“It’s not illegal to camp here,” Travis said.
Something rustled in the trees, and Rand glanced over in time to see a dark-haired girl step into the clearing. At the sight of Travis and the others, she started and moved back into the cover of the leaves. “Who was that?” Travis asked.
“That’s my niece,” the second man, a broad-shouldered blond, said. “She’s very shy.”
Rand stared after the girl. “Ask her to come back,” he said. “I want to talk to her.”
“Who are you?” the first man asked.
Travis sent Rand a quelling look. “Can your niece answer a few questions for us?” the sheriff asked.
“You won’t get anything useful from her,” the second man said. “She’s got the mental capacity of a three-year-old. A sad situation, really.”
“I’d still like to talk to her,” Travis said.
The two men looked at each other. “I’m going to have to refuse,” the blond said. “No disrespect, Sheriff, but I don’t see any need to upset her. She couldn’t tell you anything useful.”
Silence stretched as Travis and the blond faced each other; then the sheriff took a step back. “We’ll be back if we have more questions,” he said.
Rand waited until they were a quarter mile from camp before he burst out. “I know that girl,” he said. “She was in the Vine’s camp the night Danny and I tried to help that pregnant woman, Lana. They called her Serena. And she seemed as smart as any ten-or eleven-year-old.”
“If they’ve got Chris, she isn’t in that camp,” Dwight said. “I got a good look at the tents. They’re so small I don’t think they could hide anyone in them.”
“She’s probably in the woods,” Rand said. “Wherever the girl was coming from. That’s why they didn’t want us talking to her.”
“Or they might not want strangers interviewing a child,” Dwight said.
“We’ll get searchers up here,” Travis said. “It’s public land. They can’t stop us from searching.”
“And while we’re waiting, they’ll move Chris,” Rand said. He turned back toward the camp. “I’m going back there to look for Chris myself.”
“Don’t do it,” Travis said.
Rand made a move to turn away, but Dwight took hold of his arm. “Don’t do anything rash,” Dwight said. “You’re not going to face off by yourself against four of them, and who knows how many more? If they do have Chris, they probably have her guarded. Smarter to let us check out the situation with a drone and get back up there with the numbers to deal with whatever kind of offense they try to present.”
Rand glanced at Travis. “We may not have a lot of time,” he said. “Groups like this are used to moving around a lot, avoiding any attention from police.”
“We’re wasting time right now,” Travis said. “Don’t delay us any longer.”
Rand glanced back over his shoulder. He wanted to go back and look for Chris, but he could see the foolishness of trying to take on the group by himself, unarmed. “All right,” he said. “I’ll wait.” But he wouldn’t wait long.
Chapter Fourteen
Chris woke up with a pounding head, the pain worse than any tension headache or hangover she had ever experienced. She forced open her eyes and was met with a wave of nausea, and she broke into a cold sweat. “Drink this. It will help.” A gentle, cool hand briefly rested on her forehead, and the hand’s owner, a dark-haired girl, helped Chris sit up against some rough surface. She pressed a mug into Chris’s hands. “Don’t worry. It’s just ginger tea. It will help, I promise.”
Chris sipped the drink, which indeed tasted of ginger and smelled of lemons and honey. She realized suddenly how parched she was and ended up draining the cup. The girl smiled and took the cup from her. “That’s good. You should feel better soon.”
The only light in the dim space was from an old-fashioned camping lantern, which gave off an erratic yellow glow and the faint odor of gas. Chris shoved herself up into a sitting position, fighting a new wave of dizziness and nausea. She had been lying—and was now sitting—on what appeared to be an old sleeping bag laid out on the floor of a chamber hewed out of rock. The entrance wasn’t visible from where she sat, but a draft of fresh air to her left probably came from that opening. “Where am I?” she asked.
“We’re in a cave, I think. Or maybe something to do with one of the mines around here.” The girl set the empty cup aside and picked up a basin filled with water. “Let me look at the back of your head. I want to make sure the bleeding has stopped.”
Most of her fogginess had cleared, and the memory of what had happened on the trail returned, sharp and enraging. Chris leaned away from the girl. “Who are you? Why am I here?”
“My name is Serena.” The girl’s expression was guarded. Unsmiling. Nevertheless, she was strikingly beautiful. She had the kind of arresting beauty that might grace magazine covers or classical paintings. “And we are both here because the Exalted wills it.”
Of course. Chris hadn’t really had to ask the question. The Exalted was the only person who would want to kidnap her. “You’re a member of the Vine,” she clarified.
Serena dipped a cloth into the water and wrung it out. “I was born into the Vine.”