Stranded

able to see the commotion. She slammed her back against a tree, then dropped into a crouch. Urgency fought a battle with caution. The trees came right up to the edge of the river. Keeping low to the ground, she hid behind the shrubs and fallen branches. Now she could hear the dog’s sharp bark and growls within a hundred feet. But she also heard rushing water. She eased herself up to take a look over the edge of the riverbank.
    Down below she could see an inflatable blue-and-white boat pulled up on a sandbar. Two men wrestled and rolled in the sand while a huge dog barked and snarled from its perch inside the boat. The dog had on a bright yellow vest and harness. And then Maggie realized one of the men was Creed. The other was Jack. Her eyes caught a glint of sunlight off the knife blade in Jack’s hand.
    She stumbled to her feet and searched for a way to get down the bank. She’d have to cross the river to reach them. A tangle of debris—branches and stumps and roots, three and four feet thick—prevented her from charging down. When she looked up again, the dog had given up barking from the boat and now danced and snapped around the men, but they were locked and rolling in such a tight clench that even the dog couldn’t get a bite of its owner’s attacker.
    Maggie started to yell. Jack wanted her, not Creed.
    The gushing water filled her ears and drowned out her voice.
    The debris was all along her side of the bank. She couldn’t get to the water without plunging down and hoping not to get tangled in it. She sat on the slick clay bank and slid her legs over the edge. She tested her feet, then her weight on some of the thicker branches in the snarl of debris.
    Just as she was getting ready to push herself from the bank she saw Otis. He was coming out of the trees from behind Jack and Creed.
    The dog whimpered. Maggie saw a spray of blood as the dog jumped back.
    “Damn it, Jack. Stop!” she yelled, pushing off and stepping onto the debris.
    Immediately wood snapped and cracked, sending her right leg down into the mess of twisted roots, fallen branches, and a snare of twigs and vines. Something stabbed into her calf and she could feel the rush of cold water. She pulled her leg up and tried again. Instead of walking over the tangle, she crawled. Almost to the water, the debris swallowed her again as wood snapped.
    The men had not stopped. The dog had joined the fight, again. There was more blood on the sugar-white sand.
    She shoved and yanked, back and forth, ripping and pulling at the sticks and branches and vines that trapped her. Her feet kicked and splashed at the water underneath. Over the pounding of her heartbeat and the rush of water she thought she heard the helicopter again.
    She was almost free of the tangled mess when she saw Otis jump down off the bank and onto the sandbar. He didn’t call to Jack. He didn’t seem to notice her, didn’t even look in her direction. He walked straight for the men with purpose, but not at all in a hurry. There was an unnatural calm about him.
    He came within a foot of the twisted knot of men and dog. Otis was so close he could easily reach out with those huge hands of his and simply pluck the men apart. But instead he stopped and stood over them.
    Then he raised the revolver in his hand and fired.

CHAPTER 73

    The blast echoed through the trees and everything stopped.
    No birds, no breeze, no rushing water. Maggie’s ears filled with the beat of her heart and the sound of her breathing.
    “Otis, stop,” she yelled.
    One shot. Only one. Why was he waiting?
    Only one because he didn’t need to fire again. He had hit his target. Maggie’s stomach sank to her knees.
    She shoved herself out of the debris, finally free, and staggered in the knee-deep water. The sandy river bottom sucked at her boots. The cold river numbed her senses. It was taking a lifetime for her to cross the forty feet of river. She didn’t look down. Didn’t check for logs jutting up out of the water. She didn’t take her eyes off the scene on the sandbar. Otis stood stockstill over the pile of limbs that hadn’t moved. Only the dog had backed away and now stood pointing, alert and waiting, not knowing what to do without its master’s instruction.
    Otis’s hand with the gun fell to his side as he looked toward Maggie. She still wasn’t sure if he saw her, though she was thrashing through the water now. Adrenaline and dread kicking her heartbeat back up a notch. Then Otis slowly sank