Page 15 of Manhunt in the Narrows (Red Rock Murders #1)

She was going to die.

“Come on now, Ranger Green.” Another brush of his hand against her waist. Purposeful. Meant to show domination. Show her who was in charge, even out here. “You and I have the same goal. To escape. That should make us friends.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” The added weight to her pack threatened to pitch her backward into his frame. The rock she’d hidden wasn’t much, but it might be the difference between escape or ending up dead whenever the bastard was done using her.

“Well, that’s just not true.” His voice took on a more distant tone, not quite directed at her.

Like he was scanning their surroundings.

She didn’t dare to look back to confirm one way or another.

“I know your name is Sayles. That you’ve been a ranger here in Zion for the past five months.

Came all the way from Colorado, didn’t you?

Alone. With an art history degree of all things.

Not a whole lot of work in that arena, but that’s not why you ended up in one of the most isolated national parks in the west. Something must’ve scared you. Made you run from your hometown.”

The ache in her jaw intensified. She wasn’t going to give him the details. Wasn’t going to give him anything other than a reason to regret forcing her help. “You read my résumé. Congratulations. You’re officially a detective.”

That oily laugh dredged through her and turned her stomach.

“Why try to escape through the park? It’s all just wilderness at the end of this trail.

There’s nowhere for you to run.” Gravel shifted under her weight.

The storm hadn’t let up, turning solid ground into inches of wet sand.

She had to watch her footing. One wrong step and she’d end up a park statistic.

“That’s not really any of your concern, is it?” He kept pace with her better than she expected, dashing her hopes of gaining distance in order to run. “Getting me through the park without being noticed by the backcountry patrols. That’s what you should be focusing on.”

It was getting harder to breathe at this elevation.

The oatmeal she’d eaten dry was beginning to turn in her stomach.

Her heart rate had risen into fleeting, shallow pulses.

Every step higher brought on the risk of altitude sickness despite Zion’s 4,000-foot dominance above sea level and her acclimation over these past few months.

Turning her head slightly, she kept the killer at her back within sight.

Searching for those telltale signs of slowing down, vomiting, dizziness.

If she caught him off guard, she might be able to survive.

“That hiker you killed at the bottom of the trail. Why him?”

“You’re mighty curious, Ranger Green.” He studied her as a scientist studied a bug he didn’t like. “Could it be you’re trying to pump me for information to hand over to the FBI in hopes of making it out of this alive?”

She locked down the shudder taking her by surprise.

Sayles wouldn’t let him see the effect of that thought.

Of dying within the very park that’d gifted her a new life.

One of freedom and choice. “If you plan on killing me once we get to the end of the trail, what’s the harm of unburdening yourself along the way? ”

“You think I feel guilty for killing those people?” Not with that smile she didn’t. “You’d be barking up the wrong tree.”

“So all of this is just some sick game to you?” Scanning the trail ahead, she tried to come to terms with her situation.

Of being alone 2,000 feet up on a too-narrow trail with a man who could end her right here if the thought crossed his mind.

She hadn’t fought for this new life to end up dead now.

Not without going out on her own terms. “You’ll kill anyone who gets in your way without so much as thinking it through? ”

“All I’ve been doing is thinking this through.” The words were nothing more than a whisper nearly lost to the winds. Something maybe she wasn’t supposed to hear.

Sayles didn’t know what to say to that, what to think.

It didn’t matter. She’d never hiked this trail, wasn’t sure where it led or if there was an end.

For all she knew, she could be leading them straight over the edge of a cliff.

Goats could jump up cliff faces. Humans not so much.

Either way, she was running out of time before her usefulness was all used up.

She had to act. To give Elias and his partner something if this ended poorly.

She owed him that after he’d saved her life yesterday.

“Do you at least have a name? Or should I just call you the Hitchhiker Killer?”

“It’s got a certain ring to it, doesn’t it?” He cocked his head as a predator might when confronted with prey. “But if that’s too much of a mouthful for you, you can call me Patrick.”

“Not your real name, I’m guessing.” The trail crested the top of the north cliff overlooking the Narrows.

She could see the river below, identify the curve leading into Wall Street Corridor.

Most hikers turned around at this point where the river split into an upstream branch leading east into Orderville Canyon.

Park visitors were prohibited from heading that way due to the canyon walls becoming so narrow they were virtually impassable and the clay soil making the trek too slippery.

They were close to that junction. Right where she’d intended to lead Elias to set up camp before they’d had to stop to treat her hypothermia symptoms. Even now, that base chill refused to let up, and she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep beside Elias’s heat.

To inhale his earthy and masculine scent that clung to her hair and skin where she’d touched him.

“You’d be right.” The killer didn’t offer anything more.

Sayles caught the slight change in his step.

A little too close to the edge. She’d picked up her pace, forcing him to keep up, to ascend several hundred feet too fast. Depending on his elevation experience, acute mountain sickness could set in as quickly as a few minutes.

