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“Yeah. Remember that hunter your sister mentioned? Well, I was talking to their supervisor at Hands and Feet Aid Ministry, and I got all the lists of people the two of them have helped find over the years. I started with the deceased. And low and behold—”
“Would you get on with it?”
“I’m getting there. Remember that random wrong number Chloe got?”
“Of course.”
“It was this guy’s brother.” Buck jabbed a piece of paper in front of him. The name Peter Bortsov was under Buck’s finger.
“What’s the brother’s name?”
“Elliot Bortsov.”
“Think it’s him?”
“I looked him up. No criminal history that I could find. The family owns a bunch of land up in the mountains. That’s where Peter got lost. It’s sad really. Josh and Chloe were in no way responsible for the man’s death. Even if they had found him sooner. . .”
“Then why—”
“Hold up. There’s more. They have a sister too. She’s an anesthesiologist here in Knoxville. So it’s possible she helped her brother get drugs to take them.”
“We need to talk to Elliot Bortsov.”
“Yes, we do, but let’s talk to the sheriff out there first.”
“If we have to.” Gabe turned to Poirot. “Ready to go find Chloe?”
Poirot jumped to his feet and barked.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter Eighteen
JoshsqueezedChloealittle closer. What were they to do? Was this lunatic actually hunting them down? But now they were stuck in a cave on the side of a mountain. Maybe this wasn’t one of his brighter ideas. They would have to get out, but if the madman figured out where they were, he could just sit out there and shoot them when they emerged. Or they could starve.
With deep breaths, he was able to calm his heart enough to listen to what was going on outside.
Footsteps against stone.
Josh kissed Chloe’s head and released her so he could edge toward the opening.
The footsteps seemed to move farther down the path that led to the forest floor. The lunatic was being anything but quiet as he descended into the woods.
Risking a look, Josh poked his head closer between the rocks where they’d entered. A flannel-clad figure, shotgun over his shoulder and ski cap pulled down over shaggy hair, trotted between the trees and out of sight.
Josh turned to Chloe. “He’s gone.”
“Now what?”
He looked back out and down the rock face. Just as easy a climb as it had been to get down this far. Turning back to Chloe, he gave her his best toothy, I-hope-you-don’t-hate-me smile.
“No. I told you, I’m going to die here.”
“You’ll be fine. The rope’s not quite long enough to rappel but—”
“If he’s down, shouldn’t we go up?” she asked.
“To what end? Up there, we know of no way out.”
