“But the injuries on her body,” Bellamy points out. “Wouldn't they have realized they were from a train and not a person?”
“I believe she was tortured. There were injuries on her body consistent with knife wounds and blunt force that happened prior to death. That tells me the police noticed those injuries and just went with their first assumption. It happens more often than people would like to think,” I tell her. “If I'm right, that means she might have survived and gotten to help. Her getting hit by that train might be the only reason the killer’s still out there.”
“Why do you say that like you know more than what you're telling me?” she asks.
“Someone might have shot at me today,” I tell her.
“What?” she snaps.
I pull the phone away from my face, cringing at the high pitch of her voice, then tell her about the shooting at the hotel.
“It seems like someone feels like I'm getting too close. And I'm pretty sure I know exactly who that is,” I say.
“Then you need to call the police,” Bellamy insists.
My hurried steps have brought me onto the path that weaves through the train tracks, and I'm only a few feet from the tree with the dog collar.
“I can't,” I tell her.
“What do you mean you can't?” she asks. “If you know who killed those people, you have to tell them. That's the whole reason you were put on this job.”
I get to the tree and touch my fingertips to the dig in the bark where the chain used to be. My heart sinks. Crouching down, I dig through the cold, wet leaves hoping the metal just gave way, and the collar would still be there. But it's not. I let out a sigh.
“I can't tell the police because the man responsible for the murders is the police chief,” I say.
“Shit.”
“And he knows I'm on to him. He was at the hotel right before the shooting and showed up seconds after it happened, acting like he didn't know anything. And he came back for the dog collar in the woods. He knows and doesn't want me to be able to piece it together.”
“You don't have to piece it together. You already have enough. Call Creagan and get them there,” Bellamy insists.
I shake my head, pushing the leaves back into place, so it looks like they weren't disturbed. I don't want LaRoche coming back through here and notice I've come this way and realized the collar is missing.
“I can't call them yet.”
“Emma, look where you are. It is pitch black, and you’re tromping through the frozen woods on the heels of a murderer. I know you want to prove yourself and make up for the last time, but this isn't the way to do it. Putting your life on the line to make a point isn't worth it. The FBI can come in with a team that will end this, and you'll get to walk out of it alive.”
“That's just the thing,” I reply. “My life is on the line, right now, already. I don't have enough to call Creagan. A hunch and some evidence won't get them very far. I need something far more concrete to convince them to come all the way out here and further the investigation. If they raise up a fuss now, it will tip LaRoche off, and if they can't nail him, more people will die. Possibly including me. I can't risk that. I have to have a solid case to hand them, and then I'll let them take it.”
“You will?” she begs.
“Yes. As soon as I can give them all the evidence they need to arrest LaRoche and investigate the disappearance and murders, I'll happily pass it along and step back to watch Eric and Company tie it up in a nice little bow,” I promise.
“I don't know if I'm convinced.”
A twig snaps in the distance. That's one of those sounds you think you know enough that it won't startle you. It seems familiar and mundane, a simple cracking sound that could mean something as simple as an animal passing through or a coating of ice breaking through a weak twig. It's not until you hear it in the silent black distance, and the awareness of a presence settles onto your skin like a fine mist that you know how chilling that sound can really be.
“Bellamy,” I lower my voice, “I need you to not talk.”
“That's just because you know I'm right. You don't want to listen to me, and you don't want to hear it, but you know I'm right,” she says.
I shake my head and put my finger across my lips to quiet her.
“Someone else is here,” I whisper. “Stay with me. Don’t say a word. I'm going to turn off my screen.”
Pressing the button on the side of my phone, I make the screen go black. Turning my flashlight off sends me into total darkness, but that's what I need. If LaRoche is out there, I don't want to make it any easier for him to find me. There's no need to send up tracking beams through the dark woods. Keeping Bellamy on the line is my security. She can't see me anymore, but she can hear everything that's happening. I trust her to listen to the sound of my breath and the speed of my footsteps. I can't say anything to her. I can't tell her where I am or what's happening. But I can hold the phone close so she can hear me breathe. I can make sure if something goes wrong, I won't be one of the missing. Not for long. She will know where I was and all my suspicions.
I can't move too quickly. Running will make me lose control of the sound my feet make on the dry leaves and sticks that litter the ground. I can’t afford that. I need to stay aware of what's around me. I need to be able to hear what might be coming toward me and sense movement in the dark skeletons of the trees. Through the phone, I can hear Bellamy trying to keep her breath steady.
The next stick snaps closer to me, and something rustles in the leaves. I don't let myself look. Every second is another second I could be closer to the safety of the cabin, and that has to be my focus. With nothing but the glow of the moon and the meager starlight filtering through the tree branches, I follow the memory of my steps to make my way back through the woods, hoping I don’t accidentally run into the lake. The cold is intense now, biting at my exposed skin and sinking through my skin and into my bones.
I feel eyes on my back. It's an unmistakable feeling I thought I knew before going into the Bureau but learned so much more acutely in the field. It's a feeling I can only believe is a throwback to our ancestors when being watched meant a predator was nearby. It's what I feel now. I'm being hunted.
In the distance, I see a faint glow. It's like one of the stars overhead but shimmering through the trees. As I move closer, it gets bigger, and the air rushes out of my lungs when I realize it's the light on the side of the cabin. Now I can run.
Turning the screen back on my phone, I use the light to guide me through the thick undergrowth until I reach the porch.
“Bellamy?” I say loudly when I get to the front of the cabin. “I'm back.”
As I unlock the front door to the cabin, something moves out of the corner of my eye. I look to the side just in time to see a shadow sink back toward the darkness of the woods.
Chapter Nineteen
“Are you okay? Emma, tell me you're okay.”
I have to give it to her; at least Bellamy made it until I was inside the cabin, and the door was locked behind me to panic.
“I'm fine. I'm back inside my cabin now,” I tell her.
“Was it him? Was he following you?” she asks.
“I don't know for sure. I didn't see him. But it definitely sounded like somebody was out there with me.”
“You need to stay inside at night until this is all over with,” she says. “You're all alone out there.”
“I wasn't alone. I had you,” I reply.