Page 51 of Unknown

Boris gestured to the truck. Grenade in one hand. Her gun in the other. No chance for her.

"In you go," he said. "And don't even think of trying anything."

Cora headed toward the truck’s passenger seat. He wrenched it open and forced her inside. She kept watching the grenade. She had her eye on it, hawk-like, but he wasn’t letting her get close enough to try anything. As he forced her down and twisted her around to slam the door, she saw that on the back seat was a thick, folded sack. The item drew her gaze immediately. She knew what he’d used that for.

He slammed and locked the door and she sat in place, furious that she hadn’t yet had a chance to escape, knowing she needed to find one, and soon.

Boris got into the driver's seat, still holding the grenade in his hand. How could she get it from him? He was being very careful.

"It's time for our last drive," he said, with a gleeful smile. "You're coming with me, and I hope you enjoy it, because it will be your last drive. You thought you were going to stop me? You’ll pay for that with your life!"

He reached over and yanked her seatbelt down, threading it between the handcuffs and then slotting it into place.

Simple but effective. She'd been cuffed at an angle that she couldn't escape from. He was thinking of every aspect so far.

He started the car, laughing frantically, sticking her gun into his belt on the side furthest from her

He pulled off, along the back track that led out of the woods, spluttering with laughter, driving crazily, grinding the sides of the pickup against the branches and shrubs.

This was a death ride, without a doubt.

If she saw any chance now, however slim or crazy, Cora knew she had to take it, because the odds were all stacked against her.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Gabe set off along the track, trying to quell the prickling feeling in his spine that told him that splitting up at this point was a bad, bad idea. He hated the idea of going separate ways at this stage, of diluting their resources when they were up against a violent killer. But he acknowledged that with the likelihood Abel might have called Boris already, they didn't have any time to spare.

Because if Boris was warned, he might flee the area, either hiding out in the woods – which were large enough – or even going further.

What lay ahead? Was the killer's white roofed cabin down this branch of the track? He wasn't sure how far he would need to go in order to make sure. This pathway looked well used, but not by cars. The other track, he thought, had looked slightly more vehicle friendly, and a better option. If Cora hadn’t volunteered to take it, he would have for that exact reason.

How long would it be before he could rule out this direction and rush to help Cora search?

Not too early. The responsibility weighed heavy on his shoulders. Imagine if he turned back too early and they missed the killer? He couldn't allow that to happen.

And, just as he had that thought, he heard footsteps ahead of him, and tensed.

Who was coming this way?

The footsteps grew closer and closer. He could hear the crunching of leaves and twigs underfoot now.

And then, a young man, walking briskly, came into view. He was holding a leash. At the end of the leash trotted a Chihuahua.

Gabe was going to conclude, immediately, that this was not their guy. Not only because he simply couldn't align a guy walking a Chihuahua with his mental picture of the killer. He knew he could be wrong, but - no. Just no. Not possible.

Of course, the second reason was that this guy could not have been more than eighteen years old. Age wise, that meant he was pretty much out the ballpark, Gabe reckoned.

"Afternoon," he greeted him.

"Afternoon," the guy said. The Chihuahua made a beeline for him and Gabe bent all the way down to pet the tiny dog, nothing more than a nicely trimmed speck of fluff, its entire body wagging.

Gabe suddenly realized that he was wasting a valuable opportunity here. If this young man knew the woods, he could be a source of information.

"You know if there are any cabins up this way?" he asked the guy. "I'm looking for one with a white roof. Need to get something from the owner."

The guy stared at him in concern, and in that horrified stare, Gabe saw immediately that what he'd said was ringing bells. This guy knew what he was speaking about. He knew it, and he was wary.

"Hey, man, you don't wanna go that way," he warned.

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