40
“He’s alive!” Rowan grabbed Malcolm’s arm. “That’s Evan’s voice!”
“Go call Noelle,” Malcolm ordered.
“You’re not going down there,” said Rowan, realizing Malcolm wouldn’t go back up with her. “That man is a killer! And he’s a fucking good shot. We wait for the police!”
We’ve already had this argument.
She spun to go find cell coverage, hauling Malcolm behind her. They crashed through the brush at a run.
Am I leaving Evan and Zack to die?
She checked her phone. No bars. She pushed on, the distance feeling much longer than when they’d come. Malcolm had stopped resisting and moved on his own. They reached Sid’s truck and suddenly Rowan had two bars of service. She stopped, panting hard as she dialed.
“Rowan?” Noelle answered.
“He’s here!” Rowan forced out. “His truck is here, and we heard a child screaming and Evan shouting down at the powerhouse! You’ve got to get someone out here now ! He’s torturing Zack!” Rowan caught her breath and heard Noelle speak to someone in the background.
“We’re on our way,” Noelle said into the phone. “Do not go near the building! Someone will be there as soon as possible. Wait and show them how to find it.” She ended the call.
The screams started again, fainter this time.
“Fuck.” Malcolm looked back the way they had come. “I can’t just stand here.”
“We’ve got to wait!” Rowan’s heart was at war with her words.
“You wait,” said Malcolm. He took off at a run.
“Malcolm!” Rowan stared after him until his light vanished into the dark trees. “Shit.” She turned in circles, searching as if she’d find an answer to her dilemma. She darted to Sid’s truck and yanked on the handle. It was unlocked. She turned on its headlights, which shone in the direction in which Malcolm had disappeared. Then she ran back to Malcolm’s Jeep and turned on those headlights.
The sheriff’s office can’t miss either vehicle.
She would follow her brother.
But damn, she felt vulnerable.
Rowan opened the back of the Jeep and lifted the mats to expose the storage space. Inside was a long black plastic box and a smaller one, just as she’d seen in the compartment weeks ago. “Shit.” The boxes were locked. She stared at the keypad on the small one for a long moment and then punched in four digits. The locking mechanism clicked.
Bless you, Malcolm.
She’d used the date Malcolm had reunited with his family. He referred to it as his other birthday because his life had started anew.
She took out the handgun; the magazine was full. She shoved the second magazine into a pocket next to Thor’s snacks.
And then ran after her brother.
Evan was exhausted, his voice almost gone. Ever since they’d arrived at the small brick building, Dale had alternated between threatening Zack and threatening Evan.
The building was one small room, and Evan figured his and Zack’s proximity drove Dale to harass them nonstop. The building was a wreck. Plaster had fallen from the walls, exposing the brick. An inch of dust and debris covered the flooring. At one time there’d been a second level, but the flooring had rotted away, leaving gaping holes where Evan could see the slats and framing of the roof.
The windows were broken, but metal grates covered several of them. At one time someone had tried to board up the windows from the inside, but most of the plywood had been pulled off. Now pieces of water-swollen, rotting boards lay beneath the windows. The only light came from a portable unit Dale had grabbed from his truck. It cast odd shadows that made Evan constantly see things in his peripheral vision and check the corners of the room. The walls were covered with graffiti. Band names, initials in hearts, swear words, and drawings that ranged from a giant penis to a rainbow-striped rabbit.
In the center of the room, several pipes led to a huge piece of rounded machinery. It looked like a metal-encased wheel and took up a third of the building’s interior. Evan had heard water flowing nearby and figured they were in an old place built for hydroelectric power that had long been abandoned. The machinery looked as if it hadn’t operated in decades, and even the rock band names on the walls were dated.
Why did Dale bring us here?
The man was running on fumes. Evan hadn’t seen Dale sleep much since they’d left the first place a day or two ago, and he was easily triggered into rants of rage. Evan and Zack had decided to cooperate as much as possible, keeping Dale satisfied with their reactions. Their pain and suffering seemed to be the only things that pleased him. Now Dale was spending more and more time sitting in a corner, his legs pulled up to his body as he stared at Evan and Zack.
He’s deciding how to end this.
Evan watched Dale advance on Zack again while keeping an eye on Evan, hungry for Evan’s emotional reaction.
I’m getting too weak to keep shouting.
But he had no choice. There was no food in the brick building, and the few bottles of water that Dale had brought had been emptied hours ago.
Dale can’t go for more food unless he hitchhikes.
The Ford truck wasn’t drivable.
Evan sensed their situation was coming to a head. They couldn’t go on like this much longer.
Dale suddenly froze in front of Zack and cocked his head. “What was that?”
He dropped to the ground and slowly inched toward the door.
“Malcolm!” Rowan whispered loudly, and then stood motionless in the dark woods to listen.
The sound of the creek was all she heard. The screams and shouts had stopped. She turned her flashlight back on, trying to follow bent grasses and scuffs in the dirt as she worked her way down the hill. She hadn’t found the building but knew that if she kept going downward, she should find it somewhere along the water.
