“Now,” he whispered, “I need you to—”
“Give me my gun back.”
Even with her back to him, it was like she could feel his whole body blink.
“Who are you?” His voice sharpened. “Are you law enforcement?”
“I’m Grace Finch, lead crime reporter, Torchlight News.” She wasn’t sure what kind of reaction she was expecting. But it wasn’t the stony and awkward silence that filled the space around them. “We’ve met before. You’ve ordered me off your crime scenes and ignored my phone calls. I sent you an email about coffee just last week you never responded to.”
Okay, so maybe that was a bit testier than she’d intended, but she’d never been one to beat around the bush.
“So you’re not law enforcement or the military?” His whisper came back swift and sharp. “Do you have a license to carry a handgun?”
The questions felt rhetorical.
“No, but I’ve passed the Canadian Firearms Safety—”
“Then it’s illegal for you to be carrying a handgun, and you’re not getting it back—”
Like she didn’t know Canadian gun law. “There’s an escaped convict in the woods!”
“Actually, there are three—”
“Three?” She fought and failed to keep her whisper from rising. Did that mean Cutter hadn’t lied and her father really had escaped prison? Enough of this. She spun around and turned toward him. Jacob let her go, and then she was facing him, standing so closely she was practically pressed against his chest. She looked up at him in the dying light. His green eyes were serious. His chestnut hair was tousled and spiky with sweat. His face radiated a sense of protection that she didn’t even know how to begin to process. “Who are the three convicts?”
“Who did you see?” He deflected her other question with one of his own.
Fine. Sometimes a person had to give information to get information.
“I was attacked by Barry Cutter,” she said. “The serial killer. He tried to force me to take him to my car, which is over six hours away by canoe from here. I fought him off and ran.”
Jacob let out a long breath and stepped back as far as the narrow space would allow. His voice softened. “How did you possibly get away?”
“I zapped him with a Taser and then took his gun.”
He blinked. “That would be the gun I just took from you?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Where’s the Taser now?”
“In my pocket.”
“And did you take that off him too?” Jacob asked.
“No, it’s mine.”
A faint smile turned at the corner of his mouth. She wondered if he was debating pointing out it was also illegal for her to carry a stun gun.
“He also took my wallet,” she added. “And I assume it isn’t actually his gun—”
“No, I imagine he took it off a guard.” His face turned grim. “About four hours ago, three prisoners overpowered the prison guards who were transporting them. We don’t know how it happened yet, but they forced the van to crash and killed the guards. There’s a massive manhunt underway across Ontario to find them. I just thank God that I happened to be flying overhead when Cutter attacked you.”
Something about the way he said it made her think he actually believed there was a God who had helped him out.
“Was he the only person you saw?” Jacob asked.
“He was,” she said.
“Where’s Cutter now?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But since you dropped down from above me somewhere, I’m guessing it’s possible to walk along the top of the rock face. I suggest we climb up, take a look around from there and hail the helicopter. Now, what can you tell me about the other escaped convicts?”
Was Cutter telling the truth? Was her father one of them?
Jacob turned his head away from her. “Henry here.” The shift in Jacob’s tone was so sudden that it took her a moment to realize he was talking into the shoulder microphone for his walkie-talkie. “I’ve secured the civilian. She claims to have sighted Barry Cutter. Do you have any other heat signatures in the area?” He paused. “Okay. Heard that.”
Maybe he’d heard it, but she was still out of the loop.
“So what’s going on? Who are you talking to?”
“That was RCMP SAR pilot, Kevin Faust,” Jacob said, and she felt oddly thankful he hadn’t felt the need to spell out Royal Canadian Mounted Police Search and Rescue. “Now I need you to stay here and hidden. I’m going to go out there and assess the situation.”
“There’s nothing to assess. I told you, there’s a maniac out there—”
“I wouldn’t say maniac—”
“He was convicted of killing two women,” she cut him off, “as well as being credibly accused of assaulting several others before then and of killing his own mother.”
“And how would you possibly know that?” Jacob asked. “We worked very hard to keep that information out of the public record.”
“Because, as I told you, I’m Grace Finch, award-winning crime reporter for Torchlight News.” Her chin rose. “If you’d ever bothered talking to me or answering my phone calls or emails, you’d know that we don’t ever report anything without proper verification, and in some cases authorization. But that doesn’t mean we don’t know an awful lot more than we let on.”
“What are you doing here, Grace?” He shook his head. It was like her mere existence baffled him. “How did you even get here?”
“I hiked and canoed,” she said. “It took me six hours. I left my car at the front entrance. I’m heading to a cabin, once I can find it.”
“And you honestly had no idea there were escaped convicts on the loose before you decided to come up here?” he asked.
“Absolutely none.” Besides, if they had escaped when Jacob had said, she would’ve already been deep in the forest when they broke out.
“And you just happened to have a Taser on you?” he added.
“Yes,” she said. “And bear spray. I’m not in the habit of going places unprotected. Now, who are the other two convicts that escaped?”
“Victor Driver and Hal Turner.”
So it was true. Her father had escaped prison. A pain-filled gasp slipped to the edge of her lips, but she slid her hand over them before they made a sound. Jacob looked down at her for a long moment, with an inscrutable look in his eyes that she couldn’t begin to make heads or tails of.
“Stay here,” he said finally. “Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Don’t make a sound. Once everything is secured, I’ll come get you and we’ll airlift out of here. Got it?”
“I hear you,” she said. “Now, can I please have the gun back?”
“You mean the gun you can’t legally carry that you lifted off a criminal?” he asked. “No. Be thankful that I’m choosing to overlook the fact it’s also completely illegal for you to have that stun gun.”
Yeah, she’d wondered how long he’d be able to go without mentioning that.
“Now stay here,” he said again, “and don’t do anything stupid. Got it?”
“Got