Run, River, Run

by C. F. Francis

  Twisting her wrists, she tested the bindings. They were tight but didn’t cut off circulation to her hands. Still, no matter how she twisted or pulled, she couldn’t wrestle herself free of the sticky tape. Panic rose in her throat. She was familiar with panic—and it didn’t help.

  She stopped struggling long enough to draw in another deep breath and take a moment to think. Her arm began to throb. Her sleeve was damp where blood seeped from the cut. Cut. If the object could cut through her blouse and skin, then it should cut through the tape that bound her.

  Squirming back toward her original position, she stretched her arms out behind her, blindly searching for the sharp protrusion. A slice of her finger announced her discovery. She’d yet to figure out what the object was, but it didn’t matter. It was a possible means to freeing her. The tape caught on her first try. While the space between her wrists would have been ideal, unable to see, she was happy to hit any part of the tape.

  The first layer of the sticky binding tore as she pulled it across the sharp edge. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Slamming her bound wrists against the sharp object, she continued to drag her wrists across it until the last pass tore into her skin. Pulling her arms apart, one hand broke free of its bondage.

  Her victory was followed by a flash of fear. She’d been concentrating on freeing herself, not listening for sounds from her captor. Now she listened intently. Other than the continuing crunch of the tires against a rough gravel or dirt road, it remained quiet. Eerily quiet.

  Slipping her left arm under her body, she debated how best to remove the tape which bound her legs. Sitting up was out of the question. Roxbury would notice the movement over the seatback. Remaining on her side, she pulled her legs up toward her chest and found the ragged end of the bindings. Instinctively, she wanted to rip it off. Time was of the essence, but she held back, remembering the ripping sound of the all-purpose tape as it was torn off a roll. She opted for quiet in lieu of speed.

  Her hands were covered with blood and sweat, and her outstretched arms ached, but she managed to coax the tape from around her ankles. Exhausted from the task, she took a second to rest and listen. The silence was starting to get to her. It wasn’t uncommon for River to talk to herself. Didn’t everyone cuss at other drivers, or in this case, mumble or complain about the road conditions? And the road had gotten very rough. River was sure they had left a county-maintained gravel road and were now headed up an old logging or forestry road. The grade was steep. Where the hell was he taking her?

  Wherever it was, there was nothing she could do about the destination, but she could prepare for their eventual arrival. River rolled onto her stomach and reached blindly for anything she could use as a weapon. Since the area was small, it didn’t take long to determine the cargo hold had been cleared of everything. The box she’d been reaching for when she was walloped was gone. It may have contained a knife or other kitchen utensils, but that wistful thought was quickly dashed. She didn’t dare take the chance of moving the mat beneath her even with the possibility of finding some sort of weapon. The action would require too much movement and noise that could alert her captor.

  The front of the vehicle unexpectedly lurched upward, bringing the car to an abrupt stop. River was thrown to the back of the cargo hold and pressed up against the liftgate. The engine quieted and the dome light flashed on when the driver’s door opened.

  River’s stomach tightened. She had nothing to defend herself with except her wits. She didn’t know Roxbury, but he’d been clever enough to terrorize her for months without getting caught. He had a plan. She didn’t—but she did have the element of surprise on her side. She was unbound and the reverend didn’t know it.

  It happened in an instant. A click sounded, the hatch instantly opening. She fell from the vehicle, hitting the ground hard. The landing didn’t stop her, though. The steep incline had her rolling downhill, away from the vehicle. Covering her face with her hands to protect her eyes, she let gravity aid her escape. Rocks and twigs dug into her as she went. Her elbows and hips were being battered. The initial excitement of freedom was replaced by fear. She could be hurdling toward a ravine.

  The journey came to an end as quickly as it had begun. The air was forced from her lungs as she crashed into the sturdy trunk of a large pine. Scrambling to her knees, she sucked in a deep breath, replacing the air she’d lost. It hurt like hell, but she could breathe. She’d be black and blue if she survived, but she didn’t think her ribs were broken. Using the tree to steady her, she got to her feet, then took off into a stand of trees.

