arrow leaning against the wall in the corner, one arrow clearly missing from its spot. She shook her head. Too much, too much. This was Driscoll’s secret place. That was Driscoll’s bow and arrow. Had Driscoll killed the woman? Jak’s mother? Her mind spun.
There was a laptop on the desk but of course, the battery was dead. She wondered what horrors were contained on that small device and shuddered. A recorder lay next to the laptop and she pressed the button, expecting that to be dead too, and startled when a man’s voice began speaking.
“The possum is out today, crying in the snow, snot all over his face, eating clumps of grass and then throwing them up.” Her chest tightened with sorrow. She pressed fast forward, in a daze, a horror-filled daze. “The young buck seems to have made an appearance, gaining confidence yet still wary. He was wearing a new coat today. He’s learning. Adapting. Although I still see the possum far more than I’d like.”
Her finger pressed fast-forward again.
“That’s it. There’s the wolf,” the man’s voice said excitedly, and Harper could only imagine what he was watching. She clenched her eyes shut. “There’s the Spartan. The soldier. The beast of all beasts. The savage.” He whooped softly and she could hear the pride contained in that sound. It disgusted her.
She pressed stop on the recorder, unable to hear anymore. Her heart was shattered. How had Jak survived this? How was he so gentle and warm and loving . . . despite this? He was no savage. Far from it. He was the one who had been savaged by cruelty and evil.
When Agent Gallagher stepped inside, his eyes darting around, his face etched in shock, she was sobbing.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Jak stepped onto Driscoll’s porch, his heart beating quickly like the flutter-fast wings of a hummingbird. He swung his bow and arrow higher up on his shoulder. I’m going to kill him. His knock echoed, ringing into the snowy air, wind snatching it up and tossing it away. But Driscoll’s car was there, and there were footprints going up his steps. He tried the doorknob and it turned in his gloved hand. Surprise made him pause.
Yes, he was going to kill Driscoll. But first, he needed answers. He needed to know why Driscoll had lied to him about the war. Why he’d given him a house and kept him out there in the faraway wilderness, alone for all his life.
Why he’d killed Pup. Taken his only friend from him. His throat felt tight. He pulled in a quick breath.
If Driscoll wasn’t home, he’d wait for him. The door creaked as it opened and the whispers hummed inside him. He took off his flat shoes and left them by the door. His hair stood up and he knew something was wrong . . . different. He sniffed the air and smelled . . . blood. Fear. Coming death. And below that, the scent of a strange campfire, something Driscoll had burned using wood Jak had never smelled before. Strong. Ashy.
His ears pricked up and he listened for a minute before stepping forward, into the almost-dark room.
The smell of blood grew stronger and he pressed himself against the wall, following it, crouching, going up on his toes, light-footed.
He heard a groan from the bedroom and moved toward it. Slow. Slow. Silent. The way he did when he moved through the forest, a deer in his sight, the arrow drawn back in his hand. He peeked around the corner, his heart slamming between his ribs, his eyes trying to understand what he saw.
Driscoll was pressed to the wall, an arrow through his chest, a lake of blood at his feet. Jak stepped into the doorway and Driscoll’s head lifted. “Jak,” he croaked. “Help me.”
He took another step inside the room, looking around for an enemy. “Who did this?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t know him . . . tall . . . man.” His breath made a high groaning sound and his face screwed up.
“You lied to me,” Jak said. “You betrayed me.”
Driscoll ignored him. “Please. Help me. You can’t move me from this wall . . . will make it . . . worse for me. Just . . . my phone.” Jak looked at the dresser where he saw the small black thing Driscoll wanted him to hand to him. He paused. Why should I help this man? He looked back at Driscoll who was watching him. Anger came into his eyes and