Hunted. Beverly Long

and they’d packed up and moved to Oregon for his senior year of high school.

      He and Mack and Brody had sworn they wouldn’t lose touch. And they hadn’t. Even when oceans and continents separated them over a period of many years.

      What the hell would Mack and Brody think about what had gone on this past year? Even in the middle of the worst of it, he hadn’t told them anything. They were active military and if they’d tried to help, it might have tainted them in some way. Ethan figured if he went down, he wasn’t taking his two best friends with him.

      But he hadn’t gone down.

      He’d survived the investigation with his career intact. But everything had been different.

      And that, ultimately, had led him to this place, to chasing a stupid dog through the mountains.

      “Molly,” he yelled. “I swear, if you and a coyote mix it up, I’m going to root for the coyote.”

      His dog barked in response. He took that as a good sign. And while they’d only been buddies for a few weeks, he understood the message. Hurry. I found something. Last week she’d practically barked herself hoarse because he’d been too slow to acknowledge the dead raccoon that she’d stumbled over.

      “I’m coming,” he said. He walked the remaining fifty yards, the frost-covered grass crunching under his feet.

      Molly was dancing, her nose in the air. He used his flashlight to search the ground. Nothing. He made another sweep. It was hard to see much; the whole area was thick with underbrush.

      He looked higher, thinking she might have something up a tree. He ran his flashlight from side to side.

      “What the hell?” he said, holding the light steady. There, barely visible through the thick branches, was a car suspended in the towering trees. The front end was badly busted up and was tilting down at forty-five degrees.

      He supposed it could have been there for some time. But he didn’t think so. First of all, there’d been heavy wind and rain just two nights ago, heavy enough to blow the car out of the trees. Secondly, the car still had a headlight burning. Given the noise both he and Molly had heard, he suspected it had just happened. He angled the powerful beam of his flashlight even higher to inspect the road above them. He didn’t see any other cars to suggest that it had been a multivehicle accident.

      Had the driver fallen asleep? Or maybe he was simply drunk? Whatever had caused him to plunge over the side of the mountain, one thing was pretty sure—if he wasn’t dead, he was likely banged up pretty badly.

      “Hey,” he yelled. “You in the car, can you talk?”

      No reply. He considered his options. He hadn’t brought a cell phone with him to Crow Hollow. Reception was always spotty in the mountains and quite frankly, he wasn’t interested in talking to anybody. His only good option was to hike back to the cabin, get his truck and drive into town for help.

      He studied the patch of trees. They were mammoth pines, the kind with big trunks and spreading branches, crowded close together. He walked around, looking up, Molly at his heels. He stopped when he found one that had possibilities. He considered the angle of the car.

      It was possible, he supposed. He’d done crazier things.

      It’d be a hell of a fall if he didn’t make it.

      “I’m coming up,” he yelled. He took off his coat, rolled his flashlight inside of it and then belted the sleeves around his waist. He was definitely going to need both hands free.

      “Are you sure?” a faint voice asked.

      A woman. If the wind hadn’t been blowing the right direction, he probably wouldn’t have heard her.

      He jumped and caught the lowest branch, then pulled himself up. Found a toehold, another branch, and scrambled up another five feet. The bark was sticky and it was hell on his bare hands but he kept going. “How many in the car?”

      “Just me.”

      He climbed faster. “Are you hurt?”

      “No. Not really,” she said.

      He doubted that was true. A person could have all kinds of internal injuries and not realize it because of the shock of the accident. “Just hang on,” he said.

      For the past twenty years he’d trained every day and it was paying off now as he pulled himself up from branch to branch. Still, it was taking almost everything he had. By the time he got near the top, he was breathing hard and sweat ran down his back. He looked down. It was too dark to see the ground but he’d been keeping a rough count in his head as he’d moved from branch to branch. He had to be at least sixty feet in the air.

      He untied the sleeves of his coat, unwrapped his flashlight and focused it on the car that was at a thirty-degree angle to his left, still at least fifteen feet above him. The view was impeded by branches that poked up against the car. The driver’s side was toward him but from his vantage, he couldn’t see her.

      “Okay, I’m close,” he yelled. He put his jacket back on so that he didn’t have to hang on to it.

      “Great,” she said. He could hear her better now. He caught an edge of self-deprecating humor, as if to suggest that it was nice of him to stop by.

      She’d been lucky, although he doubted she’d appreciate hearing that assessment right now. The rear axle of her car had been snagged by a thick spray of branches and that had stopped the fall. Unfortunately, the front of her car didn’t have much support. One wrong move and it was going to go end over end, stopping only when it hit the ground.

      “How much do you weigh?” he asked.

      “One twenty-five.”

      Pretty slim. Hopefully pretty agile.

      He studied the car and the branches holding it in place. It was hard to see where one tree ended and another started. He edged out farther, tested his weight on a branch that crossed over, found it steady enough and switched over to her tree. He shimmied in three more feet. Now he was pretty much under her car.

      Together, they’d weigh more than three hundred pounds. He didn’t know what the tipping point might be but he didn’t want to take a chance on the branches being able to hold that much weight unless he absolutely had to. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to need to do,” he said, purposefully keeping his voice casual. “I want you to crawl over the front seat into the backseat. Then open the door and start to work your way down. All you need to do is get ten feet and I’ll have you.”

      There was a long pause. Finally she said, “Well, that sounds easy enough.”

      He smiled, appreciating the fact that she wasn’t crying or screaming at him to do something. “Just keep your weight from shifting forward and you’ll do fine,” he said. If she didn’t do it exactly right, there was a high probability that she and the car would come tumbling down, taking him with them.

      He aimed his flashlight at the car. She moved and he could see her head and chest in between the headrests of the driver’s and passenger’s sides. He figured she was crouching on the front seat. Sure enough, a leg came over, then the second one.

      The car rocked.

      And he held his breath.

      The tree wasn’t quite ready to let go.

      “How ya doing?” he asked.

      “Oh, fine.” He heard the tremor in her voice. She’d be crazy not to be scared.

      “Open the door. Slide out, plant your feet before you grab for a branch. I’ll shine my light so that you can see.”

      The door opened and she stuck a leg out. She had on jeans. That was good, otherwise her legs would be a mess by the time she got to the ground.

      She planted her foot. She was wearing loafers, which was better than sandals but not as good as boots.

      “Good