Chapter Sixteen
Willa ran until her sides ached. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could make out more of the terrain, bathed in the glow of a moon that was three-quarters full. She pressed up against the fat trunk of a ponderosa pine and waited for her breathing to slow, listening for the sounds of footsteps following her.
She could no longer see the lights from the camp, or hear the children singing or any sound but the pounding of her own pulse and her still-ragged breathing. Not so much as a bird disturbed the darkness, which felt thick and black, despite the moonlight. She had lost her bearings in her flight, and wasn’t even sure which direction she needed to go to get back to the camp. She reached for her phone, but couldn’t find it. She checked every pocket, then realized it must have fallen out, either while she was running, or during her struggle with her attacker.
Her attacker. Who was he? She had the impression of bulk, and strength, but it had been impossible to see him in the dark, and he had held her from behind. Was it the same man who had attacked Olivia? Renewed fear gripped her at the idea. The man who had held her had meant to hurt her; she was sure. Had they all been wrong from the beginning of the search in thinking that Olivia was still alive, either lost or deliberately hiding in thewilderness? Had she died that first night, her body hidden where they would never find her?
He had been trying to hurt another camper when Willa had interrupted him. She had to get back to camp and tell Aaron and the others so that they could stop him. She looked around her, but could make out little in the nighttime gloom. Even though her eyes had adjusted to the dimness, and moonlight outlined the trunks of trees closest to her, nothing looked familiar. Which way was the camp?
She tried to remember what her fellow search and rescue team members had said about navigating in the wilderness. But the only lesson she had had so far was in using a compass and noticing landmarks. Then there was the standard advice to stay put if you were lost. But was that a good idea when someone might be coming after you? She didn’t think she had wounded her attacker very seriously. He was bound to be furious, and determined to get even.
She started walking in the direction she thought would lead her toward the camp. The trick would be finding Aaron or another deputy before her attacker found her.
She hadn’t gone far before something caught at her foot and she fell, hard. She cried out as she hit the ground, and rolled onto her side, gasping. After a moment, the pain subsided and she sat up. She tried to stand, but pain shot through her and her leg gave way. She sat down, waiting until the throbbing subsided, then gingerly ran her hands down her leg to her ankle. She was able to squeeze it, then rotate it gently. Not a break. Just a slight sprain.
She tried again to stand, gritting her teeth, and this time was able to remain upright. But she wasn’t going to go far or very fast like this.
Then her heart slammed against her ribs as she heard footsteps approaching. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, and tried to gauge where the sound was coming from. Ahead ofher, and to the right. If she stood very still, maybe whoever it was would pass her by.
“Don’t be afraid,” a soft voice said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
A slight figure emerged from the shadows—a girl with a backpack, a stout walking stick in one hand. Her face was dirty, her jeans with a rip in one leg, but she looked healthy.
“My name is Olivia,” she said. “Have you been looking for me?”
Hannah Gwynn wasone of the paramedics who responded to the call for assistance at the camp. She and her partner, a reedy young man named Henry, met Deputy Declan Owen in the camp’s parking lot and hiked to the scene by the pit toilets, where Scott remained sitting on the ground. But at the sight of the paramedics, he tried to struggle to his feet.
“Remain still, Mr. Sprague,” Jamie urged. “Let them examine your leg.”
“I can’t leave the camp while there’s someone here who’s attacked one of my campers,” Scott said, though he remained sitting.
“Can you describe the attacker?” Jake asked.
“I didn’t see much in the dark. It was a man. Big. And he stabbed me.”
Hannah knelt beside Scott and directed the beam of a flashlight at his thigh. “It looks like the bleeding has stopped,” she said. “I’m going to need to cut away your pants to get a better look.” Before he could protest, she started cutting the cloth where a rusty streak of blood trailed down the khaki fabric. “It looks like a puncture wound,” she said when the injured area was exposed. “Not a knife. Something small. Maybe an ice pick? Or a pen?”
Jake emerged from the other side of the pit toilet. “I found this behind the outhouse,” he said, holding up something in a gloved hand. “I think it has blood on it.”
He moved closer and they studied the item he held. “It’s a bent coat hanger,” Jamie said. “The kind the kids are using to roast marshmallows.”
“Were you attacked by one of the campers?” Jake asked.
“Of course not.” Even in this dim light, they could see his face redden. He was a big man. Even armed with a coat hanger, a child wouldn’t have much of a chance at overcoming him.
“I’m going to look for the camper who was supposedly being attacked,” Jamie said, and set off toward the camp.
Jake leaned forward to take a closer look at Scott’s face. “Are those scratches on your cheek?” he asked.
Scott put a hand to his face. “I must have scraped it on a branch. We need to have the trees trimmed. Those low-hanging branches are a hazard in the dark.” He winced as Hannah flushed the wound on his thigh with saline.
“I don’t think you’re going to need stitches, Mr. Sprague,” Hannah said. “Are you up to date on your tetanus vaccine?”
“Yes,” he said. He shoved to his feet. “I’ll be fine.”
“You need to be careful of infection,” Hannah said.
“I promise I’ll put some antibiotic ointment on it when I get to my office.” He looked down at his torn trousers. “I need to change.”
