Run to Me (17 page)

He didn’t have long to wait. Ten minutes after commencing his pursuit the pick-up turned down a lonely dirt track. He briefly lost sight of it around a bend then saw it pulling up to a garage adjacent to a small log cabin.

He stopped at once and reversed well away. Through the binoculars Vanessa had brought he watched
the woman get out of the truck and begin unloading some timber planks from the back.

Now was his chance. If Zack was inside the cabin he could sneak in the back, grab him while he was alone and not have to deal with the woman at all. Even if Zack had told her something, she wouldn’t have any idea where he’d gone so she couldn’t tell the cops.

Nolan reversed his car beyond the blind bend and
turned it around for a speedy getaway. He checked his watch. One forty-five. He might just make his meeting with Tragg in time after all.

Leaving the keys in the ignition, he got out and started towards the cabin.

The light above the couch was weird. A wide band of metal, like the rim of a wagon wheel, with animals and trees cut around its upper edge. When sunlight came through the window just
right, shadows of bears, bobcats and moose stalked across the cabin walls. Zack lay disoriented, staring up at them, as slowly his situation returned to him. With effort he pushed himself onto one elbow. The cabin interior spun around him and he clenched his jaw against a rush of nausea. Sounds had awakened him. Something outside. But he couldn’t quite think . . .

A car pulling up. Yes, that
was it. God, he must’ve fallen asleep. If the woman was back he had to get out of here.

He managed to push himself halfway up, then something hit his chest and slammed him down again. A hand clamped tightly on his mouth. All remnants of sleep dissolved in an instant as he stared at the man’s face hovering over him.

‘You so much as squeak and I’ll break your neck.’ Nolan hauled him to his feet
by his shirt. Maintaining a grip on his mouth the whole time, he dragged him through the kitchen and out the back door.

Zack stumbled along unresisting, too stunned to put up a fight at first. If he’d cried out at all it would have been in pain, not fear. The sleeping horror had awakened in his leg the instant he’d put his foot to the floor.

But once outside his courage returned. If Nolan was
so desperate to keep him quiet it had to mean someone else was nearby to hear. He bit down on the smothering hand. Nolan squawked and released his grip.

The instant the hand pulled away from his mouth, Zack drew breath and screamed his loudest.

Shyler dropped the armload of planks and spun back to face the open door. For an instant she stood, muscles locked, intent on the sound she thought she
could hear, a sound that seemed to be coming from the woods on the far side of the cabin. She lurched forward, hesitated, then launched herself out into the sunlit clearing.

The sound stopped the instant she stepped from the garage.
If
it had ever been there at all. In the silence, there was only the thump of her heart, the rasp of air scraping her throat.

With a hand to her mouth she bowed
her head. The sound had gone through her like rusty barbed wire, ripping and tearing. All at once she’d been back on the bridge, watching him fall, watching that beautiful head of brown hair vanish beneath the swirling waters.

Jesse
.

Sinking her teeth into one of her knuckles, she used the pain to pull herself together. Wind. A bird. The echo of something farther away. That’s all it had been.

She was just turning to go back to her task when the sound came again. She closed her eyes, threw up her hands to cover her ears.
Please, no more
.

The sound wouldn’t stop. It seemed so real. She ran for the cabin.

The blow knocked him flat. Stars exploded before Zack’s gaze, a roar filled his head. He crawled a few inches, struggled to rise, but couldn’t get his feet beneath him.

Hands pulled
him up. His legs felt rubbery but with Nolan keeping a grip on his arm they carried him forward. He walked in silence, resistance gone. No one had heard him. No one would help.

A parked car appeared through a break in the trees. Nolan marched him steadily towards it.

But with every step Zack’s fear was reborn. Suddenly it wasn’t the forest he walked but the long dark corridor of his nightmare.
And now before him, not a car door opening but the gate to the chamber of the idling truck.

He turned and kicked out.

Nolan managed to block the worst of it. The kick just grazed its intended target, enough to enrage but not incapacitate. He swore and threw Zack to the ground.

As the man stood hunched, Zack scrambled backwards away from him. ‘Help me! Somebody! Please! Help!’

