Chapter 6 #2
“As awful an act as it was, it can also be traumatic to the perpetrator. Something tells me Eastman didn’t wake up yesterday morning planning to kill two people.
” She smoothed her hands over a piece of paper.
“This is a copy of a crumpled letter we found in Eastman’s truck from Michelle Eastman’s lawyer, requesting more alimony even though they’d supposedly settled on an agreement last year—with her getting the house and car and fixed financial support.
Eastman lived simply in a house that was apparently little more than a glorified shack before he moved in and renovated it.
He hunted or bartered for most of his food and worked part-time in the hardware store when they needed additional help.
But his guiding business was doing very well, and he’d started to attract more and more clients who were willing to pay big bucks for backcountry hunting trips.
It looks as if the ex decided she wanted some of that. He obviously snapped.”
“I don’t care if she punched him in the nose and took every penny, he didn’t have the right to blast a shotgun in her face,” Novak said bluntly.
Charlotte curled her fingers around her fiancé’s wrist. “No, he didn’t.
He didn’t have that right, but if we want to figure out what Eastman will do next, we need to determine what happened and why he acted the way he did.
Once we find him, we need to show him compassion and empathy.
We need to show him there is a way out of this mess that doesn’t involve more violence. For Summer’s sake.”
Sebastian swallowed anger and resentment. Charlotte was right, and even though HRT trained for physical takedowns, the best hope for Summer to come out of this alive was a peaceful negotiation and a voluntary end to this nightmare.
“I’m going to ask the Sheriff to talk to locals Eastman might have bought supplies from or interacted with in case he ever hinted at having a base somewhere in the mountains.
I’ll request him to ask the public to contact the hotline with any information about Eastman in general,” Charlotte said.
“Hopefully, that will keep the media fed for a little while. But we’ve already had twenty-thousand sightings of him across the US. ”
Ugh. That was the problem with hotlines and rewards.
“What if Nora Deacon’s dog is wrong?” Novak’s question took Sebastian by surprise.
“He’s not wrong. I was skeptical at first,” he admitted, “until he found the truck. But the way he followed the scent…” Sebastian shook his head, remembering how clearly Chance had scented the ground. “That dog’s not wrong.”
“I agree.” Cas rubbed his jaw. “Unless someone else is wearing Summer’s clothes, the dog tracked the kid.”
A yawn took Sebastian by surprise. “Sorry. Point me at a bed for a few hours. I’ll help any way you need after I’ve gotten some rest.”
“Maybe you’re losing it.” Cas smirked.
Sebastian grinned. “Maybe I am, but at least I didn’t sit on my ass all morning.”
Novak smiled reluctantly. “Get some food and sleep while you can. No one is going anywhere until this blizzard is done anyway. Ryan said he’d put some stew in our cabins that his sister had in the freezer.
Good work today, guys. Eastman has no idea we’re onto him yet.
We blocked non-encrypted radio signals, not including the emergency weather channels, throughout that range as soon as you found the truck and have been monitoring all satellite communications.
The press corps have been ordered not to reveal the location of the search so as not to inadvertently aid his escape. They seem to be cooperating so far.”
Sebastian nodded. “You should probably get some sleep too.”
Charlotte’s expression showed her agreement, but Novak shook his head. “As soon as we’ve spoken with the sheriff and HQ for an update.” He gave Sebastian a grim smile. “It’s gonna be a struggle being the guy who coordinates this, rather than being out there looking for that kid.”
Sebastian nodded with understanding. No way would he be able to stay here while others searched.
Impatience was like a living thing inside him, but he knew better than to rush around wasting time and energy.
He needed to save himself for when he was most useful, and that would be when the storm broke.
A vision of Nora Deacon and her dog on the trail flashed into his mind.
She’d smiled at him, those unusual irises of hers capturing his attention in a way nothing had for a long, long time.
He snapped out of it. Knew it was time to get some sleep.
He had no intention of dreaming about anything except maybe that stew and a comfy bed.
Thunder boomed and lightning cracked as she ran through the rain that splatted furiously against her face. She scrambled upward. Loose rock fell behind her as her toes desperately sought purchase.
He was coming.
He was gonna catch her!
