Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69303 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
He squeezed my hand. “Me too.”
This time, we really did walk a long time.
The thunder continued to sound and the lightning kept brightening up the sky, but the rain held off.
“It’s getting dark,” I murmured. “Where do you think we are?”
“The flight is about three and a half hours or so. We were on that plane for a solid two before we crashed. Best guess, Arkansas or Tennessee,” he rumbled. “Look, there’s a shack up ahead.”
I limped next to him until we got to it, and he wrenched open the door.
There was nothing inside but a bunch of boating stuff. Some life jackets. A kayak. Some oars. A blow-up boat that was in need of a lot more air before I’d consider getting into it.
“I could get into that kayak and float until I see something,” I suggested.
“It’s a kid’s,” he said. “Rated for about a hundred pounds max. You won’t be able to float that anywhere. You weigh too much.”
I grimaced.
He was right.
It was very small, and although I was a woman, I wasn’t small enough to keep that kayak above the water.
He went through the stuff in the shack anyway and came up with a machete and some rope.
“That might come in handy,” I mused.
He grunted out a reply and backed out. “Come on.”
I “came on,” following him at a pace that I knew was overly slow for him.
“What’s your last name?” I asked when I saw a frog jump into the river.
I hated frogs.
Gross.
“Reins.”
As soon as he said it, I remembered Eugene using his last name.
“Finnian Reins sounds like a historical romance name,” I teased, going for lighthearted when my entire being felt heavy.
“My mom was a big romance reader.” He chuckled as he stepped over a log, then held his hand out to help me over. He kept hold of my hand as we continued to walk along the river. “She loved historical romance. She was a big Julie Garwood fan. The day she died, she had literally been doing a reread of her favorite one, Saving Grace. I remember her having it in her hand when she’d boarded the plane.”
“I love that book!” I cried. “I’m sorry to hear about your mom. Is your dad still alive?”
“No, but my grandfather is,” he muttered. “We don’t see each other much. He kind of broke down after Mom passed, and he’s severely agoraphobic now. Barely leaves his house. And since he lives in Alaska now, I don’t have the time to just pop by.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to Alaska,” I admitted. “Where in Alaska does he live?”
“Near Fairbanks.” He pulled me to a stop. “Do you hear that?”
I paused with him, trying to hear anything over the thunder, and heard a soft squeaking cry.
“Is that a child?” I asked.
He paused and twisted around, trying to pinpoint where he could hear the sound coming from.
“Maybe that way,” I suggested as I pointed back the way we came. “Kind of anyway.”
He jerked his chin toward the way we’d come, and then said, “Let’s go check it out.”
We backtracked, stopping periodically to make sure that we were still going the correct direction, and ended up almost back where we’d come from.
Though, this time, we were perilously close to the river.
“There!” I pointed.
I could see a flash of red in the tall grass near the opposite bank of the river, and started to wade out.
“I’ll go…”
“No,” I said. “You hold the rope. If I start going, you at least have a chance of pulling me back. If you start going, you’re going until you can get out yourself.”
He grunted. “You have a point.”
“With the rain, it’s flowing pretty good,” I said. “I can get over there just fine, but I won’t be able to swim back holding anyone if a child is what I’m hearing. So you’re going to have to pull me.”
He jerked his chin. “Tie this rope around your waist.”
I did as he instructed, and he tied his own end into a loop before he pulled the loop up over his forearm. “Be careful.”
I took a running start and leaped into the river head first, swimming hard from the moment that my body hit the water.
I’d swam in high school, and though I hadn’t done it much since, the basics had stuck with me and my body and muscles knew exactly what to do.
When I crossed to the other side, I was way off course, but that was to be expected when you’re swimming across a flowing river.
I walked back up the shore and searched for the red I’d seen in the bushes, only to come up short when I finally got to the red.
It was a woman wearing a red hoodie and jeans.
Definitely not a baby.
I reached down and took her pulse anyway, though, just in case.
She was dead.