Page 92 of A Deeper Darkness

She quit walking. This time, he didn’t try to touch her, just turned and gestured back the way they’d come. She folded her arms across her chest and strode past him. He followed in silence.

They went for a minute until Sam heard a branch snap to her left. She stopped dead in her tracks, crouched, coiled, her heart pounding.

“Fletch. Fletch, did you hear that?” she whispered.

Before he could answer, the trees just to her right rustled, then parted. She wanted to run, to scream, but she was frozen.

A dark-haired man stepped out of the forest, silent, deadly. A knife was strapped to his thigh. He had the strap of an assault rifle slung across his chest, the weapon trained on both Sam and Fletcher. He gave them a sad smile.

“Detective Fletcher is absolutely right, Dr. Owens. You’renotsafe out here alone.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Savage River

Dr. Samantha Owens

Sam stared at the gun. It looked wicked, black and hard and lethal. She swallowed and glanced at the man holding the weapon. While she knew it was Whitfield, he didn’t look like the same man who’d come to Donovan’s funeral. He’d shaved, for one, and was wearing dark, wraparound sunglasses. His hair was shorn, as well. He appeared much more like the man in the picture than the man she’d seen just a day ago.

She heard the whisper of metal against leather as Fletcher drew his gun from its holster.

“Whitfield. We don’t need anything going south accidentally here. Put down the weapon. Put it down now.”

Whitfield cocked an eyebrow skyward. “You first.”

“You can’t do this. You need to come in. We need to talk.”

“Detective Fletcher. I appreciate your interest in me, but I assure you, I am not the one you need to be afraid of.” He turned his gaze to Sam.

“Dr. Owens. Would you be so kind as to accompany me?”

Sam looked from Whitfield to Fletcher. The tension between the two was ridiculously thick. She was in the middle of two loaded weapons, and it wasn’t just the guns she was worried about.

Fletcher was the first to blink. “I can’t let her do that, Whitfield. You’re wanted for first-degree murder. I can’t let her walk into the woods with you, never to be seen again. I promised to watch over her, and I damn well intend to do that. Now, I’ll say it again. Put down your weapon.”

Whitfield moved his head fractionally, as if to say okay, fine, whatever. There was a flash from behind Fletcher, and he went down, hard. Sam saw a tall woman standing behind them, a handgun turned backward in her palm, stock out.

“Like he was going to let her come with you, Xander. Really.”

Sam tried to stay brave. She had no way to defend herself. For all her talk, she was frightened to death, especially knowing she now had no choice but to leave with Whitfield. The first rule of kidnapping was not to let yourself be taken from the initial spot in the first place. She was about to be forced to break that rule.

“He okay?” Whitfield asked the woman. She bent and felt his pulse.

“Yeah. Gonna have one hell of a headache when he wakes up, though.”

“All right. Let’s get moving. Dr. Owens, give me your cell.”

Sam fought down the panic. She was loath to part with her phone. This was her last link, the only way Fletcher had to find her. But if Whitfield had it on him, they could still trace it, right? Even if he turned it off? As long as the battery was still attached…

She handed him the phone. He turned it over in his hand and heaved it as hard as he could overhand into the woods.

“You asshole,” Sam burst out. “That was my phone.”

He looked at her and her stomach turned to water. It was unnerving not to be able to see his eyes. But she didn’t need to see them to know this wasn’t a man to be messed with.

“I know it was your phone. Move out. Now.”

He turned and started to walk away. Sam didn’t move. The woman came up behind her and prodded her.