Kat picked up the thread. “Ruth said you escaped from him. How?”
“I wandered around for what seemed like forever. There was a dirt road, but I knew that’s where he came from. Where he would look for me first, so I went into the woods. I wandered around and finally stumbled across another hunter’s shack. I was afraid to stay there long. Afraid he’d find me.” She shivered and hunched her shoulders in memory. “So I left and finally came across some guys camping. They looked . . . scary, so I hid in the bushes until one of them finally got in his truck. Then I climbed in the back and tried to hide, but I didn’t have to. He was drunk. Really drunk. Thought I might die on that ride out of there, but I didn’t care. I was free.”
“Your abductor kept you near Prairie Creek,” Kat said.
“Yeah . . . when I got away, this is where the drunk guy came first.”
“Wheeler City?”
“I about stood you up when I heard this is where you wanted to meet,” she informed them. “This is too close. But then he drove farther, and I stayed in the truck until morning. By that time, I wasn’t that far from Jackson. From there I called Bryce, and he helped me.”
“Where did your abductor keep you? What kind of place?” Kat asked.
She swallowed. “It was like the hunter’s shack.”
“Do you think you could find where you got into the truck?”
“I . . . don’t know. It was dark. I was scared . . .”
“Could you try?”
“Kat . . .” Ruth murmured, giving her a look. She knew she was pushing, but she was desperate for information.
“Can you describe the shack?” Kat tried.
“We each had a cot.”
“Two of you?” Kat was surprised. “You and . . . Courtney?”
“No. Me and Rachel. He musta got Courtney after I ran away.”
“Can I get you all something to drink?” the waitress suddenly interrupted with a big smile, dropping off menus.
Kat looked around impatiently, but Erin said, “Chardonnay.”
“I’ll have the same,” Ruth said after a moment.
They looked at Kat. “Just water, please,” she muttered.
“All righty,” the waitress said, stuffing her menu pad into the pocket of her white apron. “You all should try the sourdough biscuits and the fruit compote. We make it fresh daily.”
As soon as she departed, Erin moaned, “Oh God, you’re on duty. Of course you are. It’s all too real.”
“Actually, this is my day off,” Kat assured her. Erin was on the edge of her seat, as if she was about to bolt. “You were at the shack with Rachel Byrd?”
“Yes.”
“For how long? What happened to Rachel?”
“Take your time,” Ruth intervened.
“Rachel’s still missing,” Kat said. “Along with another missing girl, Addie Donovan.”
“I know.”
Ruth said to Erin, “I haven’t revealed anything to Detective Starr. This is your story. Take as long as you need to tell it.” Another meaningful look Kat’s way.
Kat forced herself to stop peppering Erin with questions. “Yes, take your time,” she agreed, though she could hear a clock ticking in her head. Long moments passed, and Kat couldn’t stand it any longer. “Is Rachel still with him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe . . . maybe not. She was . . . they were fighting. That’s how I got away. It was her turn to play, and she refused, and I got my ties off.”
“Play?” Kat didn’t like the sound of that. “Your ties? Barbed wire?”
She looked blank. “It was rope. I worked on them, but he kept retying them, always so tight, my hands behind my back. He never gave me enough time to get them completely off. But I worked ’em loose, and then he came for Rachel. I knew I’d be next. He was never . . . satisfied. But Rachel hit him with something, and he went down. I got myself free, and she was almost there too, but he grabbed her. My ropes were off, and I just ran.” She suddenly covered her mouth with her palm, and tears ran down her cheeks. “I left her there.”
“You had to get away,” Ruth assured her.
“I wanted to go back for her. I really did. I just couldn’t. I told Bryce when he came to get me, but by then I knew I was pregnant.”
Bryce Higgins . . . Kind of an a-hole, according to Shiloh. He’d certainly raised holy hell after Erin disappeared but then had stopped. Never once had he told them about Erin, and Kat felt anger boil up inside her.
“Bryce told me he tried to find her,” Erin said, as if following Kat’s thoughts. “But he never could.”
Really? Kat fought back her anger. Bryce was on their list, but Erin surely would have figured out the man was her own brother. Still, he could’ve owned up to the truth and stopped this sicko years ago. “You said your kidnapper was partially disguised,” Kat said. “In what way?”
“He wore a baseball cap. Mask. Long-sleeved shirt. When it was time to play, he blindfolded me and warned me if I took the blindfold off he would kill me. But he screwed up a time or two. I saw him once, a little bit, when he was . . . with Rachel.”
“Is there any chance it was someone you knew?” Kat asked.
“No. But I’d know his voice if I heard it now.”
“Wide girth. Furry skin. Thick hands,” Ruth said.
Erin looked at her and began to tremble violently. “That’s him,” she said unsteadily. “He told me he had a sex problem and needed us to help him stay true. Without us, he would go after other women. Looks like he has.”
The waitress came with their drinks, but almost as if they’d planned it, no one took a sip. They all sat with their own thoughts, Kat’s being: And Courtney committed suicide after years of abuse . . . What did that mean for Rachel? Was she alive? His captive?
As if reading her mind, Erin finally said in a voice so low they could scarcely hear it, “I think he might’ve killed Rachel. He had a gun, and he hit her with it, I think. I was outside the shack.” She covered her eyes with her hands. “It’s all my fault.”
“It’s your abductor’s fault,” Ruth told her firmly.
“What’s his name? Your abductor,” Kat asked. “Did he tell you?”
Erin reached for her wine, holding it in an unsteady hand, “He made us call him Lover.” She put her lips to the glass and gulped half of it down until tears stood in her eyes.
“Have you decided what to order?” The cheery waitress suddenly reappeared. She’d swept up behind Kat and was once again holding up her menu pad.
“We might need another minute,” Ruth suggested.
The cheery smile evaporated, and she turned sharply on her heel. When they were alone again, Kat said, “I know you don’t want to, but if you could come into the station and meet with a sketch artist so we could get a basic idea of what he looks like—”
“No.”
“—it would be easier to narrow in on him. Just your impression of him.”
“No.”
Ruth said soothingly, “Erin, we don’t want to push you, or make you feel uncomfortable.”
“Well, you are. I told you I’m not going back there. Ever.” She knocked back the rest of her Chardonnay.
“I understand,” Ruth began.