Gone Too Deep (33 page)

With a frowning glance upward, Joseph rubbed his jaw with his gloved hand. “The snow is still coming down pretty good. Plus, there are spots where someone could go off the road and there'd be no way to see them unless you were looking.”

Taking a half step forward, wanting so badly to run outside and start searching for George, Ellie made herself stop and think. “Chris is here. He can get the other deputies to start searching.”

“I passed Jennings as I turned into Holloway's driveway. He left.”

“What?”
Chris was gone? Why had he left? Her breath was coming fast, and she made a conscious effort to slow down and think. Her phone! She needed to get her phone off the kitchen table. She didn't have Chris's direct number, since she'd lost his card sometime during the past few weeks, but she could call Rob. He'd know what was going on with Chris, and he could start the search for George. As she turned, she saw Joseph start to step through the doorway.

“Don't come in.” Ellie turned back to block him, her desire to call for help vying with the equally urgent need to keep Joseph out of the house.

“Ellie,” he cajoled. “I'll just wait inside with you until George is found. You shouldn't be alone right now. Unless you want to search for him? We can take my car. It'd be nice to have some time alone with you. We never really got a chance—you never gave
me
a chance.” As he spoke, he tried to take a step forward, but Ellie held her ground, refusing to give even an inch. A flush of rage ran up her neck and heated her face. How dare he waste time being inappropriate and slimy when George could be hurt?

“Get out.” She gave him a two-handed shove to the chest. Surprise more than force sent him stumbling back a few steps, just far enough for Ellie to swing the door closed. Ignoring his indignant yelp, she muscled through the last couple of inches until the latch fell into place.

She hurried into the kitchen. Her phone was where she'd left it, and she gave a shaky exhale of relief as she grabbed it. Her happiness was short-lived, however, when she saw the “no service” message in the top left corner of her screen.

She hesitated for a second, tugging on a hangnail with her teeth as she tried to calm her brain enough to consider her options. The first priority was getting help for George. Joseph, no matter how uncomfortable he made her, was a trusted member of the emergency services team. Even more importantly now, he had a vehicle. He could drive her to town—or at least close enough that she could get cell reception. The idea of getting into his SUV made her shudder. Everything inside of her was screaming that it was a bad idea.

Okay. Besides Joseph, what was her next option? Before she could figure it out, a raised voice from outside caught her attention. Was Chris back? Maybe even George? Hope mixed with anxiety as she rushed for the front door. After carefully checking to make sure Joseph wasn't still on the porch, she pulled it open just far enough to see outside.

Snow was still falling heavily, and the motion-activated light reflected off the flakes, making it hard to see much past the porch. She peered through the snow and then had to bite back a gasp as she spotted Anderson standing just a few feet from Joseph. Sucking in a breath, she opened her mouth to call to Joseph, to warn him that he was within reach of a killer, but something about their body language wasn't right. Ellie closed her mouth without making a sound.

“What are you doing here?” Joseph asked, sounding annoyed. “I told you we'd meet up later. You're going to ruin everything.”

Anderson didn't say anything. There was a small flash and a loud
crack
, and Joseph crumpled onto the snow.

Ellie froze. She knew that sound, that flare of light. It was a gun firing. The snowy scene in front of her wavered and blurred, and she forced herself to blink several times.
Don't pass out
. Her breath tried to escape on a sob, so she clamped her lips together.
Don't lose it, and don't pass out
.

She shuffled one foot back a half step, followed by the other. Just as the door closed, she saw Anderson start toward the cabin.

A high-pitched sound was trapped in her chest, and she sucked in shallow, rapid breaths through her nose. If she opened her mouth, she would start screaming, and she wasn't sure if she'd be able to stop. The door bumped against the jamb, and the latch locked into place, the sound echoing in the silence and jolting her out of her paralysis.

