“We’d already moved to LA by the time they learned to drive. Um, I remember Mom and Dad worrying all the time.”
“About their driving?” Where was KC headed with her story?
“Sort of. About driving while black.”
“While bl… Oh, I get it. Because they’re African-American.”
“Yes. My folks cautioned us all the time that when we were behind the wheel, we must obey all the traffic laws. Don’t give any cop a reason to pull us over. Especially at night.”
“I’ve obviously never had to worry about anything like that. Must have been—”
“No one can understand unless they’ve faced that reality. In my dreams, Bear and George are arrested, and I never see them again.”
A burden no one should have to carry. Cooper squeezed KC’s shoulder but kept his words and thoughts to himself.
Thirty minutes later, he stopped, his knee on fire. “This is a waste of time. You go on to the cabin. For all we know, Barbara has already left her place, with or without Sadie and the children. You need to alert the authorities and provide details of Barbara and the sedan.”
“I’m not leaving you, Coop. The cabin is real close. I can taste the smoke.”
She’d called him Coop. But he couldn’t dwell on the significance, if there was any. His shortness of breath concerned him. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he sank to the ground. Thankful a wisp of fog hid his physical appearance from KC’s discerning gaze, he shoved his pack aside and stretched out on his back. “Please go.”
“No. The cabin is literally around the corner. I see a spread of gravel. Must be the driveway.” She held out her hand. “Come on. Up you get.”
Expending every ounce of residual strength, he rose from the ground, biting his lip, and hanging onto KC’s arm. Sweat trickled down his back and beaded on his forehead.
They stepped onto the gravel.
“I know you’re there,” a female hollered. “Come out where I can see you.”
32
Feet frozen in place, KC flinched as Coop’s fingers dug into her shoulder. She scanned the surroundings. Who had spoken?
The outline of a stone cabin loomed through the mist. A tan pickup straddled the path leading to the front steps, but no human was in sight.
“Find cover,” Coop whispered and stumbled backward.
Of course. How naïve of her to stand exposed at the edge of the driveway. She ducked behind a line of flowering shrubs. The sweet scent masked the acrid smell of chimney smoke.
“Do you see anyone?” she mouthed to Coop standing sideways behind a cluster of thin trees.
He shook his head.
Where was the woman?
Footsteps crunched on gravel.
Breath on hold, KC peeked through the foliage to see a figure with a rifle slung over a shoulder pass their hiding spot. The second shooter?
The person stopped and turned their direction, shoving hands on hips.
A brunette dressed in blue jeans, a dark jacket, and wool cap.
She reminded KC of someone.
Seconds snailed by. Had they been discovered?
The stranger let out a massive sigh, pivoted, and marched to the cabin. She stormed through the door and slammed it behind her. Voices penetrated the gray fog.
KC stood. “I wonder who she was looking for? If she knew we were here, she wouldn’t have given up so easily. Why didn’t you want her to see us? We could ask for her help.”
Coop gestured toward the cabin. “Gut hunch. I don’t like the fact she’s parading around, armed. Let’s check them out. There are at least two people in there. We’ll head for the east wall where there’s more vegetation. No need to remind you to keep out of sight.” He skirted the shrubs and hobbled along the grassy verge to his position.
Where had Coop’s newfound strength come from?
Low to the ground, KC dashed to join him without making a sound.
Two women argued inside. One sounded very much like Barbara. Although the tone and volume of their words indicated anger or frustration, KC couldn’t understand all of the conversation. She did distinguish several names. Hers, Coop’s. And Sadie’s. Her name was used in the present tense. She was alive! Coop’s skepticism paid off.
Coop acknowledged the inference by giving KC a thumbs-up and a smile. He drew close to her ear. “I think that’s Barbara, which means the other cabin is most likely unguarded. There must be a path between the two residences. Go. Rescue Sadie.”
“Good idea.”
He prodded her shoulder. “Hurry. And be careful.”
Drawing in a big breath, KC turned right, searching the brush for any sign of a path. Yes, there, beyond the line of sage shrubs. She gathered speed as she followed the rough track through the thick vegetation. If only they’d found the path sooner.
