“Near.”
“You got him?” the detective asked Val. “I’m going to track down Diana Gale. She’s got to be around here somewhere.”
Val nodded. “I got him.”
Perreth marched off into the woods.
Val looked up at Bryce. Blood soaked through the wadded-up jacket, turning her hands red. The sucking sound had all but stopped.
“Did you see where Sylvie went?” Val asked.
Bryce nodded.
“Go after her.”
“I’ve never shot any—” The words caught in his throat. All the times he’d fantasized about killing Dryden these last months. How eager he’d been to shoot Bertram. And now?
Now he just felt empty.
“He was going to kill Sylvie,” Val said. “That’s defense of others.”
“I know.” He’d studied the law. He’d practiced. But this… watching a death he’d caused was different. Horrible. “I’m not worried about the legal implications.”
“It changes you, killing someone. Damages you. And it takes time to come to terms with it. But it will work out. Now go find Sylvie.”
Sylvie.
Yes, he had to find Sylvie. And once he did, he’d never let her go.
That was the only way any of this would work out.
Diana
Stars and moon glowed in the sky. Shadow puddled under pine.
Diana huddled in a small hollow. She knew the surrounding thicket wasn’t enough to hide her. Not with the moonlight so bright. But she couldn’t run. Couldn’t even walk. Not one more step.
Her skin stung with scratches and cuts. Her legs ached to the bone. Her whole body trembled. The rope still bound her wrists, so tight it chafed her skin. She’d tried rubbing it on a rock, but it barely frayed. She’d tried to use a stick to pry at it, but all she’d done was gouge her arm.
She’d been crying since she heard the gunshots, and she couldn’t stop. It seemed as though she’d been crying for days.
Bertram had night-vision goggles. Bertram had a gun. And when Diana had last seen Sylvie, she’d held only a branch.
It wasn’t hard to guess how those shots had turned out.
Diana had pulled Sylvie into this mess, and all her sister had focused on was saving her. And now… now Diana supposed none of it mattered. Either Bertram would find her and gut her with his knife, or she would die of thirst or cold. And there wasn’t anything she could do.
Nearby, a twig snapped. Leaves crunched under boots. The silhouette of a man fought through brush, growing closer. Closer.
He stopped.
It was almost over.
Diana grabbed a stick in both hands. She got ready to strike. The least she could do was hurt him. Hurt him like he’d hurt her sister.
“Diana? Diana Gale?”
She didn’t recognize his voice, but it sure wasn’t Vincent Bertram.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s over. You can come out.”
Diana held the stick in front of her like a sword. “Who are you?”
“Police. Detective Stan Perreth, Madison PD.”
The name sounded familiar, but Diana couldn’t place it. All she could focus on was the word police. “My sister…”
“I know. I know. Sylvie. We found her.”
“Is she—”
“She’s fine. She’s safe.”
Oh, thank God.
“And the professor?”
“He was shot.”
“Dead?”
“By now? Probably.”
Diana let out a shuddering breath. She supposed she should feel something. Elation? Sadness? Relief?
All she felt was numb.
“You want to come out of there?” he said.
Diana nodded, but she couldn’t manage to move.
He held out a hand. “Come on. It’s okay. Come with me, and I’ll get you someplace safe. I’ll take you to your sister.”
Diana reached out.
The detective took her hand and led her out of the thicket. He circled an arm around her, assisting her, his hand low on her waist.
Finally she stood upright on trembling legs. Her skin glowed, naked in the moonlight, streaked with red scratches and blood.
“Here. Let me help.” The detective shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, holding the fabric open. “Is this okay?”
She nodded.
“You sure?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
But instead of closing the coat, he paused, taking another long look. When he finally wrapped it around her and zipped it up, he took his time, skimming her breasts with his fingertips, slowing when he reached her nipples.
Diana couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. She just stood there and didn’t say a word. If she’d ever really had any fight in her, it was gone now. Lost in that cabin in the dark or ripped out of her by brambles in the forest.
After all that had happened in the past days, this cop’s awkward fumbling was nothing. He wasn’t going to hunt her. Wasn’t going to kill her or her sister. Wasn’t going to gut her in some twisted attempt to get back at a father she wished she never knew. He could look and touch all he wanted, if that’s what it took for her to get home.
And once she did, she’d make sure she was never this weak again.
Sylvie
“Sylvie! Sylvie!” His voice was far away, still in the clearing, but Sylvie would recognize it from any distance.
Bryce.
She peered out from behind the thick trunk of a cedar. Starlight glowed in the clearing, turning the grass silvery. The silhouette of a man strode toward her. Broad shoulders. Too tall for Bertram.
It could only be Bryce.
“The professor, he has a rifle.”
“He’s dead, Sylvie. Bertram is dead.”
She closed her eyes and clung to the rough bark, her whole body shaking. She’d been fighting so hard, the thought that she didn’t have to fight any more left her weak. Pulling in a deep breath, she pushed away from the tree and picked through the edge of the forest, making her way toward Bryce.
“Diana?”
“Detective Perreth and Val Ryker are here. Perreth is looking for her. Don’t worry, Sylvie, he’ll find her. Bertram didn’t get her.”
She looked past Bryce’s shoulder and into the clearing, toward where she’d last seen her sister. It seemed so long since she knew Diana was okay. Tears blurred her vision, turning the night into a mosaic of light and dark. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Reaching her, he engulfed her in his arms.
Sylvie pressed her cheek to his shoulder and held on. She didn’t know why he was here, why he’d come back to her. It was enough to know that he had.
She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, clinging to each other, but finally Bryce stepped back, still grasping her hands, and looked into her eyes. “There’s so much I need to say.”
Sylvie held her breath. She had no idea what to expect, good or bad, loving or regretful. But whatever it was, it wouldn’t change anything she felt. She’d lived too long in her protective cocoon, afraid to risk, afraid to have her heart broken. And what had it gained her? A lonely life where she had acquaintances instead of friends. A sister who was afraid to tell her the truth. A secret of her own that had almost died with her.
She’d had it with safe. She’d had it with secrets. She’d had it with holding back. “I love you, Bryce.”
He stared at her, as if her pronouncement had shocked all thought from his mind. “I… love you, too.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Yes.”
She threw herself back into his arms and kissed him. Hungry and overjoyed and so relieved she could barely stand.