Expecting to Die

CHAPTER 24
S
he couldn’t breathe!
Huge hands clasped over her throat, cutting off her air. Struggling, she tried to
suck in any whisper of air, but it was impossible. The beast holding her wouldn’t
let go. And here, deep in the wilderness, no one could hear the struggle or her
strangled attempts to cry out.
No. No. No!
This couldn’t be happening!
She tried to scream, to kick, to scratch and rid herself of the manacles
surrounding her throat, holding her fast. But her assailant was strong. So damned
strong.
Help me, oh, please . . . someone help me.
But no one knew where she was, that she was in the forest at the hands of a
maniac. God, please . . .
Her lungs felt as if they would explode, her eyes bulged.
Why would he do this? Why? Frantic, she fought, throwing her weight away
from him, attempting to break his deadly hold, hoping to kick him hard in his
shins or his nuts, wherever she could lash out. To no avail. Her blows found no
mark, her stabs at breaking free only serving to make him increase his hold.
The pain in her lungs was excruciating. So much pressure and a blackness
pulled at the edges of her consciousness, a darkness that was as alluring as it was
deadly.
Don’t give up! Keep fighting. Someone will come. You’ll be saved! You can’t
die! Not like this, not when . . . the baby. Oh, God, the baby! She struggled
harder, but her mind was dulled with pain, her movements sluggish and she
knew she was on the verge of losing consciousness. If that happened, it would be
over. She would surely die at his hands.
How had she gotten here?
Why had she trusted him?
She’d been so, so foolish.
The world spun crazily. Tops of trees seemed to skim the sky. The moon,
pearlescent and shining in the darkness, the sounds of the night, the rush of wind
and buzz of insects and whir of bat wings now silent beneath the thunder of her
pulse beating in her ears, the fear that was consuming her, the infinite blackness

---

crawling into her vision.
He was going to kill her!
She’d trusted him.
Stupidly.
And now he intended to cut off her air and hold her down. Strangle her until
she passed out and . . .
She fought harder, her fingernails ripping at the backs of those steely hands,
slicing into his . . . not skin, but something covering his hands. Gloves! The son
of a bitch was wearing gloves. So that he could murder her and get away with it!
Leave no trace of his damned DNA! No way! No friggin’ way! Her thoughts
were wild, the darkness in her peripheral vision closing in.
She twisted her neck, intent on biting his arm when she heard him take a deep
breath. Then, as her burning lungs gave out and lightning bolts flashed behind
her eyes, she felt an increased pressure on her throat. Harder, stronger, and . . .
and . . . then the blackness around the edge of her vision swallowed her.
* * *
The call came in at two minutes after 5
AM
. It was still nearly dark, just the
hint of dim light filtering through the open French doors as Pescoli fumbled for
her phone. Groaning, she looked at the lit screen of her cell: A
LVAREZ
.
This was not going to be good news, she thought as the first cries of morning
birds slipped inside on a soft breeze.
“Yeah?” she answered groggily, surfacing to realize that she was alone in the
bed. She pushed herself into a sitting position and figured Santana had already
gotten up, was maybe downstairs going over book work or getting ready for
another day working not only this place but the Long ranch as well.
“We’ve got another one.”
“Another what?” Pescoli asked, staring over the mound that had once been her
trim abdomen to the view, through the open doors, of the lake. A hint of sunlight
burst over the mountains to the east. “Dead body?”
“No.”
For a second, Pescoli felt relief. “Then what?” she asked around a yawn.
“A girl scared out of her wits by Big Foot.”
“What? No. Come on.”
“Lara Haas claims she was chased by a huge, hairy monster up near Reservoir
Point. The thing tried to strangle her, but she got away.”
Pescoli rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “Wait a sec. This was when? After
the filming of the reality series? Because Sphinx’s production crew was up there

