Chapter 22

The sight that greets me is one I won’t forget as long as I live.

A man lies sprawled out on the floor, blood pooling under him as he stares lifelessly at the ceiling.

“Lara?”

I turn my head when I hear a whimper, and there she is in the corner, her arms wrapped tight around her knees.

“Jesus Christ,” Crew curses, hurrying past me. He drops to his knees in front of her and pulls her into his arms. “It’s okay, Lara, we’ve got you. Nothing’s going to happen to you now.”

The sound of her crying breaks my heart and makes me want to stomp on the dead guy’s face until there is nothing left but pulp. An overreaction, maybe, but I have no doubt he deserves it.

I move around the body and crouch down next to them. “Let’s get you out of here.”

She reaches out and grabs a handful of my T-shirt before lifting her tear-stained face to look at me. “He was going to rape and kill me.”

“Shhh.” I run my fingers down her cheek gently, seeing the damage that motherfucker has done to her. “We’ll take care of it, Lara, but we need to get you out of here.”

“Wait,” she protests when Crew moves to lift her.

He pauses, pulling back so he can see her better.

“This place is closed to the public until Tuesday. His cousin, if he was telling the truth, works here. He was supposed to take me to where his brothers are camping. I don’t know if he means biological brothers or frat or whatever,” she babbles, clearly in shock. “They were going to hunt me,” she whispers.

She doesn’t need to say anymore. Both Crew and I know exactly what would have happened next.

“There’s an open…grave out there…with a…casket already…inside. They were going to bring me here…after…they were…done. Nobody checks coffins for bodies, right? They were going to…to…add me to it. But Giles got excited. He wanted me for himself first. He came straight here to…to…”

I press a kiss against her temple. “We get it. You don’t need to tell us anything else, at least not right now. But please let us get you out of here, just to the truck, so we can get a better look at you. And then we’ll take care of everything.”

“Okay.” She nods, wrapping her arms around Crew’s neck when he lifts her.

They leave the cottage, and I follow them out and down the path, pausing next to the mound of dirt with a hole beside it. Sure enough, there’s an oak coffin lying inside.

“There’s a special place in hell for this bastard.”

I jog to catch up with Crew, who is almost at the truck. A snarl catches my attention. I look at the old pickup parked in front of us and see a dog going nuts inside, trying to get out.

“Rufio,” Lara gasps, lifting her head at the sound of the dog barking.

“Let’s clean you up a little first, or you’ll get blood on the dog’s fur,” I tell her.

She nods jerkily as I move around them and drop the tailgate on the back of the truck. Crew gently lowers Lara before pulling back. He whips off his sweatshirt, which has blood on it, and looks at me.

“Grab a couple of bottles of water out of the truck.”

I run around and grab them before walking back to where Crew is coaxing Lara out of her hoodie.

“It’s covered in blood, Lara. I need to clean you up and get you into something else. I promise I won’t even look.”

She nods, and so I wait as Crew helps her out of it. I use the sleeve of his sweatshirt, pouring water onto the material, to clean her up the best I can.

She’s wearing a basic white bra. Though her skin is pale, she doesn’t seem to be sporting bruises anywhere other than her face.

“Are you hurt anywhere other than your face, Lara?” I ask her softly.

She shakes her head before she lifts her hand to the back of it and groans. “I hit my head.”

I reach behind her and search until I find a bump and what feels like blood. “What’s your vision like? Have you been sick?”

“No, I’m okay. I have a headache, but that’s not surprising.” She offers me a small smile, reassuring me, when I’m the one who should be comforting her.

“Alright. Your face took the brunt of it. We’ll need to ice it, but for now, I have some painkillers I want you to take.”

She nods.

“I’ll get them,” Crew offers gruffly as I pull Lara gently to me and hold her, reassuring myself that she’s fine. But I know the sight of her covered in blood will have me on edge for a while, and I can tell Crew’s feeling the same.

He pulls a duffle bag out from under the cover and rummages through it. Finding a couple of long-sleeved T-shirts, he hands one to me before he tugs the other over his head and walks away to grab the painkillers.

“Let’s put this on you.” I help Lara slip it on. It’s big on her, but it’s better than nothing.

“Can we let Rufio out now?”

The dog is going crazy. I’m not sure if he’ll be friendly or attack us.

As if sensing where my thoughts have gone, Lara reaches out and squeezes my arm. “He’s friendly. I think he knows something’s wrong, though, and that’s why he’s freaking out.”

