At the sound of his name, Cynthia hears Hemingway’s tail thump the floor on the other side of the Dutch door.
“Even though he’d been cut, Hemingway got Jason’s wrist in his jaws and clamped down until he let go of the bottle. I’d be surprised if his wrist isn’t broken. As they continued to wrestle, Jason tried to scoot himself away from Hemingway. I don’t think he realized he was heading toward the cliff. He managed to get to his knees, then maneuvered to his feet just as a strong gust of wind came tearing from the north. He was so close to the slippery edge, he lost his footing and plunged over the cliff.”
A quick siren blast announces Joe’s arrival. Taking one of her warm hands in both of his, Mick says, “Thank you, Cynthia.”
Walking over to the Dutch door, Mick looks over at Hemingway. “And thank you, too, you big lug.”
“Be careful,” Libby calls after his retreating back.
“I will. I’m going to stop at my cabin and then head out. I’ll keep you posted when I can.”
Approaching the cruiser, Mick sees Toni in the passenger seat. Leaning down he speaks to both her and Joe through the open passenger window. “I’ll be right back. I just need to grab my go-bag.”
The still air in the cave has an eerie kind of clarity. Jason watches Emma in the darkness. His eyes have a crazed intensity.
Raising his eyebrows suggestively, Jason says, “I think we should enjoy a little prelude before the real fun begins.” He stands and starts to walk toward her.
Sweat beads across Emma’s hairline. Her fingers curl into her palms; the muscles along her arms tighten, shorten, ready to strike. She looks at Jason. His eyes are stones of hatred, polished evil. I know he can see the terror I’m hiding. The primitive center of her brain screams—Run!
A sharp stench fills the air—urine.
“You disgusting bitch, you peed yourself!” Jason backhands Emma across the face. “You should be ashamed.” Covering his mouth and nose with his good hand, he backs away.
I’d rather die than be raped by that loathsome pig. Shaking from frayed nerves, Emma turns her head toward the opening and intentionally redirects her thoughts. She wonders when the bats they’d displaced earlier will return. She remembers reading that humans owe bats a considerable debt of gratitude because every night each one consumes hundreds of insects. Without them, the insect population would grow to unmanageable proportions.
Pretending she’s outside looking up at every star imaginable pricking the black sky, Emma wonders, What’s happening at Pines & Quill? Do they know I’m gone? Do they know I’m being held captive by Jason?
Wondering what’s captivated her attention, Jason’s gaze follows Emma’s to the mouth of the cave. His eyes widen in panic as a billowy whiteness floats into his line of vision. Icy fear twists his heart. As in the woods, the shimmering form floats toward him and then goes slightly out of focus, like an old-time photograph.
Scrambling across the rock-strewn cave floor, Jason slips behind Emma in her wheelchair. Grabbing the knife from his pocket, Jason tucks his thumb under the thumb-stud, pushes it up and out, releasing its razor-sharp edge.
“Take one step closer, and I’ll slit her throat,” he shouts.
Emma doesn’t hear or see who Jason’s speaking to, but she knows that he’s using her to shield himself from whatever it is. She remains still.
“Come now, Alex,” the woman with brilliant white eyes and silver skin says. “That’s not any way to treat a woman.”
“How do you know my name?” he yells.
“What mother doesn’t know her own child’s name?” the apparition asks. And while slowly backing out of the cave it sings, “And here comes a chopper to chop off your head! Chip chop, chip chop, the last man is dead.” On the final note, the foggy, white mass disappears.
Jason slumps to the floor in relief. “You stink,” he growls at Emma before crawling back to the other side of the cave. He grabs the empty bottle of Jack and holds it to his nose. Inhaling deeply, he wonders, Was that a hallucination from withdrawal? He knows the tremors are. I haven’t gone this long without alcohol since I can remember. Feeling bolstered that it was a hallucination, not a ghost, he shoots a glance at Emma and sneers, “What are you looking at?”
Mick slips into the squad car behind Joe on the driver’s side so they’re able to see each other in the rearview mirror.
Before they head out, Joe brings Mick and Toni up to speed on his findings in the homicide database.
In the rearview mirror, Joe sees Mick’s face turn ashen. If they weren’t blocked from view, he’d also see that his work-worn hands are balled into fists.
Joe turns to Toni. He sees her sitting rigidly with her eyes trained straight ahead. If I touch her, she’ll break.
“A serial killer who crossed several state lines,” Mick says. “Officially, this just became an FBI case. But before I make the call, I want to find Emma. Are you with me?”
“Yes,” Joe says, without hesitation.
The only response from Toni is a curt nod.
“I know right where it’s at,” Mick says.
“Where what’s at?” Joe asks.
“Blanchard Hill Bat Caves,” Mick responds to Joe’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Right,” Joe says. “Me, too.”
Breaking her wall of ice, Toni chimes in. “Well, I don’t. Can you let me in on the secret?”
“I’m a big fan of hiking,” Joe begins. “I don’t do it nearly as often as I’d like, but such is life. Blanchard Hill has it all. Views, lakes, forest, and open areas.”
Mick picks up the thread. “It’s located on Chuckanut Mountain and is one of this area’s most beautiful natural landscapes. The hikes range from relaxing to grueling,” he finishes, rubbing his leg.
“There are several access points,” Joe continues. “You make your selection based on the level of difficulty and distance you’re looking for.”
“Well it’s dark,
