They slowed, breathing heavily. Ahead between the firs, glimpses of the clearing gleamed in the moonlight.
Something flashed, lighting up the meadow.
“He’s taking pictures,” whispered Cate. “He’s definitely here.”
“And Emma must still be alive,” said Tessa. “All the women were alive in his photos.”
“He’s only a few hours ahead of us,” said Bruce. “That’s not enough time to dig a grave.”
“We finished up here two days ago,” Tessa pointed out. “He could have done it at any point during that time.”
Mike crouched and picked up a stick. “The rock and graves were close to the edge of the clearing.” He drew a square and placed an X close to one edge. “We’ll assume he’s here. Half of us can come straight across the clearing, get his attention, while the rest of us circle through the woods and come in behind him, right by the graves.”
Tessa nodded. “Bruce and I will come across and confront him. The three of you go behind. We won’t be able to see you, so stay out of the way at two or ten.”
So they can shoot if needed.
She looked at Cate. “You should be armed.” She removed a handgun at her ankle. “My backup.”
She’s right.
Cate silently accepted it; the weapon felt both foreign and familiar. She hadn’t held a gun in months.
They turned off the flashlights and split up, relying on the moonlight to not trip. Cate, Mike, and Henry edged through the trees, trying to use the dim light to see yet stay out of sight.
Flashes continued near the rock. Each one gave Cate hope that Emma was still breathing. A few tense minutes later, she finally saw Emma. Chris had propped a flashlight that shone on her body. She was on her side on the rock, a gag in her mouth and her hands tied in front of her. Chris was talking to her, but Cate couldn’t make out his words. Emma’s head moved, and her eyes opened but then fell immediately shut. She gave a soft moan.
She must be drugged.
No blood.
The three of them crouched at the two o’clock position. Their view showed Chris from the hips up, blocked by the rock.
“This isn’t good enough,” muttered Cate. “I’m moving to ten o’clock.”
“I’m coming with you,” said Henry.
She glanced at Mike, who nodded. He’d stay.
Henry and Cate continued along the edge of the wood until she estimated they were in a safe position. She couldn’t see Tessa and Bruce. Or Mike.
I think we’re in the right place.
She gestured for Henry to step behind a tree, and she did the same, keeping an eye on Chris. Now she could see all of him.
Chris set his camera on the rock and picked up something.
Cate squinted, trying to make out the shape in the poor light.
“It’s a ligature,” Henry whispered. “He’s going to choke her.”
No.
Cate took an instinctive step toward the rock, and Henry caught her arm. “Wait!” he whispered.
“We’ve got to do something!” she hissed.
“Chris!” shouted Tessa. “It’s Deputies Black and Taylor! Step away from the rock!”
Shock registered on his face, and he dipped down behind the rock, scanning the dark for where the voice had come from.
“Stay back, or she’s dead!” His voice cracked on the last word.
“There’s no reason to hurt her, Chris,” Tessa said calmly. “Step away so we can talk about this.”
Cate swore in the poor light. “Can you see Tessa?” she whispered to Henry as she shifted into a firing stance, her feet spread apart, her right foot slightly back.
“No,” said Henry. “And I think the rock blocks her view of him.”
Don’t make us do anything, Chris.
The weapon had warmed in her hand, matching her body temperature where she touched it. Her breathing slowed as she concentrated on the figure in her sights as he huddled by the rock.
“Just move back,” said Tessa. “You haven’t done anything you can’t undo yet. Don’t make it worse.”
Not quite accurate but should make him pause.
“But she has to go!” shouted Chris.
What?
Cate exchanged a look with Henry, who shook his head.
“Go where?” asked Tessa.
“Just gone. Her daughter needs to be safe.” His voice had changed. He spoke in a higher, more childlike tone.
“Abby is safe. Is that why your mother died?” Tessa asked. “To make you safe?”
“Shut up! Do not speak of her!”
“Abby loves her mother,” said Tessa. “She was very upset when you took her away. She doesn’t have anyone else to take care of her.”
Cate finally spotted Tessa, a shadowy outline slowly coming across the meadow, with the taller Bruce a dozen feet to her right.
Chris was silent.
“I know you don’t want to hurt Emma,” said Tessa. “No one is making you do that. You can stop.”
“I have to.”
“Why? Who does it help?”
“It’s the right thing to do,” he said, looking down at Emma. “But it has to be done correctly. If it’s not done right, things will fall apart.”
His tone still sounded like a ten-year-old’s. Cate had never heard him speak like that, and it was like nails on a chalkboard to her, making the hair lift on her neck.
He’s cracked. At least he can’t choke her quickly with the rope. I can take him down if he tries.
“Who told you that?” asked Tessa. “Was it Jeff?”
Chris jerked, turning in her direction. “Do not talk about him!”
“Okay. But can you tell me why his name upsets you?”
He lowered his eyes, staring at the rope gripped in his hand. “You know nothing about him. He’s a good man.”
“He’s in prison, Chris. Maybe he’s not the right person to look up to.”
“He helped me.” An even younger voice. “He made her stop hurting me.”
Cate closed her eyes, positive that Jeff had been responsible for Chris’s mother’s death.
“I wanted to stop doing what he showed me to do. I tried to stop. I fought it off for a couple years—until now.” Chris touched Emma’s cheek, the ligature dangling from his other hand. “But I don’t think the urge will ever go away.” His voice had
