Samuel didn’t let go and pulled on Caleb’s arm without ceasing.

  “I’m not leaving you behind,” he said.

  One final attempt and Samuel had Caleb up, supporting him with the healthy arm as they hobbled across the small clearing toward the hollow.

  “Did you get a look at the archer?” Samuel asked when they reached the opening in the tree, panting as they dropped down in front of it. The opening was barely big enough for the two of them as they squeezed in.

  Caleb shook his head, his face contorted with fresh bouts of pain as his father pressed in next to him.

  Another arrow slammed into the tree just above their heads, the sound of it piercing the bark reverberating like a compressed spring.

  “That was too close, we can’t stay here,” Samuel said as he ducked lower inside the hollow. The arrow lodged in his shoulder caught on the edge of the tree as he shifted and he groaned in agony.

  “You go, get help, and save Rachel. I’ll only slow us down with my leg like this,” Caleb said as their eyes met.

  “Then we both stay. I’m not leaving my son behind.”

  Samuel’s eyes softened and his beard twitched ever so slightly at the corners of his mouth. Quickly he turned his head away and glanced sideways at the arrow in his shoulder, a welcome distraction from the awkward silence that now hung between them.

  “You need to break off the arrow. Don’t pull it out, just snap it at the shaft as close to my shoulder as you can,” he told Caleb.

  Caleb nodded and without hesitating, wrapped his hands around the wooden shaft of the arrow.

  “Lower, closer to my arm, just don’t move it around too much.”

  Caleb did as his father said, flinching as he broke the arrow mere inches from the bleeding wound.

  Twigs snapped from somewhere behind the tree. Both men froze in place, each holding their breath as they anticipated the killer coming around the tree at any moment. Only, instead of the sound of another arrow breaking the deadly silence around them, a single gunshot echoed through the forest.

  Surprised, they waited in silence, each too scared to move. When silence revealed nothing about what was happening around them, Samuel carefully peered out from behind the tree. In the distance hidden behind a tree, he spotted the gunman, his weapon pointing toward an empty space not far from where they were hiding.

  “It’s the sheriff,” Samuel announced as he sank back into the hollow.

  Moments later they heard Angus’ voice bellow in their direction.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot!”

  From inside the hollow of the tree, Caleb and Samuel heard the commotion as Angus chased after the archer, footsteps thumping on the forest floor. When the sound faded into one set of stomping, they knew the attacker was running away. This time Caleb poked his head around the tree, catching a glimpse of Angus as he ran off into the forest.

  “He’s going after the attacker,” Caleb said.

  Samuel was up on his feet first, bending down to help Caleb.

  “Now’s our chance to get away,” he said. “Hurry!”

  The pair had barely gained any distance when Angus came running toward them.

  “Are you okay?” he asked when he met up with them.

  “We’ll live,” Samuel said, his eyes shut where he now leaned back against the tree trunk clutching his injured arm.

  “I take it he got away,” Caleb asked to which Angus replied, “my deputies are still out there looking for him.

  The look on Angus’ face as he stared at the broken off arrow in Samuel’s shoulder told Caleb something was amiss.

  Almost immediately, Angus called for medical assistance over his radio.

  “I can tell something is wrong. What is it?” Caleb asked.

  “How long have you been walking around with the arrow in your shoulder?” Angus asked Samuel, his eyes searching his face.

  Samuel shrugged one shoulder under a grimace of pain.

  “How long, Mr. Beiler?” Angus pressed him, his voice urgent.

  “I don’t know. It happened so quickly,” Samuel responded, his tone irritated. “Why does it matter anyway?”

  “It’s important so take a guess.”

  “About ten minutes, Sheriff, maybe more,” Caleb interjected.

  “And you?” Angus pushed his chin out toward the specks of blood across Caleb’s knee.

  “This morning sometime, but I think it’s just a scrape. Although it burns like fire, and I can’t use it much.”

