Behind them, a patch of thicket shook. Ash readied her gun, and Trent drew one of his own. A moment later Berke stumbled through the brush and fell to her knees, her foot tangled in a branch. They unsnarled her shoelace and helped her to her feet.
“I could’ve shot you both just now, but I didn’t,” Trent said. He pocketed his gun. “I don’t care if you trust me or not, I’m going after Jake.”
Ash pointed west. “I’m telling you, he’s that way.”
But Trent was already running south.
77
Ash grabbed Berke’s arm and barreled into the western woods. Snow crashed from shaken branches, but Ash powered ahead, ignoring the chills and fighting the uneven terrain. She didn’t give a shit anymore—not about the elements or her brother’s strange behavior or her own personal fears. She was done being distracted. Jake needed her, and nothing else mattered.
When the forest thinned, Ash released her grip on Berke’s arm. They stuck close together, flashlights off, trying to navigate by sound and the dim moonlight that glowed overhead. Soon Ash inhaled a wet, muddy smell. The creek. It was easy to forget that the creek flowed beyond its infamous bend, but the waters flushed deep through the woods.
An arch of broken branches snagged Ash’s dreads, sending a shock along her scalp. With Berke’s help, she untangled herself. They entered a sparse stretch of rolling, snow-covered open land. Icy flakes nipped her cheeks. Without the woodland canopy, snow dropped freely, thrown against them by relentless winds.
“Stick close.” Ash drew her handgun. “If I see Mick, I’m shooting.”
“What if Jake’s with him?”
“Let’s hope he’s not.”
She clicked her flashlight. Ahead, the creek glimmered, rolling south toward town. Beyond it stood a twenty-foot rock cliff—bulging, misshapen, ominous.
“I see something.” Berke pointed downstream. “Is that Mick?”
Fog and snowfall obscured clarity; it was impossible to tell what they were seeing.
They shuffled down a snowy incline, chasing the bulky, uneven shape. The creek rushed by. Ash matched its pace, running toward where Berke had pointed. Her heart sank when she realized it was a dead tree, the upper half split and mangled.
“My bad,” Berke said.
“It’s okay,” Ash said.
Except it wasn’t. Nervous sweat dampened her scalp. Ash spun around, shining her light through the fog. Several dead trees were scattered nearby, but no living, breathing beings. Maybe Trent hadn’t been lying. Maybe she had misheard Jake’s screams in the thicket. The pines could’ve played tricks on her ears and led her to nothing—no Jake, no Mick, no trace.
Across the creek something crunched overhead, maybe the snap of a tree limb. Berke must’ve heard it too, judging by her sudden gasp. Ash pointed her gun and flashlight toward the source, the rock cliff. Fog clouded its twenty-foot ledge, but she noticed movement. The branches of a short pine shifted. Something poked outward.
Pale skin.
A face.
Jake’s face. He was upside down. As his shape emerged from the shadows, Ash’s stomach clenched.
The kid was dangling two stories above the creek.
And Mick held him by the ankle.
78
“Hellllppp!!” Jake screamed.
Ash rushed ahead, eyes locked on her nephew. Her boot sank into the creek, and water flushed through a gash in the leather. The icy shock stopped her in her tracks, but her momentum sent her tumbling face-first toward the creek. She braced for frigid impact, but instead her jacket tugged backward.
“I got you!” Berke said, dragging her back onto the bank.
“Thanks,” Ash said, breathlessly.
With solid ground beneath her, she aimed high, finger on the trigger.
“Drop it, Ash,” Mick called. She heard his voice, though he was hidden among the pines and foggy shadows. The only visible part of him was the thick arm hoisting Jake, who twisted and sobbed.
“Step out, Mick!” Ash steadied her aim. “Or should I say Snare?”
“Drop the gun.”
“Drop the kid.”
“If I drop him from this height, he’ll hit the water hard. This section of the creek is shallow. His head will strike bottom. Is that what you want for him, a snapped neck?”
“How can you do this? I thought you were a mother. What if someone dropped your boy?”
“They did worse to my boy.”
“Who did?”
“Enough stalling. Drop the gun. Actually, wait—shoot Berke in the head first.”
The order caught Ash off guard. Beside her, Berke stifled a gasp.
“Not happening,” Ash said. “You don’t make the rules anymore.”
“If you value Jake’s life, I do. Now, shoot Berke in the head. You’ve got five seconds.”
“What if I shoot her in the spine?” Ash pressed the gun to Berke’s back. The girl squirmed. “How about that?”
“Four seconds… Three… Two…”
“Wait!”
“One.”
Ash aimed high but couldn’t bring herself to squeeze the trigger. As the countdown expired, she watched as the hand gripping Jake’s ankle swung him skyward. The kid wailed as his foot was released. For a moment Jake disappeared into the upper darkness.
Ash pointed her flashlight skyward. The beam caught him at his highest point. His legs pedaled and his arms swung, grabbing helplessly at empty air. His scream ripped through the foggy silence as if pumped through arena speakers. It seemed impossible for a boy his size to shriek so loudly.
He flipped over in midair and began to drop, his kicking legs plummeting toward the water.
His toes dipped past the ledge. Then his shins. Finally his waist.
His body jerked to a horrible, shrieking stop as Mick snatched him by the wrist. Jake jerked violently, and his free-fall stopped. He moaned as his hip thumped against the rock cliff. His wounded sobs raked against Ash’s eardrums.
Tears flooded Ash’s eyes. “You fucking bitch!” she shouted.
Mick hoisted Jake above the ledge. “Berke or Jake. You pick who dies, Ash.”
“Neither.” She pressed the cold barrel against her left palm. “Let him go or your hand’s fucked.”
“You shoot your hand, I drop him.” Mick dangled the kid. “Let’s pretend he somehow survives the fall. Then what? You gonna swim after him with your hand all shot up?”
“I’ll get him,” Berke said, unzipping her coat. “Do it, Ash.”
Ash touched the barrel to her palm. She gazed up at Jake. The rocky wall beneath him jutted savagely in several places. She couldn’t risk him landing on anything harder than the creek. Even that worried her. A shallow bottom could break his little neck, like Mick said.
“Shoot her right now!” Mick swung Jake skyward. The kid wailed. Ash waited for the right moment. For Jake to lift above the ledge. If she timed it right, he could land up there and start running.
Her finger settled against the trigger. At the peak of Mick’s swing, she couldn’t tell if Jake was above land or water.
She didn’t fire.