It all went back to Ed Dryden. To events they had nothing to do with. A man they had no control over. “We were three years old when he was arrested. We don’t even remember him.”
Setting his lips in a determined line, Bertram slit the ropes tying Diana’s arms and legs to the bedframe. Pulling off the sliced dress, he retied her wrists in front of her and pulled her up out of the bed.
Diana swayed on her feet. “Please.”
“You can’t do this,” Sylvie said.
“Shut up. You have to shut up. If I could make him pay without hurting you, I would. If I could make him sorry for what he did. But he’s not sorry. He’s never going to be sorry.”
Sylvie couldn’t argue with that either. That man… her father might not even be capable of remorse.
But Bertram was.
“I know you have your reasons. But by killing us, you prove that you’re just as bad as Ed Dryden. Just as evil. How are you planning to live with yourself?”
He stared at her with dead eyes. “I’m not.”
Diana
Professor Bertram opened the cabin door and grabbed Diana by one arm.
Diana took one look back at her sister. She wanted to say so much. Tell Sylvie how special she was. How finding her had brightened Diana’s life. How much she wished they had more time together. But the only words she could manage to form were I’m sorry, and even then, her voice wouldn’t come.
Bertram pushed her outside, slammed the door behind them, and marched her across the clearing to the woods.
The moon glowed with a cold light, and Diana’s breath fogged in the air. She had been tied in the bed so long that her legs tingled with the sudden increase in blood flow. Pinecones and sticks dug into the soles of her feet. She stumbled, regained her footing, then stumbled again.
Bertram held her upright, his fingers digging into her arm. When they reached the tree line, he stopped and released her. “Run.”
Diana’s legs wobbled under her. She took two steps, then fell to her knees, catching herself with her elbows, wrists still tied tight.
“It’s time to begin. Get up.”
She managed to rise to her knees.
Bertram loomed over her. “I won’t shoot you. Not if I don’t have to.”
Diana eyed the rifle, still slung across his back. She wasn’t sure what he wanted her to say, so she said nothing.
“He didn’t shoot my Dawn. He caught her with his bare hands. And then he used a knife.” He touched the sheath on his belt.
“Please,” Diana doubted he’d listen, but she had to try. “You can do whatever you want to me… anything… just leave Sylvie out of this. Please.”
Bertram looked her over for a moment, as if imagining what her offer might entail. Then he turned away. “I can do whatever I want to you both. And I want you to run.”
“Leave Sylvie—”
“I said run.”
Diana scrambled to her unsteady feet and ran.
Sylvie
Dizziness swept over Sylvie. She gripped the mattress with tied hands, trying to hold on, to steady herself, to keep from falling into panic. But holding on couldn’t steady her. Nothing could steady her. Not with Diana out there in the night. Not with the professor hunting her.
Sylvie had to get free. But how?
Calm.
Think.
Sylvie looked around the cabin. Bertram had left the light on, giving her the first good look at the place. Unfortunately, she couldn’t see much that would help. The room was bare. Only the two mattresses, musty pillows, and shades covering the windows.
In the next room she could see what looked like a kitchen area with wood-burning stove in the far corner. There might be a knife or scissors in the kitchen or something sharp or heavy in the vicinity of the stove. Of course, she couldn’t reach it, not tied as she was to the bed.
Raising her head from the pillow, she looked down at her hands. White cord of the type used for clotheslines wrapped her arms just above her wrists, tying each to the bed frame. She could hardly move her hands. There was no way she could work them free. She’d be willing to bet Diana had spent days trying.
Just the thought of Diana scrambling for her life, weak and naked in the darkness, made the dizziness start all over again.
Calm.
Think.
Sylvie studied the rope again, straining her neck, her abdominal muscles shaking with the effort of raising her body from the pillow. When Bertram had tied her, he hadn’t pulled the cord tight against her skin. Instead he’d tied it over the sleeves of her chunky knit sweater.
She let her head fall back to the pillow. If she could stretch the sweater and work a sleeve out from under the rope, she might have enough wiggle room to get free.
It was sure worth a try.
Sylvie turned her head to the side. Bending her neck, she grasped her sweater between her teeth and pulled.
The cotton stretched. Little by little, she could feel it slip against her skin and out from under the tight cord.
She gathered more of the knitted cotton into her mouth. More slipped under the rope.
Almost there.
Leaning her head back, she bit down and tugged as hard as she could. Her teeth ached. The skin on her arm burned. Finally, the sleeve pulled free.
She spit the dry cotton from her mouth. So far so good. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her arm up, working the bit of slack over her wrist.
Over her hand.
Free.
Blood rushed through her hand. Shaking out the burn and tingle, she made short work of the rope securing the other hand. Then she turned to freeing her feet.
Sylvie climbed from the bed and moved to the kitchen area as fast as she could on tingling feet. She yanked open a drawer.
Empty.
She opened another and another until she’d checked every drawer and cabinet in the small area. Each one was empty. She would have to find something outside. She would have to improvise.
Outside the night was dark, and her eyes struggled to adjust. The slight glow of the slivered moon through leafless branches. The hulking black pine and fir. Steam rose into the night with each breath.
Sylvie had to be careful. She’d be willing to bet the strange-looking goggles she had seen Bertram carry into the cabin were for night vision. He’d be able to see her long before she could spot him.
Leaves and twigs crackled under her shoes, making her flinch with each step. She had no idea how many acres of forest stretched around them. She wasn’t even sure where they were. All she could see was forest. All she could smell were fallen leaves and evergreen. But it hadn’t taken too long to untie herself. With any luck, Diana and Bertram would still be nearby.
She needed a weapon.
Searching the forest floor, Sylvie spotted a good-sized branch. She picked it up, shook it a little to test it. Heavy, but not too heavy. It was no rifle, but it would have to do. She had no better choice.
She crept around a clump of bushes. Twigs scratched at her sweater and clawed through her hair. Even though it was nearing winter, the forest felt alive. Eyes were watching. Human or animal, she couldn’t tell.
Sylvie could see a clearing open beyond the brush, knee-high grass glowing blue in the moonlight. Out in the open, she would be an easy target. Her only hope was to stay in the forest. At least she had shoes and jeans and a thick sweater to protect her from the brush and thorns.
For Diana, the forest would be difficult going. She had to find her sister before it was—