“Just keep . . . you’ll find her . . .”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” Aster mumbled. Not finding Madison alive was beginning to seem like a real possibility. In the heat of summer, everything in the desert looked like death—smelled like death. She prayed they wouldn’t discover Madison as another piece of that decaying landscape.
“Oh my God—did you guys see that?” Layla said, at the same time Aster’s bars disappeared and she lost her connection with Javen.
Aster followed the arc of Layla’s pointing finger, but all she could make out were rocks, shrubs, cactus, and darkness, more darkness, always darkness, all of it unfolding to the soundtrack of howling coyotes on the prowl.
“I saw something running!”
“Something or someone?” Ryan asked, his voice gone suddenly tense.
“There it is again! Straight ahead! Did you guys see it?” Layla had picked up the pace and was heading right toward it, as Tommy cursed under his breath and followed.
Aster desperately tried to reach Javen again, but the connection was lost. He’d told her to forge straight ahead, or at least that was what she thought he’d said, and since that was more or less the direction Layla was headed, she figured they must be on the right track. Still, a better connection and a little more encouragement from the home base would be greatly appreciated.
After another attempt to reach him, Aster gave up and went back to chasing after Layla, who was several steps ahead, sending a spray of rocks behind her as she led them toward whatever it was she’d seen running.
In her rush to catch up, Aster nearly ran headfirst into a towering Joshua tree that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
“Careful.” Ryan reached for her arm in an attempt to steady her as her phone began ringing again.
She slowed enough to answer it, though she could barely make out what Javen was saying. “Aster!” he screamed. “Shit . . . Aster! I’m at . . . W . . . didn’t go home . . . and now . . . sorry . . . so sorry . . . We’re screwed!” She heard what sounded like a commotion, and then muffled voices, and then the line went dead.
“Javen!” she shouted. “Javen!” She was just about to try him again, when Layla screamed. The bloodcurdling sound echoed through the night, as Aster and Ryan raced toward her, then stood gaping in dismay at the grisly scene laid out before them.
FORTY-FIVE
DON’T FEAR THE REAPER
Madison limped toward the boulders, only to discover they weren’t really boulders. It was a tree—a large dead tree with mangled bare branches protruding from a wounded, rotted, dry trunk.
She squinted into the darkness and looked all around, wondering what else she’d gotten wrong. From what little she could see, the landscape appeared to be getting tamer, less wild. Which could possibly mean she was creeping closer to civilization and ultimately finding someone who might be able to help her.
Carefully, she maneuvered around the tree carcass, practically rendered delirious thanks to the unbearable pain shooting from her ankle and reverberating through her body. Chances were it was broken, which meant walking on it was only making it worse. Still, with her very survival at stake, there was no stopping now. The prospect of a future spent nursing a bum leg could only pale in comparison to what would amount to a certain gruesome death if she stayed.
Guided by the barest sliver of light, courtesy of the waning moon, Madison stumbled on. Determined to clear her mind of all the things she had to fear, she focused instead on all the wonderful things she’d indulge in once she was safe.
A long, hot bath with her favorite scented bath oils and salts made the top of the list. And even though she rarely drank, a nice cold glass of champagne would also be nice. Then, after a good night’s sleep on her wildly expensive Sferra sheets, she’d rise to a cup of perfectly brewed cappuccino made with whole milk, not skim, since she could afford the extra calories, and with her beloved dog, Blue, by her side, she’d begin collecting evidence, and answers, and plotting revenge.
James, Ryan, Aster, Layla, Tommy, Ira, that nosy Trena Moretti—none of them were above suspicion. Reluctantly, she added Paul to the list. If there was one thing she’d learned on her rise from the ashes to the top of the Hollywood heap, it was that when it came right down to it, the only one she could count on, the only one she could truly trust, was herself.
She was so mired in vengeance fantasies, she missed the sound of staggered breathing, of shoes kicking up dirt—the telling signs of someone rushing up from behind her—until it was too late and they were already on her.
A strong hand grasped her by the arm and yanked her up hard. The fingers circled and pressed into the burn scar in a way that saw her howling in pain, as a hot ragged breath blasted her cheek and a familiar voice said, “Nothing out there but coyotes. You’ll meet your end, you keep going.” Slowly, they started trudging through the sand, dragging Madison back in the direction she came from. “They don’t call this Death Valley for nothing, you know.”
FORTY-SIX
SUGAR, WE’RE GOIN’ DOWN
“What is that?” Layla cried, staring into what could only be described as a shallow open grave scattered with bones and other unspeakable bits that appeared to be human in origin.
Aster appeared to be all out of screams, all out of breath, like it took all her will just to sag against Ryan. “Omigodomigodomigod!” she whimpered. “Tell me that’s not Madison!”
Layla watched as Aster sank to her knees, looking as distraught as she had the day their world turned upside down when she was arrested for Madison’s murder.
Or maybe their world had turned long before that. Maybe it had happened when they’d first started working for Ira, but they’d been too caught up in the thrill of competition to notice.
Layla sought refuge in Tommy’s arms, allowing herself to be soothed until her reporter’s instincts kicked in and she went to kneel beside the remains in order to better examine them.