Page 125 of Last Seen

“Good girls. You’re my good girls,” he starts crooning, and Halley feels a strange warmth start to move through her. His sensory deprivation must come with a healthy dose of hypnosis or some other mind control, biofeedback or something to turn his victims into willing participants. That’s why he talks so much. He is controlling them with his voice.

Fuck. That.

Ignoring the stabbing pain in her ribs, she goes completely limp. The move surprises him enough that she’s able to wriggle free, and then she is fighting, kicking, screaming, and there’s more than one of her. Several of the women leap forward, and Ian is stuck trying to fight them all. It is a feral fight. He is subsumed by his victims. The hunter has become the prey.

With an almighty roar, he pushes four of them away. A gunshot rings out, and one of the women falls. The shock of the retort is enough for him to scramble to his feet, but Halley surges forward. She kicks the gun from his hand. It spins wildly in the dirt, toward the fallen woman.

Halley realizes with horror that it is Cat. Cat has been shot. Ian has shot Cat.

The primal scream that comes from her throat is enough to make every woman and child freeze. Not again. Never again. She will not let him hurt her, or anyone else. She will not let him take another person from her. She will not let him take Cat from her.

But as she lunges for the gun, Cat rolls, and in a fluid movement reaches the gun, rises to her knees, and pulls the trigger. Then she collapses.

Red. Red. Everywhere she looks, red.

Ian Brockton goes down.

Screaming. Crying. The chuckling fury of the encroaching fire. The haze descending upon them. Shouts in the distance. It all disappears in the face of the scene before her.

Halley kicks the gun away from Cat’s hand and collapses at her side.

“Cat. Oh my God, Cat. Are you okay? Where are you hit?”

It is a stupid question; the blood is spreading across Cat’s chest and bubbling on her lips. She looks straight into the night sky, the constellations blotting out with the smoke.

“Leave it to you to find a way out with the stars. Our little comet girl.” She coughs, and Halley feels a fine spray of blood on her face. Deep in the woods, with no help, this wound is fatal. Her sister is dying.

Sobs rack her, and the pain in her chest is compounded by the fact that she can’t get a breath.

Her sister reaches up, places a soft hand on Halley’s cheek.

“Gray. Please take care of him.”

“I will. I swear it. But hold on. They’re coming.”

The sirens are so close. There is a chance. They can save her. Halley finds the wound and puts pressure on it. Cat’s hand finds hers. She squeezes, her grip so light. Her strength is waning. She’s bleeding out.

Halley has to save her. She has to fix this.

Like she did with her mother, she kneels in blood and holds fast.

“Don’t leave me, Cat. Hold on. Please, hold on.”

It is not enough. There is no such thing as time in the darkness, no such thing as pleading with a body that is in the throes of death. The beating of a heart is not defeated until the end.

Cat’s hand moves to Halley’s ear. “Mom’s diamonds. She loved them. You wear them still?”

“Always.”

“I miss her. I loved her. I’m sorry.”

Tears drip down Halley’s cheeks, making dark tracks in her sister’s hair. “You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay, Cat.”

She knows that is not to be. Cat is too pale, too still. Her pulse skitters and slows.

Cat’s last words are so quiet Halley can barely hear her. It is so like her mother’s voice fading as she cried “Run.” Except Cat is whispering, “Read. Read. Read the letters. I did it all for you, Halley. To keep you safe. To keep him from seeking you out. Ian was always obsessed with you. Everything he made me do, I did because I loved you. I love you, Halley. You’re safe now.”

“Cat. Cat, please. You can’t die. I just found you. I need to know. Why did you kill our mother? Why would you take her from me. From you?”