The Bones Will Speak (29 page)

“Listen to me! This isn't about Gwen. Your daughter ran away with a young girl named Mattie. Gwen's out trying to find them.”
And so is the killer
. Dave shoved the thought down.

Blood drained from Robert's face. “Aynslee's running around with a druggie prostitute?”

Dave clenched his teeth, wanting to throttle the man. “The important thing is finding the girls. Why don't you wait here—”

“Forget it, Dave. There's no way I'm going to sit around here waiting for something to happen.”

“What are you going to do?”

“If Aynslee's with that . . . other girl, she might be hitchhiking to the vampire movie in Missoula. She's pulled stunts like that before.”

“Yeah, but not for a long time—”

Robert slammed his car into gear, shot forward, spun around, and charged past Dave.

Dave followed.
I just hope Robert doesn't find Gwen in his search for his daughter
. He looked mad enough to murder her.

Mattie and Aynslee cleared the trees. Ahead was a field of thigh-length grasses barely visible in the patchy moonlight. “Listen,” Aynslee said. “What's that sound?”

“Wind?”

“No. Water. Running, a stream. Streams lead to people.”

They sprinted toward the creek.

Behind them, something crashed through the trees.

With renewed speed, they fled down the sloping field. The gurgling water seemed to be directly ahead.

The burbling sound grew louder. The girls dashed toward it. The clouds parted, offering wan illumination. The crashing behind them was replaced by the thudding of footsteps.

“The stream . . .” Aynslee panted. “Must run . . . through those woods.”

A blacker row of pines edged the field, and Mattie hurtled toward them.

The footsteps grew nearer.

The moon disappeared, then appeared, casting cerulean-blue light on the landscape. Something slate gray flashed to Mattie's left in her peripheral vision. She turned her head.

The trees parted and an ashen monster reared from the earth.

She threw up her arms and dove to the ground, taking Aynslee with her. “Mmmmmmm . . .” She couldn't make her mouth work.

The monster remained motionless.

She strained her eyes. The moon dipped behind a small cloud, then appeared. Not a monster.
A gray house.
The
house.

Aynslee rolled to her feet. “Come on. I know where we are.”

Mattie couldn't hear the runner. That meant he was in the tall grasses. She leaped to her feet. “We gotta hide. He's getting closer.”

Aynslee jerked her head slightly to the right. “Home. There.”

Mattie ran, pulling on Aynslee's arm. Two black sentinels
rose on either side of her. She slowed. They meant something. She should know what they were, but her brain wouldn't work. She plunged between them.

The barbed-wire fence caught her in the chest. Aynslee fell against her. The coat took the brunt of the rusted barbs, snagging on the material.

Thump . . . thump . . . thump
. . . The runner picked up speed.

Mattie rolled, but the wire tangled more into her clothing.

The creature howled in the distance.

Hands grabbed Mattie's arm.

She screamed and lunged backward. The wire pulled from the post with a piercing screech.

Aynslee was saying something, but Mattie couldn't figure out what. Stumbling, she drove forward. Now her legs were encased with wire, barbs ripping into her flesh.

“Mattie! Stop, Mattie! Mattie!” The voice wasn't Aynslee's.

“Mattie, hold still,” Gwen said.

Mattie stopped twisting. “You?”

I tugged and pulled on the wire to free Mattie. “Aynslee, help me.”

“I can't, Mom.”

I looked up. Aynslee's arms were behind her back.

He tied up my little girl
. I fought the urge to reach for her. “What did he use?”

“Zip ties.”

I'd have to get a knife to set her free.

Another howl, now from a different direction. There were at least two of them.

Redoubling my efforts, I lifted the wire from around one of
Mattie's legs. “Bend your left knee. That's it. A bit more. Okay, hold still and we'll get your other leg.” I made my voice as soothing as possible, but my heart raced.

The wire was still snagged in Mattie's coat. I wrenched it off her and jerked it away from the barbs. A chunk of material ripped free, and I fell with the momentum, landing on my side.

The sharp rock dug into me.

My rib popped. I couldn't catch my breath and pain coursed through my side.

A howl, followed by a bark.

No time for pain.
The wolves are moving in.

