Chapter no 20 – LYLA

Crimson River (The Edens, #5)

โ€œNย ow what?โ€ Winn asked Sheriff Zalinski.

โ€œI donโ€™t know.โ€ He ripped open the door to his cruiser. Frustration and sweat steamed off his head as he huffed.

We were all upset, though unlike Zalinski, we were trying to hide it.

His two deputies and the search dog had already left the parking lot.

Knox had taken off too, needing to get back to town and the restaurant.

Dad, Griff and Mateo all stood in similar stancesโ€”legs planted wide, arms crossedโ€”waiting for the sheriff to give them the go-ahead to come back tomorrow.

โ€œIf someone is up here, why didnโ€™t the dog pick up on the scent at the stream?โ€ Zalinski asked.

โ€œIfย someone was up here?โ€ Mateo held up a hand. โ€œYou watched that footage, just like the rest of us. Heโ€™s up here.โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t know who that man was, Mateo.โ€ Zalinski shot my brother a scowl. โ€œCould have been anyone.โ€

โ€œIt wasnโ€™t just anyone,โ€ Griff said. โ€œIt was him.โ€

โ€œYou canโ€™t know that.โ€ Zalinski looked to Vance. โ€œAre you sure about that cameraโ€™s location?โ€

โ€œIโ€™m sure.โ€ Vanceโ€™s jaw clenched.

Zalinski had questioned anything and everything today, from the moment weโ€™d parked in this lot to the moment weโ€™d returned after a long, miserable and deflating day.

โ€œCormac doesnโ€™t want to be found. Heโ€™s not going to make it easy and broadcast his location. And somehow, he knows heโ€™s being hunted. He either saw a camera or a footprint.โ€

โ€œOne of your footprints.โ€ The sheriff pointed to Vanceโ€™s boots.

โ€œYeah.โ€ Vance looked him straight in the eyes. โ€œIt would have been one of mine since Iโ€™ve been the only one out here searching.โ€

The sheriffโ€™s mouth pursed in a thin line. Doubt was etched on his weathered face.

โ€œNo local would take the time to mask his scent or hide a trail,โ€ Dad said. โ€œIf this was just anyone, then the dogs should have picked up a scent. The man weโ€™re after is experienced. Heโ€™s not hiking these mountains for recreation. Itโ€™s him. Heโ€™s living here, and heโ€™s dangerous. He tried to murder my daughter, Zalinski. So are you going to just stand there or do something about it?โ€

โ€œHarrison, calmโ€”โ€

โ€œHeโ€™s gone.โ€ Vance silenced the group. โ€œItโ€™s done. If we didnโ€™t find Cormac today, we wonโ€™t tomorrow or the next day or the next day.โ€

The defeat in his voice was physically painful to hear.

โ€œSheriff Zalinski.โ€ Winn took a step away from Griffin, shifting to interrupt our circle and positioning herself between the sheriff and Dad. โ€œThereโ€™s nothing more we can do today. You and I can regroup tomorrow and formulate a plan.โ€

He nodded, letting out another huffed breath. โ€œIโ€™m not happy thereโ€™s a criminal on the loose in my county.โ€

โ€œI know that,โ€ Winn said.

โ€œIf I could put a deputy out here, I would. But Iโ€™m short staffed and have limited resources.โ€

โ€œUnderstood.โ€ Winn stepped closer, holding out her hand to shake his. Then she gave him a warm smile that didnโ€™t quite reach her eyes as he climbed in his cruiser and drove away.

โ€œFucking Zalinski,โ€ Griffin muttered.

โ€œWhat an asshole.โ€ Mateo shook his head. โ€œWhenโ€™s he up for re- election?โ€

โ€œTwo years,โ€ Dad said absently, his gaze aimed to the mountainsides weโ€™d combed today.

Weโ€™d split up into three groups this morning, starting at this point and slowly making our way toward the stream where Vance had put the game camera that had captured Cormac.

