Page 12 of Prodigal Son

Should she run? How far would she get? She had no water or supplies or even a clue where they were in relation to civilization. There was no sight of a nearby road or houses anywhere in the landscape below.

He was stronger—by a lot. No doubt he could catch her. But instinct told her not to go to the second location. Or was this the second location? What did they say about the third?

“People will be looking for me,” she said, trying not to sound oppositional as she struggled to sit up and adjust her ruined coat. “If you let me leave, I’ll never mention you to anyone or this place. I’ll just say I got lost—”

Her words cut off as he glared over his shoulder, eyes narrowing with unmistakable threat.

She immediately realized two things. He likely killed before and he wouldn’t hesitate to kill again. She needed to shut the fuck up and cooperate, no matter what that meant.

“Never mind. It’s cool.” She climbed to her feet and took a step back, but felt no safer. She was at his mercy until someone else found them.

Her DNA was on the cave floor. Was that enough for the police to track her at least to this point? She pressed the sole of her boot into the dusty ground, hoping the UGG imprint might help identify the footsteps as her own. Vito bought her the boots for Christmas and should recognize the logo if he was working with the cops.

Turning, the man kicked sand and dirt over the fire, dousing the cave in shadows. Destiny fished in her pocket, her fingers closing around the waxy wrapper of a cough drop. She squeezed the paper tight in her fist, holding her arms at her side.

He moved through the shadows and gathered any traces of their belongings. Shouldering the leather strap of the canteen, he lifted something else.

Destiny’s breath ceased at the sight of Vito’s crossbow. Relief tunneled through her at the sight of the weapon. That, at least, would keep her brother safe from becoming a suspect.

The man then picked up a bloodied rag. Dear God it was his shirt!

He stormed past her and snapped, “Come. We must walk while the sun is high.”

What else would they do, call an Uber? She opened her fist and the cough drop fluttered to the cave floor.

A shallow breeze stole past her knees, gathering grit and ash from the fire as it spun into a squat tornado. Her eyes widened as it traveled from one side of the cave to the other, smudging out all footprints and sifting the granules of dirt back to earth in an undisturbed surface. Her boot prints were gone. So was the wrapper.

“Don’t make me shoot you with your own weapon,” he barked, already out of the cave and hiking down the steep terrain.

She looked back. All traces of their presence had been erased by nature in less than ten seconds.

With absolutely no survival skills or knowledge of the outdoors, she had no choice but to follow him. Her knees locked, as she stood at the mouth of the cave overlooking the mountains. They were literally standing on the edge of the earth at the highest possible point. How did they get up there?

The wind whipped at her clothing, her hair trailing across her face. The man hiked into the tree line without a word, his steps navigating the incline with a confidence she couldn’t match. Then she spotted her purse hanging from his large hand.

Her feet kicked into gear as a breath of hope stole into her lungs. Did he have her phone? She always kept a charger zipped away in the inner pocket. If she could get into her bag and find an outlet—possibly at a rest stop or a charging station—she could call for help and send Vito her location.

She reached for a spindly branch jutting from the rock and set her foot on the slope to climb down the foothill after him, only to slip on a spot of moss and land on her ass. Tears rushed to her eyes as pain shot up her tail bone.

“Careful, the ground’s slippery with morning dew.”

Lips pressed tight, she scowled at the trees where he’d disappeared. The arrogant bastard was so certain she’d follow. Either that, or he was unconcerned if she stayed there to die. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t even start a fire. She had no knowledge of the wilderness, and he had her only weapon.

“Wait up.”

He kept moving, vanishing in and out of the pine trees, giving her little chance to mark his path before having to race after him. Bears and God knew what else lived in these woods. They assumed it was a wild animal killing the women, but now she wasn’t so sure. Whatever attacked her felt human…but not. Sort of like her captor.

He didn’t slow, but he whistled and she was able to track the sound. The trees blocked the morning sun and the temperature plummeted below the twenties.

The longer they walked the more injuries she endured. Scratches from branches tore at her cheeks and hands. Her ankles twisted unnaturally as she miscalculated several steps over mossy rocks and uplifted tree roots. He never slowed to check if she was okay and didn’t wait for her if she stopped to catch her breath. After two miles, it became clear that he didn’t care if she lived or died.

By what felt like the tenth mile but could have been the fourth, she no longer believed he had a plan of escape. He seemed to have a specific destination, but made no mention of how long they would be walking or even if he planned to make it there by dark. As she traveled at breakneck speeds to keep up with him, she wondered if their destination would be the last place she ever visited.

Where would they find her body? What kind of condition would she be in? How long would it take? Would the snow preserve her flesh or would she eventually bake in the upcoming seasonal heat? They were so deep in the woods there was no beaten path that would lead others this way. She might be nothing more than bones when this was all over.

The irony of her life whittling down to a mere statistic wasn’t lost on her. How many times had she given a report and referred to a human life as only a victim? She’d been trained to use terms like John or Jane Doe, but never expected someone might refer to her as such.

“My name is Destiny Santos,” she whispered, even if she was only saying it to hear herself speak. She needed to affirm that she wasn’t dead yet. She still had time. So long as she existed, she wasn’t a statistic.

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