“Practically speaking?It’s Knife’s Edge,” Damian drawled.
The line went dead.
Dutch turned to face Christian.“What do you think your brother’s doing at that facility?”
“I don’t know,” Christian said.But a warning ticked through his brain like a countdown.“I think I’m going to have to find out.”
“Not today,” Dutch muttered.“Today, we take these photos around town and see if anyone recognizes the two victims.Then maybe we grab lunch at the Green Plate.”
Christian slipped the phone back into his pocket.“No, let’s go to Sam’s Tavern.I could use a burger.”
Amusement flickered in Dutch’s eyes.“Whatever you say.”
Damn it.He had to get that woman out of his head.
Mud clungto his boots like glue.Rain lashed his face in sharp little needles.Every breath felt like it might be his last.Cold burned down deep, right into his chest.
Rough marks raked his torso, right through his shirt, through skin.Blood and rain mixed into something tacky and hot on his body.He didn’t stop to check.He couldn’t.Not now.
Branches slapped his cheeks.He didn’t dodge them anymore.Just kept running, stumbling forward on raw instinct.No idea how long he'd been out here.No sense of time.Just pain, terror, and the stupid hope he could still make it.
What had he been thinking?
Alaska wasn’t supposed to be like this.He came up here for a guy’s weekend.Some kind of fun.He’d gotten cheap plane tickets and told his boss back in Phoenix he’d be off-grid for a while.His wife had begged him not to go, but he’d needed time to himself.Marriage wasn’t like he thought it’d be, and his wife wasn’t the sweetheart everyone thought.He missed being the fun guy.
No one expected him back soon.
Which meant no one would come looking.
He slipped again, his boots sliding sideways in the muck.Trees loomed on either side of him, dark and wet and whispering.The forest pressed in like it wanted to bury him.Hide the mess.No one would ever find the body.
Another crack of a branch behind him shot his adrenaline even higher.
Closer this time.
He nearly pissed himself.
Grunting, he picked up speed, arms pumping, lungs on fire.A flash of silver caught his attention from up ahead, some sort of a wet glint through the trees.The river.He’d heard the rush of water earlier.He could smell it now.Wet rock and glacial runoff.
If he could make it, maybe the current would carry him far enough away.Maybe the bastard behind him wouldn’t follow him into the water.
Another branch snapped.This time the sound was just behind him.
He veered right, punching through the undergrowth.A root caught his ankle and he slammed forward into the mud.The impact knocked the air from his lungs.He bit his tongue trying not to scream.
He rolled to his side, coughing up dirt and blood.Pain spiked in his wrist.Had he broken it?
Get.Up.
He clawed at the ground, his fingers slipping in wet pine needles.Finally, he pushed himself to his knees.Behind him, the wind whistled.
He couldn’t stop shaking.Whether it was the cold, the adrenaline, or both, he didn’t know.
Voices in his head started up.His dad telling him to get a real job.His boss laughing at the idea of him surviving in the woods.His new wife crying that he had to leave her to find himself.He told her he’d go up north, find some clarity and make a decision.
Well, he found something.
The sound of rushing water grew louder.He was close.Ten yards, maybe less.He forced his legs to move, staggering forward.
