Backwoods. Jill Sorenson
or Brooke.
Abby rested her palms on her knees, winded. She didn’t approve of them creeping into the forest like white knights, armed with blunt objects. They had no idea what was going on. A woman in pain or danger would respond better to other women.
“Did you try calling out to her?” she asked Brooke.
“No one answered,” Brooke said.
They waited at the edge of the trees, dripping wet. This side of the lake was cloaked in shadow, and it made all the difference. The temperature was ten degrees cooler. Abby shivered in the cool air, her skin and hair damp.
“How many screams did you hear?” Abby asked.
“Two. I’m not sure where they came from.” Brooke wrapped her arms around her body, glancing over her shoulder.
Abby studied their surroundings. It was called Echo Lake for a reason. The granite rock formations caused sound to bounce off in all directions. She could have sworn the cries rang out from here, but she wasn’t sure. “Could an animal make that noise?”
“Maybe a mountain lion.”
“It sounded like a woman.”
“Or a girl,” Brooke said quietly.
Abby remembered the drowning victim’s age: seventeen. The missing hiker was twenty-five, the lost girlfriend twenty-one.
Brooke wasn’t the type to sit on the sidelines. She searched the branches by the shore and picked up two hefty sticks. Passing one to Abby, she tilted her head toward the woods. Abby debated the wisdom of following the men, but she couldn’t stop Brooke from going, and she wanted to stay together.
Brooke tiptoed into the foliage, stealthy and silent. Abby crept close behind, wincing as her bare foot encountered a sharp rock. They inched forward, ears and eyes peeled. Abby saw no signs of humans or large animals. She heard no sounds, other than birds chirping and lizards rustling through the leaves.
Brooke continued through a small clearing. They were straying too far from the lakeshore, but Abby kept moving. She squinted at a strange shape in the trees ahead. Insects swarmed in a dark cloud. Her nostrils tickled with a muddy, metallic smell. She became aware of a stretching sound, like swaying rope.
“Ugh,” Brooke said, wrinkling her nose.
Abby pushed past Brooke to see. Her stomach dropped as she examined the gory scene. A full-sized deer hung from the tree, eviscerated. Its entrails lay in a neat pile on the leaves. Blood dripped from the flayed belly, streaking the animal’s dark fur.
Nathan and Leo entered the clearing a moment later. When Leo saw the hanging deer, his handsome face went gray. He stumbled away and retched in the bushes.
Nathan gave him a disgusted look. “Pull yourself together, Leo.”
Abby couldn’t believe he’d criticize his son for getting sick at a time like this. Brooke threw down her stick and went to see if Leo needed help. He shrugged off her attempts to rub his shoulder.
“It’s fresh,” Nathan said, inspecting the deer.
Abby stepped forward to investigate.
“They took the choice cuts and left the rest. That’s illegal.”
She noted the missing chunks at the animal’s sides. “Those hikers, you think?”
“Maybe.”
“What about the screams?” Brooke asked.
“We didn’t see anyone,” Nathan said.
“Neither did we,” Abby said.
“A mountain lion can scream like that,” Brooke said.
Nathan nodded. “They’re drawn to the smell of blood.”
Abby glanced around the woods, studying the dark shadows as if a big cat might spring from the depths at any moment. “Let’s get out of here.”
CHAPTER SIX
THE TRIP AROUND the lake took a lot longer than the swim across.
As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the temperature dropped into the 70s. Comfortable for hiking, if they weren’t wet, half-naked and barefoot. Nathan’s shorts were soaked. He’d have suggested swimming back, but they were all cold, and Leo was still pale. Nathan didn’t want him to throw up again.
The sight of the hanging deer brought back old memories. Nathan had hunted with his father in the woods of Wisconsin, where he’d grown up. He hadn’t enjoyed the sport. He’d always felt a little queasy, pulling the trigger. Dressing the kill was no picnic, either. He’d never complained, of course. His dad would have cuffed him for whining or showing weakness.
He felt disloyal for remembering his father that way, as if being strict was a crime. Maybe it was, in California. Now Conrad Strom was dead and gone. Former military, he’d been tough as nails, unaffectionate and slow to praise. A parent from another era. But there was nothing wrong with a man wanting his son to be strong.
Was there?
Nathan owed a lot of his success in baseball to his stern Midwestern upbringing. If his dad hadn’t pushed so hard, Nathan wouldn’t have achieved half as much. He’d been drafted into the minor league right out of high school. His father had encouraged him to reach for the stars. Whenever Nathan tried to do the same for Leo, it backfired.
This whole situation was a mess. One minute he was palling around with Leo and getting cozy with Abby. The next, he was creeping through the woods with a club, searching for a screaming girl.
Maybe he’d needed an interruption. His comments to Abby had been too suggestive. After a few minutes in her company, he’d forgotten his vow to keep his distance. She was just so...beautiful. Her curves made his mouth water and his palms itch. In his defense, he hadn’t gotten laid in a really long time.
It was more than that, though. They had great sexual chemistry, but he liked her personality. She had depth. If she’d been vapid or conceited or shrill, his urge to fuck her would have faded already. Instead, it kept growing with every smile he coaxed from her, every laugh that escaped her lips.
Damn.
She seemed interested, too. He assumed she was single. Her signals weren’t so obvious that he knew he could score with her. With some women, he could tell right away. Others were more of a challenge. Abby was the type he’d have to work for.
But never mind that. He wasn’t here to put the moves on Abby. His main priority was bonding with Leo. He wanted to be a better father. When this trip was over and they were back in San Diego, he could call Abby. Unless he kept making a jerk of himself and ruining his chances, which was possible.
Anyway, he had other things to worry about. Lawbreaking hunters and strange sounds and gutted animals. Nathan held the tree branch in a firm grip, just in case. He didn’t want to tangle with a hungry mountain lion.
When they reached the other side of the lake, he drew in a sharp breath. Their backpacks had been tampered with. Zippers and pockets were gaping open. A few stray items were strewn across the sand.
“Son of a bitch,” he said, tightening his grip on the club. They’d been robbed! “Check to see what’s missing.”
While Nathan stood watch, the others searched the packs.
“My cell phone’s gone,” Brooke reported.
Abby’s eyes widened with dismay.
“At least it’s my backup, so there’s no information to hack.”
“Why would they steal a phone they can’t use?” Abby asked.
“They can wipe it and sell it,” Leo said.
Nathan narrowed his gaze at the trees along the trail. Those long-haired creeps had drawn them away from their belongings