  “River! It’s Aunt Amy. Where are you?”

  Aunt Amy? River froze. She was tucked behind an evergreen shrub, still sucking in air—her brain working as fast as her lungs. She stood, ready to call out when her aunt shouted.

  “Roxbury hit his head when we crashed. We need to make a run for it while we can. Can you hear me?”

  Loud and clear. A bell rang in River’s head. Too clear and too loud—and too confident. Could Roxbury be using Aunt Amy to draw River out? Then why was her voice unwavering? Something was off. Her instinct was to keep running, but Roxbury was incapacitated, so she couldn’t desert her aunt out here.

  River made her way back toward the vehicle, keeping out of sight. She watched the beam of a flashlight as it swept the area next to the car. Still, she couldn’t make out the person holding it. Dropping to her knees, River searched the ground until she found a rock—large enough to make noise when it landed, but small enough that River wouldn’t have a problem chucking it a good distance from where she stood.

  With all the strength she could muster, she hurled the stone in the direction beyond the rear of the vehicle. The forest gods were with her once again, because the stone had clear sailing until it hit a tree several yards in the distance. The light swung in the direction of the falling stone.

  “River?” Her aunt came around the back of the vehicle, backlit by the interior light of the SUV. She held the flashlight in one hand—and a gun in the other. Where the hell had Aunt Amy gotten a weapon? She must have taken Roxbury’s gun. But he carries a rifle…

  River was being paranoid, but instinct urged her to be sure. Roxbury may have opted for a handgun tonight, but he hadn’t had one on him when he’d been taken into custody and he hadn’t made it back to his home or the guys would have let her know. Still, that didn’t mean he didn’t have one stashed away somewhere else.

  Creeping back to the SUV, she scouted the area as she went. There was no sign of anyone else. No one lurked near the vehicle. No one lay unconscious or incapacitated in or near it. Her aunt’s purse sat on the passenger seat.

  River’s heart banged against her breastbone before shattering into a million pieces. Her aunt hadn’t come with anyone. She hadn’t been a captive. Aunt Amy was alone and hunting for River.

  39

  The area in front of River’s home was illuminated by light streaming from the open door. The sight sent them bounding from the car. No words were spoken as they drew their weapons. Colt and Troy circled the building while Kevin headed to the cabin. When he spotted River’s phone on the dining room table, his neck corded. He wanted to howl in anger and fear. She wouldn’t voluntarily leave it behind. No way. After a quick search of the place, he returned to the main room. In addition to River’s phone, two glasses of wine occupied the table. Rose colored lipstick clung to the rim of one of them.

  Picking up her phone, he scrolled through her texts and call logs. They didn’t reveal anything unusual. A call to Dan’s son and a couple to and from her aunt. The recent text messages were between Kevin and River.

  He tucked the phone into the back pocket of his jeans as Colt and Troy entered the cabin.

  “Nothing in here?” Colt asked.

  “Her phone and two glasses of wine. I can only think of one person River would let in.”

  “Her aunt?” Troy asked. “What brought you to that conclusion?”

  “Stick figures and wine.”
/>   “Explain,” Colt said curtly.

  “The first time I met her aunt, River joked about Amy’s lack of artistic skills—commenting they were limited to stick figures. Then there’s the wine. River was entertaining. She wasn’t afraid. And there’s lipstick on one of the glasses. River wasn’t wearing any tonight.” Kevin noticed everything about her. She never wore anything on those soft lips, but gloss.

  “This isn’t going to be enough to drag in the sheriff. If they couldn’t hold Roxbury,” Colt said, “they’re damn well not coming out to search for a woman who might be taking a late-night stroll through the woods.”

  “And leaving the door open and her phone on the table?” Kevin snapped.

  “It’s not enough and arguing is wasting time,” Troy told him.

  Kevin eyed his friends closely. “Do you guys have something in mind?”

  “Troy,” Colt said, “you can track Amy’s cell, I assume?”

  Within a few minutes, Troy had her location. “She’s in the nature preserve.”