The distant rumble of water sent a prickly shiver across KC’s shoulders. She buttoned her jacket, although no amount of clothing could ease her dread. She had to cross the river again, but it sounded different, way more violent than the stream they’d forded. She licked her dry lips. Oh, for a glass of iced tea. The thought was a momentary distraction until the increasing thunderous sounds ahead slowed KC’s steps.
One hand clutching the rifle strap, the other fisted, she rounded a curve and braked. The ravine Barbara had mentioned gaped ahead. Holding onto a sturdy branch, KC peered over the rim. Draped in shadows, the chasm appeared bottomless, and the ragged, steep sides hindered a descent without climbing gear.
There had to be a way across. Otherwise, how did Barbara make it?
KC scouted along the north edge. The crude path petered out after a hundred yards. Would she have to trek through the virgin bush all the way back to the place where she and Coop had crossed? No, that would take up valuable time, and without the compass or aid from the sun’s position, she’d risk getting lost, in spite of her usual good sense of direction. There had to be an easier way.
She retraced her steps to her original spot and then followed the river south. The depth of the ravine increased. If she’d brought the rope from Coop’s backpack, she could sling it over a branch and swing across like Tarzan. Ha. Not likely. Even if she could block out the noise from the river, there were no sturdy trees along the bank. Wiping her forehead, she halted. Think, girl.
Above the thrashing of the water, a woman’s voice wafted on the cool gust of air.
KC hid in a thicket and searched the brush to her right, left. Nothing suspicious. She couldn’t decipher the words, but she was confident Barbara uttered them. Yelled, to be precise.
There, a flash of maroon. The jacket she’d seen in Barbara’s bedroom.
If the woman was headed back to the cabin, KC could follow her, maybe subdue her along the way. As quietly as possible, she proceeded along the path. Barbara kept up a litany of complaints. At least that’s what it sounded like to KC. Good. Her irritated voice helped cover any noise KC might make.
Close to a spot where the ravine turned sharply, Barbara slowed, cocked her head.
In case Barbara had heard her, KC slid behind a clump of trees and readied the rifle. Seconds trickled by like molasses. KC’s heartbeat thumped in her ears as loud as the river. On full alert, she dared to peek.
Barbara stood still. Then she shrugged before striding along the bank.
Exhaling, KC hung her head. Thank You for protecting me, Father. Please lead me safely to Sadie.
Convinced she’d been following Barbara too closely, KC kept her distance this time. Occasional glimpses of maroon were enough to reinforce her strategy.
However, after traipsing along the path for five minutes without a sign of Barbara, KC increased her pace. All to no avail. The woman had disappeared. Concerned Barbara might ambush her, KC hunkered down, attentive to any movement. Any sound.
Nothing except chattering birds and the thrashing water.
KC stood, rifle aimed. At least Barbara hadn’t been carrying the shotgun.
She crept along the l
eaf-covered path. No footprints to follow, but her prey must have gone that way. The sound of the water changed again, less wild. KC ventured another look. The ravine appeared to be twice as wide. But she still had no way to cross.
And no way to ask Coop for advice. Coop. When had she reverted back to using her nickname for him? No matter. He’d always be her Coop.
There was only one option—continue along the river, even if it meant a confrontation with Barbara.
Thirty yards farther on, KC spied a weathered, wooden bench parked near a small, quaint signpost. Drawing closer, she ignored the painted squirrel and flowers, and concentrated on the faded directions. Two arrows, one pointed north, the way she’d come. The other pointed east, toward Barbara’s cabin.
KC turned.
A rope and plank bridge spanned the ravine.
Oh, dear Lord, no. Clutching a handful of jacket over her heart, she swayed. No way could she venture across that rickety contraption. She’d seen videos of people attempting such a feat and had witnessed bridges twisting and dumping their occupants into the water. Or ancient planks snapping in two. Frayed ropes disintegrating. She sank to the ground, gasping. Her hand shook as she swiped at sweat beads on her forehead. When she needed Coop’s encouragement most, he was beyond reach. But she imagined what he might say. “You can do this, KC. You must get to the cabin and help Sadie. I’ll hold your hand…”
If only he could.
