“I received another note,” she said.
“Oh?” He wasn’t convinced the first note was a threat at all. The more he considered it, the more he was aware of the vague language. There was no demand made. The note read like an ominous statement encouraging her best behavior. Like the admonishment of a parent to a child.
“I’m worried I’m being watched,” she murmured, quickly shooting a glance over her shoulder. “Tracked.”
“Why? What did the note say?” As a trained officer, regardless of personal feelings or unfounded suspicions, he treated everyone with respect.
“No loose ends,” she hissed.
He stopped in his tracks. The same thing Emma had read on the note at the hospital. He couldn’t blow off the coincidence. “Did you save the note?”
“It’s back in the cabin with my phone. I left my worries behind.” She chuckled. “Oh, shoot. We’re slowing them down. I’ll race you to the group.”
“Don—” He cut himself off. Maybe her wanting to catch up to the group was a good sign. Perhaps she was regaining her self-confidence. He didn’t mind a few moments of solitude, sorting through the web of his thoughts.
How could he help everyone? He was stretched too thin. If he focused on Emma, he showed unprofessionalism. But she was under the most dire threat. Her life had been at risk multiple times since arriving. Margaux’s worries remained theoretical.
A scream ripped through the air, the blood curdling sound of terror all too real. He raced forward. With his blood pumping, he scaled over fallen tree stumps with ease and ripped small tree limbs and branches off the path. His adrenaline surged as he spotted three figures huddled together on the ground. He pressed his radio and heard nothing. His heartbeat pounded.
The battery was dead. He had no way to call for help. They were on their own.
Eleven
Emma hated screams as much as silence. Both symbolized Liz’s end. She must have shrieked as she fell, alone and scared. For a twin to leave the earth without anyone nearby was unnatural. They had entered the world together and should have been intertwined forever.
In the forest, Jennifer’s shriek bounced off every tree, echoing inside Emma’s head. Emma covered her ears with both hands, slapping her cheeks in the process. She winced at the pain, shutting her eyes. A flash of a memory tumbled loose.
The cabin door snapped shut. Liz had left after lights out. In her frustration at her sister, Emma had rooted around in her duffel bag until she found the contraband portable CD player and headphones she’d packed that summer. She wore only one headphone, in case the girls needed her, and hit play. New age music she’d bought off a TV ad filled her ear with noise, and she drifted off.
No one woke her. She was the first out of bed in the morning. Her sister’s empty bunk had filled her with a cold dread that snaked from the top of her head, twisting along her spine, down to her curled toes. She had doubled over in pain, dry heaving. Then a knock on the door.
Jennifer’s scream could have been her own as Emma relieved those moments and the unnerving sense of her sister’s demise. Emma dropped her hands to her throat, feeling no vibration. She forced out a rough breath and raced to Jennifer. Emma focused on the bumpy terrain, not eager to join her friend with an injury. She knelt on the ground at Jennifer’s side.
Her foot pushed through fallen leaves and into a small animal’s forgotten burrow. Jennifer winced, sucking in sharp breaths. No one else made a move.
Emma grabbed her friend by the shoulders. “Stop,” Emma screeched. “Christine, Margaux, don’t move her. Don’t take another step.”
Christine froze and turned back, her eyes widening.
Margaux paled, turning a ghostly shade.
Emma knelt on the ground next to Jennifer. Jennifer’s mouth twisted into a contorted grimace, her nostrils flaring with quick breaths.
“Shhh, shhh, shhh,” Emma murmured in a soothing tone. She wasn’t sure who needed to calm down the most. Jennifer, Christine, Margaux, or herself.
“Lean against me for support,” Emma instructed. “Margaux, breathe in through your nose. Don’t give in to nausea. Christine,” Emma continued, meeting the woman’s watery gaze. “You need to carefully lift her foot out of the hole so we can assess what to do next. Can you help?”
Christine wiped at her eyes and sniffed, moving into position.
“On the count of three,” Emma said, not giving any moment for deliberation. In her experience, actions spoke louder than words. They could discuss what should have happened later. “One, two, thr?—”
Christine yanked.
Jennifer yelped and panted, knocking Emma backward.
Emma pushed off the ground and righted Jennifer to an upright seated position. Where was Daniel? How had he fallen so far behind?
A branch snapped, followed quickly by another and another.
