Page 16 of Danger In The Backcountry
Rome slowed his pace as he lost sight of the killer’s tracks in a spread of what looked like broken shale. Too many pieces to pick out a set of footprints in the mess. Like a puzzle that would never have the chance to fit back together. The dirt here had frozen then shattered over and over under the impact of wind, wildlife and possibly the man who’d abducted his wife. The grounddipped and rose with the remnants of a dried-up creek cutting through the landscape. There. By jumping the expanse of shale, the killer could break the pattern left behind by his tracks and disappear into the wash. At least, that was what Rome would do.
Hauling his rifle from his back one-handed, he lifted the butt against his good shoulder. The trees had gone quiet again, and every sense Rome owned rocketed into overstimulation. His heart rate steadied, his breathing evened out. This. This was what he was good at. Where he thrived. He studied the rotted roots of a downed tree more than three times his width cutting across the wash. Forcing him off the path.
It was the perfect ambush point.
Rome pulled up short, his instincts raging for him to turn back. But that wasn’t an option. Not for Lettie. Sidestepping closer to the gnarled fallen tree, he swung his rifle around. Ready to pull the trigger.
And spotted the rope. So out of place. Which meant it’d only come from one source. The kidnapper had been here. Lettie had been here. Keeping alert for movement or sound, he bent to pick it up.
Something snapped overhead.
The world ripped out from underneath him.
His rifle fell from his hands as Rome shot upward, hung upside down by one foot. A damn snare. He’d walked straight into it, too focused on potentially finding Lettie. Just like her abductor had wanted. A growl rumbled through his chest. How could he have been so stupid? He’d set his own snares over the years, used them to catch smaller animals like rabbits and foxes when he had to. He should’ve seen this one. Blood rushed to his head as he swung like a pendulum between the wash and the hundred-foot tree holding him hostage.
Curling upward, he tried reaching for the line wrapped around his ankle. The pain in his shoulder arced across hischest and stole the last reserves of energy. The gauze taped to his shoulder wound had soaked through once again, dripping beneath him in a steady rhythm.
He collapsed back. Waiting for the slaughter.
Chapter Fifteen
Her ankle cracked to one side.
The rest of her followed a split second later.
Lettie hit the ground, her bandaged palms and wrists taking most of the impact as the air crushed out of her. She bit back the yelp filling her mouth. She couldn’t scream. Couldn’t cry from the pain. Couldn’t give him any kind of signal for her location.
She’d barely managed to catch her abductor by surprise when he’d tried to tie her legs together. She’d struck him dead center in the chest with everything she had. The kick had merely distracted him long enough for her to start running.
And she hadn’t stopped. Not in what felt like hours. Her brain had stopped cataloguing major natural formations and plants to recall later, focused only on putting as much distance between them as possible. She didn’t know where she was, how long she’d been running. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew the best chance of walking out of these woods alive meant staying in one place, but she couldn’t take the chance of him catching up. Not when the memories of what’d happened to that hiker kept digging in deeper. She didn’t want to end up like that.
The waning sun had started cutting through the spaces between tree trunks rather than the canopy a little while ago. Nighttime was coming. And she’d ditched her supplies in the roots of a tree before going back for Rome. There was no telling where they were now, which meant there was a chance she’d freeze to death if she stayed out here much longer. But what other choice did she have?
Rome. Lettie pressed her upper body off the forest floor, rolling onto her back. Her throat burned as she tried to catch her breath. Was he all right? That arrow… She closed her eyes, willing to sink straight into the ground right here. She could picture the wound so clearly, see the blood gushing from his shoulder. There hadn’t been anything she could do to help. Was he alive? Tears burned in her eyes, and she swiped at them with dirt-crusted hands. Rome was the best hunter and outdoorsman in the country. He’d make it through this. She had to believe that or her anxiety would tear her apart.
Move. She had to keep moving. Had to get to her supplies. She’d packed a radio. She had her general location: East border of a section of open Zion backcountry. She was sure of it based on the growth of the rough horsetail groves she’d passed. She could hail into the search and rescue rangers, tell the superintendent what’d happened and have him send law enforcement officers to trail her attacker. She could get Rome help.
Okay. She could do that. Lettie took a deep breath, leveraging her weight onto her elbows. Pain ricocheted through her ankle and up her calve as she flexed her toes. Damn it. That rock had come out of nowhere. She hadn’t had time to adjust before stepping down on the sharp point, and her ankle had paid the price. The structure of her boots didn’t provide any support, and now her knee was screaming. She must’ve landed on it when she’d hit the ground. The tears rushed back. Every cell in her body urged her to collapse back, to give up and wait for help.
But help wouldn’t get to her in time. Not before other kinds of predators did.
She was just so…tired. Adrenaline had drained within minutes of fleeing the killer. She had no idea how far she’d run, if she was headed in the right direction back to Rome. The pain was getting worse, but she had to try. Digging her fingernailsinto cold, red sand, Lettie hauled her upper body off the ground. She grabbed for the hem of her pant leg. Her ankle had already started swelling, deep marbling encircling where it’d bent at the unnatural angle. It wasn’t broken. That much she could tell, but running was no longer an option.
She had to be strategic. Smarter than the man following her.
Her pulse thudded hard behind her ears, blocking out sounds of the wilderness around her. The sun had dipped lower, wildlife winding down for the night. She’d been lucky to avoid running into any other kind of animal that might make a meal of her, but that luck wouldn’t hold out.
She had to get to her supplies. She didn’t have any other choice.
“Larsons don’t stay down.” The family motto came easily enough, but the words grated against that internal space Rome had unknowingly carved out of her. Where day by day throughout their marriage he’d allowed her to slowly unwind all the tension her upbringing had bred into her. Where, up until six months ago, she’d felt safe. Cared for. Seen. Where she didn’t always have to be the best or work the hardest, where she had no one to impress because he’d loved her without her degrees, promotions to head researcher and published articles. Larsons didn’t stay down. Problem was, despite reverting to her maiden name, she hadn’t been a Larson in a long time. She didn’t know who she was anymore.
But she wouldn’t be prey.
Locking her jaw against the oncoming pain, Lettie got her good foot beneath her and shoved to stand. She threw her hands out to keep her balance then tested her weight on her rolled ankle. A hiss escaped from between her teeth at the shot of agony through her foot. “Damn it.”
She couldn’t put any weight on it. Not without causing further damage.
She cut her attention to the nearest tree and hopped—one footed—to the trunk for support. Bark scraped and caught in the bandages wrapped around her palms. She wouldn’t get far in this condition, but every step forward was a step away from failure. And she’d seen too much of that. In the relationship with her parents, in her relationship with Rome.
