Page 93

CHAPTER 91

AS ISABELLA NAVIGATES the SUV on a winding gravel road, a coyote darts in front of the vehicle, its eyes glowing in the headlight beams.

“I left behind the feathers thinking that maybe the other girls would hear about what was happening and figure it out,” she says. “If they were afraid enough, maybe they’d finally come forward and admit what they did. But I don’t think a single one of them knew that the others had gone missing. They hadn’t kept in touch. And no one connected them together. When an Indian girl goes missing, it’s not like it makes national news.”

I’ve managed to loosen the twine behind my back as Isabella talked. My wrists are raw and my fingers are tingling from a lack of circulation, but a few more minutes and I might be able to squeeze my hands free.

Isabella pulls the vehicle to a stop and shuts off the headlights. She takes Ava’s gun, leaving mine in the cab, and climbs out. She opens our door for us and gestures for us to exit. She takes several steps back, ensuring that neither of us can rush her without giving her plenty of time to pull the trigger.

We’re on a high plateau, near the edge of a cliff overlooking rolling high-desert hills. I can hear the faint trickle of a streambed below. El Paso is a distant glow on the horizon, its light pollution far enough away that above us the sky is filled with stars and a bright half moon. The storm forming earlier has dissipated to a few lingering clouds, and the moonlight illuminates enough of the valley below that I can make out brush and trees and distant plateaus—in other words, a whole lot of nothing for as far as the eye can see.

“So you brought them out here?” I say, working against the rope restraints behind my back. “You aimed your bow at them and told them it was either the cliff or an arrow?”

“And that’s what you plan to do to us?” Ava asks.

“Since I have this,” Isabella says, holding up Ava’s gun, “I left my bow at home this time.”

She points with the gun toward the place where the ground begins to slant.

Ava and I walk toward the edge. I keep my hands hidden. I need time, so I try to keep Isabella talking.

“Did they express remorse?” I ask.

“Of course,” Isabella says. “They begged and pleaded, said they were sorry.” Her expression changes, and for a moment I see what might be regret. “Fiona was the hardest for me. She was a sweet girl. I saved her till last, thinking maybe I wouldn’t go through with it. Let her off the hook. But…” She shrugs. “She made her choice.”

“Isabella,” Ava says, taking a tone like a friend. “I can see how you think you’ve created some sort of justice. They wronged you. I get it. But what about us? Rory and I never hurt you. All we ever do is try to help people.”

“Then you should have been here four years ago,” Isabella says. “Maybe things would have turned out different.”

Isabella moves the gun back and forth between us as we inch toward the edge. “Keep going.”

Facing death has been on my mind for the last several days. Kyle Hendricks sacrificed himself to save me. Carlos sacrificed himself to save me.

Now it’s my turn.

I grit my teeth and try one last time to squeeze my hand through the rope. Skin burning, my right hand finally slips free. I keep my hands behind my back, clenching and unclenching my fists to give them circulation, the twine hanging loose around my left wrist.

From somewhere behind us, down in the canyon, we hear a faint, strange sound coming from far away. It could be the mew of a bobcat or the yap of a wild dog.

Or it could be a human groaning in pain.

My eyes go wide, as do Isabella’s. She hears it, too.

“That could be Fiona,” Ava says. “She might still be—”

“I said, keep moving!” Isabella snaps, lowering the gun and firing a round at our feet. A bullet strikes the rock between us, ricocheting loudly out over the canyon.

She could have easily hit one of us, and it wouldn’t have bothered her a bit if she did.

It’s now or never.

Time to die.

“Run, Ava!” I shout as I hurtle my body forward, swinging my arms around to tackle Isabella.

Isabella raises the gun and shoots.