Into the Night(35)

“Help...” the bound man managed again. Macey rushed to his side. Bowen was checking the rest of the small cabin, and she knew he was searching for the perp.

“It’s okay,” Macey told the man tied to the chair. “I’m FBI Agent Macey Night. You’re going to be all right.”

“Promise?” A desperate rasp.

She grabbed for the ropes around his wrists. The ropes were soaked with blood and she saw the deep cuts on his wrists where the ropes had sliced into him as he struggled to break free.

“Oh, shit!” Zack cried out. He stood just inside the doorway.

“Get back!” Macey yelled. This was a crime scene. They couldn’t afford to contaminate any evidence, and for all she knew, the killer could be hiding in that ramshackle cabin.

Or he could be outside, watching. Just like before, at the other cabin.

Zack started to retreat.

“Stay near the door!” Macey shouted. “Get cover, okay?”

“Cover?” Then Zack seemed to understand because he looked over his shoulder and immediately crouched.

She yanked at the ropes. Damn it, they weren’t coming loose.

“Clear,” Bowen barked as he came back into the narrow room. “No one else is in the cabin.” He hurried to her side and he pulled a knife from his boot. He sliced right through the ropes at the guy’s wrists, and the man in the chair let out a weak cry.

“Circulation has to come back,” Macey said, understanding exactly what he was going through. “It’s going to be painful at first, but it won’t last.”

Bowen slid to the front of the chair. He started to cut through the ropes that bound the man’s ankles, then he paused.

“Bowen?” Macey prompted.

He looked up at her. “The chair was nailed to the floor. And there are... Hell, one of the nails...no, two of them—”

“Are in me,” the guy rasped. “In...my feet... Help...”

Oh, God. “Get him loose,” Macey demanded. Then she was there, helping Bowen, working hard to free the man who’d been bound. And nailed to the floor.

“He took me.” The man’s voice was a broken whisper. “I—I was hiking... He took me. H-hit me... Why did he h-hit me? Wh-why did he hurt me?”

She looked up at him just as Bowen pried the guy loose. The ropes were cut and the nails... They’re still in him, but he can move. They’d pried the long nails from the wooden floor. “We’re going to get you medical attention.” She turned her head toward Bowen. She moved closer to him, and her lips feathered over his ear as she warned, “The killer could be watching, just like last time. We need to get backup out here and we need to search the woods.”

“You read my fucking mind, Mace.” He pulled out his phone, but then swore. “No service.”

“Go outside.” She nodded toward a watchful—and still crouching—Zack. “Use his radio or see if you can get service. I’ll stay with the victim.”

Bowen’s gaze swung back to the man in the chair. The man who was clutching his stomach and crying. “How long were you here?” Bowen demanded.

The guy shuddered. His lips were raw and blistered. His face too pale. His pupils were pinpricks and sweat covered his body. “Wh-what day is...it?”

“Thursday.”

The man’s eyes closed. “Left...for my hike...on Sunday.”

He’d been trapped here for that long? Macey curled her hand around Bowen’s. “Get him help. I’ll stay with him.” She was the doctor. She could check his vitals, make sure he didn’t do anything to hurt himself.

“S-starved...me... No f-food... B-barely any...w-water...”

“Go,” Macey said to Bowen.

He slipped away. She rose, moving to press her fingers to the man’s throat. His pulse was thready. “What’s your name?”

“C-Curtis...”

That was the name Zack had given them...the guy who fit their profile. The man who’d gone out on the trail that the killer loved.

She put her gun on the floor, making sure to keep it within easy access, and she knelt in front of him. “Did you see the man who did this to you?”

Curtis shook his head, but then his bloody hand lifted and he pointed to his bag. “F-food...in there. Water...”

When she’d run into the cabin, she’d left her pack outside. She had extra water—water that this man desperately needed.

Before she could speak, Curtis lurched up. He stumbled toward his pack even as she grabbed for him. “Curtis, no, you’ll hurt yourself!” The nails were still in his feet, near his ankles, and his blood dripped onto the floor.

“Water...” Such a desperate plea.

She helped him toward the backpack. He fell, sinking to his knees, and then he was reaching his trembling hands inside the bag. She saw the water bottle, several of them, and his shaking fingers hovered over those bottles.

But then his hand shoved deeper into the bag and when his fingers came up, he was clutching a knife. A knife that he drove straight at her.





CHAPTER EIGHT

“BOWEN!” MACEY’S FRANTIC shout reached him just as Bowen and Zack managed to contact the ranger station. There was still no damn cell signal, but Zack’s radio had worked to connect.