Spinning around, she ran through the kitchen, bumping a chair with her hip as she passed. Her thoughts were useless, careening at breakneck speed. In the living room, she forced herself to stop running blindly. Standing in the flickering red light of the woodstove, she bit the skin next to her thumbnail hard enough to draw blood. Strangely, though, the pain allowed her to push aside her building panic and focus. She couldn't just hide in the bedroom closet, as tempting as that was. Pressing her hands against her temples, she whispered, “Think, think, think…”

What if she did hide? The cabin was solid, and the door locked. She could just wait it out until someone showed up. Who, though? George might be unconscious in a ditch somewhere, Rob was unreachable, Chris had left her, Joseph was bleeding into the snow, and no one else knew she was in danger.

The thought of George solidified her determination. She needed to get out and go somewhere with cell reception. Escaping through the front door was not an option, and there was no back door. Her darting gaze settled on one of the windows, her feet moving in that direction before she actually made the decision.

As she unlocked the window, there was a horribly familiar
thunk
from the front door. Anderson had pulled the cord and unlocked the door. Terror made her freeze for a precious second before she yanked up the window. Her fingers fumbled with the storm-window fastening, but she finally heard a click and popped it out of the frame. Ellie didn't bother trying to be careful removing the screen. She just shoved at it until the soft aluminum frame bent, and then she pulled it free.

Swinging one leg over the sill and then the other, she dropped to the ground below. Her socked feet sank into the snow, and she instantly wished she'd grabbed her boots—and coat—when she'd torn blindly out of the entry. Although the ground was lower than the floor had been, she was just able to reach the bottom of the window. Her sweaty fingers slipped as she tried to pull it closed. If she could shut it, maybe Anderson would waste time searching the house for her, giving her a precious head start.

Ellie heard the heavy
thud-thud-thud
of footsteps crossing the floor, each one getting louder as he drew near. It was too late to hide the open window. Her hands went numb with fear, falling to her sides, and she plastered her body against the rough log exterior of the cabin.

Run, dummy!
some drill sergeant in her brain screamed at her.
Don't just stand here, waiting to get caught!
Her feet obeyed that voice almost before the words registered. She ran along the back of the cabin, staying close to the wall where the roof overhang had blocked most of the snow from collecting. When she reached the corner of the house, she didn't allow herself to hesitate, but plowed into the drifts, sinking knee-deep in the snow with every stride.

It slowed her to a nightmare pace, sweat beading at her hairline even as her feet went numb with cold, but she pushed grimly toward the trees. She knew she was leaving a trail that even a kindergartner could follow, but there was no other choice. With each step, she expected to feel hands grabbing for her or a bullet ripping through her, but she didn't allow herself to look back—not even a glance over her shoulder. She kept her eyes locked on the tree line that was slowly—much too slowly—getting closer.

Each ragged breath clawed at her lungs, and she forced herself not to think of the snowshoes she'd left behind at the cabin with her boots and coat. The forest was only five floundering strides away, and then three and then, with an adrenaline-fueled lunge, she was in the trees.

The snow cover was shallower, even nonexistent at the base of some evergreens. Ellie made herself slow, rather than tearing through the woods in a mindless panic. Remembering the first time she'd run from Anderson King, she started placing her feet with care, finding bare spots and rocks where she could step in order to disguise her trail.

“Run, killer,” Anderson's mocking voice called from somewhere, sounding too, too close. Her breathing was loud, and she covered her mouth and nose with her hand to muffle it. “It'll make it more fun to track you down. And once I do catch you, you'll die a lot slower than my brother did.”

The darkness was deepening, with just enough light to create terror-inducing shadows behind every pine tree and clump of aspen. Branches caught her hair and scratched her face, and Ellie was glad her feet were numb, since she knew they'd be hurting unbearably otherwise. Every so often, she forced herself to stop and hold her breath, listening for sounds of pursuit. Anderson was stealthy. She knew that from when he'd snuck up on them without George noticing. That didn't stop her from pausing to check for any sounds—a branch brushing a coat sleeve or a boot crunching on snow—just in case he had a careless moment.

There was nothing.

