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“Shut your yap,” Sheriff Crow’s voice rang out behind me, his heavy footsteps echoing through my mind.
“I’m just saying—”
“I don’t give a fuck. Shut your mouth.” Sheriff Crow gripped me under my right arm and pulled me to my feet. “Winged you, did he?” He turned me around and pushed my back against the tree, then opened my coat and whistled. “That’s worse than a winging, darling.”
I looked down, watching the red stain spread across my top.
Sheriff Crow kicked his hat back on his head and clamped a hand around my throat. “I’d tell you to keep pressure on that, but it doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”
Mayor Freeman walked closer and leaned in toward my face. “Dumb bitches never listen, do—”
Sheriff Crow’s hand flew in an instant, punching the mayor in the side of the face. The man stumbled back then held a hand to his jaw.
“When I tell you to shut the fuck up, I mean it, Len. Do we have to keep going over this?” Sheriff Crow’s voice had the same friendly tenor it always did. He even smiled a little, as if reminding a small child of the appropriate way to behave.
“Right. Sorry.” The mayor dropped his gaze.
“Good.” He turned back to me, the intelligence I’d seen in his eyes crackling like sparklers. “Now, I think you know what has to happen next.”
“N-No.” I pressed back into the tree, the pain in my abdomen painting everything in a surreal light—the snow too bright white, the earth a dark shadow beneath it.
“I tried.” He ran his fingers across my forehead and through my hair. “I did everything I could. Put your car back on that road so you wouldn’t keep looking for it. Left that body in the woods and claimed a hunting accident to keep you away. Even left you with Garrett so he could scare you off.” He leaned closer, his lips at my ear. “I saw you. In the woods. Saw Garrett fuck you raw. I watched the whole thing.”
“Get off me.” I tried to knee him, but my limbs barely obeyed my commands, my life ebbing out of the wound in my abdomen.
He pulled away from my ear, but leaned close enough for our noses to almost touch. “You know where I went wrong? I underestimated you. I did the same thing with Lillian and your daddy. They found out about what we do here at the Lodge.” He clucked his tongue. “And they lacked an entrepreneurial spirit.”
“Wh-what do you do?” My teeth chattered as my worst fears began to roll off his tongue.
“We run a hunting lodge. But what we hunt isn’t your average quarry.” He smiled, his eyes glinting. “It’s something special. Something people will pay for. You wouldn’t believe how much they’ll pay to hunt here.”
“The missing persons.” The cork board at the diner, all the names and faces. Too many for such a small area.
“At first.” He nodded. “We had plenty of trash to pick from in the beginning. Then we had to expand our operation. Danny helped out, making sure our special deliveries arrived and were in shape enough to run. These people come here looking for a handout. We give them something better.” He snorted at his own sick joke. “A bullet.”
I stalled. “Rory?”
“He didn’t know. Shame about him, though. You killed him. When he heard your screams in the woods that day—even though I specifically told Danny to do it quiet”—He twisted his neck until it cracked—“I had to intervene. You got another chance. Then today you dragged him out to the graves.” He shook his head. “Game over.”
“Garrett?”
“That’s the best fucking part.” He laughed. “Had nothing to do with any of it. That basket case’s only mistake in all of this was getting involved with you. When I get done here, I’ll go to his house and hang him the same way I did his sister. Tragic.”
“He’ll kill you.” I pressed harder on my wound, refusing to let go, to give up.
“No, he won’t. He’ll let me in the door like he always does. He’ll leave a nice note detailing why he killed your daddy, poor Danny, and you. Won’t be able to live with the guilt.” He affected a contrite air. “Terrible shame for the community to lose that fucking nutjob.”
“Pete?” The mayor’s tentative voice shocked me out of my horror. I had to fight, to try something.
Sheriff Crow kept staring into my eyes, one hand on my throat. “What?”
“Can I do it?”
“No.” He tightened his grip on my neck, and I tried to grab his wrist. My bloodied hand slid off, but I grasped his coat sleeve.
“Why not?”
“Because she’s mine.” He squeezed harder, my breath gone as his eyes bored into mine.
“Pete, come on. Give me a shot. I’ve been working out and practicing and—”
“Oh, for the love of Christ.” He released his hold on my throat, and I choked down huge gulps of air. “Make it quick. We have to bury Rory and her, and we don’t have that dumb fuck Danny to do it for us anymore.”
“Okay. I can do it.” Mayor Freeman pulled his gun off his shoulder and rested it against the front of his camouflage coat. “Run.”