I grunted as I pushed off the ground.
Don't let the girls know you're hurt.

Another howl, much closer. My stomach clenched as I thought of what Dr. Hawkins said.
Wolves don't care if the animals are dead before they start eating . . . signs of a prolonged struggle . . .

The bones I'd found in the grave. Chewed.

No. Can't be.

Wolves don't usually hunt people down and attack them.

But dogs would.

Trained dogs. Schooled to track. Track a specific scent. All the missing pets; injured livestock. Not wolves, dogs. Practicing.
I brought the coat to my nose.

“Come on, Mom!”

He must have given Mattie this coat. I prepared to throw it away.

Bad idea
. The odor probably transferred to both girls. The dogs would find the coat, then keep looking.
Plan; get a plan. Come on, brain. House. No. Something with the creek.
My gaze jumped to the marshy area downstream. It might work.

A howl became a yelp of eagerness. They'd found the trail.

Lifting first Mattie, then Aynslee to their feet, I winced with agony. “Follow me.” Holding on to the coat, we fled to the stream, still high from the rain. I held my side and tried to take shallow breaths.

I plunged into the water. The raw cold made me gasp.

The girls stopped at the creek bank.

“Get in the creek,” I said.

“No, Mom. It's cold.”

“He gave you this coat, right?” I held it up. I could barely see Aynslee's head nod. “The dogs are tracking you. You're covered in scent. You have to get in the water.” I didn't wait to see if they stepped in. Opening the coat so it would float, I slipped it into the current. It drifted downstream.

Splash. A gasp from Aynslee. I turned and grabbed my daughter to keep her from falling. Mattie was still on the bank. “Mattie,” I whispered, “sweetheart, get in the water. I'll catch you.” I held out my hand.

She didn't move.

The eager yelping grew closer.

Still clutching Aynslee with one arm to keep her upright in the swift current, I took a step closer to the reluctant girl. “The dogs are killers.”

“I can't swim.”

“You don't have to. The water's not that deep.” I scanned the dimly lit hillside for the dogs.

“Come on, Mattie.” Aynslee's voice shook from cold.

Suddenly Mattie launched herself into my arms. I caught her with one arm, but the force of her body knocked me backward. I fell.

CHAPTER FORTY

THE WATER INSTANTLY COVERED ME LIKE AN ARCTIC
baptism, dragging me downstream. I lost my grip on both girls.

Iciness pierced into my body. I opened my mouth to scream and water filled it. My broken rib shrieked in protest. Bucking against the slimy rocks, I tried to stand. I slipped and tumbled. I tried to get a grip on tree roots flashing by. Slipped again. The stream was shallower here and my head stayed free. Coughing, I shoved to my feet, clutching my side. I looked frantically for the girls.

The baying grew fainter, then abruptly intensified as the dogs crested the hill.

I spotted Mattie clinging to an overhanging root. Slogging through the water, I lifted her to her feet and pushed her against the bank. I could barely feel my hands.

Aynslee's hands are tied behind her back
.

Spinning, I looked for any signs of her. My arms were contracted, grasping my violently shaking body. I sucked in air, trying hard not to move my rib cage.

Something light-colored floated ahead of me. The water shoved against my legs, forcing them ahead. Each step was a trap of slick rocks and shifting pebbles. Just a bit farther.

I reached out and used both hands to lift her body, ignoring the renewed jabs of pain.
Please, God, don't let her be dead
. She was curled inward, knees next to her head. As soon as her face cleared the water, she gasped for air.

Crying, I hugged her to me.

“I knew you'd find me,” she said through chattering teeth.

Making sure her feet were planted under her, I turned to Mattie, now upstream from me. My ears ached and teeth rattled. I clamped my jaw tight.
Move! Move!

Mattie was limp, barely conscious. I lifted her in my arms. Hot tears streamed down my face. The cold sapped my strength, and I staggered under her limp weight. The swift current tumbled the rocks under my feet.

Reaching Aynslee, I jerked my head to have her follow me. Water alone wouldn't be enough to keep the killer dogs off our scent.