The trees opened to a small clearing, and Ellie skirted the edge, trying to place her feet where they wouldn't leave a print. She slid on an icy patch, grabbing at branches and barely managing to stay upright. The abrupt movement made her compass thump against her breastbone, reminding her of its presence.

Fumbling with cold fingers, she finally opened it and tilted the compass to catch the last bit of daylight. North was behind her, so she turned to her left. If she headed east, she'd eventually run into the county road. Hopefully, her phone would get reception there. If not, she'd at least have a chance at flagging down a car.

With renewed determination, she increased her pace, ignoring her frozen, increasingly clumsy feet and her painful, burning hands. The trees thinned, allowing her to jog. Panic was a constant presence at the back of her mind, pushing her faster and faster. She forced herself to stop, panting from exertion and fear, to check her compass again. After reorienting herself, she set off again, knowing she was getting closer and closer to that county road.

A crunch of underbrush made her stop abruptly, scrambling to keep her feet underneath her. She went completely still, straining her ears and mentally cursing the loud heartbeat that drowned out all other sounds. The crackle of breaking twigs came again from directly in front of her. Her frantic gaze darted from side to side as she tried to decide which way to dodge. Ellie pushed back a building hopelessness. Whatever way she went, Anderson was going to follow.

An enormous dark shape pushed past pine branches and came to an abrupt halt just twenty or so feet in front of her. A strong, musky smell hit her along with the realization that it wasn't Anderson King standing there.

It was a bear.

The sheer unfairness of it all nearly made her knees give out. She was running for her life, trying to escape a vengeful killer, and now there was a
bear
?

After the initial rush of rage and panic, George's voice echoed in her ears, as clearly as if he were there with her.
Back away slowly. Talk calmly.
She'd survived an avalanche, an exploding cabin, multiple attacks by Anderson King, and a night in a claustrophobic hole. Compared to all that, a bear should be easy.

“Hey, bear.” Her voice quavered, climbing to a high note, and she swallowed and tried again as she slid her foot back. “Hello, Mr. Bear. Or Ms. Bear—and if you're a Ms. Bear, I really hope you don't have your baby bears with you, as cute as they might be, since you probably won't be in a very good mood if there are little ones around.” The bear huffed, and her next backward step turned into a startled scramble. She froze, hoping the movement hadn't made her look too prey-like. That's what she felt like, though—a scared, about-to-be-eaten bunny.

“Stop that,” she said to herself more than the bear as she tried to keep her backward steps slow and steady. “I'm not going to be eaten by this nice bear. I might get shot by Anderson King, but I'm not going to be eaten. George wouldn't have told me not to be worried about bears if there was a chance I'd be eaten.”

The bear stood up on its hind legs.

“Oh shit.” Ellie stopped breathing, stopped moving, stopped thinking. After endless seconds, the animal returned to four legs, his front paws slapping the ground.

Either the sound or the motion broke her from her paralysis. She began to ease backward again, fighting with every slow step not to turn and run. “Don't run, don't run,” she chanted. “George said not to run and not to climb a tree. Don't run, don't run, don't run.”

She didn't run. Instead, she backed up until the bear disappeared, its dark shape blending with the shadows. Only then did she turn and walk—quickly, but still walking—away from the bear. Her breath hitched with every exhale, but she ignored the persistent sobs and focused on getting as far away as she could without running.

Her feet felt like cement blocks attached to her ankles, making her stumble with almost every step. Now that she couldn't head east anymore—the bear was east—she didn't have another plan.

“Think,” she muttered between chattering teeth. “Think. You can't help George if you freeze to death out here.” Her foot caught on something, and she went down to her hands and knees. When she tossed her hair out of her eyes, she saw she'd stumbled into the same small meadow she'd passed earlier, and tears burned her eyes. After all that—her care not to leave a trail, the cold, and the bear—she hadn't gotten anywhere.

A dark shadow detached itself from the edge of the clearing. Blinking, she tried to sharpen her blurry, tear-washed vision. By the time her eyes cleared and she realized Anderson King was stalking toward her, it was too late.