Page 14

THIRTEEN

The person who created the phrase living a nightmare couldn’t have possibly imagined what Amy Clark had suffered over the last twenty-four hours or so. How long had it been since the wreck? Time meant nothing to her. She lived between each heartbeat, dragging every breath past a sore throat and into aching lungs. Taken as a hostage, she’d foolishly imagined they would keep her in reasonable condition if they planned to use her as their frontperson to get inside cabins without being shot. That naive impression had stopped the moment they’d entered the cabin where they’d murdered the old man. The memory of what happened next crawled over her skin like maggots on dead flesh. On arrival at the cabin, Margos had sent her to the bathroom to clean up. Covered in blood from the guard shot during the escape, she foolishly believed the foul smell was getting to him. Blood had dried on her face, and brain matter clung to her. The stink of death had gotten worse by the minute and she’d welcomed the chance to get clean. The bathroom had a shower and the water had been deliciously hot, but the moment she stepped out and wrapped her towel around her, her life had changed forever.

The prisoners had been locked up for a long time, and naked and smelling of soap, she quickly became a toy for them to play with, and when she complained, they’d beaten her. The threat to kill was always there. In fact, they wagered which one of them would break first and cut her throat. The episodes of abuse came between the time spent in the small kitchen preparing meals and making endless cups of coffee. Seeing daylight pour through the windows had acted like a signal. Playtime was over. The prisoners acted as if they had a mission, but they discussed nothing in front of her, although she’d caught the name of a place: Louan. She’d been allowed to clean up and dress before cooking breakfast. Apart from a few sideways glances and coarse remarks, they didn’t touch her again, each of them intent on moving on.

She’d seen signs of a girl in the cabin, and the men concluded she’d maybe been a visitor, but as they left the cabin, pushing her ahead of them, she’d noticed a yellow ribbon snagged in a pine tree on a trail heading in the opposite direction. If a young girl had been inside, she’d thankfully escaped and would be raising the alarm. Any other time, hiking in a lush green forest with new growth all around and the scent of wildflowers would have been a delight, but not with three serial killers breathing down her neck. They followed the river until they’d spotted a drone. She figured the cops had sent it to find them, but it turned out to be another mystery. When Margos waved as if greeting an old friend, it flew low and dropped a parcel.

Amy stumbled to a halt. With her hands tied behind her and attached to a rope like a dog, escape was impossible. Exhausted from lack of sleep and hurting all over, she tried to keep positive. Hunters roamed the forest, and seeing her tied, they might alert the cops. It was her only hope. Right now, she must be of use to them. The moment that changed, she’d become another name on a long list of victims. They’d all been waiting for the delivery. Although they spoke in hushed tones, excitement was streaked all over their faces. She took a few steps backward as Margos unwrapped the box and tossed the lid to one side. The container carried pistols, ammunition, and satellite phones. Moments later, Margos received a call. He’d made no reply, just listened and disconnected. After distributing the phones and ammo, he told them they should split up and sent the other two prisoners along the riverbank.

“Keep heading north. I’m going inland.” Margos waved the others away. “You’ll get a message if that changes. We’re being tracked, so don’t leave the trail.”

“I want the woman.” Callahan raised his chin and his eyes flashed with anger. “You said, fair shares in everything,”

“No.” Margos shook his head. He straightened his burly body and clenched his fists. “Don’t mess with me. I need her as a lure. You can have her when we’re done here.” He pulled on the rope, turned his back on them, and headed into the forest.

As they moved through the trees, terror gripped her. What were they planning? Dear God, are they planning on killing another innocent soul? Whatever, I’m disposable unless I can find a way to escape.

“Hold up.” Margos pulled on the rope tied to her hands. “Sit there.” He pointed to a fallen log.

So thirsty, Amy’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, but asking him for anything would be a mistake. The argument the men had over her the previous night had almost come to blows. She’d seen different sides to all of them during the horrific time she’d spent with them, never knowing if the next second would be her last. Her stomach lurched at the memory. She needed to scream, cry, and push the awful memory out of her mind, but it came back in a rush of torment. She closed her eyes as the rerun replayed again. The moment she’d stepped out of the shower, Romero had grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. Roaring like a bull, Margos had pressed his pistol into Romero’s temple. Callahan had dragged her away and thrown her to the floor, insisting a woman was a waste of time to argue over. His suggestion was that they all murder her and at least have a thrill out of what was becoming a boring journey, and he’d rather be back in prison with three squares a day. The way they’d looked at her, all of them considering the best way to kill her, had chilled her to the bone. Their demeanor had changed completely, their eyes becoming hard and expressions almost blank. The compromise had been worse. During the ordeal, she wished she could pass out, but they’d kept her awake. Dying would have been better.