“Noelle’s going to strangle me,” she muttered, imagining the detective’s fury when she arrived and found no one waiting up top. Rowan didn’t know what would happen next. Her only plan was to stop Malcolm before he did something he’d regret. Abused kids were a hot point for him. The thought of Zack being tortured had pushed all rational thoughts out of Malcolm’s head, and Rowan worried about what he might do.
The police could arrive too late, so she understood why Malcolm had rushed to help Evan and Zack, but now she was frightened for the lives of three people.
Malcolm was her brother. She wasn’t leaving him alone. He’d been alone for too much of his life.
She continued to sidestep down the hill, her fingers covering the lens of her flashlight, keeping the light dim. It was less noticeable but could still be used to spot her location. Shouting continued. Then abruptly stopped.
Silence.
“Damn.” Rowan kept up her slow pace, trying to move as silently as possible, which was not very quiet with the crunching grasses and cracking twigs. Suddenly the ground leveled out and she crouched. A faint glow came from her right, and she turned off her flashlight. She moved closer and finally saw the outline of the building Malcolm had described. It was small, built into the slope. Soft light shone from all the windows and even through holes in the roof.
Shadows moved near the building, and she squinted in the dim light, spotting the tall shape of her brother. Relieved, she quickened her steps.
Then something else shifted in the blackness.
Two loud cracks of gunfire filled the air, and Rowan dropped, rocks and roots grinding into her stomach.
Malcolm shrieked in pain. And then went silent.
He’s shot!
He’d fallen to the ground twenty yards away. Rowan fought to hold still and stay silent, wanting to leap to her feet and dash to her brother. Convinced the shooter would hear her heart pounding and her deep breaths, she dug her face into the dirt, tasting damp soil. A moment later she glanced up and saw the second shadow approach her brother. The man shined a flashlight in Malcolm’s face and leaned over to pick something up.
Malcolm’s gun.
Rowan pressed into the dirt again, terrified his light would catch her and he’d shoot her next.
“Who are you ?” the man asked her brother.
Silence.
He killed him.
Every cell in her body started to silently scream in sorrow.
“Well, you’re obviously not police.” The man laughed. “Look at all that blood. You’re gonna be dead in two minutes.” He laughed again, his voice fainter.
He’s not dead. Yet.
Rowan sensed that the man had walked away and lifted her head the tiniest bit just in time to see him enter the building.
Heavy, wet breathing sounded from her brother.
Rowan scrambled to him on hands and knees. Malcolm was on the ground two yards from the building. His breaths were forced and slowing.
“Where did he shoot you?” she whispered. She set down her gun and ran her hands over his head and chest, searching for blood.
“Leg.”
He said the word just as she planted a hand in a warm puddle on the ground. A rhythmic spray of blood hit her forearm.
He’s bleeding out. Femoral artery.
Not stopping to think, Rowan whipped off her belt and twice wrapped it high around his leg, then pulled it tight. It was just short of buckling on the last hole. Malcolm moaned.
“Shhh.”
She pulled again and barely managed to get it buckled.
“You’re not going to die,” Rowan said firmly. The spray from his leg had stopped, but she knew it would still slowly seep. He couldn’t have the tourniquet in place for longer than two hours or he could have permanent damage to his leg. She checked her phone. No service.
How do I get him out?
She wanted to cry.
Something crunched behind her, and a powerful kick to her back hurled her across her brother. She lunged for her gun, but it was too late. The kicker had grabbed it.
A man pointed his light in her eyes, and she lifted a hand to block it, spotting a gun in his other hand. Underneath her, Malcolm groaned. She’d landed on his thigh.
“Look who we have here,” said the man. “The detective’s little whore.”
Sid.
Rowan’s heart tried to pound out of her chest.
“The guy under you isn’t dead yet? Won’t be much longer.”
Rowan kept her leg over the tourniquet, hoping Sid didn’t notice it.
“He’s no cop. Neither are you.” Sid scanned his flashlight around them, lighting up the trees and creek. “No police. No SWAT. No hostage negotiators.” He looked back at Rowan. “That means you came on your own hoping to rescue your man, didn’t you? Pretty stupid, I’d say. Who’s the dying guy?”
“My brother,” she whispered.
“Your brother? I read about his kidnapping,” said Sid. “He managed to get his happy little life back, didn’t he?” Anger infused his tone. “Get up.”
Rowan awkwardly stood, placing herself between Sid and Malcolm. Sid stepped to Malcolm’s head and kicked hard. Malcolm was silent.
“Not much longer now.” He waved his gun at her. “Inside. This is going to be fun.”
Even in the poor light, Rowan saw how pale her brother was. His eyes stayed closed.
I’m sorry, Malcolm.
Sid shoved her. “Inside!”
She stumbled forward and walked away, feeling as if she’d left her heart to bleed out in the dirt.