“Is the man who did this to you here now?” I whisper. Levy, Charlie, and Erik pick up my question over the comms and move with Moose into a semi-circle around us.
“He kept me blindfolded the whole time. I only saw glimpses of him. But there was another guy, someone who would bring supplies. I recognize his voice.”
“And you know what he looks like?”
She nods.
“What’s the color of the shirt he’s wearing?”
“Green.”
Not wanting to give anything away, I don’t move a muscle.
Erik whispers through the line, “The only person in green right now is the park ranger.”
Park ranger?I mouth.
She nods, stepping closer to me. “He came to our school last year and did a presentation about the ecosystems or some shit. I remember his voice. I think the guy who did all this is his dad.”
I clench my fists, and she catches the movement.
“Stay here with her. We’ve got him,” Charlie says.
Erik orders Moose to stay with Imani while he and Charlie move in lockstep toward their target.
The park ranger clocks the shift and turns, heading out the door. Levy follows, and Imani and I watch out the window as he starts to run. He fakes to the left, slipping past Charlie and Erik, but he doesn’t see Levy coming up from behind.
Bastard always could run quietly.
Levy tackles him, taking him down hard—probably a little harder than entirely necessary—sending sounds of concern through the gathering volunteers. Levy pins his arms behind his back and keeps his knee on his spine until the police officers present can cuff him and clear the volunteers.
“Well, that was satisfying,” Imani says, reverting to snark again.
“Very,” I agree. Turning to her, I continue, “Look, we need to get you to the hospital, but getting out of here is going to be…complicated. Normally, we’d put you on a stretcher and wheel you to an emergency vehicle, but we can’t do that out here, and we’re losing daylight. Can you walk? Or would you prefer to be carried?”
“Don’t you fucking put your hands on me,” she repeats. “I can walk. But, um…can I walk with your dog?”
“Sure. His name is Moose. You can hold his leash if you’d like,” I say, pretty sure Erik won’t object.
“And…can I get a washcloth or something?”
I thin my lips, hating my response. “We’d rather you leave all the evidence intact. If you can.”
“I know,” she says, with the wisdom and irritation of an eighty-year-old. “I listen to true-crime podcasts. I just want to wash off my face if that’s okay with you.”
“Okay.”
I find a tiny linen closet in the bathroom and grab a washcloth. I’m surprised the decrepit cabin has hot water, so I get it nice and steamy before running the washcloth through it. Squeezing it out, I return to the main room and hand it to her.
She wipes down her teeth, face, throat, hands, and armpits while one of the officers brings in an oversize T-shirt and a pair of drawstring pants about two sizes too big on her. We give her the privacy to change, and when she returns to the main room, she looks a little numb, like some of that initial fight has burned off. She watches the officers bag her clothing along with other evidence for a few moments before we head out.
Speaking to the officer holding the handcuffs Erik cut off her, she says, “Save those for me.”
I think she was going for snarky, but her voice comes out papery and haunted.
We start off through the wetlands, avoiding mud where we can, giving her plenty of space as she grips Moose’s leash tight. Right as the sun goes down, we reach the waiting EMTs.
“Would you like me to go to the hospital with you?” I ask as I hand off Moose to Erik.
