“Mangled… What are you talking about?” Hilly’s gut clenched.
He laughed, nastily. “You didn’t think we were just out for an evening stroll, did you?” he gloated. “I’m not letting you live after what you’ve seen and all the problems you’ve caused me. You’ve been the bane of my existence.”
“Me? Problems? What the fuck are you talking about?” Hilly snarled back, incredulous. Not only was the man off the rails, thinking he was going to kill her, he somehow imagined she was responsible for all his bad decisions?
“You heard me.” His mood turned combative again, and he shook her angrily, this time exerting agonizing pressure on her shoulder joint. “If it weren’t for you and your grandmother, I wouldn’t be in debt right now. A few years ago, I put up almost everything I owned as collateral to buy the acreage north of here that’s adjacent to yours, knowing that once I got my hands on the camp’s lakefront property, I’d own a developer’s goldmine. But your grandmother refused to sell. When she proved to be stubborn no matter what I offered, I had your father put pressure on her in various ways…”
Hilly growled, recalling a number of vandalism issues her Gran had faced in the final two seasons she’d been alive. Now she knew why. She couldn’t believe it. Gran’s own son—Hilly’s trash of a father—had been responsible for those defacements.
The realization was abhorrent to Hilly, but not entirely unexpected. For her sperm donor, it was always about him.
Cottins continued. “Then the bitch died and she left the camp to you; her granddaughter. What kind of whore does that? Disinherits her only son?”
“The kind who understands he’s a piece of shit who would have drunk and gambled her money away,” Hilly answered through gritted teeth.
Cottins turned and whacked her with his would-be weapon again, this time in the side of the neck. Hilly lost her breath, gasping to get air.
“And you, bitch. When Marty didn’t inherit, I made all kinds of effort to be nice to you, the presumptive heir, giving you numerous, viable and generous offers.”
“Generous?” Hilly barely got out. “Viable offers?” She coughed while gritting her teeth against the pain which now made it feel like her throat and neck were on fire. Her voice emerged as no more than a pained whisper. “What you proposed was a tiny fraction of what the camp is worth.”
“It doesn’t matter, now.” Once again, Cottins went from sullen to jovial in a blink as he kept them moving. The man was clearly psychotic. “Because soon you’ll be dead, and I’ll own everything. I’ll have a lovely forged document waiting in the wings, stating that if anything happens to you, you’re leaving this entire parcel to your loving father. Once that will passes probate, where I’ll grease a few palms if necessary, I’ll be headed for a sweet pile of profit.”
Hilly spit blood from her cut mouth, some of it landing on Cottins’ shoes. “Loving father?” she rasped. “It’s been a long time since I claimed him as a relative, and nothing’s going to change that, now. No document you forge will stand up in court. My parents, my mother and my true father, will fight you every step of the way. And they’ll win. You’ll end up with nothing. Add to that, the moment Mason gets his hands on you, and the only place you’ll be heading is to jail.”
Cottins’ cuffed her in the face again, but Hilly barely felt it this time. Was she that numb from all the previous damage he’d inflicted, or had Cottins suddenly lost some of his bluster?
“We’ll see…” he gnarled. “Or at least I’ll see,” he corrected himself, “because you’ll be dead.”
Hilly really didn’t want to die. She wanted justice for Cisco. With that irate thought in her head, she redoubled her efforts to slow Cottins down, tripping and dragging on his arm. Her shoulder had long since lost feeling.
At least she now knew exactly where they were headed. Cottins’ had obviously planned well. There was a deep, rocky ravine about a mile north of the shack, which is where he obviously intended to end her.
From the amount of time they’d been crashing through the woods, Hilly knew they were almost there.
Not happening.
In a last-ditch, desperate attempt to save herself, Hilly gathered what little strength she had left, sent one leg out directly in front of Cottins, and tripped him.
Yes.
Down they went, together, sprawling on the hard ground, where her battered body fell on top of the hefty contractor.
“Cunt!” he bellowed, knocking her aside in order to get up.
That’s all the advantage Hilly needed.
She scrambled up, staggered a few feet away, then crouched in a low, ready position she’d learned from Cisco. At the same time, she sent her one functioning hand scrabbling behind her, searching for a weapon, any weapon; a stick, a rock…
Her fingers closed around a pile of loose dirt and leaves. It would have to do.
Cottins took a step toward her.
Hilly flung the detritus into his face.
He yelped and staggered back.
Hilly ran.
With one eye swollen nearly shut, and no flashlight to guide her, she didn’t know which direction to take. Her only goal was to get away from Cottins until the woods filled with Cisco’s SWAT team, making escape for Cottins an impossibility.
Hilly limped/ran as quickly as she could, knowing she was breathing far too noisily. Her ribcage was on fire, and her clumsy feet were making a ridiculous amount of noise in the underbrush, but she couldn’t help that. Nor could she stop or slow down.
She had this. She ran every day, dammit, and even in her depleted state she had to be able to outrun one out-of-shape developer. She simply had to keep moving.
“You can’t hide, bitch,” Cottins yelled from behind her, but it didn’t sound like he was too close, thank God. If she could find a place to hide…
No. Not hide.
She needed to head back the way they’d come; toward the light from the fire Cottins had set. To find Cisco. Nausea welled up in her throat…
Cisco.
Was he alive? Had he made it out? Had his team arrived to save him?
She had to remain positive. Any other scenario was unacceptable.
Hilly was determined to make her way back to the shack, via a long, looping arc that Cottins would be hard-pressed to follow, but when the trees ahead of her thinned out, then broke into an open vista, she knew exactly where she was, and groaned. This was the ravine where Cottins planned to kill her. Hilly skidded to a stop before she got too close, but she tripped over her own feet and fell face first to the ground.
