Thirteen #2
Fear sent his heart into a complete stutter. He ran inside the cabin, the door unlocked. A lamp had been knocked over as if it had been bumped in a struggle, as if she’d run by it and knocked it off—or Rick had.
The floorboards by the fireplace had been removed. He rushed over and dipped a knee, his heart slamming against his ribs as he found photos scattered on the floor and a lighter with Rick’s initial on it. As he suspected, Rick had been the one to set the barn on fire. Helena knew it now, too.
And Rick knew she knew.
She must have run.
“Lark, we have to find her.” His K-9 was trained in accelerant detection, but Trevor had worked with her some in search and rescue on his free time. And if Rick had been setting the fires—and he had—then she could pick up traces on his skin or clothing. “Track, girl. Track!”
Lark bounded toward the back door and Trevor threw it open, letting Lark lead the way, praying for Helena’s safety. He didn’t want to lose her before he ever had a start.
He may not know who he was if not a caregiver to Mom, but he wanted to figure it out. With Helena helping.
His heart pounded as he moved deeper into the woods, the underbrush crunching underfoot. He tried to call in backup but from here, he couldn’t get a signal.
Every shadow seemed alive, every rustle a threat. He knew Rick was out there, tracking her; he only prayed he hadn’t found her.
Trevor’s mind flashed to Helena’s bravery—how she’d never backed down from the truth. But this time, she needed help. And he was coming for her.
* * *
Helena’s breath burned in her throat, her pulse thundering in her ears as she crashed through the dense underbrush, branches clawing at her arms and face.
She spared a glance over her shoulder, catching a flash moving through the trees behind her.
Rick’s footfalls were heavier, more deliberate, snapping sticks as he pursued her up the mountain slope.
She knew these woods, but so did he, and he was gaining on her.
She stumbled over a root, her ankle twisting sharply, and barely caught herself against a tree trunk, rough bark scraping her palms. She pushed off, biting back the sharp cry of pain. She couldn’t stop. Couldn’t give him a chance to close the distance.
“Helena!” Rick’s voice carried through the trees, taunting and jagged. “You can’t run forever! It’s just you and me now.”
The mountain air sliced into her lungs with each breath, her muscles screaming as she pushed herself harder, veering off the trail in a desperate bid to lose him.
She forced her mind to sharpen, to focus on every step, every turn and zigzag.
One misstep, one second’s hesitation, and he’d be on her.
The underbrush cracked as he bulldozed through the foliage, relentless.
She caught a glimpse of a steep incline to her right, the jagged cliffside of Raven’s Point. If she could make it there, maybe she could find a way to circle back, lose him in the crags and dense trees. But it was a gamble. One wrong step, and she’d tumble into the abyss.
She took the risk, veering sharply off the main path, her balance faltering as the ground sloped downward. She half slid, half ran, ducking under low branches and vaulting over fallen logs. Her shoulder clipped a tree, sending a bolt of pain through her side, but she didn’t slow down.
The sound of Rick’s boots pounding the earth behind her grew closer. “You don’t have to die today, Helena!” he shouted, his voice erupting through the trees. “But if you make me work for it—”
She heard the snap of a branch behind her, felt the rush of displaced air as his arm swiped at her, missing her by inches.
She surged forward, muscles straining, lungs heaving.
The cliffside loomed closer, the trees thinning, and the faint rush of the river far below reached her ears, a distant roar.
She burst through the last line of trees, toppling at the cliff’s edge.
Her arms windmilled as she fought for balance, stones tumbling over the edge, bouncing off the jagged rocks below before disappearing into the void.
She whipped around just as Rick crashed through the tree line, his eyes wild, face flushed, lips curled in a ghoulish grin.
“Nowhere left to run,” he panted, his chest heaving. He took a slow, predatory step forward, the wind whipping his gray hair back from his forehead. “Just like your daddy.”
She felt her pulse spike. “What?”
“I asked nicely. Even offered to take a drug test. But he refused. So, I followed him out here, and it’s true, he slipped.”
She edged backward, her heel catching on a loose stone that sent a shower of gravel over the edge. “You’re a coward,” she spat, her voice hoarse but defiant. “A spoiled brat who pouts when he doesn’t get his way. You will never get a dime.”
“We’ll see about that,” Rick seethed.
Helena’s back foot slipped, her balance wavering as the cliff crumbled beneath her.
Her body pitched backward, arms flailing as the sky tilted, the wind roaring in her ears.
She grabbed wildly, her fingers snagging the rough lip of the cliff.
Rocks crumbled under her grip, splintering beneath her nails as she dangled over the abyss, her legs kicking into empty air.
Rick took a slow, measured step toward her, peering down at her with an almost curious expression, as if weighing his options.
He loomed over her. “You really do look just like your father. He hung just like this, only a different mountain. I could have helped him. He cried out for me, too, and even changed his mind about the money. But you see, I knew I’d get more money if he died. ”
Her fingers were slipping, the cold, unyielding stone cutting into her palms. She forced herself to meet his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. “You let him fall,” she breathed, her voice a raw whisper. “You let my father die.”
“He had it coming. Just like you.”
Her left hand slipped, her weight dragging at her, muscles burning. The edge crumbled further, stones pattering down the cliffside, bouncing off rocks before vanishing into the void below.
Rick leaned closer, his face inches from hers, his breath hot. “Go ahead,” he whispered, his voice low and vicious. “Scream for help. No one’s coming.”