Into the Night(36)
At her cry, Bowen whirled back toward the cabin. His heart raced in his chest and adrenaline pounded in his blood as he raced for the open door. His gun was gripped tightly in his hand.
He burst into the cabin but then Bowen froze. Froze.
The guy who’d been bound—the victim who had been so desperate—stood behind Macey. And the jerk had a knife at her throat. Bowen could see a trickle of blood sliding down her neck.
“Let her go,” Bowen snarled. “She’s FBI. She’s here to help you.” You dumb son of a bitch.
But the man shook his head. “No...” His voice was still that broken whisper, and Bowen had to strain to hear him. “She’s gonna...lock me up.”
“We’re not the bad guys,” Bowen said. He didn’t let his gaze stray to Macey’s face. Not then—he couldn’t. He had to focus on the man who held her. A man who’d been pushed too far. A man who—
“I am,” the guy rasped.
I am. A cold chill slid over Bowen’s skin. He stared into the “victim’s” eyes...and he didn’t see fear staring back at him. He saw rage. Hate.
And he realized just what had happened.
The bastard on the phone... The perp did beat us. He beat us again. He said there was another serial out here. And I think I’m looking at him.
Bowen and Macey had been told that another killer was hunting in the area, but when they’d gone into the cabin, he’d thought they were looking at a victim. The man had been tied, dehydrated, held captive, tortured...
“He did to you,” Bowen said quietly, “what you did to the others.”
Curtis flinched. “Fucking SOB. I’m gonna...find him. I’m gonna kill him.”
Bowen took a step toward him.
“Don’t!” And Curtis jerked Macey closer to himself. “I will slit her throat from ear to ear.” The threat was low and whispery, but Bowen heard it. His whole focus was on the man who held Macey. “Not my first kill...so don’t think I’ll...hesitate.”
Bowen’s weapon was aimed at the bastard’s head. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a clear shot. Macey was too close. One move of her head to the left, and the bullet would hit her. And Curtis kept jerking her, so there was no way Bowen could take that risk.
I also can’t let him kill her. “Ten,” he said, throwing out the number.
Curtis squinted at him.
“Is that how many people you’ve killed, Curtis? Ten people? Ten hikers who never made it out of these mountains.”
Curtis laughed, a rusty, weak sound. “A few more than that...”
“How?” Bowen asked. He wanted the guy to keep talking. If he kept talking, Curtis would be focusing on Bowen and not Macey. If he kept talking, Curtis’s hold on Macey might ease. Bowen knew Macey would be waiting for her chance to escape. As soon as the guy’s hold weakened, she’d act. Bowen had to give her that opportunity.
Helplessly, Bowen’s gaze jerked to her face. Her eyes were wide, emotionless and locked on him. The blood was still trailing down her neck. His rage boiled inside of him, a white-hot fury that demanded he end the son of a bitch who’d dared to hurt her. Jaw locking, he forced his stare back on the man before him. “How,” Bowen snapped. “How did you take them all?”
“Wandered away,” Curtis rasped. But as he spoke, his shoulders straightened. His slightly pointed chin lifted. The guy was proud, Bowen realized. Proud and he wanted to brag about what he’d done. “The stream rose too high, and they wanted an...easier path.” He licked his busted lips. “I told them one...told them I would help, share supplies.”
“And, what, as soon as you were safely away, as soon as you had them where no one else could hear them scream, you attacked?”
“Put something in the coffee...” Curtis’s wrecked lips twisted. His eyes gleamed. “Brought ’em here. Said it was shelter. Gave ’em coffee and when they woke up...” He laughed. “That was when the f-fun began.”
Macey’s hand rose, and she pulled at his wrist.
“Stop it, bitch,” he said, his words croaking out. The knife sliced deeper into her.
“Put the fucking weapon down!” Bowen shouted. “Or I will shoot you right here.”
Curtis still wore that sadistic smile on his face. “I know...how you agents work. You can’t let...one of your own...get hurt.”
Macey was very much his. The truth of that settled into Bowen’s bones.
“So you drop your weapon,” Curtis ordered in his weak, broken voice. “And you...tell the ranger outside that I want transportation. I want an ATV. I want out of here...or the pretty lady is going to be bleeding a whole lot more.”
Bowen opened his mouth to reply.
“That’s not happening,” Macey said, her voice calm. Quiet. “You’re not getting away. Bowen is the best shot at the Bureau. He can shoot you between the eyes right now, and he’d never so much as come close to my skin.”
She sounded so very certain. She was also lying. Macey was the best shot, not him.
Curtis’s attention flew back to Bowen and his eyes widened in alarm.
“I’m giving you to three,” Bowen warned him. “One, two—”
Curtis’s hold on Macey eased, just a bit. “No, no, you bast—”