KC eased upright, straightened her shoulders, and grasped the ropes. Yes. She might never have kids of her own, but she could save Hannah and Zach. Give me courage, dear Lord. A tentative step onto the first plank. Then another. Success, so far. The roiling in her stomach matched the raging water she spied between the planks. She focused on the far bank but had to glance down to locate the next plank. Switching her gaze back and forth made her dizzy. Ignore the river, keep your eyes on the boards.
Halfway across, the trembling from her insides seemed to radiate through her body to her hands, to the rope guides. The bridge began to wobble. No, no. Her worst fear was about to come true—being dumped into the river. She stood still, hoping the action would calm her, and hence slow the swaying of the medieval torture device she attempted to conquer. Huffing air in and out, she concentrated on the opposite end.
After a millennium, the bridge settled, and she relaxed her grip on the guides. A bee or wasp hovered round her face. Better to be stung than to release her hold and flip into the ravine. You’ve made it this far, KC. You can do it. She heard Coop’s words as clearly as if he’d been on the bank, beckoning her. She closed her eyes for a second. Coop’s image appeared. Strong, confident. Ruggedly handsome. Stop. Her eyes opened. Can’t think about him that way, not in the middle—literally—of this awful situation. Take the next step, and the next. The end of the ordeal was in sight.
The sun popped out from behind the layer of clouds. Dappled shadows played on the wall of the ravine, on the bridge.
KC counted the remaining planks. Ten. Shouldn’t take long.
A muffled cry echoed over the brush.
Blood pounded in KC’s head.
Adult hollering accompanied the child’s wailing.
The grating sound of the person’s yells drew ever nearer.
KC had no time to ponder her predicament. She almost sprinted over the planks, making it to the bank without the bridge shuddering once. Was that the secret? Move quickly, and not at the snail pace she’d used at first? She squeezed into a grove of waist-high shrubs, readied the rifle, and waited for only a few seconds.
Rustling leaves, a frantic squeal.
Barbara appeared to her right. “So you thought you could get away from me. Not likely, kid. Let’s go.” The woman held squirming Hannah by the arm.
33
For the umpteenth time, Cooper regretted leaving the personal communicators charging on his desk. His only excuse—he and KC were supposed to be on a training exercise, not a rescue mission. And she had already shown proficiency with their use when they helped Representative Franklin and his son. However, without the devices, he couldn’t warn KC that Barbara left the stone cabin. Although she had tromped farther south before veering left, he was certain Barbara was headed to the same location as his partner. Would they meet? He had to rely on KC’s instincts and intense instruction to either avoid the confrontation or to overpower the woman.
The creak of the front door opening jarred Cooper’s thoughts back to his own predicament. He peered around the corner of the house as the brunette lugged two suitcases down the steps and dumped them beside the four-door pickup. She pressed the remote, then opened the driver’s side door and tossed the keys onto the seat, muttering the whole time.
Cooper caught every other word or so, enough to alert him to the woman’s anger. The diatribe continued while she stowed the cases in the cab. She made three more trips, each time her arms loaded with plastic bags, small totes, or boxes. Why so much baggage? And, where was her rifle?
The cabin door remained open—this one opening inward—and he couldn’t gain access to the porch. On the lookout for any opportunity to subdue her, Cooper readied his cane for a surprise attack, but she thwarted his plan by trudging around the truck and disappearing behind the cabin.
Five seconds, ten. Cooper inched closer to the vehicle, opened the door and snatched the keys. Perfect deterrent. Using the handrail and his cane, he climbed the steps and sneaked inside the cabin. The woman would probably return to lock up, and that’s when he’d take her out.
He rested against the wall and smiled. Not take her out exactly, but at least nix the possibility of her meeting up with Barbara.
The unmistakable stinging odor of ammonia wafted toward him. A string mop rested against a blue plastic bucket on the kitchen floor. Housecleaning, no doubt.