“Might be better if you’re the one to let him out. He knows you.” I lift her down and link her fingers through mine. He might not attack, but I’m not letting her go alone, just in case. I don’t want to hurt him, but I won’t let him hurt Lara, either.

We round the side of the truck and spot Crew, who is standing there, gripping the side of the truck, his jaw tight as he works to rein in his anger.

I don’t say anything, knowing he needs a moment or two so he doesn’t lose it. Lara and I pass him and walk to the pickup.

Once the dog spots Lara, he calms down a little. I stand back as Lara reaches for the door and opens it. The dog jumps out of the truck and immediately rubs his head against her legs, like he’s checking for himself that she’s okay.

“Hey, Rufio. You missed me, huh?” She bends down and scratches behind his ear.

Looking up at me, she smiles the first genuine smile since we got here. “Come down here, and I’ll introduce you.”

I crouch down next to her and hold out my hand. She takes it and moves it to the dog’s nose. “Wilder, this is Rufio. He’s my friend. Rufio, this is Wilder. He’s my?—”

I cut her off. “Man. I’m her man.”

“What?” She looks at me, confused.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

Her mouth hangs open, so I slip my finger under her jaw and gently close it before pressing a soft kiss against her lips. The dog, not to be outdone, jumps between us and licks her face, making her giggle. For that alone, I’m going to buy him a big, juicy steak the first chance I get.

“Where did you find him? He’s a beauty.”

“I didn’t. He found me. I tried to see who he might belong to, but Giles—” She swallows before pushing on. “He thought that Rufio might have been dumped at the park.”

“Well, their loss is your gain.” I stand up and help Lara to her feet as Crew approaches.

He walks up to the dog and scratches his ear. “You draw lost souls to you like flies to honey.”

She huffs and shakes her head. But I see the smile on her lips until she turns her head and looks back up the hill toward the cottage.

“What are we going to do?”

“You are going to take these painkillers and get your cute ass into the truck and snuggle up with Rufio while we take care of the problem,” he tells her, handing her a couple of pills and a bottle of water.

“But I?—”

“Let us do this for you. Trust us,” Crew whispers.

Her eyes flutter closed before she sighs and gives in with a nod. “Alright.”

“Good girl.” He kisses her temple and walks back to the truck, opening the rear passenger door for her.

“Lay down and get some rest. We’ll be back before you know it. There are some sleeping bags in there. Drag one over you to keep yourself warm. I’m worried about you going into shock.”

“I’m okay now that you’re both here. I don’t know why or how you found me, but I’m thankful anyway.”

“We can talk about that afterward too. For now, just rest,” I tell her.

“Oh wait, my bag is in his truck.”

“I’ll grab it for you.” I leave her with Crew, who helps her into the back seat.

I grab Lara’s backpack from the front passenger footwell. I take it back to the truck and shove it in the back with the rest of our things.

Crew walks around to join me as we step away so that Lara can’t hear us. “Plan?”

“First, get rid of the body. I figure it would be a shame for him to go to all this trouble…”

He looks at me with understanding, his lips pulling up into a wicked grin. “You want to stick him in the grave.”

“Seems poetic to me.”

He nods in agreement.

“We got anything back there we can wrap him in?” I ask since Crew was the one to pack the truck.

“No, but since it’s his plan, he might.”

We walk to the pickup truck and drop the tailgate. I hop up to take a look and find plastic sheeting and rope.

I give Crew a dark look before passing them to him.

“Anything else in there that might be useful?”

“Couple of guns, ammo, and a wicked-looking hunting knife. He’s got a bunch of camping shit too.”

He nods, running his hand over his mouth.

“Alright. We’ll need to get rid of his truck. But let’s take his supplies. If we have a run-in with her father, it’ll be nice for the police to find the bullets fired from guns registered to this Giles guy.”

“If they’re registered,” I say as I jump out of the truck.

“Oh, he’ll have them registered, I guarantee it. If he’s out there with his buddies hunting women, he won’t risk getting pulled over and getting caught with unregistered guns. No, I’d say he’s a model citizen—a nice guy who plays by the rules. He wouldn’t want anyone to suspect otherwise.”

I’d like to think this is just Crew’s obsession with crime shows talking, but the truth is we’ve seen this shit before. And it’s always the average Joes and good Samaritans, who blend in seamlessly, that make the most ruthless killers.

