Stranded

to take out two flashlights. Otis walked the length of the cabin, hands on his hips, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
    “This is real nice,” Otis told Jack. “It’s just as nice as you said.”
    “No electricity, but you don’t need any.” Jack pulled open the hatch on a cast-iron potbelly stove and started filling it with the firewood stacked alongside it. “Got a chemical toilet through that door,” he pointed.
    He opened another door beside it, and through the fading light Maggie could see a bed. Despite the musty smell the place looked well taken care of, stocked and recently used.
    “Got everything you need right here,” Jack said.
    “How about some water, a towel, and some alcohol?” Maggie asked.
    Both men looked at her as though they had forgotten her presence.
    She didn’t care. She no longer had anything to lose.
    Her heart had been pounding with the rhythm of the rain, both filling her ears. Her panic had settled into a heavy weight that crushed against her chest and left her nerves raw. She had spent the last of her adrenaline. She was exhausted, damp with sweat, and cold. In her hurry she had shoved and snapped her handcuff too tight and the metal had been chewing into her flesh every time Tully jerked his hand. And Tully had not said anything more than what sounded like the mutterings of a man in pain. His skin was hot to the touch. His body was drenched with sweat. The bleeding had slowed but she had no idea how much blood he had lost.
    Without a word, Jack went to one of the cabinets and, to Maggie’s surprise, pulled out a small towel. From another cabinet he grabbed a bottle of water, and from a lower shelf he pulled out a brown bottle with a black seal. Whiskey, no doubt.
    He brought the three items to Maggie and set them on the floor in front of her.
    “You’ve seen what I’m capable of doing,” he told her. “Are you sure it’s worth cleaning him up?”
    She ignored him and grabbed the water, hoping in the dim light he couldn’t see how badly her hand was shaking.
    “That’s what I like about you,” he said. “You take on a challenge even when it’s thrown at you. We’re a lot alike, Magpie.”
    She wanted to tell him to stop calling her that, but it would probably only please him to know it bothered her.
    “So that’s what this is about,” she said, but wouldn’t meet his eyes.
    Instead she went to work on Tully, immediately finding it awkward to use one hand while the other was tethered. She pretended it wasn’t a problem and continued with her attempt to sound brave.
    “You send me running halfway across the country,” she said, “just to get a good look at your handiwork. Then you drag me to the middle of nowhere to show me how much you and I are alike? Am I supposed to be flattered?”
    “You want to know what it’s about? I’ll tell you.” He squatted down in front of her, a safe distance away but so that they were eye level. “I knew the first time I saw you that you’d be a challenge like no other.”
    She hadn’t noticed how wolflike his eyes were. Narrow set, black, and piercing in an otherwise handsome and amicable face.
    “As soon as the rain lets up I’m going to let you go.” He paused, and she knew he was looking for some sign of relief—a false relief. “I’ll let you and your buddy have a chance to run. I’ll even give you a head start. Just like I gave Noah.”
    It felt like a jolt of ice shot through her veins.
    “But if I catch you, the two of you’ll have to decide who I kill first.” He smiled and sat back on his haunches. “You have a background in psychology. I think you’d appreciate my little …” He searched for the right word. “My study of human nature. It’s quite interesting what a person will actually do or say to get me to kill their best friend first. I’ve heard all kinds of pleas and begging. Even bribes.”
    Then his face got serious again and his eyes bore into hers as he said, “What are you willing to do, Maggie O’Dell, to save yourself? What are you willing to sacrifice?
Who
are you willing to sacrifice?”

CHAPTER 63

    Creed had heard the Coast Guard helicopter land in the field at the other side of the forest’s entrance. It took them another fifteen minutes to find him. By then, Bolo had led him to where Maggie and Tully had left the bank and gone into the river. Bolo had even found what looked like a wadded paper towel, rust-stained with what Creed feared was blood.
    Two of the Coast