Page 158 of Fire Fight

And I was no longer alone.

“Parker?” I croaked.

The boy sat against the exterior wall of what I could see now was an older log cabin, the chinking uneven and yellowed with age. His wrists were zip tied together, and he had the thousand yard stare and trembling limbs of someone in shock. A quick scan of his body didn’t reveal any obvious wounds, which I considered a good sign.

I cleared my throat and said his name again. This time, theboy’s head moved slowly in my direction. He was looking at me, but I could tell he wasn’t reallyseeingme.

“Parker, what are you doing here? What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, and my heart cracked as tears leaked free and spilled down his cheeks.

“Walking home from work. I picked up a summer job as a dishwasher at the diner,” he explained. “Gary pays me under the table, and it keeps me out of trouble, you know?”

A slight smile curved his lips, and I nodded.

“That fucking park, man,” the kid said, dropping the expletive like a well-practiced swearer instead of a sixteen-year-old boy. “I always cut across it. And this person came out of nowhere. Completely blindsided me. I tried to get away, but then there was this pain in my neck and a weird current through my body. Next thing I knew, I was waking up here.”

“You were tased,” I explained calmly, though nothing about my current mood wascalm.

Coming after me was one thing. I was a grown man who had spent the last three months investigating this case and playing host to the one woman that escaped the clutches of death at Mrs. Saunders’ hands.

Going after an innocent kid and dragging him into this mess was unforgivable.

Think, Crew. Think, I silently willed myself. There had to be a way out of this. A way to save myself and Parker.

First and foremost, I needed to get the fuck out of the restraint around my wrists.

I got to my feet as carefully as I could, my shoulder screaming in pain with each movement, and took stock of the cabin. My first order of business was, obviously, to check the door. Unsurprisingly, it was locked tight from the outside, and noamount of yanking on it mattered. The windows were all painted and nailed shut.

Nearly a perfect square, with the walls at the front and back a little longer than the sides, the structure couldn’t have been more than six hundred square feet. Parker and I were in a small living space that held an ancient couch, reminding me of the one in Missy Plano’s house, and a heavily nicked and scarred coffee table. The most modern part was the combination TV and VCR that rested on a squat hutch against the wall where Parker leaned.

In the opposite corner was a tiny kitchen, the counters and upper cabinets arranged in an L-shape. A fridge stood about as tall as my chest next to a two burner gas stove, and the microwave was so old it had a dial instead of buttons.

Beside the kitchen was a walled off bathroom with a toilet, standing shower, and pedestal sink. A set of narrow stairs led to a loft above.

I moved toward the kitchen, using my left hand—my good arm—to pull open drawers and cabinets, searching for something to cut me and Parker free. Unsurprisingly, Mrs. Saunders had cleared the place out, leaving nothing to be found but crumbs, dust, and mouse poop.

That was fine. I was a big, strong dude, right? It would fucking hurt, but I could break myself free. Then I could help Parker. Heading back into the living room, I braced my foot on the edge of the coffee table, mentally psyching myself up.

“What’re you doing?” Parker asked, rising to his feet.

“I’m going to snap the zip tie.”

“How?”

“I should be able to strike my wrists against my knee and, with enough force, put enough pressure on the weakest point”—I indicated the spot where the tie came together—“to break it.” I tried to smile reassuringly at him, but it probably looked more like a grimace. “Wish me luck.”

The kid chuckled softly. “Good luck.”

Taking a deep breath, I knew I’d have to move quickly and surely, both in deference to my dislocated shoulder and to get enough momentum. On the count of three, I quickly raised my arms up, gritting my teeth against the shooting pain radiating down my right one, and swung them down, hard and sure, tensing and driving my knee up into the blow simultaneously.

With a satisfyingsnap, I was free.

“Holy shit!” Parker crowed. “You did it!”