This was her shot. The one chance to get away.

The goat trail they’d commandeered became even thinner ahead with a slight decline on the other side.

She didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want Patrick—or whatever the hell his name was—to reach the end of the trail.

Because who knew if the FBI would be able to catch up?

Who knew how many more people would get hurt or killed if she helped him reach Big Spring?

The lie slipped from her mouth with that in mind.

“I need to stop. I’m getting lightheaded. ”

She didn’t wait for an answer, pressing her back against the rock wall.

Dark clouds kissed the peaks above, and that chill she couldn’t get rid of only worsened as crystalized air brushed over the exposed skin of her face and neck.

It was only then she realized she’d lost her hat to the river below.

Risner would definitely be taking it out of her next paycheck, but she’d stomach the cost if it meant getting out of this alive.

“Fine.” Patrick swung his pack to his front, his eyes a little more glazed than she remembered from the outcropping she’d woken up inside. Not as hard. “Two minutes, and don’t even think about trying to run for it. I will catch you, and I will make you pay for trying.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She’d expected an argument, which meant he’d been experiencing lightheadedness and didn’t want to admit he might not have been as prepared for this escape as he wanted to let on.

One shot. That was all she had. Sayles maneuvered her own pack front-side and drove her hand inside.

Around the rock she’d stashed at the bottom.

She didn’t know how to do this. Hurt someone.

The inclination had come so easily to her ex. “It’s called acute mountain sickness.”

Patrick took a second too long to divert his attention from the opposite cliff face to her. “What?”

“That thing you’re feeling right now.” She gripped the rock tighter, still hidden by her pack.

“The sluggishness, disorientation. Your brain isn’t getting enough oxygen at these elevations.

You’ve probably had a headache since yesterday, but the longer you’re here, the worse your symptoms will get. ”

“I know what altitude sickness is.” A hint of breathlessness softened his bite. “Start walking.”

“Sure. But climbing higher isn’t going to help you. At this point, nothing will.” Sayles extracted the rock, sure to keep it hidden as she reset her pack on her back.

Then swung.

The impact of rock against skull reverberated through her hand.

It hurt. A lot. The shock waves forced her to drop the weapon entirely.

His groan punctured through the too-fast thud of her heart between her ears.

She spun, launching herself ahead. Not looking back.

She couldn’t get enough air. While she’d acclimated to the park, adrenaline flooded her veins and took control.

“You b—” His rage seared down her back. Too close. Too close. The pounding of boots closed in.

Muscles she’d only recently developed protecting this park locked up at the sudden demand of exertion.

A cramp skewed her calf as the trail dipped lower, and she nearly face-planted from the change in angle.

Mud suctioned to her boots, providing a clear path straight to her.

No matter where she went, he would find her.

He would catch her. He would kill her. Faster.

She had to run faster, but the unfamiliarity of the trail demanded caution she couldn’t afford to spare.

Aches screamed for attention. Her breathing too shallow.

Black edged into her vision. No. She wasn’t going to pass out.

Not yet. Sayles searched for somewhere—anywhere—she could hide.

To get her bearings. To gauge how close he’d gotten.

A quick check over her shoulder confirmed she’d added some distance between them. But was it enough? She turned face forward.

And caught sight of the sheer end of the goat trail.

Momentum threatened to throw her over the edge. Pulling back, she threw her hands out to grab on to anything that might keep her from going over. Her fingertips met nothing but smooth rock face, but she’d stopped just in time.

Giving Patrick a chance to catch up. She had to keep moving. Hide.

Except there was nowhere to go. Out of breath, Sayles gauged the distance between her side of the goat trail across the cavern of emptiness to the other.

The rains surged down the slope between the two halves of the trail.

Could she make it? Would the soggy ground support her weight?

She didn’t have a choice, did she? Not unless she wanted to end up as another notch in the Hitchhiker Killer’s belt.

She backed up a couple feet. Determination similar to that she’d relied on to escape her ex surged. Shifting her weight into her toes, Sayles charged forward.

Searing pain rippled across her scalp.

Her back hit a wall of muscle, the growl in her ear pooling dread at the base of her spine. “Going somewhere, Ranger Green?”

“Please.” She didn’t know what she was begging for. He hadn’t taken mercy on the five victims he’d slaughtered. Why would her pleas make any difference? She couldn’t stop her whimper as desperation and survival won out.

“I warned you what would happen if you ran.” Fisting her hair, he angled her head back into his shoulder. Exposing her throat. The tang of blood burned in her nostrils.

“You’re going to want to take your hands off my partner.” Elias’s mass solidified in her vision, dangerous and formidable. “Right the hell now.”

The world shifted as Patrick—the Hitchhiker Killer—swung her around. Using her as a shield.

Elias. He was alive. He’d come for her. The relief was temporary as she took in the bloodstain spread across his torso. His breathlessness.

“Agent Broyles, you made it just in time.” Patrick released his hold on her hair.

Just before he shoved her over the cliff.