“Take this”—Crew hands me the plastic and rope—“I’m going to go get the jerry can. There’s too much blood in the cottage. We’ll need to burn it.”

“Fine. Let’s just get this over with. I want to put some miles between us and this place.”

I head up to the cottage. Crew catches up with me with the jerry can in his hand just as I reach the door. When we walk in, the air is thick with that copper tang of blood and the unmissable scent of death.

We stare at the bloody scene before us for a moment before Crew speaks. “I’ll check his pockets. You spread out the plastic, and then we can roll him onto it,” he tells me, putting the jerry can down.

I push the few pieces of furniture out of the way and do just that, spreading the plastic out so we can wrap him up like a human burrito.

“Got his wallet. The guy’s name is Giles Walker. Age twenty-nine. I’ll take a picture and send it to Ev, see what he can dig up.” His voice is stone-cold, making me look up. I half expect him to stomp on the fucker’s face, but he keeps his cool. Just barely.

He pulls out his phone and takes a picture of the guy’s driver’s license before returning it to his wallet and shoving it in his pocket. “Okay, you grab his feet.”

I’m careful not to walk through the blood and grab Giles by the ankles. Between us, we lift him onto the plastic and roll him up.

“He’s fucking heavy.”

“Hold that thought. Pretty sure I saw a wheelbarrow outside.”

I walk out the door and move around the edge of the building. There, against the wall, is a large wheelbarrow. Can’t say I’ve seen one of these at a cemetery before, and I’ve been to more than a few funerals in my lifetime. Which begs the question: just how many bodies have been inside this thing?

I wheel it to the door and whistle for Crew. He pokes his head out and nods before disappearing inside. I hear the crinkle of plastic and a grunt before Crew appears with the dead body over his shoulder, whistling a merry tune.

“Your psycho is showing.”

He bares his teeth at me, making me laugh as he tosses the body into the wheelbarrow.

“If you think the whistling’s too much, you really won’t like it when I dance on his grave.”

I shake my head at the lunatic.

“No. For what he tried to do to our girl…” he trails off, his fists clenching at his sides. “He’s lucky he’s dead because I would have fucking killed him.”

He’s right. The thought is sobering. We could have lost our girl before we had a chance with her because of this motherfucker.

“Let’s get this show on the road.”

I push the wheelbarrow down the hill, making sure my grip is tight. The last thing I want is a Weekend at Bernie’s incident with a body rolling away from us down the hill.

Once we get to the grave, Crew jumps down into the hole and pops open the coffin inside. The smell that escapes makes me gag, but I manage to stop myself from throwing up.

“Jesus, he’s ripe. Help me out.”

I reach down, grab Crew’s hand, and help him out.

“Alright, let’s get this asshole in.”

It takes a little time maneuvering him, but we manage to squeeze him into the coffin. I smile at the thought of him spending eternity in there. The image of Crew jumping on the coffin to get the lid closed, followed by a little dance, is one I could have lived without, though.

Bent over with his hands on his knees, he catches his breath. I pick up one of the two shovels from next to the mound of dirt and start scooping it back into the hole. The soil hitting the oak box makes a satisfying thud.

Crew picks up the second shovel and starts shoveling the dirt into the hole as well. After half an hour, we’re done.

“I have a whole new respect for people who do this for a living,” I admit, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

“Agreed. Now, let’s torch the cottage and get the fuck out of here. I need a shower and a cold beer.”

“Don’t tease me with a good time.”

“I don’t share beer.”

“But you’ll share your shower?” I laugh.

Crew chuckles, some of the tension finally easing from him now that the asshole is buried.

“If Lara was between us, fuck yeah.”

“It’s really fucking inappropriate to get a hard-on in a graveyard.”

“There are worse places.”

“Oh yeah? Name one.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but I hold up my hand to stop him.

“Forget it. I changed my mind. I just know I don’t want to hear whatever it is you’re going to say.”

He shrugs, his loss, and we head back to the cottage.

Without the body stealing my focus, I spot the knife on the floor and pick it up. I could leave it, but it’s never a good idea to leave the murder weapon at the crime scene. Besides, Lara has proven she knows how to use a blade. She should keep it in case she ever needs it again. As much as I’d like to say nothing will happen to her now that me and Crew are with her, the truth is, we aren’t bulletproof. And if we are taken out first, we’ll leave Lara vulnerable. A knife, no matter what, at least gives her a fighting chance. This cottage with the blood-stained floor is proof of that.