There was distant, derisive laughter from the boys.
Rick sat motionless, waiting. Bert didn’t move either. She was still stretched out, lying half across her empty sleeping bag, propped up on her elbows, naked to the knees. Her feet were still inside Rick’s bag. Her breasts rose and fell as she breathed.
“I guess they’re gone,” Rick finally said.
“Good riddance to bad rubbish.” Smiling, she lay back and folded her hands behind her head. One of her feet stroked the side of Rick’s leg. “I hope that’s the last of them.”
“We’ll take that other trail.”
“And make sure, first, they’re really going up to Dead Mule Pass.” Bert took her legs out of Rick’s bag and stretched them out on top of it. “It’s hot in here. Must be late.”
He flipped the sleeping bag off his hot legs. The air felt good on them. “When Jase handed the gun to you, it changed everything. That ... I think that pretty much shattered my obsession with Julie and the rest of it.”
“God, if I’d known what you went through. I feel like such a jerk for forcing you into this trip.”
“It was probably good for me. I know you’ve been good for me.”
“We don’t have to go on, though. If we turn around, we could be back at the car this afternoon. Would you rather do that?”
“I don’t know. I think I’ll be all right now. And I’d hate to cheat you out of the rest ...”
“I wouldn’t mind. This hasn’t exactly gone the way I’d hoped, anyway.”
Rick nodded. “Bet you didn’t expect it to be this exciting.”
“Or this crowded.”
“Well, now that Jase and his pals are gone ...”
“That only leaves Andrea and Bonnie.”
“Maybe we ought to split up with them.” That, Rick knew, was what Bert wanted. Strangely, the idea of leaving the girls behind didn’t disturb him. He felt no disappointment. Andrea was a temptation and she had offered herself to him. If she were gone, he could stop struggling against the urge to take her up on it. And he could be alone with Bert.
“They’re nice and everything,” Bert said. “Andrea’s kind of a kick.”
“She’s sure got a mouth,” Rick added.
“But it’s like having guests. Even if you like their company, they’re in the way.”
Rick suddenly had a thought that made his heart quicken. “How about this?” he asked. “We’ll have a leisurely breakfast, tell the girls to go on without us, and then we’ll get all our stuff together. And we’ll hike around the end of the lake to our stream.”
“You mean, stay there?” Her voice was eager, her eyes bright.
“All day. And we’ll pitch our tent down by the inlet and spend the night. Does that sound okay?”
“It sounds perfect. Too good to be true.”
“But true,” Rick said.
Chapter Twenty-three
The ride became a torture as the heat in the trunk grew worse and the car climbed and dropped and made sharp turns, sliding Gillian over the newspapers, trying to throw her forward and back, the rope squeezing her throat each time she flinched at the sudden movements.
It can’t go on much longer, she thought.
We’re in the mountains. We’ll stop soon and he’ll let me out.
Let me out. No! God, what am I going to do!
The car slowed abruptly, throwing Gillian onto her back. Her knees flew up. Her left knee bumped the lid of the trunk before she could straighten her legs.
She felt the car make a sharp turn. Then it began moving forward. It was no longer on pavement. On a dirt road? The floor of the trunk shuddered under her back, shaking her, sometimes bouncing her roughly.
It won’t be long now.
I’m sorry, Jerry, she thought. I shouldn’t have left without you. But then he might’ve gotten you, too, so maybe it’s better this way.
Knowing that she would never see Jerry again, Gillian felt a twist of sorrow and loss.
It’s not over yet, she told herself.
Then the car stopped and the engine went silent.
Gillian felt a change inside herself as if a switch had been thrown. She no longer felt the stifling heat, or the pains of her bound and battered body, the awful fear. Her heartbeat thundered. She shivered. She felt cold. Even her mind felt cold. And sharp.
He’s gonna have to work for it.
The trunk lid swung up. Daylight poured down on Gillian, blinding her. Cool air lapped her burning wet body. The air smelled of pine and damp earth. Squinting, she peered out. The opening was about three feet high. Beyond it, she saw the green of trees and a few pale patches of sky. Fredrick Holden wasn’t there.
He must’ve used a trunk release on his dashboard.
Gillian heard the soft sound of a breeze whispering through the woods. There were birds singing, chirping, squawking. She even heard the flutter of wings. The whiny buzz of a mosquito.
Where is he?
She heard a footstep. It made a quiet crunching sound on the ground. Then there were more footsteps.
He’s coming!
He stood over the trunk and stared down at her.
Didn’t do anything, just stared as if entranced by the look of Gillian stretched out in his trunk, naked and gleaming with sweat, tied up and helpless.
His eyes seemed to bulge. His mouth hung open. Gillian could see his chest move as he breathed rapidly. He closed his mouth, licked his lips and swallowed. Then he rubbed a forearm across his mouth.
“All mine,” he muttered as if to himself. “Allll mine.”
He bent over the trunk. His hands swirled over Gillian’s slick skin as if he were fingerpainting.
Go ahead. Enjoy the hell out of this. I’ll get my turn.
The hands slid on her shoulders, circled and kneaded her breasts, swarmed over her belly and down her thighs, slipped between her thighs and slithered there, delving around the rope. Then they roamed up her body again and lingered on her breasts as if he couldn’t get enough of the slippery way they felt, especially when he squeezed them.
“Untie me,” Gillian said. Her voice came out in a dry, raspy whisper. “I’ll do wonderful things to you.”
He slapped her face hard.
Then he rubbed his hands on his shirt. They left dark stains on the pale fabric. His right hand dropped out of sight below the edge of the trunk. It came back with a knife.
It was a huge knife with a long, broad blade. A bowie knife?
Leaning over the trunk, he cut through the rope around Gillian’s ankles. The edge of the blade scraped lightly along the side of her calf and kept moving higher. Goosebumps crawled over her skin. She tried not to shiver. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to damp her legs together, but that would push the blade into her thigh.
He’s gonna ram it right up into me.
No, he won’t, she thought. He can’t have blood in his trunk. Even the newspapers wouldn’t hold it all. He’s smart enough to know that.
The knife turned. The point lightly traced its way up the hollow where her leg joined her groin, followed it to her hip.
The knife rose above her. Holden kept it in his hand while he wiped his mouth again with his forearm. Then it came down slowly and Gillian thought he was going to free her hands. The blade pressed, instead, against her pubic mound. She saw his arm make a sawing motion, but she felt no pain. He’s cutting the rope, she realized. That’s all.
That’s all?
She felt the rope part. Her hands were still bound together, but now she would be able to raise them without choking herself.
And my feet are loose, she thought.
He’d take me easily in a fight, but I can make a run for it.
Holden pressed the blade to her throat. With his other hand, he reached behind her neck. He grabbed the rope and yanked it. Gillian felt as if she were being scorched by the streaking rope, but then it was out from under her.