‘I told you to
shut up.’ Nolan straightened and started towards him.

‘He’s killing me! Please! Don’t let him hur –’ His voice choked off as the man’s hands closed around his throat.

He tried to buck but couldn’t move. He flailed his arms but the pathetic blows had no effect.

‘You just don’t get it, do you, kid?’ Nolan bent over him. ‘She doesn’t care. Nobody cares. No one in this whole world gives a rat’s
ass about a worthless piece of shit like –’

A sickening thud. A guttural grunt. The man pitched forward.

Zack lay gasping. The pressure on his throat had eased but Nolan’s full weight now lay crushing him. With the last of his strength he heaved the man sideways.

The crazy lady stood above them holding a rifle, its butt end angled forward and down. Was that the horrible sound he’d heard? She’d
bashed in Nolan’s head with the rifle? No blood or brains were leaking out, but the man wasn’t moving. He didn’t even seem to be breathing.

Slowly he turned his gaze back to her, fighting to focus. She seemed to be fading. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

It didn’t matter.

The world had gone.

Vanessa stood near the group of visitors, hoping she’d be mistaken for one of them. So far no one on the children’s ward had given her a second glance and she’d been able to eavesdrop on a conversation between a female police officer and one of the doctors.

It appeared that when Corey Ingles had arrived last night he’d been suffering hypothermia and damage to his spleen. Since commencing
treatment he’d improved steadily and was expected to make a full recovery. Best of all, though the kid was awake, he was refusing to speak so the authorities still didn’t know who he was.

But the news wasn’t all good.

Vanessa watched the cop disappear up the hall then glanced back at the doctor, who was now on the phone. From what she’d overheard they were trying to track down the hospital shrink
to see if he could get Corey to talk. Which meant she hadn’t much time to intervene.

With no cops or nurses anywhere in sight, she edged up the hall and into his room.

Holding her breath, she moved towards the bed. The fact
he’d bonded with her back at the ‘safe house’ hopefully meant he’d believe her lies now. She stepped into view. The boy’s eyes widened.

‘Oh, sweetheart!’ she whispered,
rushing forward and taking his hand. ‘Thank God you’re all right! I was so worried!’

She bent and covered his cheek in kisses. ‘I’m so sorry I sent you away with those men. I had no idea what they were like. Can you forgive me?’

Corey’s initial fear turned to joy. ‘Vanessa!’

‘Shhh, don’t talk.’ She pried her hand from his desperate grip, then reached into her bag for the clothes she’d brought.
‘Here, put these on. Nolan and Tragg are on the way. We have to leave before they get here.’

She helped him dress then led him over to stand near the door as she groped in her bag for the lighter. She tore a page from the chart on his bed, set it alight and waved it beneath the smoke detector. Five seconds later the ward erupted in a wailing alarm. She swung back and lifted Corey in her arms.

Out in the hall the scene was chaos – visitors milling, patients yelling, nurses running. Clutching her prize, Vanessa walked calmly towards the exit.

Shyler staggered across the cabin and laid her burden on the couch. She slid the rifle from her shoulder and set it on the coffee table within easy reach. Not that she expected to have to use it right away. The man was dead –
God help me, what have
I done? You had to, there was no other choice!
– and from what she could see from the tracks near his car, he’d been alone. The others would surely show up eventually but for now, Jesse was safe.

She dropped to her knees and smoothed the hair away from his face, then gently examined his upper body. He didn’t look
injured. A scratch on his cheek, bruises forming around his throat, but no major
blood loss or broken bones.

He was, however, burning up.

She quickly removed his shoes and socks and lifted his legs up onto the cushions. A moan escaped him.

‘Jesse? Sweetheart, are you hurt?’

When she couldn’t rouse him, she bent and checked his legs more closely, and let out a gasp.

Twenty minutes later she was pacing the cabin. The fire was going, Jesse lay swaddled in a quilt on the
couch, his wound washed, disinfected and bandaged. It wasn’t enough. The infection was serious. He needed antibiotics fast.

At the window she scanned the clearing, the woods beyond. No way would she risk taking him to the doctor. If they knew he was injured that’s just where they’d be waiting to grab him. No, the cabin was safe. It always had been. She must keep him here.

