Page 101 of Beckett
I sprinted toward the main house, boots pounding across the dirt. The porch came into view and?—
Lark.
She lay crumpled near the door, red hair spread across the weathered boards. Not moving. So much blood. I dropped to my knees beside her, fingers finding her pulse. There—steady but weak. She was breathing.
“Lark.” I kept my voice calm despite the panic clawing at my chest. “Can you hear me?”
Her eyelids fluttered. Thank God.
“He…he was here…” The words came out slurred, confused. “Audra…”
“Where?” I was torn. Lark needed help. But every second… “Lark, do you know where they went?”
“I don’t know…” She was struggling to focus, eyes rolling back. “I didn’t see…”
Gravel crunched as Coop’s truck roared into the driveway, taking the turn so hard I thought he might flip it. He was out and running before the engine died.
“Lark’s hurt! I don’t know where Audra and Reggie are!”
“I’ve got Lark!” He ran toward us. “Check the barn!”
Coop tossed something as he ran past—his backup Glock. I caught it one-handed, the weight familiar and reassuring. “Take it. Go find Audra.”
I ran for the barn, weapon ready, tactical training overriding emotion. Clear the corners. Check the shadows. Watch for movement. The barn door stood open, afternoon light streaming through to illuminate empty stalls. No Audra. No signs of struggle. Nothing but that oppressive silence.
Back outside, I scanned the property with growing desperation. Where would he take her? The kennels were visible from here—no movement. The training ring sat empty. The back pastures stretched toward the tree line, but?—
Red on the ground.
Blood, fresh enough to still glisten, dotting the dirt near the fence. Not pooled—droplets, like something bleeding had moved through here. I followed the trail, each drop a crimson breadcrumb leading toward…
Jet.
Oh no. No.Fuck.
The German shepherd was dragging himself toward the woods, back legs barely working, leaving a smear of red behind him. Two wounds in his side leaked steadily, darkening his already black coat. But he was still moving, still pulling himself forward with a determination that broke something in my chest.
I dropped beside him, hands already pulling off my shirt. “Hey, boy. Hey. I’ve got you.”
His tail tried to wag when he saw me, the movement weak but unmistakable. Even now, even bleeding out, he was glad to see a friend. I pressed the shirt against the worst of the wounds, applying pressure. Hopefully it would slow the bleeding.
Jet whimpered and kept trying to crawl toward the trees.
“You going after your girl, buddy?” I kept one hand on the makeshift bandage while studying his body language. Those brown eyes were locked on the forest, ears forward despite the pain. Every line of his body pointed the same direction—toward the dense woods that bordered the back of the property.
He’d been trying to follow them. Wounded, maybe dying, and his only thought was to follow Audra.
“Show me where she is, boy.” I helped him to his feet, supporting most of his weight. “I’m listening this time.”
This wouldn’t be like Afghanistan.
Jet limped forward, each step an obvious agony, but he didn’t stop. We entered the tree line together, moving from bright afternoon into green shadow. The blood trail behind us would make us easy to follow, but that didn’t matter. Backup would see it, know which way we’d gone.
Twenty yards in, I heard it—Reggie’s voice, drifting through the trees like smoke.
“You can’t run forever, Audra. You already know that.”
The tone was conversational, almost friendly. The voice of someone enjoying himself, taking his time. Playing with his food. But I couldn’t hear Audra. No response, no crying, no pleading. That silence terrified me more than screaming would have.
