fingers cleared his pocket, something hit him hard against the back of the neck, slamming him forward into the bushes. His forehead cracked against the trunk of the birch tree, the blow filling his vision with dozens of exploding, colorful spots.
A second blow caught him near the small of his back, over his left kidney, shooting fire through his side. That was a kick, he realized with the last vestige of sense remaining in his aching head.
Then a hard knock to the back of his head turned out the lights.
AFTER TEN MINUTES had passed without a call back from Seth, Rachel’s worry level hit the stratosphere. There had been something in his tone when he’d rung off that had kept her stomach in knots ever since.
He’d sounded…grim. As if he’d just made a gruesome discovery.
Given the fact that he’d answered Davis’s phone a few seconds earlier, Rachel wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he’d found.
What if something bad had happened to Davis? He’d been her first real boyfriend, the first man she’d ever slept with. The first man she’d ever loved, even if it had ultimately been a doomed sort of love.
She might not be in love with him anymore, but she still cared. And if Seth’s tone of voice meant anything—
Forget waiting. She was tired of waiting. Seth had said he was at Sequoyah House. The bed-and-breakfast was five minutes away.
She grabbed her car keys and headed for the door. If she wanted to know what was going on, she could damned well find out for herself.
EVERYTHING ON SETH’S body seemed to hurt, but not enough to suggest he was on the verge of dying. He opened his eyes carefully and found himself gazing up into a rain-dark sky. He was drenched and cold, and his head felt as if he’d spent the past few hours banging it against a wall.
He lifted his legs one at a time and decided they were still in decent working order, though he felt a mild shooting pain in his side when he moved. Both arms appeared intact, though there was fresh blood on one arm. No sign of a cut beneath the red drops, so he guessed the blood had come from another part of his body.
He couldn’t breathe through his nose. When he lifted his hand to his face, he learned why. Blood stained his fingers, and his nose felt sore to the touch. He forced himself to sit up, groaning softly at the effort, and looked around him.
He was in the woods, though there was a break in the trees to his right, revealing the corner of a large clapboard house. Sequoyah House, he thought, the memory accompanied by no small amount of pain.
Some of his memories seemed to be missing. He knew who he was. He knew what day it was, unless he’d been out longer than he thought. He knew what he’d been doing earlier that day—he’d been hoping to talk to Rachel Davenport’s old friend Davis Rogers. But Rogers hadn’t been in his room, so Seth had given the desk clerk a message for Rachel’s friend and left the bed-and-breakfast.
He remembered walking back to the parking area where he’d left the Charger.
What then?
His cell phone rang, barely audible. He pulled it out from the back pocket of his sodden jeans and saw Adam Brand’s name on the display. Perfect. Just perfect.
Then an image flashed through his aching head. A cell phone—but not this cell phone. Another one. He’d heard it ringing and come here into the woods to find it.
But where was the cell phone now?
He answered his phone to stop the noise. “Yeah?” The greeting came out surly. Seth didn’t give a damn—surly was exactly how he felt.
“You were supposed to check in this morning,” Brand said.
“Yeah, well, I was detained.” He winced as he tried to push to his feet. “And the case has gone to hell in a handbasket, thanks for asking.”
“What’s happened?”
“Too much to tell you over the phone. I’ll type you up a report. Okay?”
“Is something wrong? You sound like hell.”
Seth spotted a rusty patch in the leaves nearby. His brow furrowed, sending a fresh ache through his brain. “I’ll put that in the report, too.” He hung up and crossed to the dark spot in the leaves.
The rain had washed away all but a few remnants of red. Seth picked up one of the stained leaves and took a closer look.
Blood. There was blood here on the ground. Was this where he’d been attacked?
No. Not him. There had been someone else. An image flitted through his pain-addled mind, moving so fast he almost didn’t catch it.
But he saw enough. He saw the body of a man, curled into a ball, as if he’d passed out trying to protect his body from the blows. And passed out he had, because Seth had a sudden, distinct memory of checking the man’s pulse and finding it barely there.
So where was the man now? Had whoever left this throbbing bump on the back of Seth’s head taken the body away from here and dumped it elsewhere?
If so, they’d apparently taken the discarded cell phone, as well, because it was no longer in the pocket of his jacket.
He trudged through the rainy woods, heading for the clearing ahead. His vision kept shifting on him, making him stagger a little, and it was a relief to reach the Char-ger after what seemed like the longest fifty-yard walk of his life. He sagged against the side of the car, pressing his cheek against the cold metal frame of the chassis for a moment. It seemed to ease the pain in his skull, so he stood there awhile longer.
Only the sound of a vehicle approaching spurred him to move. He pushed away from the car and started to unlock to door when he realized the Charger was listing drastically to one side. Looking down, he saw why—both of the driver’s-side tires were flat.
He groaned with dismay.
The vehicle turned off the road and into the parking lot. Seth forced his drooping gaze upward and was surprised to see Rachel Davenport staring back at him through the swishing windshield wipers of her car. She parked behind him and got out, her expression horrified.
“My God, what happened to you?”
He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the Char-ger’s front window and winced at the sight. His nose was bloody and starting to bruise. An oozing scrape marred the skin over his left eye, as well.
“Should’ve seen the other guy,” he said with a cocky grin, hoping to wipe that look of concern off her face. The last thing he could deal with in his weakened condition was a Rachel Davenport who felt sorry for him. He needed her angry and spitting fire so she’d go away and leave him to safely lick his wounds in private.
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