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"You bet you're sorry," came the voice. "I'm going to shoot you the second I see your face."
A bead of sweat ran down Ken's forehead and fell somewhere between his shoulder and his chest. "Just stay calm, please," Ken said. "Are you Derek Mills? We're with the FBI."
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"It might. We're here about your wife."
Another pause. "Sarah? What about her?"
"She's missing," Ken said. “You know she’s missing, don’t you?”
"Yeah? Well guess what, I don't care."
"You don't care that your wife is missing?" Ken wasn’t surprised, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be surprised if this guy was the cause of Sarah’s disappearance. Maybe the other girls’ too. Hiding out here in the middle of the forest, shooting anyone who even comes near—this was a bad look for Derek Mills.
"Why would I care?" His voice had an odd, sing-song quality to it. "Sarah left me. Good riddance."
"Why did she leave you, Derek?”
Ken thought he heard a deranged giggle. "Because I'm so goddamn awesome. I'm so much better than her. I'm so much better than anybody."
"Did Sarah know that?"
"What are you, a goddamn therapist? What do you care, anyway?"
This guy was clearly unhinged. Ken needed to be careful—sometimes, nothing was more dangerous than a lunatic with a lethal weapon. He hoped Nicky knew what she was doing. They were way too far out to call for backup, and besides, the local PD here had already made it clear that they weren't too keen on helping the feds. Nicky and Ken were alone out here with this guy.
And Nicky had snuck from the back of the trailer to the front, but she wasn't in his line of sight anymore. She could easily get shot.
"Do you know where your wife is?" Ken asked. He had to keep him talking. If he could keep him talking, maybe he could keep him distracted. And maybe Nicky could slip in the back and get a better shot.
A pause. "Why should I tell you?"
"There might be hope for you yet. You can turn around and get help."
"You think I need your help?"
"No, I think you need help. And you should give yourself the chance to get it."
Derek laughed once. “That’s not gonna work on me, agent or detective or whatever you are. Get off my property before I start shooting.”
Nicky should have been in the trailer by now, but if she was, she was as silent as a mouse. Ken wanted to peek around the corner to see if Derek's shotgun was still pointing out the window, but it was risky. He decided to just keep talking.
"You must get pretty lonely out here all alone without your wife, Derek," Ken said.
"I don't even know what you're talking about," he said. "I'm not lonely. I've got friends."
"Who are your friends?"
"I'm not telling you that!"
"Derek, we're here to help you. And if you want us to, we can help you. If you just tell us what's going on, we can--"
"You're the ones who are going to be dead," Derek said. "I ain't going to jail. Over my dead body!"
Then, suddenly, Ken heard a click. The air went still. He wanted to call out for Nicky, to see where she was, but he wouldn't dare break the silence.
Then, he heard Nicky's voice: "Drop the weapon, Derek."
