One Step Too Far (Frankie Elkin #2)(98)

I can’t look at Luciana anymore. I suffer a debilitating sense of failure. I never should’ve suggested my stupid plan. We never should’ve left Scott and Neil. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. The terrible trio that haunts all survivors.

“You?” I ask at last.

Luciana smiles, brings the straw back to my lips. She looks close to her usual gorgeous self, just bruised and battered around the edges. And tired. Very tired.

“I was attacked,” she provides. “Nemeth and I had just completed the steepest portion of the descent. He and Daisy were both ahead of me. And something snagged my ankle. I was upright, then in the next instant went down hard. I thought I’d tripped, tried to get my hands beneath me, when something hard nailed me from behind. I don’t really know what happened after that. When I regained consciousness, I was tied to a tree. No idea where I was or what had happened.

“I was still trying to figure out how to break free, when Daisy appeared. She was missing her vest and covered in mud and twigs, but she’d found me. My pockets had been emptied out. I still had my paracord bracelet, however. I managed to unclasp it and use the razor part to cut through the cords. Then, basically, I followed Daisy back down to civilization. Once I reached Sheriff Kelley, he started planning the rescue. Daisy and I joined the chopper crew, arriving at the top of Devil’s Canyon. A separate group launched from the base. It’s . . . it’s been really busy since then.”

Another hesitation. “They found Bob,” she says softly. “They’re bringing down his body today.” Then her own question: “Marty?”

“There was a man hunting us. Probably who attacked you. He’s the one who killed Bob and hurt Scott and Neil. Miguel and I were trying to get help when he caught up with us. Martin, he came out of nowhere, tackled the man. They both went over the edge of the ravine. Nemeth?” I ask. The fact that she hasn’t mentioned him already has me worried.

Luciana takes a deep breath. “He, uh . . . he’s in pretty bad shape. Looks like he must’ve run back to help me—they found his pack near where I was attacked. But it didn’t go so well for him. Either the hunter left him for dead or he somehow escaped, but he managed to stagger a fair way down the mountain before collapsing near the trail. Marge Santi found him, first thing. Good thing, too, because I don’t think he would’ve made it much longer.”

I wince, being able to picture it too well.

Luciana continues quietly, “Chances are, he saved my life. By the time the attacker finished with Nemeth, he didn’t have the energy left to deal with me immediately.”

Or the time, I think, knowing that ambushing Luciana and Nemeth had been only the opening act for the hunter’s busy day.

“But it cost him,” she finishes at last. “Gunshot wound, broken bones, pulverized face. It’s not . . . it’s not looking good.”

I want to squeeze her hand, but I’m attached to too many lines. I understand how she feels, though. I need Miguel, Scott, and Neil to pull through, because the thought of them dying while I get to live is too terrible to contemplate. Both a burden and a grave injustice.

“Bodies,” I manage at last. “In Devil’s Canyon. There’s a chamber, filled with eight mummified remains.”

Luciana nods. “One of the teams discovered it this morning. I don’t know if you remember, but you were talking about it as you drifted in and out of consciousness. The mummies needed you, the mummies were coming to get you, hunted humans, human hunter. We didn’t understand it all, but it was enough to know something else was going on near the cliff face. I remembered the area where Daisy had first picked up a scent trail before becoming confused, and provided a rough direction. If we’d had more time on our expedition, I’m sure Daisy would’ve made the discovery herself. Of course, our party had things going wrong from the very beginning.”

The hunter had been outplaying us from the start, no doubt about it. And yet still hadn’t truly appreciated the depth of a father’s love, or the power of a father’s rage. Neil would approve: Martin had made his death count.

“How long?” I ask—as in, how long have I been in the hospital?

“Thirty-six hours.”

I’m startled by this, mostly because it feels like I could easily sleep another year. Beneath the hospital sheets, I can feel the nearly concave shape of my hollowed-out stomach.

“They have you on fluids and glucose,” Luciana provides. “Now that you’re awake, I’m sure a doctor will be in to see you shortly. This is a small hospital, so having five major trauma cases at once is straining their resources, hence your ‘room’?”—she gestures to my curtained-off space—“which is actually a temporary bed in the ER. The way I understand things, your injuries aren’t that serious, so you don’t need to stay. Mostly, you need a week’s worth of sleep and probably a month’s worth of food. Your body will take care of the rest.”

I nod, because I don’t know what to say. In all honesty, I have no idea where to go or what to do next. Luciana once told me a week in the woods would change me. She had no idea.

Now Luciana places a gentle hand on my shoulder: “I have a room for Daisy and me back at the original motel in Ramsey. You’re welcome to crash with us again. When you’re ready to be discharged from here, let me know and I can give you a ride.”