The Killing Game(118)

She grunted with pain, then shot to her feet. She whirled and kicked him hard but missed his crotch, her blow landing on his thigh.

“Bitch!” He hadn’t expected her to be ready.

She lunged for the gun, but he was quick, beat her to it. Whirling, she threw herself at the door. If she could just get outside, into the darkness, she might be able to run, to get away. Her reflexes were sluggish, but her muscles were working again, her brain on fire.

One step. Two. The space between the fake bookshelf and wall, the opening was just a leap away. She sprang.

“Wrong move,” he singsonged. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and dragged her down.

She fought, kicking and scratching, raining blow after blow upon him, but he was too strong, so much bigger, and when she smelled the malodorous stench again on the rag he was bringing toward her, she realized she was doomed.

“Ether,” he crowed, smashing the rag over her face. “Old school.”

She struggled wildly, but the chemical overtook her. The last thing she remembered was him hauling her off her feet and carrying her outside to his car, the one he’d bought for cash.

*

Luke passed a car coming from the direction of Carter’s cabin. He watched its taillights in his rearview mirror, the red lights disappearing in the deep night. Had that been Andi in the passenger seat? The driver had been looking down as he passed, almost as if he’d been trying to hide his face.

Was it Carter? Was it? God! He was pretty sure it was.

He turned around and followed, trying to keep back far enough to stay off his radar. They were on a trajectory toward the lodge. Luke decided to stay well back and park away from the construction site so he wouldn’t be seen.

Ten minutes later he was there. He killed the engine, then jogged toward the lodge, but there was no other vehicle there.

Where had he gone?

He heard the faint sound of an engine to the east and turned in that direction.

The summer camp.

Immediately he was racing back to his truck. He switched on the engine and the damn thing coughed and acted like it wasn’t going to catch, but then it did. Breathing a sigh of relief, he sped down the two-lane road to the entrance to the summer camp, damn near missing it . . . except for the flattened grass he caught in his headlights.

He bumped along the rutted lane. He didn’t care if Carter knew he was coming.

His headlights trapped another car in their beams, parked to one side not far from the water’s edge. Broken pieces of wood from the ruined cabins lay scattered about, along with a row of forgotten canoes. Where one had been the ground was dry, even though a misting rain had started.

Luke leaped out of the car, leaving his keys in the ignition. The parked Ford was the one he’d passed on the road. It was Carter’s. And Andi was with him.

He dragged out one of the canoes. In the headlights from his car he saw it had holes in the bottom. He anxiously reached for another. The second one looked good and he hurriedly pulled it out. He switched off the lights to the truck, then hauled it down to the water’s edge. He faintly heard the oars of a canoe dipping hurriedly in the water.

Carter was on the water and he knew Luke was coming.

“You son of a bitch,” he growled beneath his breath.

Then he was in the canoe, rowing for all he was worth.





PART IV

CHECKMATE





Chapter Twenty-Seven



The rhythmic, rapid slap of a paddle in the water sent rage running through Carter’s veins. He’d seen the headlights. Denton.

“Goddamn it.” He’d known that was Denton’s truck on the road. “Fuck!”

There was no time. He couldn’t have Andi the way he wanted her. The game wouldn’t be what he wanted.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way!

There was nothing he could do to save the moment. He looked down at the unconscious woman and gritted his teeth.

Then he leaned over her and rimmed her lips with his tongue. “Good-bye, lovely bird. . . .”

He pulled her up by the shoulders and he struggled a bit, but then she toppled into the dark water.

*

Luke heard the heavy splash into the water.

Andi!

He threw himself into paddling. He couldn’t see through the dark and the rain, but he knew it was Carter . . . and he knew Carter had thrown Andi into the water.

If he’s hurt her . . . if she’s . . .

He clamped his mind shut and ground his teeth together. He could hear the other canoe paddling furiously away, but he was focused on the spot he’d seen her go under.

Oh Andi . . . please, please . . .

Ripples were reaching him. Ten feet from where he believed Carter had tossed her out, he dove into the water, down and forward. Eyes open, he could see nothing in the black water.

He breaststroked forward underwater.

Andi . . . Andi . . . Andi . . .

His hand touched something.

Hair.

He surged forward and grabbed her by the hair, pulling upward. He surfaced and pulled up with all his strength, snagging part of her collar, then her arm, yanking her head above the surface. How long had it been? A minute? Two? Three?

He gasped for air, wrapping his arms around her chest, holding her face upward. She wasn’t breathing. Treading water, he squeezed his arm hard around her and released, did it again. God. Where was the canoe?