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Chapter Twenty-Five

Perry

Peanut butter was slathered one side of two pieces of bread while their twins sat beside them, waiting on the grape jelly I hoped Nate would find. Maybe I should have waited to start the sandwiches. Well, it was too late now.

The lights flickered before coming back on, the refrigerator humming back to life as the electricity came back to life. For the first time that day, I grinned. “Finally, something is going right.”

A light breeze wafted through the open windows, and the fans in the cabin spun again. Leaning my head back, I spread my arms in front of one of the fans and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Today was cooler, but the wind from the fan felt heavenly. Nate would be thrilled when he got back.

I walked to the front door and stared toward the parking lot. A couple of vehicles blocked my view of Nate’s car. My man was still MIA, which probably meant he was having a difficult time finding the grape jelly. I worried my bottom lip. Maybe I’d forgotten to pack it. I could have sworn I’d seen it earlier, but my memory was crap and couldn’t be trusted. I’d probably sent Nate on a wild goose chase and ruined four pieces of bread to boot. Maybe Nate liked peanut butter well enough to eat it alone. I’d never seen him do that before, but that didn’t necessarily mean he’d hate it.

Walking back toward the kitchenette, I grabbed my phone and plugged it in to charge. Nate had his with him, so I’d wait until he got back to do the same. I thought about calling him. That was easier on my eyes and head than staring at the screen and texting. I could use the voice-activated feature, but somehow it always screwed up my message, and I’d sent some rather humorous, if not downright indecipherable, messages over the past couple of years.

“Maybe I should call,” I pondered, phone in hand. I was just getting ready to hit the send button when I heard rustling outside the kitchen window. My heart pounded, and my hands instantly went cold and clammy. I stood there, trying to convince myself it was most likely some form of wildlife. I fell woefully short of that goal.

With my phone still in hand, I hit the send button. Nate’s phone rang and rang, eventually going to voicemail. “H-hey, just wondering if you found it or not. Don’t worry, just head back. Please hurry, I think I heard something. Probably nothing, but—” The noise sounded again, and I sucked in a breath. That inhale wheezed out of me when I heard Dr. Schroder’s voice on the other side of the window.

“P-Perry?” She sounded winded, or maybe in pain.

I dashed to the window, leaned over the sink, and stared outside. My mouth dropped when I saw Dr. Lydia Schroder clinging to the side of our cabin. The woman looked rough. Rope burns bruised her wrists, and she had a black eye, a swollen jaw, and a cut over her left eye. Her hair was a mess of knots, with some forest debris added in for adornment.

Eyes wide and frantic, Dr. Schroder glanced back and forth as if she were afraid the bogeyman might jump out at any moment. If she were afraid of Willie, I doubted Dr. Schroder was far off.

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” It was perhaps the stupidest question I’d ever asked.

Dr. Schroder nodded before shaking her head. “I’ll live.” She licked her dry, cracked lips. I figured the woman had to stand on her tiptoes to be able to see me.

“Come around the front and get inside.” I made a hand motion indicating she should walk around the cabin. “I’ll get Malcom. He’ll—”

“No! There’s no time. We need to act now. We need to stop him.” Dr. Schroder sounded frantic.

“Willie?” I asked. Possibly the second stupidest question I’d ever asked.

Dr. Schroder nodded. “He left, and I got myself loose. I was on my way back to camp when I heard…” She looked stricken. “Oh, Perry. He has your detective.”

My blood ran cold as ice pooled in my gut. My temples beat with the thunderous rage pounding through my heart. The air left my body, and in a wheeze, I said, “Nate.” God, I hoped I was wrong. Please let it be someone else, please let—

“Yes. I’m sorry, Perry. I couldn’t do anything about it.” She swallowed hard, eyes tracking back and forth again. “Listen, there’s no time. I know where Willie’s holed up, but it won’t take him long to get back and realize I’m gone. He’ll move locations and be gone again in no time. If you want to save him, we need to go now.”

My mind swam. Willie had Nate. That horrid person had the man I loved and… There was no and . There was no time to think. If the situation were reversed and Nate was standing by this window, he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d grab his gun and…

I darted away, ignoring Dr. Schroder’s protests. Fingers shaking, I dug the gun case out from under the bed. It took me three tries to get the lock undone, but I managed. Nate’s gun felt heavy in my hands. It also felt solid and lethal. I knew it was loaded, and Nate had taught me enough that I recognized the safety was on when I shoved it in into my shorts at the small of my back. Nate hadn’t brought his holster, and to be honest, I doubt I could have gotten the thing on without hopelessly becoming entangled.

Dashing to the front door, I ran around the cabin and nearly slammed into Dr. Schroder. Relief flooded her face when she saw me.

“I wasn’t sure where you went,” she said. “I was considering risking coming in the front door. I’m glad I didn’t.” Her head swiveled, and she swallowed hard. “Willie’s probably already on his way back, but he could still be lingering about, watching. We all know how he loves to taunt you. He could be gearing up to leave more pictures on your porch.”

The pictures of the cat had been Polaroids, so it was more than possible.