---

most of the night, until the early morning.” This wasn’t adding up. Bianca had
come in sometime around 3
AM
. Pescoli had heard the sounds of Michelle’s car’s
idling engine as she’d dropped Bianca off, then the distinctive rumble of the
garage door lifting and closing, a few soft woofs from the dogs, and finally the
sound of footsteps on the stairs. Once she’d heard her daughter’s bedroom door
open and close, Pescoli had drifted off again. She considered Lara Haas.
“Sounds like a hoax.”
“Anything involving Big Foot sounds like a hoax, but I thought since this
happened to Bianca last week, or at least something similar, you might want to
check it out.”
“Is she up there at Reservoir Point now?”
“No, she called nine-one-one. She’s pretty beat up, I guess, and ended up at
Northern General. I’m heading to the hospital now.”
“But she was at the reservoir? Is that where the . . . beast . . . chased her?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought the place was barricaded off because of the filming.”
“It is,” Alvarez said. “They slipped through the temporary fencing.”
“They?”
“Alex O’Hara was with her.”
Another member of the group who couldn’t be trusted, at least in Pescoli’s
opinion. “Barclay Sphinx is gonna be pissed if anything is missing or broken.”
“Unless there’s real evidence of Big Foot. Then he’ll be ecstatic. All that free
publicity at another sighting.”
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” she muttered. What if everything that was
happening was a big publicity stunt? But no, there was homicide involved. As
despicable as she found the producer, Pescoli didn’t believe him capable of
murder. Then again, she’d been wrong before.
“Yes,” Alvarez agreed.
“It will be tough to believe it’s a Sasquatch. Those creatures are not only
camera and people shy, they’re hairy and don’t seem to shed, it seems. And
though they presumably hunt and eat, they’re so damned tidy, they don’t leave
any evidence of their kills, not a trace. Also, I guess they don’t defecate, as no
spoor can be found. And when they die, their carcasses must go through super
rapid disintegration because their bones and teeth turn to dust in seconds flat.
Unless maybe aliens come down and whisk the corpses back to an unknown
planet in another solar system. Remind me to ask Ivor Hicks about that. He
claims the reptilians under the leadership of a General Krytor or something took
him away for a few hours to do experiments on him, if I remember correctly.”
“I’m with ya. But even so, since Bianca claims she saw something like a Big

---

Foot last week, and a girl’s body was discovered . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” All this talk of the mythical, overhyped beast was
giving Pescoli a headache. “I’m on my way. I’ll meet you at the hospital.” After
hanging up, she leaned back against the headboard for a second. What the hell
was going on? Another Big Foot sighting landing a girl in the hospital? She
couldn’t help but wonder if it was all staged, just like the reality show, all part of
some elaborate prank, or, as she’d thought before, a publicity stunt.
She pushed herself upright and rolled out of bed, then found her dreaded
maternity pants and top, dressed hastily, unlocked the safe for her sidearm, and
slipped it into her shoulder holster.
Down the hall, she passed the door to the small nursery. The door was ajar and
she cast a glance inside. The crib was already pushed into one corner, a chest of
drawers on the opposite wall. The room was painted a soft gray and nearly ready
for its tiny, as yet unborn, occupant. A huge package of diapers was still wrapped
in plastic, and on the changing table a fluffy, lop-eared bunny, a gift from one of
Pescoli’s sisters, peered at her.
It was hard to believe that within the next four weeks a new little person
would call this room home.
Oh, man. She could hardly wait.
But she wasn’t ready. Not yet.
She took a few more steps in the hallway only to stop at Bianca’s door, where
she peeked inside to find her daughter, her injured ankle elevated and resting on
a pillow, one arm flung across her face, her curly hair a tangled mess, sleeping as
if she were dead.
But she was safe.
Good. She felt a moment’s relief and closed the door.
On the stairs she was met with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Following
the scent, she maneuvered around the obstacles of three energetic dogs and
found her husband at the single-cup espresso machine, where a travel cup, the
latte still frothing, was waiting. “For you,” he said, indicating the mug. He’d
showered and was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and socks, his boots standing at
attention near the back door. “Coffee. Well, kinda.”
“You mean ‘decaf’?”
“Yep. I heard your phone. Figured you’d be down.” He handed her the cup.
“I think I need something stronger this morning, but thanks.” She took an
experimental sip. “You’re too good to me.”
“Never in doubt.”
“And so humble.”
“That’s right. So what’s up?”

