He willed her to wake up. She didn't move. He considered whether to take her to the hospital now. He had no phone so he couldn't call. He'd even left his cell phone at home. It was late. He didn't know where the hospital was, how far. And he didn't know who had done this to her, who'd abused and beaten her, or where they were. No, tomorrow he'd take her, and he'd stay with her. He wouldn't leave her alone. Tomorrow, he'd drive with her to the sheriff. There had to be a sheriff in Dillinger. Tonight he'd take care of her himself. If she awoke, if she was hurting, then he'd take her to the hospital, no matter what the hour. But not now.

Had she saved herself, escaped somehow, and run into the forest? Had she tripped on a root or a rock and struck her head? Or had the monster who'd hurt her dumped her, leaving her to die in the forest? He leaned over her and gently ran his fingers over her head. He couldn't feel any lumps. The pulse in her throat was still slow and steady.

If she had escaped the man who'd done this to her, that meant he was still out there looking for her. Of course he'd known this in his gut when he'd brought her into the cabin and that was why he'd locked the door. He checked his Browning Savage 99 lever action rifle. It was already chambered with a.243 Win.

On the table by the sofa was his Smith & Wesson.357 Magnum revolver. He loved that gun, had since his father had given it to him on his fourteenth birthday and taught him how to use it. It was called the Black Magic because of its black finish on stainless steel. He liked to shoot it, but he'd never used it on a person.

He picked it up. It was fully loaded, as always. He looked toward the door, the revolver in his hand, gauging the distance there.