One Last Step by Sarah Sutton (free e books to read TXT) 📗

back. She was seated, throwing her back against the wall, but at Tara’s presence she stopped, starring at her with a look of fear and hope swirled into one.

Next to her lay another girl. Her hands were tied as well. She was unconscious, but Tara could see the slight rise and fall of her chest. She was alive. They were both alive. Tara immediately knew who they were because she had seen their pictures before. They were the two most recent victims—the sisters.

Tara’s heart thumped against her chest as she instinctually ran toward them. She didn’t even have a second to process the other bodies in the room. Some tossed in the corner, atop each other like piles of garbage, some beginning to decompose—the smell wafting into her nose.

Tara’s eyes were briefly drawn to an open box, just near the girls—the objects inside catching the light of day. She didn’t even need to fully peer inside to know what it was filled with. Compasses. She could already tell by the shape, by their color, and by the way they flickered in the light.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” she whispered to the girl sitting up, when close enough.

The girl nodded her head frantically as Tara reached for her wrists, pulling hard against the rope, trying her best to untie them. The rope was tight, and Tara suddenly wished she brought a knife, anything. But she knew if she just loosened it enough, if she could squeeze the girl’s hands out—

But all of a sudden, a muffled scream filled the air and Tara’s head jolted upward. The girl’s eyes were wide, looking ahead of her, as she painfully squealed. And within a split second, Tara knew why, because she could hear soft footsteps pick up into a run and she suddenly spun around as an arrow just missed her, piercing through the barn wall.

A large man stood in front of her. He tossed the crossbow to the side of the room, and reached down, grabbing hold of Tara’s hair. She tried to reach for her gun, which she had placed down next to her as she tried to wrestle the girl’s wrists free. But he was quicker, and as he dragged her across the floor by the hair, he kicked it away, sending it toward all the lifeless bodies on the other side of the barn.

The girl continued to thrash about and scream her muffled cry as she watched in horror as Tara’s body was thrown against the wall—her head slamming hard, a pain piercing through it as the room began to spin. The man reached for her again. He was going to slam her head into the wall once more, but Tara suddenly pulled away from him as hard as she could—her hair ripped forcefully from her head, an excruciating pain shooting through her. She whipped around, sending her foot into his gut. He stumbled backward, and she jumped to her feet. She was ready to race toward her gun. It was all she needed, but just as her feet hit the ground, she felt his hand clasp her ankle, pulling her feet out from under her. She thrashed again, this time sending her other foot straight into his face. And again, he stumbled backward as blood gushed out of his nose.

She jumped to her feet once more. She had a chance now, and she ran for it, but just as she approached her gun, the girls muffled warning filled the air once again, racing footsteps vibrated through the floor, and just as Tara spun around, she caught a glimpse of it all. The older woman, a shovel in her hand, as she sliced the air with it, whacking Tara right over the head.

Chapter Thirty Two

Tara’s eyes fluttered open as she tried to make sense of where she was. Her head was spinning. Her temple was wet and sticky with blood. She could feel a hand nudging her, and as she looked up, it all came flooded back. The girl was hunched over Tara, staring at her intently.

“You need to get up,” the girl whispered urgently.

Her hands were no longer tied. Her mouth was no longer taped. But as Tara tried to reach her own arm out, to push her body up, she quickly realized that her own wrists were now bound. The girl helped her sit up as she ripped the tape off her mouth. It stung.

“How are your hands untied?” Tara asked as the girl now worked on Tara’s wrists, trying to wrestle them free.

“You loosened the rope just enough. I was trying to pull my wrists free the whole time you were wrestling him, but I couldn’t quite get them out until after.”

“How long do you think we have?” It was all flooding back to her now, piece by piece and a jolt of adrenaline shot through her body.

“Hard to say. Probably not long.” The girl pulled at the rope hard, loosening it a bit, but Tara still couldn’t quite pull her hands through yet, and the girl wrestled with them a bit more. “So what are you, a cop?”

Tara nodded her head. “FBI,” she said as she suddenly remembered her gun and her phone. “My phone,” she uttered. “Grab it, it’s in my pocket.”

The girl shook her head. “He took it, I watched him.”

“And the gun?”

“He took that too.”

“And my keys?”

The girl nodded and Tara’s heart sank. They needed a plan.

“How’s your sister?” Tara asked.

She knew she and the girl could try and make a run for it, but it was the girl’s sister that wouldn’t be able to, and they couldn’t leave her to go get help. She would pay the price for it—once he knew.

Pain stroked the girl’s face. “I checked her pulse. She’s alive.”

Tara nodded. They needed to act quickly. She was alive, but for how long she would remain that way, Tara couldn’t be too sure. She needed to get her to a hospital. But without a phone,