---

“If you can believe it, there’s been another Big Foot attack.”
“I don’t. Believe it.”
“Me, neither. Call me a skeptic, but . . .” She took another swallow. “Mmm.”
Despite the lack of energy rush, the coffee was hot and helped get her early
morning going.
He slid her a glance. “What happened?” he asked.
“Supposedly one of the girls who was up at Reservoir Point for the filming of
that damned show was attacked. I guess all of Sphinx’s cameras, and production
people and lights and noise, didn’t scare off these incredibly shy creatures. Turns
out, maybe they were just waiting for the camera crew to show up.”
He snorted.
“But the upshot is that another girl is in the hospital, so whatever chased her
or attacked her is real. We just don’t know what it is. I’m betting it’s the same
being that chased Bianca.” She rotated the travel cup in a hand as she thought.
“Whatever’s happening is pissing me off.”
“It won’t be your problem in a few days,” he reminded her.
“Yeah, what? Just because I’m gonna have a baby, I’m gonna bail on the
investigation?”
“It’ll slow you down.”
“It’s not like I’m having major surgery, or will be laid up forever.” To his
credit, he didn’t push it. She knew she’d be off work for a while, that the first
few weeks and months would be a blur of breast feeding, and nights without
sleep, and diapers, and being so in love with the new little addition to the family
that nothing else would seem to matter. She’d been through it before and was
gladly doing it again. Just. Not. Yet.
“I’m heading to the hospital to visit the victim, Lara Haas,” she told him.
“One of Bianca’s friends. The blonde with . . .”
Was he really going to say, “The blonde with the tits?” but had thought better
of it? Men! So damned predictable. And really—so annoying.
“With the incredible body?” she supplied as he let the sentence fade. “Yeah,
that’s the one. After I chat with her, I might head back to the reservoir. See what
I can see. I guess I’ll catch you later—with all that’s going on, probably not until
tonight. Thanks for the latte.”
“I was going to say with the privileged attitude.”
She squinted at him. “Uh-huh.”
“That’s what you said,” he reminded, eyes full of mirth.
“Yeah.” She set the cup in the sink and started to turn away, but he caught her
wrist, pulled her back to face him and then kissed her as he hadn’t kissed her in a
long while. She’d expected a buss across the cheek, instead she got warm lips,

---

big hands splayed across her back, and the slickness of his tongue running over
the seam of her lips. Her resistance fled and she felt herself turning into molten
butter. Her knees nearly gave out and erotic images of the two of them played
through her mind. Santana, with a quick, intense glance, or the merest touch,
could make her think of long hours of sexual foreplay and satisfaction. It was
always erotic and sometimes, like now, frustrating.
“Not now,” she said as he lifted his head.
“Later, then.”
“A lot later. I’m pretty damned pregnant.”
“And sexy as hell.”
“Oh, man,” she said as he released her. “You are so full of it.”
“I know. But you two be careful out there.” He looked at her protruding belly.
She was smiling as she walked through the family room. The dogs, ever
hopeful for a ride, trailed after her and she left them, tails wagging, for Santana
to deal with.
Minutes later, she was driving down the lane to the main road, the lake
shimmering gold with the rising sun, stars fading as night turned to day. She
rolled down her window, smelled the scents of dry grass and dust—summer—in
the air and watched as the sun crested the hills. All the while, she tried to wrap
her head around Lara Haas’s claims. Obviously if the girl had been admitted to
the hospital, she’d been injured.