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Bethenny decided it didn’t matter what came through the radio next, because she wasn’t leaving until they had a body. She’d made many mistakes in her life, but this would not be one of them. And she hoped that if she ever found herself in Lachlan’s situation, her team wouldn’t quit on her either.
She knew that was harsh—Mitch wasn’t a quitter, he was just looking at the evidence and ensuring the safety of the search team—but...
Her train of thought was interrupted by a ferocious clap of thunder and then the skies opened once more.
Bethenny darted for the closest trees, breathing heavily by the time she reached cover. The canopy overhead was thick here, but water still managed to trickle through, landing on her forehead.
“Bethenny? Bethenny?” Mitch continued to repeat her name.
“I’m here. I’m going to stay, I’ll keep looking around,” she said, her eyes landing on more footprints not yet washed away by the rain.
“I can’t advise that. We’ll come back in the morning,” Mitch said, his words a plea.
“I’ll be fine, Mitch. I know these woods, and I’ve camped here many times before. Radio me at dawn and I’ll come meet you,” she said, not mentioning that this time she would be camping with very few supplies and everything was wet. She would have to go deep into the woods to find any dry wood to build a fire.
She rubbed her temples, feeling a headache beginning to settle in. She didn’t know if it was stress or the cold causing it, but she knew she needed to put a stop to it as quickly as she could. She crouched down, opened her backpack, and took out the first aid kit. She popped a few ibuprofen out and swallowed them, washing them down with a swig of water. She was careful not to drink more than she needed, because maintaining a clean water supply was crucial at this point.
She returned her attention to the footsteps. Under the protection of the canopy, the footsteps were better defined—less washed away.
Bethenny took a step forward, and then another, every sense alert as she reminded herself she might be hunting the shooter.
LACHLAN
His back rested against the tree trunk, its large, old roots curved around him. His teeth chattered, and his wrist throbbed. His eyes dropped to his left wrist, but it was so dark now he couldn’t see it. He could feel it, though; it was puffy and twice the size of his right wrist.
He wasn’t sure exactly when it had happened, but it had started aching about an hour after he’d climbed back over the cliff. He supposed he’d twisted it somehow when he’d gone over the edge.
He closed his eyes, but it made no difference—opened or closed, everything around him was pitch black. He’d gone deeper into the woods to find cover, but he’d found nothing else. No sign of human life.No vending machines, he thought with a sadistic grin. His stomach growled and he wished he had something to eat.
He shivered again, vowing never to take for granted the necessities of life. Food, water, dry clothing. Instinctively, he wrapped his hands around his waist to keep warm and immediately regretted it.
He gritted his teeth, cursing under his breath as his wrist throbbed.
He cradled it in the other hand.
Just make it through the night, he told himself. Lachlan knew the storm was due to pass during the night, and he prayed the morning would bring warm sunlight.
He knew he needed to think of something else—a distraction from being lost in the woods.
Immediately, he thought of Bethenny again. In fact, she had rarely left his thoughts.
Had Mitch reached her? Surely he had. She would handle things—of that, Lachlan was sure. He wondered again if Bethenny knew of her reputation in her small hometown; she’d set tongues wagging when she’d requested to be transferred from Los Angeles. She been one of the lead homicide detectives, yet she’d opted to return to her roots in a small town where the local gossip of a possible affair was the most interesting thing that ever happened.
Until today, Lachlan realized. A body buried in the woods was going to set tongues wagging.
It was not only her career that interested him—but her. Assured, confident, smart, beautiful, brave... single—by all accounts of local gossip. He wondered if she’d left Los Angeles because of someone, then chided himself for that thought. Bethenny Monroe wasn’t the kind of woman to run away from someone or something.
What was she doing now? He assumed—hoped—Mitch had sent a search team out for him and sent Bethenny home to bed. She’d had a longer day than his, and one of them at least should be warm and asleep.
He shook his head at himself as he imagined her curled up in bed, eyes peacefully closed.
He hadn’t thought about anyone like this—not since Eden. But the last time he’d seen her she had not been curled up peacefully in bed. Her eyes had been open, staring at the ceiling. Lifeless.
He thought of the body in the ground, of the blonde girl who had started today’s chain reaction of events. His first thought when he’d looked at her was that she reminded him of Eden the day he’d found her. The work looked similar—jagged, messy, slit throats.
His heart squeezed and he hung his head, shaking it softly.
“Don’t go there,” he whispered to himself, his voice dry and raw. “Don’t go there.”
