Chapter 59

Rosie began to scream. Another scream from elsewhere on the island joined in until it sounded like they were standing in some kind of echo chamber of terror. Over the din, Noah shouted to Gretchen, "Get her back to the boat and off this island. Now."

Gretchen didn't hesitate. She squeezed Rosie's hand tightly and dragged her away.

As her shrieks receded, Josie and Noah drew their weapons, holding them in compressed ready positions so that they could better thread their way through the densely packed tree trunks. They spread apart and let their steps be guided by the melee. Those howls could only be coming from Mira Summers, and as long as she was screeching loudly enough to raise the hairs on Josie's arms, she was still alive.

No sooner was the thought alive in Josie's mind, Mira's voice cut off, leaving them in silence. They froze, listening. Something up ahead was moving. Noah caught Josie's gaze and signaled for them to keep moving. From her periphery, Josie saw something flying toward Noah. She opened her mouth to warn him, but it was too late. A large rock sailed through the air and straight at his face. Noah feinted and pivoted. The rock grazed his shoulder. Then came another. He dodged that one as well. Josie kept moving, circling around to where the barrage came from.

Noah called out, "Ryan, I know it's you! Come out with your hands up. We've got your dad and Deirdre in custody. It's over."

Another rock streaked past Josie's face this time, the breeze in its wake brushing her cheek.

"Why is this kid throwing rocks?" Noah grumbled.

"He's desperate."

Josie had met many souls at their most desperate. They were often wild and irrational. It never ended well. In this case, Ryan was cornered. There was nowhere for him to go unless he intended to jump in the river.

"Ryan!" she shouted. "We don't want anyone else to get hurt. Stop throwing rocks and show yourself. Hands up."

With the stones focused on Josie now, Noah moved more quickly, trying to gain ground. Josie could sense his progress, but she kept her focus on the trees ahead, trying to catch a glimpse of Ryan.

"We just want to talk, kid," Noah yelled.

They were getting closer. The sound of Mira's voice, so close but just a rasp, begging Ryan to stop, sent a surge of both hope and fear through Josie's veins. She picked up her pace. Then a rock smashed into her ankle, sending her flying sideways into a tree. She managed to stay upright, pushing off the thin tree trunk and back into pursuit. Pain bloomed in her ankle, but she ignored it, catching up with Noah just as they emerged into a muddy clearing. Josie's brain registered the details in a heartbeat. Four tents. Rusted outdoor chairs. Camping equipment. A ring of stones filled with ash.

Ryan stood about twenty feet away. He held Mira pinned against him, one arm wrapped across her chest while he pressed a knife into her throat. Her wrists were bound with nylon rope, but her fingers dug into his forearm as she struggled to stay upright. More rope was wrapped tightly around her ankles. In addition to the large bruise that stretched across her forehead, a long gash split her cheek. "Sss—top," she begged.

Josie found herself standing directly in front of them. "Drop the knife. Let her go and put your hands up."

Ryan's gaze darted from her to Noah and back. "No. No. Where's my dad? What did you do to him?"

There was no way that Josie could take a shot at Ryan without hitting Mira, not from her position. She was a good shot, but it was too risky. From the corner of her eye, she saw Noah moving toward Ryan's knife side, angling himself so that he could see as much of Ryan's body as possible.

"Please, please," Mira gasped. Her body sagged. Ryan's arm tightened around her.

"Shut up," he told her.

Josie's heart thudded in her chest. She dropped her pistol into a low ready position, resting her forearms against her hips with the barrel pointed toward the ground, at an angle. It would be easy enough to raise it again should she need to take a shot, but it would also make her seem less threatening to Ryan. She hoped. To keep his attention on her and not Noah, who now had his gun aimed at the kid's rib cage, she said, "Your dad is fine. He's in our custody but he hasn't been harmed in any way."

She didn't mention the scuffle with Turner, especially since Turner had gotten the worst of it.

"He didn't do anything wrong," Ryan blurted. "Let him go and I won't kill her."

Mira tried to yank down on his arm, but he was stronger than her and he hadn't been stabbed, injured in a car accident, and abducted all in the last week. "Ryan, please. Stop this. It's enough. Your dad needs help and so do you."

The knife scraped against her throat as he hoisted her up, trying to hold her nearly dead weight. "He doesn't need help," Ryan spat. "He needs someone to look out for him. That's what I do. We were fine until you and that bitch April started nosing into things. You ruined everything."

"Ryan," Josie said, voice firm and loud. "We cannot bring your father here to you but I'm sure that we can arrange for you to see him. We can show you that he's fine, but you need to let Mira go. Drop the knife. Put your hands up."

"I was trying to do the right thing," Mira said. "You deserved better. You and Rosie. I'm sorry I failed you when you were a baby. I was your age back then! I had no idea what I was doing, and then he took you?—"

Ryan's knife hand dropped slightly, putting space between the blade and Mira's skin. "You're not my mother. You were never my mother. Dee is my mother. You gave me up and she took me in."

