One Was Lost(55)

“I hate mountains,” I say, panting.

“I hate backtracking.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Are we near the speaker? The place we left Mr. Walker?”

He doesn’t even slow down. “Yeah. We’re basically heading back to where we were when Madison called us. I think it’s easier to get north on the east side of the mountain. She and Hayley were sitting southwest of us. Pretty pathetic that we’ve probably all been in the same three or four square miles this whole time.”

I look ahead at the narrow valley between the two mountains. It looks like the only way through—which scares me because it also looks like the perfect place for someone to be waiting for us. My arms prickle with goose bumps.

“Lucas, is there another way around? Could we go over?”

“We’re about out of water and stupidly low on sleep. I want to avoid climbing unless we have no choice.”

“But that feels like such an obvious place to go, like the mountains just naturally funnel you through that valley.”

He nods. “Yeah, it does.”

“Which means it’s a pretty natural place for someone to be looking for us, right?”

“I just don’t see a better option. Everything out here is a risk. If we go through that valley, we might run into our resident psycho. If we try to climb, we might collapse like Jude did when his dehydration set in. Thing is, either way could get us killed, and if we die, then everyone else dies, which is doubly shitty since they’re all back there counting on us.”

He’s already thought all this through, and I didn’t expect that. His concern alone stuns me to silence.

Lucas notices, wincing. “What?”

“You…you’re worried about them.”

His cheeks go pink, like I’d caught him with his hands in a cookie jar. “I’m just trying to think smart. If Mr. Walker catches up with them—”

“Why do you insist it’s him? Madison’s the only one with an actual motive. You saw the way she looked at you. Looked at us. Plus, none of this stuff requires a big person.”

“Whoever did this killed Ms. Brighton.”

“Ms. Brighton and Madison are about the same size,” I argue. “With a weapon, it’s definitely possible.”

Lucas shrugs a shoulder, like he’s not so sure. “OK, what about her finger? Do you think you could apply enough force to actually sever—”

“Let’s just not,” I say, the mental image making my stomach roll. “Look, I don’t care what anybody says. Mr. Walker doesn’t seem like a killer. I mean, not that Madison does, but…”

He lets out a low breath, and I feel like there’s something he’s not saying.

“Wait, are you defending her because of some sort of history between you two?”

He tilts his head right, then left, like he’s sorting out his response. “She wanted to go there. Last year. Her brother and I got into it, and I think she took that as some sort of sign that I was interested. It was ridiculous, but she was…hard to shake off.”

I arch a brow. “I’ll bet. I knew she was hot for you, but is it like…obsession?”

“Nah. She’s into lots of guys. She was probably trying to date me to get back at her brother for some stupid thing or just for drama’s sake. Or, hell, maybe because she liked the idea of dating a big, bad criminal.”

“You’re not a criminal.” He laughs, so I grab his shirt to make him stop. “Lucas, you’re not a criminal. You’re out here trying to be a hero, for God’s sake.”

“We can talk about heroics if I actually manage to get you out of here.”

He looks up at the walls of the valley, which have grown steeper on either side of us. We’re entering that narrow place that scared me. My insides shiver.

“I need to take a leak,” he says. “I’ll stay close.”

“I’ve got to go too,” I admit.

“I’ll go with you first.”

“Uh, yeah, no.” I’ve lost almost everything that resembles dignity out here, but so help me God, I’m not going to have him stand three feet away while I pee. It’s still daylight.

Lucas hesitates, so I throw up my arm to reveal the Darling. “Seems pretty unlikely that someone who goes to all this would finish me off on an unplanned pee break.”

He smirks, but then he reaches down and hauls a long, dead branch off the ground. He turns it in his hand like he’s testing the weight, then throws it javelin style into the ground. He braces one hand on the top and his boot on the center. Pushes hard.

It splinters, and he keeps pushing, twisting, until the bottom bit is broken off.

My stomach tenses as he holds up his handiwork, a pole, taller than him and jagged and sharp like a weapon. Because it is a weapon.

“What is that for?”

He offers it to me with a smirk. “Let’s call it insurance.”

He stomps off into the woods, and I head out the other direction, eyes searching the trees. A woodpecker’s tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat echoes in the distance, and little pinpricks of sunlight are making their way through the canopy. It feels OK. Or as OK as it’s going to feel out here. I prop the makeshift spear against a tree.

I’ve got my shorts around my knees when I hear the soft hiss of leaves rustling in the distance, opposite of where Lucas headed. A chill slides up my neck. There’s something else too. Something that sounds like a child crying.