Today's Reading

"You have a nasty gash in your shoulder. I cleaned and dressed it, but you might need an antibiotic, maybe stitches. My truck is parked at the trailhead. If you're up to it, we should get you to the clinic in town. I'm a—"

"Where's my backpack? I need my backpack first."

"Backpack? You didn't have one when I found you."

She pushed up from the makeshift bed again, and another rush of dizziness hit her. He was suddenly there, his hand on her elbow, steadying her. "Hold on. Where are you going?"

She jerked her arm away. "I need to find my pack."

Whatever was in the notebook was important. It had to be. Why else stash it in their childhood hiding place? She was convinced that Daniel had died because of it.

"I'll help you. But first tell me what's going on. How did you end up in the river? Did you fall in or were you rafting or—"

"Please, I need to find my pack. It's important."

"Okay. I'll go back to the river and look around for your pack. You stay here and rest."

"No. I'll go." She pushed past him and headed for her boots and socks, struggling to slip the socks on and keep one eye on him. He'd moved to a set of coats hanging on pegs near the door, handing Emma her jacket. Her shoulder screamed with pain as she stuffed her arm into the sleeve, her fingers fumbling over the zipper, her hands stiff and clumsy. She remembered her phone in the pocket and pulled it out and tapped the screen. Nothing. It was dead, maybe ruined forever.

"There's no cell service up here anyway," he said.

Her head popped up. He was staring at her again.

"Are you in some sort of trouble?" he asked. "I might be able to help you."

She averted her gaze and spied a Bible splayed open on the hearth. He must've been reading it while she slept. That should be a comfort, but instead her stomach soured. She hadn't much use for God since He let Daniel die. Didn't have much use for this man right now, either. The sooner she got out of here, the better.

"Like I said, my truck is down at the trailhead. If you feel strong enough, we can—"

"That's okay. I'm good." She slipped into her boots. The damp lining sent a chill through her. She clenched her jaw against the shiver and turned toward the door.

"Please wait. You're in no shape to be out in the woods."

Stumbling down the porch steps, she headed straight for the tree line. Not that she had any idea where she was going, wasn't even sure where the river was, only that she had to find Daniel's notebook and that she could trust no one. She slowed a moment, knowing that making panic-filled decisions wouldn't help her. She took in a breath and listened, turning her head slowly. Yes, the river was just beyond those trees. She made her way to the water's edge, hoping the pack had washed ashore, but she scoured the bank, searching up-and downstream for over an hour with no luck. It could be anywhere by now.

Fatigue enveloped her body. Her breath became shallow and labored, her shoulder hot with pain. She'd left the man's cabin without bringing water or food, without thinking things through, and every sound she heard, every snap and pop, sent fear through her. "I am strong enough," she whispered and soldiered on, not giving in to her anxieties, until she finally spotted her pack snagged between two rocks in the river.

Her spirits lifted. She'd found it! She plunged in, reaching out with her good arm. "Got you!"

Daniel would be proud. She lifted her head in triumph, but her elation was instantly scattered by fear. A man stood on the opposite side of the river. Not Logan, but the thin form of the man who'd shot at her. Their gazes met for one terror-filled second, before she turned, scampered out of the shallows and ran. The wet pack weighed heavy and cumbersome in her hand. She swung it onto her back and forced her bad arm into the strap, crying out in pain, but not stopping. She couldn't stop. Once again, her life depended on outrunning the man.

Behind her, water splashed as the thin man crossed the river. She knew he'd easily overcome her as soon as he hit solid ground. She made it back to the woods, trying to retrace her steps to the cabin. Right? Straight? She hadn't marked a trail. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid'! She shouldn't have left the cabin. She should have listened to Logan, but she had to—

An arm from behind yanked her off her feet, and a hand slid over her open lips, the taste of sweat and salt bitter on her tongue. She bit down, hard, and kicked and flailed her arms, bucking against his grip, but he was bigger and stronger, and the air pushed from her lungs as he pulled her tightly against his body.
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