"I never wanted that!" Mira cried. As her body sagged again, the knife fell to her collarbone. If she fell or if he dropped her, Josie would have a shot at his center mass. It would still be risky. "I didn't even know you were with her until you were Rosie's age! He took you away! He always took you away! If I had known where to look, I would have come for you."

"Bullshit." Ryan's voice was thick with emotion. His eyes grew glassy with unshed tears.

Josie softened her tone. "Ryan, let Mira go. Nobody here wants your dad to be harmed. We're all here because we care about Rosie and about you. We can talk about everything, but not here, not like this. Drop the knife."

Noah's pistol was still aimed at Ryan's rib cage. From where he stood, Josie could see that he didn't have a clear shot at Ryan's shoulder, which might loosen his grip on the knife and get him to drop it. He might have a shot at Ryan's armpit, but it would likely nick his heart and he would bleed out in minutes, if not seconds. It was how Mettner had died.

Josie pushed that thought deep down.

But they had to do everything they could to protect Mira in this situation. Josie hoped that wouldn't mean one of them shooting an eighteen-year-old kid. She knew Noah was keeping quiet so as not to draw attention to himself. Ideally, Josie could talk the kid down and no one would get hurt.

Ryan lowered his mouth to Mira's ear. "You did find out though. You found out about Dee, and you never came. You only cared about Rosie. You were going to take her from us. We were a family until you and that bitch, April, started screwing everything up."

"N-not true," Mira huffed as the arm crossing her chest crushed her against his body. "Dee is not your family, Ryan. She's crazy. What she did to April?—"

He needled the skin of her throat with the point of the knife. "April was going to take Rosie and then send Dad to prison. We had to do something. We had to protect him."

A drop of blood slid down Mira's neck. "Dee was never trying to protect your father, or you. She just wanted to be in control. She wanted the family I gave him for herself. Couldn't you see what she did to your father? How she twisted everything in his mind? How she got him so worked up and so panicked that he did everything she said? He was so much worse with her."

"You're wrong. She told me how you stole Dad from her, how you tried year after year to keep him—and me—away from her. When it didn't work, you got your sister involved. You're nothing but a selfish bitch." Sensing a shift in Ryan's tone, from a frightened little boy to a vengeful man, Josie shouted at him again. "Put the knife down now."

Mira squeaked, "I'm sorry."

"Drop the knife, Ryan!" Josie hollered again.

Ryan wasn't listening to her. He pressed the knife's blade across Mira's throat. Her skin was already raw and pink from the constant jostling of his body and more blood leaked from where he'd pierced the skin earlier. Mira's eyes bulged. Josie yelled for him to stop.

A gunshot boomed. Noah.

Ryan's body bucked, the round hitting him in the side, near the bottom of his rib cage. He stumbled backward. The arm holding the blade dropped, the knife falling to the mud near his feet. Mira gave another tug at the arm that held her against him. It gave way, and she sank to the ground, her bound hands reaching for her throat. As Josie rushed forward, holstering her gun, she was relieved to see that the blood wasn't gushing through Mira's fingers. Ryan went down, legs crumpling. Noah was already at his side, making sure the knife was well out of reach. Holstering his weapon, he stripped off his polo shirt and pressed it to Ryan's side, trying to stem the flow.

Josie radioed for help as she joined Noah on the other side of Ryan's body.

On her knees, Mira tried to lurch toward them, but it was impossible with her feet tied. She fell forward, her dirt-covered, gauze-wrapped forearms taking the brunt. A shriek of pain ripped from her body.

Ryan's face was sickeningly pale, his lips leached of all color. He tried to speak.

"Don't try to talk, kid," Noah said. "Your lung is probably punctured. We've got ambulances on the shore. They'll be here soon and then we'll get you off this island and to a hospital."

Whether they would attempt to transfer him by boat or have to call in Life Flight was another story. If the paramedics could stabilize him long enough, he could be airlifted.

Noah met Josie's eyes briefly. In them, she saw everything. His cool, calm demeanor and, behind that, what it cost him to have to shoot someone. He said, "Get Mira out of here."

Josie got to her feet and spun in Mira's direction. Gently, she turned Mira onto her back. The wound on her throat was superficial. Josie started at Mira's ankles, working at the rope until she had it untied. Then she moved to Mira's wrists.

From the trees, Josie heard shouting, followed by footsteps moving swiftly toward them. Relief coursed through her. Chancing a glance at Noah and Ryan, she saw that the kid was hanging on, Noah bent to his face, speaking softly and rapidly.

Mira's wrists came loose, and her upper body sprang up. Her eyes were wide and hopeful. "Rosie?"

"She's safe."

Mira threw her arms around Josie, her entire body shaking with sobs. "Thank you," she said, again and again. "Thank you."