She swung round and
paced to the opposite wall. She could go and see Doctor Hadley herself but what could she tell him? To say the medicine was for her son would put Jesse in every bit as much danger. Not from Hadley himself necessarily but if he ever mentioned it to anyone else –

With a hand to her head, she turned again. No, that would never work. A doctor wouldn’t give out medicine for a patient he hadn’t seen.
And she wasn’t sick or injured herself so she couldn’t pretend the drugs were for her.

Jesse moaned. She rushed to the couch. Before, he’d been shivering; now he was sweating. She drew back the quilt, dipped the washcloth in the bowl of water and draped it gently over his forehead.

She slid her hand down the side of his face and cupped his cheek. ‘Don’t worry, baby. I’ll work it out.’

The bandage
encasing her thumb drew her gaze.

Slowly she raised her hand before her and studied the sterile layers of gauze, visualising the wound beneath. The sutures in her thumb were healing nicely, not the slightest hint of infection. But hadn’t Doctor Hadley said, if the cut had been deeper, and not as clean . . .

She swallowed hard. Looked from her hand to the boy lying flushed and feverish before
her. Then she pushed to her feet and walked to the kitchen.

Chase looked up from his computer to the treatment room door. Elaine had left a half hour ago, not long after his last appointment, but he could’ve sworn he’d just heard someone moving around in the outer office.

‘Elaine?’ Had she forgotten something and returned? He pushed his chair back from the desk.

Beyond the door a shadow slid along the far wall. A silhouette too slim to be
his receptionist appeared in the doorway, then stepped forward into the treatment room light.

‘Ms O’Neil!’ Stunned, he got to his feet. ‘What – I wasn’t expecting you till next week. We’re actually closed at – Not that it matters, I mean –’

He let out a huff and shook his head. He’d been searching for this woman, thinking about her, casually inquiring of everyone he’d met if they happened to
know her, since she’d left his office three days ago. Now here she was standing in front of him and he couldn’t string two sentences together!

‘Please, come in. I’m glad to see you. I hope you haven’t had any problems with –’ His smile faded when he saw her hand. The dressing he’d applied was still intact but above it a filthy
blood-soaked rag encased her arm from elbow to wrist. ‘Apparently
it’s something else that’s brought you.’

She stood silent, her gaze darting around the room, taking in the corners, flitting to the window, searching the area beyond the treatment table.

‘Ms O’Neil?’

Her attention shot back to him. ‘I’ve had another accident.’ Without hesitation she crossed to the table. In the time it took him to step to her side she’d ripped off the bandage and thrust out
her arm.

Chase took the soiled rag from her hand, frowning at the injury revealed. ‘Two lacerations requiring stitches in less than a week. You certainly are having a run of bad luck.’

He tossed the bandage into the bin and noted the feel of dirt on his fingers. Hard to imagine she couldn’t have found something cleaner to use. He started for the sink, then turned back when something caught his
eye.

Swinging the lamp down over her arm, he bent to examine the wound more closely. The edges of the six-inch laceration had three distinct notches, suggesting that whatever object had caused it had paused in its track across her flesh.

He felt a sickening chill wash over him. ‘Shyler, how did this happen?’

‘I was cutting some wood and slipped with the saw.’

‘A saw?’

He looked up when she
didn’t respond. He’d lapsed and called her by her first name but she hadn’t noticed. Nor had she noted his doubting tone. Her gaze had strayed to the window again. Her pulse was racing, her breathing rapid. She was even more anxious than at her first visit, only this time it seemed about something outside.

With her attention distracted he turned her hand to examine the wrist. Nothing. The skin
was free of scars. Partly relieved, he reached for the other hand.

She jerked it away. ‘I’m sorry, Doctor, but I’m in a hurry.’ Her face was only inches from his, her green eyes wide, their pupils dilated despite the glare of the overheads.

‘Shyler, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. My arm, that’s all.’

He lowered his voice. ‘You know I only want to help you, don’t you?’

‘Of course.’ She swallowed.
‘That’s why I’m here.’

He held her gaze a moment longer, then, sensing she wouldn’t respond well to pressure, he got to work.