouldn’t be able to die.
The night had seemed endless, an infinite loop of time repeating over and over in her own personal version of hell. At least Harry and his friends hadn’t found them—she probably could have taken on Harry by herself, especially with her gun—but if his friends had shown up as well, she’d have been in trouble. A small, irrational part of her was a little disappointed she hadn’t had another go at Harry. Her anger at him had built over time, and she wasn’t too noble to admit she wanted revenge for his having hurt Quinn. It would feel so good to be the one to bring him down, but she knew it was better to let the justice system do the work for her. It might take more time, but in the long run, she’d have more satisfaction knowing he was rotting in a jail cell.
She stepped into the hospital, glancing at the directory posted on the wall. The characteristic smell invaded her nose as she headed for the elevator, and she shook her head. How was it that all these places smelled the same?
It didn’t take long to find Quinn’s room—the hospital was small, and didn’t have that many beds. She hesitated at the door, wondering if he was asleep. Maybe she should come back in the morning, let him get his rest. But the need to see him was almost overpowering, and she knew she couldn’t wait that long.
I’ll just poke my head in the room, she told herself. If he was asleep, she wouldn’t wake him. But she needed to catch a glimpse of him, to know for sure that he was okay and would recover.
Moving carefully, she pushed open the door a crack and winced as the hinges gave out a high squeak. The room was quiet, the low thrum of the IV pump the only sound she could hear.
Quinn was lying still in the bed, his eyes closed and his body relaxed. Rebecca rested her eyes on him, her heart warming as she watched him breathe. The last of the evening light cast the room in a soft glow, giving his skin a golden hue. She saw the edges of several white bandages peeking out from under his hospital gown and shuddered as she recalled the extent of his injuries. But the tension inside her eased as she realized he was truly okay. His features were relaxed, his face no longer tight with the pain and discomfort that had plagued him even as he’d slept last night.
Satisfied for the moment, Rebecca began to ease back out of the room. But as she started to move, Quinn stirred. He shook his head slowly, then opened his eyes and fixed them on her. He blinked, then his face broke out in a smile that was so beautiful it nearly broke her heart.
“Hey,” he said. His voice was raspy, but it was the loveliest sound she’d ever heard. He lifted one hand off the bed, reaching for her. “I was hoping you’d come by.”
She stepped into his room, letting the door snick closed behind her. She headed for the chair in the corner, intending to pull it over to the bed. But Quinn patted the mattress and angled his legs to the side, making room for her. Unable to pass up this offer, she sat carefully, trying not to jostle him.
“I’m sorry it took so long,” she said. “I know it’s a cliché, but I came as soon as I could.”
“I know,” he said simply. “I figured you’d be busy, given our discovery this morning.” A shadow crossed his face and her own mood dipped as well.
“I can’t believe he did it again,” Quinn continued. “I guess I assumed he wouldn’t have the time to hurt anyone else after attacking me last night.”
Rebecca nodded. “I don’t think he’d planned this one,” she said. “You could tell by the scene he wasn’t as composed or calm. This was a crime of opportunity and anger. He was probably frustrated because he hadn’t managed to kill you, so he found this woman and took his rage out on her.”
Quinn shook his head. “That poor lady.”
“I think it really was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She doesn’t fit his victim pattern—her hair is brown, not red. And she’s older than the others. Given the timing of her murder, she was likely someone camping in the park and he snatched her when she was asleep or when she moved off to use the bathroom.”
“Have there been any reports of a missing camper? Surely she wasn’t alone.”
Rebecca lifted one shoulder. “I’m not sure. The police are investigating that angle, but I haven’t heard yet if anyone has noticed she’s gone.”
Quinn was quiet a moment. “When I saw her this morning...” He trailed off, then cleared his throat. “I think I saw blood in the tent.”
“You did,” Rebecca confirmed. “That’s another change to his pattern. He didn’t strangle this woman. He stabbed her.”
Quinn swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the column of his throat. “I see.” He looked upset, and Rebecca noticed the green line on the monitor pick up speed as his heart began to pound.
“None of this was your fault,” she said. “Tell me you understand that.”
“I suppose,” he said, staring at the blanket covering his legs. “That’s what the police said when they came by to talk to me today. But if I’d known he was going to kill another woman, I could have tried harder to overpower him.”
“He had a knife,” she pointed out. “You had, what? A spade? It wasn’t exactly a fair fight.”
Quinn brushed aside her logic. “I know.
But I still feel bad.”
She took his hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “I understand.” That’s what I love about you. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she clamped her lips shut. Now was not the time for declarations of the heart.
“What did the doctors say about your injuries?”
He shrugged slightly. “That I’m lucky. None of the wounds were too deep, at least from their perspective.”
Rebecca noticed an empty bag hanging from his IV pole. “You needed blood?”
“Yeah. Just a little bit to top me off. They stitched me up and told me I’ll have some good scars.”
“Oh, well.” She tried for a laugh. “I guess it could have been worse.”
“Most definitely.” The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “The doctor stitching me up was impressed with your handiwork. Said he couldn’t have done a better job himself.”
“Yeah, right.” She felt her cheeks flush at the overblown compliment. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“I don’t know about that,” Quinn remarked. “I think he was a new intern. He looked all of twelve years old.”
Rebecca just shook her head, smiling despite herself.
Quinn’s eyes tracked over her face, his gaze soft and full of affection. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
She considered bluffing, but realized there was no point. She’d caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror about an hour ago and knew her face was lined with fatigue and stress. “Not really.”
“There’s plenty of room in this bed,” he offered.
Rebecca lifted an eyebrow at his offer. “No offense, but I think your eyesight might have been affected by the attack. That’s a pretty narrow mattress.”
“I’ll scoot over.”
She was sorely tempted to let him. Exhaustion pulled at her limbs, making her body feel heavy and sluggish. The thought of driving back to her hotel was enough to make her want to cry.