  Angus moved around to Caleb’s knee and carefully tore open the tiny hole in his jeans. There was very little blood but his knee was big and swollen and blistering white fluid had built up and covered his entire knee.

  “That doesn’t look good,” Samuel said as he craned his neck to see.

  “You’re not looking too good yourself, Mr. Beiler. It’ll be better if both of you sit back down. Help is on the way so let’s just sit tight here for a minute, and try to keep still,” Angus said.

  “Keep still? You’re joking, right?” Samuel said, frustrated. “There’s no time to sit still and wait for help, I’m fine. You can take care of Caleb, but I need to keep going. Rachel won’t survive another night once the sun goes down.”

  A frown pulled across Angus’ brow.

  “You’re not going anywhere. This is a lot more serious than you know.”

  “I’ll be fine, it’s just an arrow, not a bullet, Sheriff. I’m a farmer. Believe me, we are quite used to treating injuries without the intervention of modern medicine.”

  “Not this one, I’m afraid. You’re going to need to trust me, Mr. Beiler. If this is what I suspect it is, the two of you are lucky to still be alive. Now please, do as I say and keep as still as you can. The less you move the better.”

  “What’s going on?” Caleb asked, suspicious that Angus wasn’t telling them everything.

  But Angus ignored his question and was already dialing a number on his cellphone. He took a few steps away from them, staring worriedly off into the forest to make his call.

  “I think we’ve run into a problem,” Caleb and Samuel heard him say. “I have two men who both got shot by an arrow, one still has it lodged in his shoulder. How long do we have? More importantly, is there an antidote?”

  The look on his father’s face told Caleb that his ears didn’t deceive him and that he too had heard what the sheriff said.

  “Antidote? What are you talking about, Sheriff?” Caleb hurled the question at Angus when he had ended his call and turned back around to face them.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Angus felt uneasy as he stared into Caleb’s eyes. Everything about this case made him anxious and he had no control over any of it. It was as if every door to finding a resolution slammed shut in his face, kicking him out into a pit of darkness.

  “We deserve to know what’s going on,” Caleb pleaded.

  “I know, and I’m sorry. I want nothing more than to give you all the answers you need but the truth is, we are no closer to finding Rachel than we are to finding out who killed Dr. Fisher or Mr. Lapp.”

  “Then why are we sitting around here waiting for better days?” Samuel asked. “We should be out there looking for Rachel, or chase after the crazy guy who just tried to kill us!”

  “Neither of you are in any condition to go chasing after him through the forest. I’m only taking precautions.”

  “Precautions for what exactly? Out with it, Sheriff. What’s going on?” Samuel urged.

  Angus picked his words carefully.

  “We believe that the person responsible for Dr. Fisher’s and Mr. Lapp’s deaths used an exotic poison to kill them.”

  “Okay, so what? What does that have to do with finding Rachel, with us, with this?” Samuel pushed his injured shoulder towards Angus.

  Angus had his hands on his hips, inwardly arguing with himself about how much he should divulge about the case.

  “I might be completely wrong right now, but like I said before, I’m not taking any chances,” he started. “We have reason to believe that the specific type of poison in question is one that is used by the native Amazonian people for when they go hunting. It’s highly toxic and takes effect quickly, killing its target on contact.”

  “We’re not exactly standing in the rainforest here, Sheriff,” Caleb remarked.

  “The Amazonian people apply the poison to the tips of their arrows.” His eyes lingered on the arrow in Samuel’s shoulder.

  “Are you saying we’re going to die?” Caleb asked looking concerned.

  “I’m praying you don’t, Caleb. Dr. Delaney is fairly certain you would have died by now if you had come into contact with the same poison that killed Dr. Fisher and Mr. Lapp.”

  Samuel pushed himself up against the nearby tree, his eyes stormy from under his bushy brows.

  “You are insane, Sheriff,” he said. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been in these woods, you know, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that there are no Amazonian natives wandering around in the forest shooting poisonous arrows at people. Now, you can wait here all you want until your English doctors get here to help my son, but I am going to find my daughter before it’s too late.”

