Shoving a hand through short hair, he left the dog in his room and headed outside in time to see Greer drop to her knees and a man haul her up. His arm banded around her waist, and if he’d not been supporting her she’d have fallen.
Fuck. His heart pounded as he gripped the phone, wishing he could chamber a round. “Hey, what the hell?”
The hooded man turned and in the dusky moonlight glared at Mitch. “Fuck. What are you doing here?”
He didn’t answer. No hint of worry or fear, just a grim determination that reminded Mitch of an insurgent who’d blown himself up. Determined fanaticism.
In the next seconds, Mitch barely shook off his shock as the other’s hands twitched and reached for the .45 tucked in his waist. Training had Mitch diving to the ground as the man fired.
But Mitch wasn’t fast enough. As he hit the ground the bullet cut through his side. Pain burned through his body.
Greer’s muffled anguished cry nearly broke his heart but also told him she was alive.
Anger and frustration blocked all the fear. Ignoring the pain, he rose up on his knees as the man dumped Greer in the truck’s front cab. Still gripping his cell, Mitch staggered to his feet.
“We can’t leave him.” Greer’s voice slurred the words.
The truck started, turned, and headed toward him. He stood his ground, one hand pressed to his side and the other gripping his cell. Mitch waited, knowing he’d have just one shot. The truck picked up speed. Seconds before it hit him, he tossed his cell into the trunk bed as he jumped to the right. The cell clunked against the bed as he hit the ground. Pain burned through his gut. He’d accomplished the task but had he failed Greer?
He tried to push up and get back to his feet but the pain burned at each twitch of a muscle. He rolled on his side and pulled his hand from the wound. Blood turned black by the moonlight glistened on his hand. Tears stung his eyes.
Mitch wouldn’t survive losing someone else he cared about.
As soon as Bragg left Kate Trenton’s house he’d called Greer and when she didn’t answer, he’d called Mitch. Two no-answers had added up to trouble. He’d not hesitated to call the Rangers and the local sheriff. He wanted every officer within fifty miles of Bonneville.
As he barreled down the dark highway, he called Winchester and gave him a brief description of the situation. Winchester was an hour away, still at the Sycamore crime scene.
When he arrived he saw the flash of lights from a dozen police cars and two paramedic trucks. His heart sank and for an instant he imagined the ground shifted under his feet as his world crumbled.
He rushed toward the stretcher as the paramedics were loading it on the truck. Mitch’s colorless face stared back.
“Mitch.”
The boy’s eyes snapped open and he grabbed his uncle by the forearm with surprising strength. “Bragg, I tried to save her but I couldn’t.”
“Greer?”
Mitch winced as he tried to sit up. “There was a man. He took her. Shot me.”
Bragg’s heart twisted for the boy before him and for Greer who’d been taken. He wanted to stay with Mitch but had to trust him to the paramedics. His gaze nailed the paramedic. “How is he?”
The paramedic checked the IV running into Mitch’s arm. “He’s sustained a gunshot. We won’t know until we get him to the hospital.”
Bragg was an expert at pushing back emotion and dealing with the worst kind of situations. Now, however, he struggled to keep focus. He took Mitch’s hand and squeezed it hoping he could convey in deed what words could not. He loved this kid like a son and would do whatever it took to save him. “Okay.”
He released Mitch’s hand and latched onto his own fears with an iron grip. Mitch winced as the paramedics raised the gurney. “I threw my cell phone in the bed of his truck.”
The first flicker of hope cut through the mire. “And if I know you, it’s fully charged.”
“They left here an hour ago. There’s plenty of battery life so you can ping right in on that asshole.”
“Good job.”
Mitch winced. “I had the chance to save Greer and I blew it.”
“She’d have been completely lost without you, and at the end of this day when I find her alive it will be because of you.”
Mitch swallowed back emotions and nodded.
Bragg leaned close, his gaze pinning the boy. “And your buddies, you didn’t let them down. They know that. Greer knows it. I know that. Now you need to believe it.”
Mitch nodded.
Bragg patted Mitch on the shoulder. “Mitch, can you describe the man that took Greer?”
Mitch’s eyes darkened. “I can do better. I can give you the motherfucker’s name.”
Greer awoke in stages, her mind a muddy, waterlogged mess. She was vaguely aware of cool grass and a warm breeze blowing over her. She was outside and for a half second wondered if she were camping.
And then her senses cleared enough and she immediately remembered the sting of her attacker’s stun gun and of her legs crumbling. He’d pressed a rag to her face when she’d started to rouse and the foul chemical had knocked her out cold.
Now, she sat up, ready to fight. Her head spun. Her stomach churned, and she thought she’d throw up. She turned to her side, prepared to wretch. But after a few deep breaths, her stomach held steady. A small victory in a war she suspected was long from over.
She glanced up expecting to find someone looming over her. To her surprise she was alone under a sky filled with too many stars to count. She moved to stand but found her legs wobbly and unsure. Drawing in a breath, she tried again but her body would not cooperate.
What was wrong with her?
She studied the stand of woods in front of her and realized they were familiar. The woods at Pinewood Cemetery. She glanced back around her and found herself nose to nose with a headstone.
JEFFREY ROBERT TEMPLETON.
Jeff’s headstone.
Panic rose up in her, choking her throat and she scrambled away from the slab of granite, now afraid to be close to it. Her legs and arms would not function, and she found herself crawling away from the marker, more desperate with each inch. This had once been a place of comfort, solace, and guilt, and now it terrified her because she remembered the dying wish she’d confessed to the group all those years ago . . . to be with her brother.
Her heart thundered in her throat as she struggled to crawl. Panic clawed and sliced at her. She’d loved Jeff. In life she’d followed him like a silly puppy. And she’d carry her brother’s death with her for the rest of her life.
But she did not want to join him in death. She wanted to live.
“Where are you going?”
She glanced up. To her shock she recognized the face. Only instead of kindness simmering behind the eyes, she found crazed longing. “Dr. Stewart?”
“Greer.” A smile tipped the edge of his lips. “I guess you figured out by now why you’re here.”
“I don’t understand, Dr. Stewart. Why are you doing this?”
“I’m hurt you haven’t figured it out.”
“Figured what out?” She’d beg if she had to. “Please, I don’t want to die.” She tried to sit up but her head spun.
He knelt just a couple of feet from her and studied her face. “We’ve known each other a long time, Greer. You just don’t remember.”
Her mind blurred, she searched his face. Eye color, hair color, weight, and the way he held himself didn’t produce any matches. But there was an intensity emanating she’d not seen in him before. That intensity triggered memories. The first conclusion to spring to mind didn’t make sense but despite logic she couldn’t help but whisper, “Jack?”
A grin tugged at the edge of his lips. “I knew you wouldn’t forget me.”
But she had forgotten him until just a day ago. If not for the deaths of the others she’d likely have never thought about him again. At the camp they’d barely spoken. He’d been a passing acquaintance. Clearly, his attachment to her was much stronger. “No. I didn’t forget.”