Introduction

When Tsara Adelman leaves her husband and two young children for a weekend to visit her estranged uncle, she little dreams he is holding several local children captive on his lavish estate. Mike Westbrook, father of one of the boys, kidnaps her to trade her life for the children's. Soon Tsara and Mike are fleeing through New Hampshire's mountain wilderness pursued by two rogue cops with murder on their minds.

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Excerpt

The shaking didn’t start till they were out of the clearing. Then it came in waves of ice, a cold that had nothing to do with the damp October air but welled up from a dead place deep inside her. Tsara’s knees shook and she wobbled, cursing in a whisper.

Mike stopped at the three big rocks. The cable still trailed from her wrist, and he looped it around a branch out of her reach. “I’ll be back.” He turned and hiked back to the clearing. Tsara gave in to her shaking knees, leaning against the biggest of the three boulders. Different parts of her hurt. Her left arm ached, wrist to shoulder. She peered at her hand, examining the red indentations from her rings where she had pounded Jordan’s balls. The diamond of her engagement ring must have been turned to the side when she hit him: it had torn a small divot of skin from the finger next to it.

Mike returned, his knife once more on his belt and his grey bag on his shoulders. He had packed it in a hurry: she could see the butt of the gun poking at the fabric on one side. The shaking was worse, it was in her jaw now, and her teeth were beginning to clack against each other.

“You’re in shock,” he said, not unkindly. “Take deep, slow breaths if you can.” He unlooped the cable from the branch, letting it drop. Tsara hugged her shuddering body with both arms and sank to the ground. Setting the backpack down, Mike shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her hunched shoulders. She flinched at his touch.

“Yeah, I know,” she replied as another jerking wave rolled through her. “I recognize it.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Recognize it?”

“After an accident once.” He didn’t need to know everything about her. She pulled the jacket around herself, trying to absorb some of its warmth. Her teeth chattered and her fingers were icy. She looked up at him. Dirt still clung to his face in smears, and his hair was wild and sweaty. But the expression was calm.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Just a jacket.” He looked past her, scanning the area.

“No, I mean—for back there.” Her voice stumbled. “Thanks for killing those two guys.”

He turned to with a look of bland surprise. “What are you talking about? I didn’t kill anyone.”

She stared at him. “Those two cops. They were going to—look, I’m thanking you for it.”

“I can’t take credit for that,” he replied. His face was serene, nearly expressionless. “Those two were victims of a tragic hunting accident.”

“Hunting acci—”

“It’s deer season, and they weren’t wearing their international orange. Happens every year.” Mike’s voice was tinged with regret.

She felt dizzy and leaned back against the outcropping. “I know you shot them.” She shook with renewed spasms.

“Really.” He peered at her intently. “Did you see them get shot?”

“I—” She hesitated, closing her eyes. She had been running away, then down on the ground. “No. I didn’t.”

“Did you see me with a gun in my hand?”

“The gun was on the ground, and I saw you go for it.”

“But did you see me hold it? Or fire it?”

She rubbed her forehead, rolling her eyes under the cover her fingers provided. “No,” she said. “I didn’t see the gun in your hand. Counselor.”

“And you don’t see it now.”

This was too much. “It’s in your backpack,” she almost yelled in outrage.

“Unless you have X-ray vision, you don’t know what’s in a closed bag,” he said, although she saw his eyes flick at the grey pack.

“I know what I saw.”

“I understand,” he said sympathetically. “You’re confused. Temporary amnesia is often a symptom of shock.”

“Don’t try to gaslight me,” she snapped. “You know I don’t have amnesia.”

She glared at him. He chose his next words carefully. “Why do you need to believe I killed those two men?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shudderingly. “In a way I’d rather believe you didn’t, but I know better.” Despite her best efforts, her voice shook. “I mean—thanks for saving my life and all, like I said. I don’t feel sorry for them. But ….”

“But what?”

It was hard to meet his gaze. “What’s to stop me from having a, uh, hunting accident if that’s suddenly convenient for you?”

Something like nausea flickered behind his face. He smoothed his features, and when he spoke his voice was level.

“That’s fair. First, though, can we agree you never saw me hold a gun, or fire it?”

“Yeah, okay,” she said reluctantly.

He gazed at her steadily. “Do you think you can remember that if anyone asks you about it later?”

She stared at him, her heart thrumming. Later meant … later. After all this.

He still planned to let her go. As long as she cooperated, so ….

“Yes,” she almost whispered.