We stumbled forward. Rocks gave way to mud. The push of the stream lessened, then stopped. The next step brought shin-high mud that hungrily sucked first one shoe, then the other, from my feet.
No time to find them.
Aynslee stopped. Leaning forward, I gently lowered Mattie's legs and tugged at the giant, four-foot leaves.

Skunk cabbage.

I returned to Aynslee, trailing Mattie's legs, and rubbed the reeking smell from the plant over my daughter's shivering body, then Mattie, then me.

A single bark, very close.

I slowly lowered myself behind the plant, cradling Mattie, and let the thick mud slide up my legs until it covered my thighs. Resting Mattie across my lap, I bit my lip as the fearsome cold bit into my leg. Aynslee crouched next to me, shaking violently.

Two immense dogs materialized, panting; their breath steaming in the night air.

My heart pounded in my ears.
Go away.

The moon turned their coats into silver blue, making them look like wolves.
No. Wrong head. Mastiff crossed with bloodhound? From the size, maybe some Great Dane as well.

They loped forward, eagerly whining. They seemed to gallop in slow motion, hanging suspended in air for a moment before their feet connected with the earth.

I breathed through my mouth as quietly as possible.

One jerked to a halt near the old house and sniffed the air. The moonlight caught its yellow eyes. Its curled ears twitched toward us. I stopped breathing altogether. Aynslee buried her head in my shoulder.

Mattie moved in my lap.
Don't say anything
.

They deliberately turned their head from side to side, as if scanning the woods, then cautiously entered the farmhouse.

My thigh and calf muscles threatened to cramp. I shifted positions.

One dog, then the second, appeared in the doorway. They sniffed the air again, then spun left and galloped downstream.

I waited a few moments in case they returned, then tried to stand, but the ooze and Mattie's weight held me down.

Please, Lord, don't let me evade the dogs only to die in the mud.

Gathering all my strength, I pushed against the clutching muck. My legs came loose, sending me backward into the
stream. I slipped, dropped Mattie, and grabbed an overhanging branch. The jolt of pain from my rib rocked me to my core.

Mattie let out a cry.

I snatched her out of the water, then listened for the return of the dogs.

Hearing nothing over the sound of the stream, I covered the short distance to the bank and placed the frozen girl on the dry earth. She curled into a fetal position.

Aynslee still knelt in the mire. I bent down behind her, wrapped my arms around her chest, and pulled. I ignored the jabs in my ribs.

Her legs slowly emerged until she was upright, but she couldn't stand. Only meaningless sounds came from her mouth. “Naanaanaaas.”

I lifted her up. Her bound hands made it hard to grip her body. I slogged forward toward a bank that seemed to have receded away from me.
I'll never get out of this glacial water
. Forcing one bare foot, then the next, I inched to the edge of the stream.
Shallow breaths
.

Placing my daughter clear of the water, I crawled up beside her.

I assessed my position. Home was less than a mile away, but I was barefoot, couldn't feel my feet, and had at least one broken rib. The girls were barely conscious and probably in the first stages of hypothermia. No one knew where we were except the killer and two vicious dogs. Dogs that would soon figure out they were following the wrong scent.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

“MATTIE.” I SHOOK THE GIRL. “MATTIE! WAKE UP.
You have to help me.” I could tell she was aware of me more by feel than sight. “Mattie, I'm going to help you stand—”

“Noooonooonooo.” She weakly pushed my hand away.

“Listen to me, Mattie.” I shook her again. “I'm going to carry you, but you must stand.”

My shaking was getting through to her. Again she pushed me away, but harder. “Soggy wooker,” she muttered.

“That's right, Mattie, I'm a soggy wooker, but I need you to stand.” I crawled upright, not sure that I could even get up. Using a tree trunk, I pulled myself to a standing position. “Okay, here we go. On the count of three, I'm going to pull you up, just for a moment. I have to get you across my shoulders. Do you understand me?”

“Soggy . . .” Mattie seemed to drift for a moment, then slowly raised one arm. Wet, filthy bandages barely held the splint to her broken hand.

I ground my teeth together.

Tugging her up, I swiftly draped her across my shoulders in a fireman's carry. I tried to keep an “umph” from escaping as the weight and pain hit me. My frozen legs shook under the additional burden. “Aynslee, you'll have to walk. I'll help you.”