  He turned and started walking off into the forest, clutching his arm while he searched between the shadows.

  “It’s not safe out here, Mr. Beiler!” Angus yelled after him.

  Samuel turned and scoffed.

  “I’m the one standing here with an arrow through my shoulder. Don’t you think I know that, Sheriff? My daughter needs me, and I will not stand back like the coward I once was and do nothing. Not this time.”

  His eyes met Caleb’s before he turned around and continued walking.

  “What if the killer is your daughter, Mr. Beiler? Have you stopped to think about that?” Angus continued, his insides roiling with angst.

  His question brought Samuel to a halt where he paused for a brief moment then turned and rushed toward Angus, his face as dark as the dusk shadows around them.

  “Are you accusing my daughter of murder, Sheriff Reid? Tell me I didn’t just hear you say that my child is a cold-blooded killer.” He pushed his bearded face closer to Angus’.

  “I’m not accusing anyone of murder yet, but I cannot deny the facts of this case. Rachel was the last one to see the doctor alive. I also have reason to believe that a woman made the footprints that were left behind in the snow behind Mr. Lapp’s barn, and the person I just chased off into the forest could easily have been her for all we know. So, you tell me, Mr. Beiler, is there any reason your daughter might have wanted those men dead?”

  Samuel’s face was red with anger.

  “She’s my daughter, my flesh and blood. Even if she did have a good enough reason to want to see those men punished for their sins, why would she hunt me down, her own father? You’re wrong, Sheriff. Rachel has a lot to be angry about, but I assure you she’s not the one you are looking for.”

  Angus stared down into Samuel Beiler’s eyes. They were the eyes of a father desperate to find and defend his daughter, but more than that, they were hiding a secret only Samuel knew.

  “You know something, don’t you, Mr. Beiler?”

  Samuel turned his face and walked away, stopping in an open clearing between the trees.

  “Tell him, Father, for Rachel’s sake,” Caleb pleaded.

  But even with the short distance between them, he could see his father’s lips press together in silence under his thick beard.

  “Dr. Fisher sexually assaulted my sister,” Caleb blurted out. “That’s what he did, cloaked it under his so-called medical treatments. As for Mr. Lapp, he and several others have been acting out their perverse pleasures for years, using their religious position over women to keep them quiet.”

  Caleb stopped to observe his father’s face, fearing he was treading the same thin line he crossed all those years ago when he made this very accusation to the bishop. But to his surprise, his father turned to face him, his eyes revealing sadness instead of wrath.

  “I know,” Angus replied with dejected tone.

  “You know? How?” Samuel said as he spun around to face Angus.

  “Your wife told me. It seems she once fell victim to the same fate.”

  Hurt sat shallow in Samuel’s eyes as he took in the words Angus spoke. It was as if all life drained from Samuel’s face in one foul sweep of the tongue.

  “I’m sorry, I just assumed you knew,” Angus said as he watched Samuel walk off toward the river.

  But then Samuel stopped, his eyes now fixed to his son’s face.

  “I did know but I buried my head in the sand, turned my back on it, on them.

  Samuel’s voice was thick with sorrow where he stood alone between the trees several yards away from them. Clutching his injured arm, his chin up toward the gray skies, he spoke out loud as if he was asking God Himself.

  “How could I let this happen to my wife and daughter? I was supposed to protect my family, instead allowed this secret to tear our family apart. It’s my fault. I should have stood up for the truth and the integrity of my wife, my daughter. I failed them. I failed my son, and I failed God.”

  And as Angus and Caleb watched the agonizing heartbreak of a broken man play out in front of them, a twig snapped next to Samuel.

  The attacker jumped out from behind a nearby tree and wedged a large hunting knife against Samuel’s throat.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Angus pulled his gun and aimed it directly at the attacker who now stood behind Samuel, his arms curled around Samuel’s shoulders, the blade pushing up against his neck. From behind the dirty rags that draped around his head covering everything except his eyes, he stared fiercely at Angus.