The dog had been with usโ€”Vance, Zalinski, Mateo and me. When weโ€™d reached the stream, he seemed to have caught a scent. He took off into the trees, moving slow enough that we could follow. Even at that pace, Iโ€™d pushed hard to keep up, trudging through the snow and careful not to slip on a patch of ice.

My legs felt like limp noodles despite the stiffness settling into my muscles. But I refused to let the ache show.

Not when my heart hurt much, much worse.

The dog lost Cormacโ€™s scent about a hundred yards away from the stream. How, I still wasnโ€™t sure. Iโ€™d hoped weโ€™d come across a trail of footprints in the snow, anything to keep going. Instead, the dog looped us in circles, nose to the ground, running all along the stream, not finding anything to carry us forward.

Weโ€™d kept searching, our groups fanning out to look for tracks. When none had been found, weโ€™d all regrouped at the stream again. Then Vance had led us to his other cameras, checking their respective areas one by one, ruling out any sign of a man hiding in the woods.

By early afternoon, Sheriff Zalinski had insisted we return to the parking lot so as to not risk anyone getting lost or injured.

There were still hours of daylight remaining. Hours we could be searching.

โ€œIโ€™m coming back tomorrow.โ€ Mateoโ€™s declaration didnโ€™t surprise me. Neither did Griffinโ€™s response. โ€œLetโ€™s all meet at the ranch by seven.

You good with that, baby?โ€

Winn nodded. โ€œAs far as Iโ€™m concerned, youโ€™re hiking with Vance. Iโ€™m done listening to Zalinskiโ€™s excuses. Find Gallagher. Bring him in. Hit him over the head with a rock and call it a rescue attempt of an unknown hiker for all I care. But Iโ€™m not missing this chance. Not again.โ€

โ€œI call dibs on the rock.โ€ Mateo jerked his chin toward his truck. โ€œSee you in the morning.โ€

Dad gave me a quick hug, then walked to his own rig. Winn and Griff did the same before heading to theirs.

All while Vance stood unmoving, staring off into the distance, his eyes unfocused.

I waited until we were alone, until the taillights had disappeared beyond a bend in the road. โ€œYou okay?โ€

โ€œFuck.โ€ He shook his head, then tipped his head to the sky and roared. His hands fisted at his sides as the frustration poured from his throat. He yelled for us both. And when he stopped and looked to me, the apology in his eyes broke me into a hundred pieces, like the gravel beneath our boots. โ€œIโ€™m sorry, Lyla.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m sorry too.โ€ I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

I was sorry he wouldnโ€™t get closure today. That he might never have the chance to find out why Cormac had murdered his wife and children.

What did it say about us that we cared more about finding Cormac for the other person than ourselves? Maybe that was what true, selfless love really meant.

โ€œDonโ€™t give up,โ€ I whispered. If Cormac wasnโ€™t here, that didnโ€™t mean all hope was lost. It just meant the next time Vance got a lead, it probably wouldnโ€™t bring him to Montana.

โ€œI almost did,โ€ he admitted. โ€œYesterday, I decided it was time to call it off. For good.โ€

Was that why heโ€™d confessed so much at the coffee shop last night?

Because heโ€™d already made the decision to leave?

โ€œHeโ€™s still here.โ€ Vanceโ€™s gaze shifted to the mountains.

โ€œHow did he hide from the dog? How could he walk without leaving any kind of trail?โ€ My footprints were all over now, frozen in the snow. And they werenโ€™t alone.

โ€œI donโ€™t know,โ€ Vance said. โ€œHe taught me a lot about survivalist skills, but this? We never had to hide our tracks. We were the ones finding them.โ€

โ€œNow what?โ€

His expression hardened. โ€œI found him once. Iโ€™ll find him again. Even if it takes me another four years.โ€

Even if it meant sacrificing his own life, his own job and happiness. Heโ€™d do that for the family heโ€™d lost. For the girls heโ€™d loved.