Her lungs bellowed as she climbed up and up and up. She wanted her mommy, but her mommy wouldn’t want her. Not now. Not after everything he’d done to her and made her do.
Nausea swirled with despair and made her want to vomit.
“Mary Eleanor…”
The singy-songy voice made blood rush through her ears, louder than the rain. Louder than the thunder.
Terror flooded her every cell. Every nerve, every fiber, every conscious and unconscious thought.
If he caught her, he would hurt her. Again. In ways she’d never imagined.
And he’d kill her for not doing what she was told. For not obeying him the way he’d instructed.
Her teeth chattered. Her broken fingernails found a tenuous hold in the hillside, and she hauled herself up.
“Mary Eleanor…” He didn’t sound angry. Barely sounded as if he was chasing her, but she knew he was, she knew.
He was deception.
He was lies.
A family friend from church—at least that’s what he’d pretended. Now she saw beneath the pleasant mask. Beneath the gentle teasing and friendly face. Beneath the secret gifts of candy and special smiles.
He was a monster, and he would kill her if he caught her.
She didn’t want to die!
Lightning flashed. Thunder shook the mountainside, and she lost her grip on the slick rock, slipped several feet back.
A shadow lunged, but she scrambled upward.
No!
He was so close. So close. She’d never escape. Her arms carried her swiftly up what was nothing more than a rock face now, the path long gone. She fell forward and landed on a ledge, her body heaving with exertion as she crawled away from the edge.
Shivers racked her thin body.
She looked around, desperate to escape, but there was nowhere to go—except down.
Lightning lit up the world all around her, and terror froze the breath in her body.
He crawled over the edge like some ancient beast. Unfurled his form to stand above her, tangible evil.
His palm struck her cheek so hard she tasted blood.
Lightning blazed across the sky once more, and his expression was twisted and ugly with anger. No more pretense.
Thunder boomed, and he staggered back as the mountain shook.
He took another step backward—and fell.
His scream melded with hers. Rain coated her face, and she whimpered.
No.
Not rain.
A tongue.
Her dog.
Chance.
Nora’s heart hammered as she woke and sat straight up in bed, covers twisted around her legs, pjs soaked with sweat. She pushed off the duvet, pulse racing so hard she thought she must be having a panic attack.
Chance lay beside her and licked her wrist as she inhaled huge lungfuls of air and slowly steadied.
The dreams had been getting more detailed and frequent over the past few months, as if memories were trying to break free of their prison after all these years.
Her breath huffed slowly in and out of her chest. Were the nightmares actual suppressed memories, or was her imagination taunting her like some evil twin? She should probably call her therapist from back home, but she didn’t want to dig up the past. She wanted it dead and buried.
She’d always known she’d escaped from John Kingston and that he’d died in a fall, but she’d had no memory of it, until now.
She felt zero remorse. It was his own fault that he’d fallen, and good riddance.
Did that make her a terrible person?
Probably.
Her parents, who were very religious, believed she needed to forgive Kingston if she was ever to be free from his shadow.
But how could she forgive what he’d done?
What he’d planned to do? Her parents’ former preacher had told her God forgave her—forgave her—as if she’d been at fault for being raped. She hadn’t set foot in a church since.
She hugged her knees with one hand and her dog with the other as shivers continued to rack her body.
She hadn’t remembered the part about the chase until recently. Hadn’t remembered the storm. Little details kept returning, details she didn’t want to recall.
What did it matter? What did it change?
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
Impatient, she pushed out of bed and padded to the door to let Chance out into the back yard. The unwelcome sight of falling snow and deep drifts greeted her, and she blew out a tired sigh at the thought of trudging through this again when all she wanted to do was hole up until spring.
But a child was missing.
And it wasn’t like her case—it wasn’t that nightmarish scenario of being stolen by a serial predator. But Nora couldn’t quite shake the knowledge that most abuse was perpetrated by someone in or close to the family, and no one knew the kind of father Eastman really was.
She forced thoughts of Summer Eastman out of her head and went to the kitchen to put on the tea kettle. Checked the clock and couldn’t believe that it was close to midnight and she’d slept all day.
She fed the wood stove and let Chance back inside.