While waiting, he scanned the living room. A sleeve of crackers and several water bottles spilled out of a paper sack on the table. Reminded of his hunger and thirst, he removed his pack and stuffed in all the bottles it would hold and added the crackers on top. He’d indulge once the brunette was under his control. No sign of the rifle.
Had she taken a different route to the other cabin? Cooper checked his watch. Eleven thirty. He’d wait ten minutes. Then he’d set out after her.
Another visual sweep of the room. He spied a clear plastic toiletries bag on the counter containing what looked like medication bottles. No sight or sound of the woman. Cooper opened the bag. Prescriptions for an antidepressant, sleeping pills, and allergy relief, and buried under them all, a container of over-the-counter extra strength anti-inflammatory meds. Aha. That should ease his pain. He tapped out two tablets, then pocketed the rest. No telling when he’d receive medical treatment. After gulping down half a bottle of water with the pills, he returned to the door and hid behind it, pack slung over one shoulder, shotgun over the other. His patience was rewarded within minutes.
Words of frustration, colored by a cuss word or two, accompanied footsteps clomping toward the door.
As a figure darkened the doorway, he stuck out his cane.
The brunette toppled over the stout piece of wood, verbally lashing out as she landed face-down. “What in the—?”
He poked her in the back with the shotgun. She turned over, and he gasped. Barbara with dark hair. But he’d seen her leave minutes after KC. No time to iron out the confusion. “Who are you?” He leaned against the table. No way did he want to advertise his vulnerability.
She glared at him.
Not Barbara, but a striking resemblance. Could she be the sister Barbara mentioned? “What’s your name?”
“I don’t have to talk to you.” Her voice could have cut steel. Daggers flashed from her dark eyes.
Wow. Angry was too mild a word for her tone.
“You’re right, but you will have to talk to the authorities eventually.”
He frowned at her grin. What did she know that he didn’t? Hackles up, he glanced outside. Nothing suspicious.
Shotgun
aimed at her, he slid his pack off onto the table, reached inside and removed a coil of climbing rope. “Get up slowly and sit over there.” He jutted his chin toward the chair opposite him. For a couple of seconds, he thought she wouldn’t cooperate, but she pushed to her knees, stood, and, eyes on the weapon, stepped to the chair.
Aware of how anger can fuel a person’s strength, Cooper followed her progress closely, prepared for any sudden movement. But she scooted out the chair and sat, arms folded.
One hand grasping the rope, the other aiming the shotgun, he approached her. She held his gaze, a smirk souring her expression.
“Put your arms behind the chair.” He dropped the rope onto the table, freeing one end.
“Make me.”
Had she noticed his limp? Of course.
Her grin broadened.
She had no idea how her expression fired up his resolve. Bum knee or not, he wouldn’t allow this Barbara-lookalike to best him. In one less-than-fluid motion, he swung the shotgun aside, then snatched the rope and lunged toward her. He intended to wind the rope around her torso, folded arms and all, but she set her feet on the table and shoved backward.
The woman sprang up and swung a fist in the direction of his face. Her harder-than-expected punch landed on his chest, which ordinarily wouldn’t have fazed him, but the force threw him off balance. He tottered a few steps before grabbing the table edge.
Teeth bared, she charged at him, arms flailing wildly. This time, her fist caught him in the solar plexus. He doubled over for a second, feigning discomfort.
As she rushed at him again, he seized her shoulders, twisted her around and wrapped his forearm against her neck, gently squeezing. No match for his superior size and strength, she quit struggling, but drove him backward until his knees buckled.
Unable to brace his fall, he landed on his back with the woman held in front of him. Temporarily winded, he gasped in air. His captive didn’t move. Was she pretending to be unconscious?
With caution, he released his hold and wriggled free. The brunette remained still. While falling, his arm must have tightened around her throat, cutting off her oxygen supply. He placed two fingers against her carotid artery. A pulse tickled his fingers. He let out a sigh. No matter her possible involvement in Sadie’s abduction, he didn’t want a casualty on his hands.
Justice at Dawn Page 17
