Page 48 of River Wild

No reply.

Maybe he’s okay now. I mean, he hasn’t made another sound in a—

“I’ll do it! I swear!”

Looks like I’m going in.

Swallowing the fear I’m feeling, I take a deep breath.

You can do this. He needs your help.

Garden fork still in hand, I walk up to the back door. I try the handle—unlocked.

I guess, in Canyon Lake, people don’t lock their doors.

I pause, hand on the handle. If I step inside, am I breaking and entering?

I really should call the police because, if he is in trouble, it’s not like I can do much.

But the last thing I want to do is deal with the police, and it’s not like I have a lot of trust in the police. Not that I think all cops are bad like Neil. But it’s hard to trust them after I called his colleagues, asking for help, and they let me down so badly.

And it’s not like I can just leave River in pain. Alone.

Guess it’s just the garden fork and me.

“Don’t touch me. I’ll … ah, no! Fuck, it hurts.” His cries sound painfully erotic.

My heart twists in my chest.

I open the door and step inside the house, leaving it open behind me in case I need a quick escape out of here.

My eyes adjust to the dark, but I still manage to catch my hip on the edge of a table.

“Fudge,” I hiss.

I don’t let the sting of pain slow me down.

I reach the stairs. Stopping at the bottom, I stare up at the darkness beyond.

Be brave.

Lifting the garden fork to chest height, I hold it with both hands, ready to stab or hit with it if necessary. I slowly step to walk up the wooden stairs on silent feet.

Another painful moan has me moving a little quicker, clutching the handle of the fork a little tighter.

I’m not thinking of myself in this moment. I’m thinking of him—another human being. Wanting to help him, the way I wish someone had been there to help me.

I reach the top where I stop and glance around, trying to figure out which room is his.

The noise was coming from the back window that was open, so that must be where he is.

And there’s an open door at the far end of the hall.

Garden fork at the ready, I creep toward the door.

A floorboard creaks loudly in the silence, under my weight, and I freeze, holding my breath, listening for any sound or movement.

Nothing.