  “Are they close by?” Kevin asked since River’s cabin backed up to the preserve. But that wouldn’t make sense. Why would Amy take the car where she could go on foot?

  “Doesn’t look like it,” Troy confirmed his suspicion. “She’s off a maintenance road.”

  “Can we get to her from here?”

  “We can,” Troy said. “It’s hard to tell which route would be faster—on foot or in the car. We’d have to drive to the other side of the preserve to access the road, but once there it would take us deeper into the woods.”

  “Then we split up,” Kevin said.

  Troy opted to go with Kevin. Despite the loss of one eye, Troy could see in the dark like an owl. Colt took the truck. They would meet where Troy had last picked up Amy’s signal.

  It was a cold evening, but Kevin was sweating bullets. It wasn’t the exertion of racing through rough terrain, but the fear of what was happening to River. Her aunt had to be the one who’d lured her out of the cabin tonight. Leaving her phone on the table and the door wide open, told him she’d not suspected a thing. Why should she? She loved her aunt. She believed the feeling was reciprocal. What did Amy want? Kevin was now convinced she was behind the gaslighting of River last year.

  The questions ran through his head as he dodged a low-hanging branch. “Why?” he muttered aloud.

  “Why what?” Troy responded, keeping his voice low. Whispers carried.

  “Why would her aunt want to harm River? What was the trigger?”

  “That’s something we’ll have to ask her when we find them,” Troy responded, not slowing down.

  The two of them made their way quickly through the maze of trees. He could smell the decaying leaves, some type of early blooming flower, and the distinct aroma of pine trees. The ground was damp in places, shaded on sunny days by the evergreens which dotted this part of the forest. Kevin moved swiftly, keeping pace with Troy, but his footing could have been better if he had on his Rockports instead of the shoes he’d worn to the memorial. He hadn’t taken the time to change. Wishes didn’t get you anywhere and were distracting. He needed to focus.

  They’d traveled several miles through the woods when they came to an abrupt stop. Kevin spotted it at the same time Troy had—a beam light in the distance. Whoever it was, it wasn’t River. She was too smart to draw attention to herself. The frantic movement of the light told Kevin the person was anxious and desperately searching for something or someone. He figured it was the latter.

  Using simple hand signals, Kevin indicated to Troy to head to the right which would put him behind the light source. He headed toward the left to cut them off.

  Picking up speed now that they had a target in sight, he steadied his breathing further, refusing to allow any audible escape of air to pinpoint his location. He might be able to control his intake of oxygen, but it didn’t mean he was any less scared.

  During his tours, there were times they had no more cover than the crumbling wall of a bombed out-building while RPG rockets sailed over their heads. He’d held the hands of men and women who wouldn’t make it to see another sunrise. He could put his emotions aside while sealing off an artery or transfusing blood under fire. None of that compared to the fear of knowing River’s life was in their hands.

  He slid over a large, fallen tree, cocking his head as he hit the soft dirt. A sound. Man, or beast? He stilled, waiting to hear it again. He immediately ruled Troy out. You wouldn’t know he was near until his knife was at your throat.

  He listened, focusing on the direction of the initial noise. Discarded leaves rustled again, closer this time. Experience and instincts told him it wasn’t an animal. To his right off in the distance, the light still swept the area. Definitely someone searching.

  Kevin made his way toward the sound of rushed breathing. If it was River, he didn’t dare call out and make her stalker aware of their presence. He darted behind a shrub, making his way up the hill to intercept his target. Once he was certain he was above it, he ducked behind a wide tree trunk and waited.

  River’s initial response—after the gut punch of realizing her aunt was behind her kidnapping—was to get in the abandoned car and take off, but she wasn’t going anywhere on wheels. There was no key and, damn it, no phone left behind. By the time she finished her search of the car, the light had turned back in River’s direction. She scrambled away from the vehicle and up the hill.

  Diving into the night, she ran as fast as she dared. Tripping over a tree root or scaring one of the inhabitants could give away her location. Taking a chance, she took a quick glance over her shoulder. She was relieved to see she’d put some, if not much, distance between her and the sweeping beam of her aunt’s flashlight. But the move cost her.