“Good,” he said briskly. “As for the second thing—well, right now we need each other. You need me to get out of these woods and get home to your husband and kids. I said I’ll get you back to them and I will. Meantime, I need you to get my son.” He gave a crooked almost-smile, like the one she had seen, briefly, in the cabin that morning. “So I don’t think you’ll be very accident prone for a while.”

She nodded before she remembered how much her neck hurt. “Good to know,” she muttered, rubbing it with one hand.

He unzipped the pack, carefully placing himself between her and it, and pulled out a water bottle. “Drink,” he said, handing it to her.

“’Kay.”

“Just a few sips. If it stays down, have some more. Then we have to move.” He reached into the backpack again, pulling out the second bottle for himself. His was battered, with the label torn off. Tsara tipped her bottle and the two drank.

Mike wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Why did you fall?”

“Fall?”

“Back there in the clearing. For a second—you weren’t shot, so what made you go down?”

“I’m not sure.” Everything had happened so fast that pieces were already getting lost. Jordan—running—the knife, the ropes, the gun—shouting—what exactly had happened? Remembering it all was like trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle under a strobe light.

Her wrist hurt, and she saw a red line on it where the cable had dug in. She held it up to him. “I think I tripped on this,” she said, indicating the trailing line. Which made it his fault.

“Okay.” He took another drink. “Makes sense.”

Damn right it does, thought Tsara. She took another slug of water, half-emptying the bottle. When she lowered it Mike was looking at her.

“You’re a surprise,” he said abruptly.

Tsara put the bottle on her lap. “What do you mean?”

“Because you look like a little—” His eyes raked her; she tried not to care. “—bird or something. But you fight like a mountain lion.”

Tsara looked down at her water bottle. Her lips moved.

“What?” said Mike.

She looked up at him. “I said, ‘A mountain lion who keeps losing.’”

A pause. Mike sat down next to her, wincing as he lowered himself to the ground. “Anyone can lose a fight,” he said, stretching one leg out straight.

“So—it’s all luck?” That wasn’t what the self-defense teachers had said.

“No. It’s not all luck.” He shifted his shoulders as if getting tightness out of them. “By my count you’ve won twice.”

Tsara felt a smile tug her lips. “Thanks.” She rolled the water bottle between her dirty fingers. “How’d they get you?” she asked, looking down at it.

“Who?”

Tsara twitched her head toward the clearing. Mike didn’t answer till she looked up at him. His eyes were empty and his mouth was set.

“Taser,” he said.

“Oh.” She took another sip. He said nothing. “Does that hurt?” she said at last.

“Yep. Had me flopping like a fish.” Mike stood and brushed off the seat of his pants. He gave a sharp grunt, and grabbed his ribs.

“Are you okay?” Tsara was aghast to hear herself say.

Mike let out a long, slow breath. “Yeah,” he said with the last of it. He moved his hand over his torso, exploring.

“Is it broken?” She didn’t know whether to worry about him or exult in his misfortune, so she did both.

Mike shook his head. “Don’t think so.” He straightened gingerly. “We gotta move now.” He gestured at the windbreaker that was still on her shoulders. “You want to keep that?”

Tsara hesitated, then decided the jacket would keep her warmer than her pride. “Yeah.” She stood, testing her knees. They would serve. She handed him the bottle.

“Okay.” Mike put both bottles in his backpack, still keeping it on the other side of his body. He zipped closed the main compartment and took something out of a side pocket before carefully pulling the bag onto his shoulders. He opened his hand.

A new carabiner.

“Oh, fuck,” she sighed.

“I always carry extras.”

She looked at him and thought about the blood and bruises under his shirt. She glanced at the woods behind him.

“Don’t try it,” he said. “I’ll still catch up with you if you run.”

“You sure of that?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Just take a little longer and hurt more. But I’d like to get us out of this alive, so do us both a favor, okay?”

Tsara scowled. “I’m not promising you anything.”

“Didn’t think you would.” He almost smiled.

She held still as he threaded the cable through the sleeve of the jacket then clipped the end to his belt loop. “Come on.”

He started walking. Tsara stepped reluctantly, trying to match her strides to his.

She was a prisoner again. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

How is redemption a theme in this book?

How is loss a theme in this book?

The novel is told from multiple points of view, so we see the situations from almost everyone’s perspective. Did this change your understanding of why the characters acted as they did? Were you surprised at any point to find yourself sympathizing with a character you had previously disliked?

Adara gives Tsara advice about forgiveness. Did the advice surpsrise you? Is Adara’s concept of forgiveness the same as yours?

What do letters offer that no other form of communication (phone calls, emails) can?

Tsara is a mother. To what extent does that guide her actions?

Does this book have a happy ending?

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