Page 103 of The Burning

I suppress a nasty response.

“Where’s Tomasetti?” I ask.

He turns his attention back to the road and doesn’t answer.

Closing my eyes, I bite down so hard my teeth hurt and I shove back another wave of panic. “Where the hell is he?” I snarl.

He ignores the question.

“Ah. Here we are.” He jams the shifter into park and kills the engine. I look out the window, see nothing but treetops, gray sky, and lightly falling snow.

Hofer gets out, comes around to the back and opens the door. “Let’s get you out of there.”

“What are you doing?” I ask.

Leaning in, he picks up the coil of rope and loops it over his head and shoulder, like a crossbody bag. When I don’t move, he grasps my arm and hauls me from the SUV. Pain shoots up my hip, but when my feet hit the ground, my legs hold and I’m able to stand.

I take note of my surroundings. Gravel road. Wooded area. The sight of the quarry a few yards away elicits a wave of fear. The body of water is about an acre in size, with sheer rock walls that sweep down to water as smooth as black glass.

“Let’s walk,” he says.

“Where are you taking me?” I don’t move, meet his gaze, hold it. His eyes show no emotion, but his expression is intent. I can feel my legs shaking, hear my breaths coming shallow and fast. As I look at him, I test the binds. Definitely rope. Not too tight, but secure; some of the feeling coming back into my hands.

Taking my arm, he urges me forward. “I knew the day I met you that you were going to be a problem, Chief Burkholder. I know it’s little comfort at this moment. I know you’re frightened and worried for your husband. All I can tell you is that I did not want things to end like this.”

… end like this.

We’re walking side by side. The quarry is to my right, a ten-foot drop to the water. I struggle to remain calm. To come up with a plan to talk him down. Outsmart him. Outmaneuver him.

Kill the son of a bitch.

I glance back toward the SUV. If I can break free and get to my shotgun … If Tomasetti is able, he’ll come. Dispatch knows where I am. Of course, no one knows I’m in trouble.

“End like what?” I ask.

He looks at me as if I’m a recalcitrant child that must be chastened. He doesn’t answer.

“I’m not part of the investigation,” I tell him.

“They fired you?” He raises his brows. “How’s that for loyalty? Reward for a job well done?”

“They arrested my brother.”

“Ah, I see.” He nods, thoughtful. “Jacob.”

His right hand is wrapped firmly around my biceps, urging me forward.

“You know his name,” I say.

“I know many things. Sometimes knowing so much is not a gift.” He says the words with regret. “I know things I wish I didn’t. Things I wish I could change, but can’t.”

“Where are we going?” I ask.

No response.

“You don’t have to do this,” I say.

We’re ascending a hill, the surface of the quarry below us falling away. It’s an easy hike, but I’m aware of his quickening breaths from the exertion.