Excerpt of In The Dark by Chris Patchell

Prologue

The heavy gate groaned shut. After engaging the lock, he
pulled the backpack out of his Jeep and slung it over his
shoulder. It was a rare fall day in the Pacific
Northwest, and he planned to take full advantage of the
good weather.

He had work to do.

He walked a quarter of a mile along the fence line and
stopped. Then he pulled a “No Trespassing” sign from the
pack and propped it against the fence. With a few sure
strokes of a hammer, he nailed it to the post. The dull
blows echoed in the quiet woods.

Branches and fallen leaves popped and crackled beneath
his feet as he worked his way methodically along the
ridge, checking the barbed wire fence for gaps. The
cinnamon smell of the turning leaves was a sure sign that
hunting season would soon begin, and he couldn’t afford
to have strangers stumbling onto his property.

He nailed the last sign to the post.

There. That should keep the bastards out.

He turned and started down the rugged trail carved into
the steep hillside. A couple of hundred feet below, the
valley floor glimmered like an emerald in the late-day
sun. Three cabins stood in the clearing beside the Tolt
River. A half dozen more were scattered along the upper
ridge, overlooking Lake Langlois.

The place had been a youth camp once, before the drowning
of a teenage girl had destroyed its reputation. Afterward
the camp had closed and the cabins had fallen into
disrepair.

It was a shame, really. He had fond memories of the
place. While his father had spent the summer basking in
an alcoholic haze, he’d spent it exploring the woods, far
away from his father’s violent mood swings. By any
measure it was a win-win.

Dappled sunlight shone through the thick canopy of
branches overhead. He loved days like this. Alone in the
woods, he felt at peace with the world.

A scream rent the air, shattering the stillness of the
afternoon.

It was shrill. Human.

Crows fled the safety of the trees, a torrent of black
wings flooding the blue sky. Heart racing, he started to
run. The uneven ground slid beneath his boots. Branches
slapped at his face, and he ran faster, driven on by her
panicked cries.

The valley floor was muddy after the long weeks of rain.
The spongy earth slowed his pace as he raced toward the
river.

Another scream. Louder.

“Help me. Oh God. Please.”

It was coming from the cabin farthest from the water’s
edge.

His boots pounded up the wooden steps. Hinges squawked in
protest as he crashed through the door.

The stench hit him hard—stale sweat and human waste. His
stomach churned.

At first he could see nothing, his eyes blinded in the
dim light. Then her slender form materialized out of the
darkness—a slip of a girl, barely more than a hundred
pounds. She was standing near the center of the room, her
hands bound behind her back. A soiled University of

Washington T-shirt hanging from her skinny frame. Pink
panties. And nothing else.

The relief on her face froze the instant she spotted him.
A small sob escaped her lips. She stepped back,
retreating into the shadows.

As if she could hide.

“Now, Kim,” he said. “What was the rule?”

Her jaw worked, but no sound emerged. She took another
pitiful step back, her wide eyes brimming with fear.

“What was the rule?”

His voice boomed in the small cabin. She flinched like a
beaten dog.

“No calling out,” she mumbled.

“I can’t hear you. What’s the rule?”

“No calling out.”

“No calling out,” he repeated, smiling thinly. “That’s
right. You leave me no choice.”

“Please,” she said, voice trembling, tears leaking from
her eyes. “I’ll do better, I promise.

I promise . . .”

He stepped toward her, his tread echoing on the bare
plank floor. She shrank back, trembling, and stumbled
over the bucket. Without her hands to stop her, she
crashed to the floor.

He stopped. His six-foot frame loomed above her. She
averted her gaze, looking anywhere but at him.

This will not do.

He hunkered down and gripped her narrow chin, forcing her
gaze to meet his.

“Please,” she whispered.

Her mouth trembled.

“Aw, princess,” he said, running his thumb slowly across
her swollen bottom lip. “I’m afraid it’s too late for
that.”

He reached down and unbuckled his belt.