For me.

โ€œYouโ€™ll find him.โ€ Down to my bones, I believed in Vance. He would find Cormac. Maybe tomorrow, when he went hiking with my brothers. Maybe weeks from now, when he had no one to slow him down.

โ€œCome on.โ€ He unglued his feet, taking my elbow and escorting me to the truck. Then he drove us back to town, straight to the coffee shop. He didnโ€™t have to ask if I wanted to check in, he just knew I would.

Talia was at the espresso machine when we walked through the front door. The moment she spotted us, her entire frame relaxed. โ€œDid you find him?โ€ she asked when I reached the counter.

โ€œNot yet.โ€ I chose those words deliberately. โ€œThanks for helping today.โ€

โ€œAnytime. Fosterโ€™s in the kitchen. He found a recipe book and is attempting your quiche Lorraine.โ€

โ€œHe didnโ€™t need to do that.โ€

She waved it off. โ€œHe canโ€™t be stopped. Heโ€™s on a mission because I told him I was craving quiche.โ€

And since Foster worshiped the ground beneath my twin sisterโ€™s feet, heโ€™d do everything in his power to satisfy those pregnancy cravings.

โ€œDid Crystal come in?โ€ I asked.

โ€œYeah, but itโ€™s been slow, so we sent her home. Fosterโ€™s loving this. He might ask you for a part-time job.โ€

I laughed, glancing over my shoulder at Vance.

I expected him to be close, but heโ€™d wandered to his chair. Not that he was sitting. He stood at the window, hands stuffed in his pockets, and stared outside.

โ€œThank you,โ€ I told Talia. โ€œI know this isnโ€™t how you wanted to spend your day off.โ€

โ€œHelping my sister? Thatโ€™s exactly how I want to be spending my day off.โ€ She glanced at Vance. โ€œYou guys should go. Weโ€™ve got this.โ€

โ€œAre you sure?โ€

โ€œPositive.โ€ There was a softness in her eyes. A sadness. Like she wanted me to spend as much time with Vance as possible because he was leaving.

โ€œIโ€™ll call you tomorrow,โ€ I told her, then joined Vance, hugging his arm. โ€œLetโ€™s go for a walk.โ€

Weโ€™d walked all day, but I worried what would happen when we stopped moving. I worried that heโ€™d tell me he was leaving. So we set off along Main, strolling at an easy pace.

Vance took my hand, threading our fingers together. It took three blocks until his shoulders relaxed. Another four until his jaw unclenched. By that point, weโ€™d almost reached the grocery store that acted as a bookend on one side of Main.

โ€œAre you hungry?โ€ It wasnโ€™t even close to dinner time, but all weโ€™d had to eat today were the smooshed granola bars Vance kept in his backpack. โ€œWe could go shopping. Find something for dinner.โ€

โ€œSure,โ€ he said, looking both ways before crossing the street.

But just as weโ€™d stepped onto the curb of the opposite sidewalk, Vance froze.

โ€œWhat?โ€ I asked, following his gaze.

It was locked on a young woman walking through the grocery storeโ€™s parking lot. Her red hair was in a long and stringy ponytail.

Vanceโ€™s hand dropped mine. He took a single step.

The girl rounded a car, then turned, walking straight toward us. She had her eyes aimed on the concrete, chin tucked like she was trying to be invisible.

A car rolled past on Main. It caught her attention and she glanced up, watching it pass. But before she could focus on the sidewalk again, her gaze shifted and landed on Vance.

Like him, she froze. Her eyes widened, so big I could see every bit of recognition. Every ounce of fear. The color drained from her already pale face.

She had two plastic bags looped over her forearm. In a single swoop, she swung them into her chest, clutching them tight.

โ€œStop!โ€ he shouted.

The woman took a backward step. Then she tore across the street and ran away.

Vance chased her.

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