  Her next step was into thin air. In an instant of panic, she thought she’d stepped off the edge of an overhang, but she quickly landed, face down in moist soil. What the hell would cause a chasm this large? Right now, the reason didn’t matter. Spitting out dirt, she crawled to the end of the hole. Tracing her hands up the side of the pit, she figured it was about four feet deep. At just over five feet, hefting herself out of it wasn’t going to be easy.

  In her search for a foothold, the shape and depth of the hole became clear. Her stomach rolled and her skin prickled. She was standing in a grave. One that had yet to be filled—and she had a pretty good idea who was the intended inhabitant. The knowledge gave her all the incentive she needed. She found a nearby root and anchored herself to it as she swung her legs up over the edge. Taking a deep breath, she ran for the shelter of the trees.

  She didn’t know what part of the preserve she was in, which was a problem. She suspected it was also deliberate. River’s two previous escapes had partially been a result of her familiarity with the area. How well did her aunt know this particular stretch of woods? Her Aunt Amy enjoyed hunting for small game. While the preserve was off limits to hunters, any violation would be small compared to what she had in mind for River. Poaching a rabbit or two would be small change. Was this one of her hunting grounds? If it hadn’t been previously, it was now.

  Proceeding with more caution, River avoided other obstacles as she clawed her way up the slope. The black clothing she’d worn to the memorial helped her blend in with the darkness. If she was able to reach the top of the hill, she should be able to get her bearings.

  She slipped on a patch of wet leaves which sent her sprawling onto the forest floor. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip when she hit the ground. She tasted blood. It was a small sacrifice for not announcing her location. Crawling away from the slick spot, she returned to her feet. The landscape blended in with the night sky. She had no idea how far she had to go, but she was on an incline. Eventually, she’d reach the peak. She batted away branches she could see and took the slap of those she couldn’t.

  Once again, she zigged when she should have zagged. Her toe caught the root of a large tree and she went sailing. She reached out to break her fall. An arm shot out
from behind the tree, catching her by the waist and pulling her to safety.

  “Shhhh, River. It’s me.” A warm breath kissed her ear.

  He didn’t have to tell her. She’d known it was Kevin the instant he touched her. “It’s Aunt Amy,” she said, choking out the words while he held her tight.

  “I’m sorry, honey.” He cradled her head snuggly against his chest.

  “She has a gun,” River mumbled the warning.

  Stepping back, he pressed a finger to her lips, hushing her. He held up his weapon for her to see. The site, along with the man, were reassuring. He knew what he was doing. He trained for it. She suspected his friends were nearby. She wanted to ask him but heeded his warning and remained quiet.

  Kevin gave her shoulder a quick squeeze then left her behind the wide trunk of the tree while he moved to watch the approach of her aunt—made obvious by the beam of light which continued to search the forest. God. Aunt Amy. Now that she wasn’t running for her life, River could think. The betrayal hit her hard. Her lips quivered. Her aunt had dug a grave for her. She kept coming back to the question. Why? Why did her aunt want her dead?

  Keeping his eyes on his target, Kevin reached over and placed his hand on her back, rubbing it gently. Had he sensed her tension, or had he known instinctually what she was thinking? Either way, his intimate gesture had her pulse gearing down a notch. She wasn’t alone. She hadn’t broken when she was fourteen. She hadn’t broken last year. She wouldn’t break now.

  Pulling her shoulders back, she straightened to her full height. Kevin’s hand moved from her back to her shoulder, gripping it tightly. River understood the command. She didn’t move further and remained silent, but it didn’t stop her from watching the beam of light as it appeared to their left. Her breath hitched.

  What was Kevin waiting for? Was the plan to hide until her aunt passed? Aunt Amy wasn’t going to give up. River knew too much now. Besides, she was done running. She wanted answers. The urge to tackle the woman she’d known and loved for years was almost overwhelming, but River knew she wouldn’t be able to take two steps toward her with Kevin at her side.