“Yeah, yeah, I’ll think about it.”
“You need time off. A little fun.”
“Selling houses is fun. Just ask my bank account.” Chase reached the patio.
“Youarecoming to my wedding though.”
“Of course. If I don’t accidentally lose the invitation.” He opened the back patio door and went inside.
“You’d better not!” Wren grinned and shook her head. She turned her attention back to the controller. She’d already gotten some nice footage of the house and front and back yards. The house’s property extended far into the woods, all the way back to an old logging road, and she wanted to film the full extent of it, including the stream that ran through Ellie’s property and beyond.
She checked the battery. She had about ten minutes before it reached eight percent, which was when she liked to start bringing the drone in for a landing. Ten minutes would be enough time to fly the drone around the woods to the road and back without risking it dying and falling into the trees, getting hopelessly lost or broken.
Wren sent the drone up high, stabilized it, and rotated it slowly for a panoramic view of the mountain peaks first. She snapped some stills, then shifted the camera lens down and tried not to get herself in the picture, though she could always delete the frames later.
On the screen, she thought she saw movement in the trees behind her. She resisted turning around to look and zoomed the camera in instead. She panned for a few seconds. Whatever it was, she couldn’t find it now.
Probably deer. They’re so hard to catch, they just blend right into the foliage.
She didn’t have time to search if she wanted to get the drone to the logging road and back before the battery died. She sent the drone flying over the trees until the road came into view.Someone had parked their vehicle back there. Chase told her the owners said to watch for trespassers who sometimes sneaked onto their land to fish. Wren could attest that the brookies Bear caught out of their stretch of the creek were tasty. Still, trespassing to fish was technically stealing, so she zoomed in and got a nice, clear shot of the rear license plate just in case.
Her controller beeped a warning that the battery was nearing eight percent.
Time to bring her in.
Wren turned the drone and sent it higher to avoid a strong air current blowing just across the treetops in the opposite direction. The house and yard came into view and she watched them grow bigger. More beeps told her the battery was draining fast but it would be okay because the drone was close enough that she could see herself on the screen.
Someone broke cover from the trees behind her and was running straight at her.
Wren spun just in time to see her attacker’s face.
You? How?
He knocked the controller out of her hand and pressed a cloth over her nose and mouth before she could scream. A horrible smell clogged her nose. The world tunneled in as she threw her head back to try and get away from it.
“Stupid bitch,” he said as she struggled. “You and your precious photo essay.”
The last thing Wren saw before the tunnel closed in was her drone hovering high above them.
Wren rodein and out of consciousness—head pounding, stomach churning, wadded up cloth shoved into her mouthbehind a gag, hands and feet bound, and slung across his shoulders like a deer carcass, as he moved with relative ease through the forest.
Right. He’s a hunter.
Wonder if he’s taking me to where he keeps all the dead baby ducks.
Dead duck. That’s me.
She tried getting away but the black took her under again.
The next timeshe woke was when her arms and her back slammed against the hard ground, knocking the wind out of her. She couldn’t breathe and at the same time, she had to fight from puking or else the gag in her mouth would cause her to choke on her own vomit. With her arms tied behind her back, she couldn’t pull the gag down. She wheezed and gagged and tried to stay conscious. She tried not to panic, which would get her dead. The treetops above blurred from her tears.
His shadow fell across her.
Gone was the awkward buffoon fawning over a woman who would never have him. Gone was the cheat, the blackmailer. The coward.
Face painted, dressed in camo, this was the hunter.
Don Weisser.