  Angus held his position, his gun pointed firmly toward the assailant. Samuel groaned as the man tightened his grip around his shoulders and pulled his head back toward the folds of the filthy cloth that concealed his identity.

  “Let him go,” Angus said, his eyes locked to the wild man’s gaze.

  His warning did nothing but antagonize the attacker even more, evident by the way he pulled back harder on Samuel’s body. Angus didn’t ease up either, fully convinced the man would back off.

  Except he didn’t. Nor did he flinch. His body showed no fear. He remained sturdy and planted firmly behind Samuel as if he’d rehearsed the scene a thousand times. Eager to find his weakness, Angus studied the man’s clothing. His dark green trousers were made from thick corduroy that frayed at the hems as age had worn them down. On his upper body he wore an oversized padded men’s flannel bomber jacket, the once bright yellow checkered blocks dulled by years of dirt. A bow draped loosely over one shoulder, flanked by the strap of a cross-body leather satchel that rested on his hip. Covering his hands were dirt-stained fingerless knitted gloves, the once beige color barely recognizable as they too had seen better days. When Angus directed his attention to the man’s hands, he noticed that the one across Samuel’s chest was missing several digits. One of his fingers was entirely missing; three were short stumps of different lengths. They looked scrawny, like they belonged to someone who was underfed. When the attacker saw that Angus was staring at his deformed hand he growled like an ape man, uttering sounds instead of words, tugging and shuffling Samuel’s body as if to force Angus to look elsewhere.

  “Just let him go, okay. No one wants to get hurt here today,” Angus attempted to defuse the situation.

  But still, the attacker didn’t budge.

  From where Caleb sat against the tree, he yelled at the madman.

  “Let my father go! He’s old, take me and finish the job you started this morning.”

  Angus wanted to tell Caleb to be quiet but when he spotted the curious look in the attacker’s eyes where he now looked full into Caleb’s face, something told him to let it play out. A tense minute went by, each armed man holding his stance, waiting for his opponent to back down.

  “Why are you doing this? What do you want with us?” Caleb asked, hoping to negotiate the dire situation in their favor.

  But his question did the opposite and he watched in agony as the man yanked the knife away from his father’s throat and flipped it into a stabbing position. His fingers tightened over the handle, gripping it with vigor where he now pointed the blade at Samuel’s heart.

  Caleb gasped in horror.

  Angus warned at the same time.

  “That would be a wrong move on your part. If you stab him, you will have no time to dodge the bullet from my gun, and from experience I can assure you, you will have as much chance of surviving a bullet in the chest as he would getting stabbed by your knife. Trust me, it’s not worth it.”

  Angus paused, assessed the effect of his warning as he waited for the man to react.

  When he didn’t, the knife in his hand still hovering dangerously close to Samuel’s chest, Angus repeated Caleb’s question.

  “What do you want with him? Why were you trying to kill them? We can talk about this, without our weapons. I can help you.”

  Once again, the untamed man growled, this time following the wild grunt with a higher pitched scream as if he was frustrated with something. Realizing the voice wasn’t male, Angus studied his jacket more closely. It was the same person he had chased into the woods earlier.

  “Put the knife down and let’s talk, Rachel,” he ventured, but noticed the wrinkle between her eyes as her brows pulled closer.

  The knife was back up against Samuel’s throat.

  “Rachel? Is it you?” Samuel asked with a gentle voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. Please, put the knife down so we can talk.”

  The woman ignored him and instead, shuffled them in unison toward Caleb, shielding her body with Samuel’s. When she stopped in front of Caleb, she looked down at his face.

  Silent, sitting against the tree, Caleb met her gaze.

  “I see you still haven’t grown a spine,” she spoke for the first time, her words muffled by the draped cloth over her face.

  “That hurts, Rachel, considering we haven’t seen each other in years,” Caleb said, desperate to help defuse the situation.