Her eyes widened with fear.
He held up a hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Wyatt King. I’m a park ranger. Your sister sent me.”
Her expression softened.
He reached for the gag and eased it free.
She pulled in a long, shaky breath. Up close, he could see fresh swelling along her cheekbone and the dried cut above her eyebrow. But her eyes were alert and her color reasonable.
She was okay—for now.
“Kori,” she whispered. “Is she?—?”
“She’s safe. Are you hurt?”
“No . . . I mean, it’s nothing that won’t heal.” Her voice was hoarse, probably from screaming. “But these people . . .”
His muscles tightened. He had a good idea of exactly what these people were capable of. He had a feeling that man had slapped Mackenzie to quiet her, which would explain the swelling on her jaw.
“There will be time to explain things later,” he told her. “Are there others being held captive?”
“Yes, at least three other people.”
He cut through her binds before moving to the adjoining stall. Mackenzie followed behind him, rubbing her wrists where they were raw.
In the next stall, Pete slumped against the wall. The older, bearded man had dried blood on his temple. But his chest moved, and his eyes were open.
Wyatt crouched beside him and pulled off his gag. “Can you walk?”
“Yeah.” His voice sounded rough. “Yeah, I think I can walk.”
Wyatt cut Pete’s bindings and scanned the rest of the barn. Two more stalls were at the far end.
He suspected Herb and Billie were in one of those.
Before he could move toward them, the barn door opened.