Being under Margos’ complete control terrified her. It was like being a cow in a slaughterhouse queuing up waiting for the bolt in the head. She sat and waited as he sent a message, waited for a reply, and then checked the GPS coordinates. He glanced at her and then removed his ball cap to scratch his head.

“There are two teams of cops chasing us down.” Margos reached into his backpack for a bottle of water. “None are close, and splitting up will make it easier for me to find them.” He sipped water and then looked at her. “You look thirsty. Hard to drink with your hands tied together, huh? I figure the split lip wouldn’t help either.”

Amy didn’t want to meet his gaze and stared at the ground, but she nodded slightly. None of the men had held a conversation with her. She’d obeyed their orders and kept as passive as possible rather than risk them losing their temper with her.

“You don’t need permission to speak to me.” Margos held out the bottle of water and waved it under her nose as if it were a glass of fine wine. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a conversation with a female. There were the nurses in the infirmary, but they weren’t so nice.”

Keeping her eyes averted, Amy gathered what courage she had left. “Yes, I’m thirsty. It’s difficult to keep going without drinking water.”

“Then I’ll make you a deal. I figure if we’ve got drones out, so will the cops. If they see us walking through the forest with you on a tether, they’ll know who I am and come running.” Margos moved a little closer and she could smell the onions they had for dinner with the elk steaks she’d discovered in the freezer. “I’ll untie you, but if we come across someone and you start flapping your lips or screaming, I’ll shoot you and them without a second thought. You see, I’ve got nothing to lose. I was in prison on death row. They don’t execute many prisoners, so it means never to be released. So how many more years can they give me? When or if I go back to prison, I’m going to be there until I die.”

Cooperating was her only chance of survival. The alternative slipped across her mind. If they came across others in the forest and they recognized him as one of the escaped prisoners, he’d kill them without a second thought. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Slowly lifting her head Amy glanced at him and then looked away. Before leaving the prison, she’d hastily scanned the files of the men they were transporting. “Ice Pick” Mason Margos attacked women because they looked at him strange. To him, eyes were an affront. Her hands trembled. This man terrified her, and his arrogant face would probably be the last thing she saw before she died. “Okay, what do you want me to do?”

“Simple, just act as if we’re a couple hiking through the forest on a nice sunny day.” Margos’ gaze ran up and down her and he gave his head a little shake as if pulling himself out of a fantasy. “If we meet anyone, you let me do the talking. With luck, before it gets dark we’ll find another cabin. I’m told there are many in this area.” He sniggered. “Maybe I’ll let you take another shower, but this time I’m going to watch or I might even join you.” He leaned forward and untied her wrists. “Have a drink. We’ll stop again later but right now we need to keep going.”

Horrified by what was to come, Amy’s hands shook so bad she could hardly get the water to her parched mouth. The fluid burned the cut on her lip, but she drank it down so fast it spilled out of the corner of her mouth and ran down her shirt. Afraid to empty the bottle, she lowered it from her lips and handed it to him, keeping her lashes low. When he stood up and hoisted his backpack over one shoulder, he gave her a push in the back as she stood. Amy stumbled forward, her feet tangled in the underbrush, and she fell flat on her face into the decaying leaf mold.

“Get up.” Margos kicked the sole of her boot. “You rest when I tell you to rest.”

Clamping her jaw shut, Amy pushed to her feet and brushed pine needles and dead leaves from her clothes. Nasty kids had bullied her at school as a child and she understood when someone was baiting her. He wanted a reaction and she refused to give him the satisfaction. Desperately afraid, she placed one foot in front of the other and followed the narrow animal track. Behind her, Margos’ eyes burned into her back. He made no more verbal threats, but he didn’t need to. Just having him behind her was like trying to escape a grizzly.