Just do it! Now!
Holding the precious piece of metal between her lips, she twisted her hands, ignoring the pain in the bite of the barbs. She’d practiced the move over and over again, perfecting it after trying for weeks to rid herself of the sharp manacles. Removing the barbed wire had proved impossible, but this twisting of her hands, slightly stretching the wire and allowing the cruel handcuffs to bite into flesh, worked. Sweating with the effort, she clenched her teeth, and with the heels of her palms pressed together, she slowly inched her way around until the fingers of one hand could touch the inside of the opposite wrist.
Then she lowered her head and opened her mouth, releasing the barb to her thumb and forefinger. She nearly dropped it as her fingertips were oily, but she managed to hang on. Clutching the thin wire with renewed determination, she found that vulnerable spot. Slowly, she drew the barb along the fragile skin and watched the first scrape, and then another, and still another. Finally, she pierced the skin and a small drop of blood formed.
Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Please forgive me.” And then, using all her strength, pressed deeper and harder until the blood began to flow slowly but steadily. She felt a strange, sad sense of peace and relief. She knew, given enough time, she would finally be free.
*
Shiloh had sworn she’d never return.
Promised herself she wouldn’t ever set foot in this part of Wyoming again.
And she’d kept that vow. For fifteen damned years, but now it was over, Shiloh thought, glancing at the WELCOME TO PRAIRIE CREEK sign as she passed it on the way into town. Flanked by pine trees, the wooden greeting had been brightened with a fresh coat of paint, but Shiloh wasn’t fooled by the spit and polish. As she maneuvered her ten-year-old Ford Explorer through the town’s streets, she saw past the western store fronts and fa?ades to the heart of Prairie Creek. And it was dark as the devil.
But you’re here, aren’t you? You can denigrate this little Wyoming hamlet all you want, but you, Shiloh Silva, came back.
She bristled a little. That stupid little nag of a voice in her head was usually what kept her in line, ensured that she walked the straight and narrow, but now, mocking her, it was a pain in the butt.
“Hypocrite,” she muttered, slowing for a stop sign and catching her expression in the rearview mirror. The same green eyes that had hitchhiked their way out of this town glared back at her, her eyebrows drawn together, her jaw set as rigidly as it had been when she’d left fifteen years earlier.
To avoid the silent accusations as much as the harsh rays of a late June sun, she slid a pair of sunglasses over the bridge of her nose and couldn’t help wondering about Katrina and Ruthie. What had happened to them? Had they stayed in this hellhole or escaped, as she had? It was strange that they’d never seen each other since that fateful night, never once spoken. Well, she couldn’t speak for Ruthie and Katrina; for all she knew, they could be best buddies now. Maybe they were young mothers who planned PTA events, went to soccer games, or saw each other once a month at bunco parties or something. All Shiloh knew was that she’d never seen or heard from either of them since, and the few times when she’d talked to her mother on the phone, she’d avoided asking about the other two.
That had been the plan.
Ruthie’s choice.
And Shiloh had honored it. No matter how many nights she’d woken up in a cold sweat, reliving the terror, seeing the blade of a knife slashing in the night, sensing the monster’s presence, haunted by the fact that she felt as if she should have known him, that, if given the chance, she could even have ID’d the son of a bitch, that even now he’d still be behind bars—
Beep! A sharp honk woke her out of her reverie. In the rearview mirror, she saw the driver of the pickup behind her lift his hands in a “What’re-ya-thinking?” gesture. “Cram it,” she muttered as she drove through the intersection.
She hadn’t even realized she’d been daydreaming.
Not a good sign.
Hitting the gas, she refused to dwell on the concussion she’d suffered less than a month ago when she’d taken a spill. It still galled her to think that she, a horsewoman by trade, a woman who some had actually referred to as a “horse whisperer” because of her seeming intellectual link to all beasts equine, had actually been scraped off by a lowlying limb when Ike, the most stubborn sorrel she’d ever met, took a notion to empty the saddle. Of her.
She was still burned when she considered it.
Another glance in the mirror, and she saw that the old pickup was following her. No big deal, right? Small town, not a lot of streets, but as she passed the police station and the largest grocery store in town, the truck was still right behind her.
Get over it. You’re jumping at shadows because you’re anxious about being back. He just honked because you idled at the light.
But she couldn’t shake her case of nerves. Being back here would take some explaining. Some major explaining. To the cops. To her friends. To . . . everyone she’d allowed to think she was missing. She hadn’t even called her mother for a month, had let the woman worry and suffer, thinking her daughter, like the three girls who’d gone missing before her, might be kidnapped or wounded or dead.
Shiloh still felt guilty about that.
But really, hadn’t Mom been the one who had let Larimer Tate beat the crap out of her when he’d discovered Shiloh had rolled his pickup out of the driveway? At the time, Shiloh had figured it served Faye right to be worried about her because her mother hadn’t stepped in and stopped Tate from using the belt on her.
“Bastard,” she muttered and would spit on the old man’s grave if she got the chance. Not that she’d take a step near the cemetery.
Past the post office and veterinary clinic she drove, and the damned truck was right on her ass. Really? Was the guy pissed enough to chase her down? Road rage in Prairie Creek? On the far side of town, she picked up the pace, driving five miles over the speed limit, then ten. The damned truck didn’t let up, and her heart froze a little.