“All we have to do is keep the raft straight as we go around the bend,” I hiss. “He should see it … and focus on it. Then we can slow down … buy the others some time.”
That’s as far as the plan goes, though. There are too many variables spinning away in all directions. What if one of the women stumbles in the scree on the portage trail, the clatter giving them away? What if Leo realizes too soon that the raft is filled with dummies? What if—
“Just keep going,”Parker insists, bringing me back to the task at hand.
“Should we kick backward?” Allie whispers in a panic. “I’m worried we’re moving too fast in the current.” We both know we aren’t a match for the river, no matter how strong we are in a lap pool.
“Yes,”Parker says, his voice sure and firm.
“Yes,” I repeat aloud. I shove my shoulder into the rear left of the raft to keep it moving straight, then kick hard against the current to slow us down.
I feel Allie nudge the raft right as it drifts, and I bite back a cry of pain as my foot slams into a boulder beneath the surface.
“Idaho Easy Chair,”Parker reminds me, and I whisper the words to Allie as soon as his voice fills my mind. We both tuck our legs flush against the raft’s bottom, still kicking hard.
It’s hard to tell how close we are to the bend, but I keep my eyes on the left wall of the canyon—where the others are making their escape—until I spot the craggy outcrop. The current gains momentum as it swings us around the bend toward the looming rock.
If Leo is watching from that cliff ledge, he’ll be able to see the raft now.
The thought makes me want to sink my head below the freezing surface and hide.
The dummies inside the boat sway above us as Allie and I cling to the bumper. One of them—the Macy dummy with the guide oars lashed to its center—slumps forward like it’s rowing. The others sit upright, life jackets stuffed, their contents spilling out the arm holes.
Up close, it’s hard to believe that the shadowy figures could pass as human. Even in the dark.
“Just keep swimming,”Parker murmurs, and I push the doubts away. They won’t help us now.
Instead, I let myself hope that maybe, just maybe, Leo will only see what he wants to see: Six desperate, cowed women sailing straight into his final, sick fantasy.
37
The rumble of Splinter Ridge gets louder as Allie and I move into the straightaway approaching the falls.
To my relief, the current is slower here—the calm before the storm—but the rhythmic pounding of the falls crashing on the rocks below vibrates through my bones. I heard the same rumble in the approach to both Anvil Falls and the Devil’s Stairs. But this is different. Deeper. Angrier. Deadlier.
According to Macy, this straightaway continues for around two-hundred yards before we reach the drop-off. But it sounds—and feels—much closer.
Unrunnable.The word loops through my head again and again.
And now there’s a psychopath leaning over the edge at the overlook, watching us.Hopefullywatching us. Because if he isn’t watching us, it means he’s watching the others slink along the canyon wall toward the trailhead.
I search the shadows for any trace of them, relieved to see only dark sheets of rock. Have they already made it to the portage trail? How fast will they really be able to move with Imani and Macy as injured as they are?
I dismiss the unanswerable questions and tighten my grip on the rope, kicking in time with Allie. We’re bothfighting against the current with all our strength now, like a boat motor chugging in reverse, clinging to the D-rings for dear life, all while straining to keep the boat moving straight and slow. My legs feel like dead weight with each kick, the current growing more powerful with each passing second.
To my surprise, we’re actually pretty damn successful at holding back the raft. Instead of cruising toward the falls, we’re inching along. Hopefully, from Leo’s vantage point it looks like we’re gathering courage before we face our doom—trying to decide whether to face him on land or go over the falls. It’s difficult to see much from my position in the water, below the bumper. But I swear I can feel his angry, cold eyes locked on our raft. Planning. Waiting.
Even though our current task is easy compared to what we’ve survived over the past twenty-four hours, keeping the raft steady and slow is taking everything I have left. I’ve been running on fumes for too long now, and I’m already out of breath. An arm’s length away, Allie’s breathing is every bit as labored.
We can’t do this forever. And we still need to save enough strength to swim cross-current to shore.
“How much longer?” Allie gasps beside me, her voice barely audible over the rushing water.
My mind reaches for Parker.
His voice, low and calm, murmurs, “Give the others a little more time. Kick hard, and don’t drift left.”
I repeat the words to Allie like a medium, kicking and ramming the raft to the right as hard as I can without revealing my position.