“Come on.” Dr. Schroder grabbed my wrist, her grip firmer than I would have given her credit for. “I’m sorry, Perry. I know you don’t appreciate my touch, but we need to go now. If we can get back to where Willie’s hunkered down before he gets there with Nate, then we can set a trap. Willie won’t see it coming.”

Crouched low, Dr. Schroder tugged me along. Her nails scraped against my skin as she pulled her hand away. A shot of discomfort sang through my skin, the scrape of her nails uncomfortable along my wrist. She shot me another apologetic glance before taking off through the foliage.

As far as I could tell, we weren’t on any type of path. I had no idea how the woman knew where she was going, only that she didn’t waver or hesitate as she walked over fallen debris and new growth.

My chest burned at the brutal pace she set. For a woman who’d been kidnapped and beaten, Dr. Schroder had a lot of stamina. My mind raced; images of Nate injured or worse wouldn’t stop running through my mind. My imagination conjured worse and worse pictures until I finally had to ask, “What did he do to Nate?”

Dr. Schroder was slightly in front of me, leading the way. She twisted her head back and said, “He hit him on the back of the head and knocked your detective out. Willie will have to carry your man. That will slow him down. That gives us an edge.”

It might be the only edge we had. The gun heavily resting against my lower back should have been an extra layer of protection. Having only had one lesson, I doubted I’d be a huge threat, but maybe I could at least use it to scare Willie.

I mentally laughed at myself. Who was I kidding? Willie Slater wouldn’t be scared of the lonely gun I brought to this fight. This was Willie’s show, and I was just an actor playing my part. Although, I figured Dr. Schroder’s escape had flipped the script. Maybe it would be enough to change the ending too.

We walked for what seemed like an eternity. My knee ached as the terrain became increasingly uncertain. More than once, I had to steady myself on a nearby tree. If Dr. Schroder noticed, she didn’t mention it. She kept going. The woman was a machine.

Finally, she slowed. We’d neared a three-sided shed. A nearby sign called it a weather shelter. Broken branches from last night’s storms lay heavily across one side of the slanted roof, but the structure was still intact.

“We’re here,” Dr. Schroder said. “Get down so we can scope out the area.” I followed her crouched position and held my breath. Dr. Schroder’s voice had barely been above a whisper.

I wasn’t sure what I expected. Ropes and chains? A table set up with torture tools? A metal cage? Each thought seemed more ridiculous than the last. What I did see was a firepit, tarp, and backpack, presumably with supplies. Squinting, I focused farther into the structure, into the darkened corners.

An agonized sound exited my body, my chest squeezing at the sight of someone lying deep within the shed. They weren’t moving.

I didn’t think. I didn’t wait or even attempt to come up with a plan. All I could think—all I could see—was Nate lying there. Not moving. Not breathing. Not… I couldn’t finish that sentence.

Popping up from our hidden location, I ran toward the figure, falling to my knees. The smell of blood made me dizzy. The area was shadowed, and my mind swam, screaming this couldn’t be happening. Hands shaking, I grabbed ahold of a shoulder and turned Nate over.

“Nate, I—”

Pale, waxen features, dark hair, and a gaunt face with unseeing, dead eyes stared back at me. “W-Willie?” Willie Slater was the man lying in that shed. Relief made my body weak. That relief was quickly followed by confusion. Had Nate managed to kill Willie? Had he gotten away? Had Willie been shot? And if so, where had Nate gotten the gun? Had he managed to get Willie’s away from him? And if Nate had gotten away, where was he? Was he hurt too?

My head twisted, wrenching my neck. I started to stand, ready to search the area for Nate, but Dr. Schroder’s hand came down on my shoulder, pushing me back toward the ground.

I tried to knock her hand away, but she stubbornly held it clamped in place. Frustrated, I said, “I need to find Nate.”

There was something in her eyes—something I’d occasionally glimpsed but written off in the past. There was a hardness there, a malicious mocking that made my blood run cold.

“No need. Your detective will find you soon enough. When I’m ready.”

“ Ready? ” I finally yanked my body away, crab-crawling along the dirty floor. “What’s going on? What have you—”

“Now, now, Perry. Don’t trouble your brain too much. We wouldn’t want to invite a migraine. Not before I get the information I need.”

Before I could so much as reach for Nate’s gun, Dr. Schroder had a knife at my throat, and a heavily scented cloth covered my nose and mouth. I was forced onto my back, arms spread wide and bucking like a felled bronco.

“Hush,” Dr. Schroder ordered. “Breathe deep, or I’ll slit your throat.”

My eyes flew wide as the chloroform took hold. Panic well and truly set in. When I looked into her eyes, gleeful malice stared back at me, her lips quirked in a satisfied grin. “Oh, Perry. You are far too sweet and na?ve. I see why Malcom is so taken with you, but I’m afraid that has caused more than a few concerns with the top brass.”

I wanted to reach out and push her away. I wanted to grab the knife at my throat and turn it on the horrid woman holding me down. But my arms wouldn’t move, and my body felt increasingly heavy. The world darkened around its edges, and my terrified mind settled into chemical-induced sleep.