Sheriff Crow stepped back and put his hands on his hips. “Get going. Might as well use you for target practice. Waste not, want not.”
“Fuck you.” My voice barely cut through the cold stillness.
“Run or I’ll put a bullet in your face.” The sheriff pulled out his service pistol and aimed it at my forehead.
An idea took root in the chaos of my mind. “I’ll run.” I coughed, and agony streaked through my body. “But you have to give me a head start.”
Sheriff Crow smiled and slapped the mayor on the back. “We can do that, right Len?”
“I’d rather not. We’re in a hurry, and—”
“You want to shoot her in the back after she’s taken three steps? That’s not very sporting of you. We can do better than that.” Sheriff Crow grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me forward. “Give her the full Lodge experience.” He shoved me, and I managed to stay upright from sheer will.
“Twenty minutes.” I took a step backwards.
Sheriff Crow laughed, real mirth crinkling the skin around his eyes. “Five.”
“Ten.”
“Think you can handle stalking a wounded bitch after ten minutes?” Crow glanced at the mayor.
“Yes.” The mayor puffed out his chest and snugged his rifle tighter in his arms.
“We’ll see. If you can’t, then I’m going to do it with my hands.”
“Deal.” Mayor Freeman smiled, like a child given a chance to impress a grown-up.
Sheriff Crow took his hat off and waved it at me. “Run, rabbit, run.”
I turned and stumbled away through the undergrowth.
“Need to go faster than that.” Sheriff Crow laughed.
I didn’t look back, just kept moving through the woods, back toward the road, toward the SUV with the shotgun inside.
One foot in front of the other, I stepped as quickly as the pain in my stomach allowed, each footfall sending a jarring misery through me. But I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t.
I passed through the clearing and tried to avoid looking at Rory. Until I didn’t. Until I realized Rory had a gun. Fuck. I yanked his coat up, but his holster was empty. Sheriff Crow must have already taken it. My fingers had lost feeling, but I shoved them into his pockets looking for anything I could use as a weapon. In his right pocket I found a small knife. No keys, nothing that could get me out of this frozen hell.
I could stay here. Just wait. The end was coming—either a bullet, bleeding out, or the sheriff’s hands around my throat. The row of graves blurred as I swayed on my knees. No. I pressed my palm against the wound, the pain dragging me back to the present, to the cold eventuality of my death if I failed to move.
How long? I didn’t know how much time had passed by the time I forced myself back to my feet and began stumbling toward the road. My forward progress took all my effort. One step, another step. If I was moving, I had a chance. So I kept pushing forward, even as my vision began to dim an
d my legs felt as if they were fighting against quicksand.
I saw the glint of the truck up ahead when the Sheriff’s voice cut through the woods. “Ready or not, here we come!”
Step, step, step. After an eternity, my feet hit gravel, and I fell against the truck. With what was left of my strength, I yanked the passenger door open. Leaning across the seat, I grabbed the shotgun and tried to pull it free. I couldn’t feel it, couldn’t tell if I had even moved it. My knees hit the running board just as the back passenger window shattered, a rifle shot roaring through the trees.
They’d caught up. It was only a matter of moments. I didn’t have time to cry. And all I could think was that I’d finally found what I’d been looking for, but the price of knowledge had turned out to be far too high. I pulled myself into the passenger side and closed the door. Curling into the fetal position in the floorboard, I stared at the sun-dappled woods through the driver’s side window as my eyes began to flutter closed.
Another slug lodged into the side of the truck. The faint sound of gravel crunching beneath boots told me I was done. All done. And I was…relieved. I let my eyes close as more shots rang out. So many shots. Someone yelled my name.
No, not my name. The color that soaked my shirt, my coat, my hands. Red.
“Garret!” The sheriff yelled. “It’s me. Come on. The mayor’s hurt bad. You got him in the head. I need to call it in. You’re looking at murder one. Let me help you.”
“Go fuck yourself!” The driver’s side door opened.
I turned my head and saw Garrett. He crouched down and reached out for me as the glass in the passenger window shattered.
“I’m sorry.” I said it, but he didn’t seem to hear me. Did I say it? I meant it. More than I’d ever meant anything in my life.
“Shhh.” He yanked out the floor mat, then reached up and pulled the visor down. A set of keys tumbled onto the driver’s seat. “Stay down.” He raised a pistol and fired three shots through the window over my head.
