Lawyer Trap

77





DAY ELEVEN–SEPTEMBER 15

THURSDAY AFTERNOON


Draven frantically searched the mountainside for Mia Avila, gripping the knife so tight that his fingers hurt, already planning what he’d do to her for putting him through this.

“Get back here, you bitch!”

No response.

“All you’re doing is making me mad!”

Silence.

There were too many trees, too many boulders, too many goddamn places to hide. He ran from one to the next, hoping beyond hope to find her cowering on the ground and scared out of her mind.

His lungs burned from the mad dashing but he didn’t care.

She couldn’t have gone far, not in those shoeless little feet of hers. The whole mountain was covered in rocks and twigs and pine needles and other pointy things. She might start out with enough feet to go for a ways, but before long they’d be raw and bloody and stuck full of needles. She’d have to stop no matter how desperate she might be.

She was here somewhere.

Where?

He covered ground as quickly as he could, no longer shouting now that he realized he was only giving his position away.

He hunted quietly, quickly, trying to remain confident that sooner or later he’d spring around the corner and grab her by the hair.

His legs grew increasingly heavy.

His lungs no longer got enough oxygen.

He was no longer just tired.

He was slipping into a deeper and deeper state of exhaustion.

He stopped and sat on a boulder, just to catch his breath for a second. Bad thoughts pounded his brain. He might not catch her. She might actually escape.

He knew he should stand up and continue the search.

He was too tired to move.

But muscled himself up anyway.

He searched every nook and cranny that she could have possibly made it to without being seen, found her nowhere, and then finally gave up and went back to the cabin.

Time to get the hell out of there.

Then, shit!

A large puddle of green antifreeze sat under the car. He kicked the side of the door, giving it a huge dent while sending a bone-compressing shockwave up his leg, all the way up to his hip.

“Goddamn it!”

He’d have to get the hood up to fill the radiator with water.

He opened the driver’s door, reached under the dash and activated the hood release, and then tried to muscle the hood up. It didn’t budge.

“Son of a bitch!”

He picked up a rock and threw it at the vehicle, shattering the windshield.

Then he stormed into the cabin and punched a hole in the wall. He was shaking the pain out of his knuckles when he noticed that the woman’s shoes were missing.

They should be on the floor.

Right there next to the couch.

He’d put them there himself.

And then almost tripped over ’em ten times.

Clever girl.

But not clever enough.

He immediately bolted out the front door and ran down the gravel driveway towards the road.