Down the Darkest Road

by Kylie Brant

  Chapter 90

  The truck was freezing. Dylan concentrated on loosening his bonds for the second time that night. It distracted his mind, which wanted to poke along the hem of darkness that Forrester’s final words had summoned.

  Don’t think. Just get free. The twine around his throat was tight enough to be uncomfortable. It got even tighter as he struggled with the bonds on his wrists. He scooted closer to his door to put some slack in it. And tried not to consider that he could freeze before Forrester came back. Or before anyone else found him.

  He’d seen the headlights flashing by through the side mirror. Counted at least four sets. It was the cops. Had to be. He hoped there were a lot of them. Forrester wouldn’t be taken down easily.

  Dylan had faced the window when the man had ordered him to, but he was pretty sure Forrester had put something in the back. Dylan wondered if it was a gun. He’d seen Forrester take T’s. If it was a weapon, and if Dylan could get free, he’d have some protection if the man came back.

  His wrists were sore and raw. He gritted his teeth as he continued to work them against the twine. Forrester had tied them tight, but the rope was stretched from the last time Dylan had been bound. He thought he felt some give in it.

  I never killed no one in the woods that night, although I sure as hell wanted to.

  Dylan stilled. The man was a liar. A killer. But he hadn’t killed Ethan Matthis and Chad Bahlman. T had done that. A shudder worked through his body. Didn’t mean Forrester was telling the truth about Trevor, though.

  Your mom was there that night. Maybe she killed your little friend.

  “Liar.” Dylan whispered the word. Forrester had tried to mess with his head, but nothing he said could be believed. There were only men in that clearing. Dylan had seen them.

  He redoubled his efforts on the bonds at his wrists, uncaring when his struggles dug the twine deeper into his skin. He’d gotten free before. He would again.

  There was a bit of slackness now. Flex and relax. Flex and relax. He focused on the movements in an effort to keep the slivers of images from darting through. Failed.

  What didn’t he remember about that night in the woods? A lot, he knew. He had no memory of the night they said he’d spent in that tree. A sharp pain pierced his temples. The familiar images flashed through his mind. There was Trev and him in the log. Trev dead in the creek. The boat’s light bouncing and dancing. Dylan winced at the pain. It didn’t make sense. He’d thought they’d both run to climb the tree. Was he wrong? Had they hid in the log? He knew they’d never gotten to play with the boat.

  But so much was still blacked out, as if an inky curtain had been drawn over the memories. And somehow Dylan knew that the darkness Forrester had disappeared into was no less dangerous than the shadows in his mind hiding his recollections of that night.

  Chapter 91

  Sulky clouds traced sooty fingers across the pale watery moon and smudged over the stars. Cady’s flashlight beam was a moving beacon punctuating the darkness. The only sounds were the squish of her boots plowing through the snow and the whistle of the wind cutting through the trees. The branches of the firs were heavily laden with snow. When she’d brushed too close to one, it’d dumped its load down her back.

  In the daylight, she’d appreciate the beauty of the changing landscape they passed through. But the thick stands of firs were a potential ambush spot for their target. The rocky slopes with their bare deciduous trees hid countless obstacles beneath the snow. Each time she saw one of the other beams waver wildly, it was a reminder of the treacherous ground they traveled.

  And the potential targets they presented by wielding the flashlights.

  Forrester’s trail had been easy to keep in sight but not necessarily simple to follow. The task-force members were spread over regular intervals on either side of it. But they moved more slowly than she’d have expected.

  A narrow cluster of rocks was ahead to the right of her. The shape stimulated her imagination. A kid wearing a backpack. A hunched goblin.

  A man bent with the weight of a small child on his back to prevent a volley of gunfire . . .

  The voice from the radio on her belt snapped her out of her reverie. “Air to ground. We’re five minutes out.”

  The parallel string of lights continued moving forward, the beams crossing each other as they arced side to side in a silent synchronized dance. The lights caught the frost slicked on the bark of the trees they passed, painting them silver. Slowly, inexorably, the line marched forward. Until Cady stopped. Stared at the jumbled mess of footprints before her. She reached for her radio.

  “We’ve got a problem with the trail. Everyone stop while we figure this out.”

  Chapter 92

  Bruce peered around the side of the outcropping of rock he was crouched behind and considered his options. He’d known he’d have multiple cops to deal with. Even from here, he could count the dim glow of several flashlights in the distance. They no longer seemed to be moving. Which could only mean they’d found where he’d fucked up the trail. The ploy gave him the extra few minutes he needed to lose them for good.

  Bruce crawled away from his cover, his whole body shaking from the cold. He’d yanked off a spruce branch and held it in one hand. He’d head diagonally, deeper into the firs, but in the direction of the truck. Try to sweep the branch over his footprints to blur them. Crouching down, he hurried as much as he was able, tripping once over something hidden beneath the snow. Picking himself up, he dusted off and headed forward again, throwing a look over his shoulder to see whether the lights had started moving again.

  But it wasn’t the dim beams that caught his attention. It was the unmistakable rumbling of a motor fast approaching overhead. In the next moment, he heard the rapid whop-whop-whop of chopper blades.

  A helicopter. Bruce turned and ran back toward the jagged rock formation he’d recently abandoned. For the first time this evening, he felt genuine fear.

  Chapter 93

  Shivering, Dylan felt the bonds on his wrists give way. He wrestled out of them and then unwound the twine from his throat. Rubbed the tender skin there. He scanned the surrounding area carefully. Forrester could come back. Dylan had to get out of here before he did.

  He crawled into the driver’s seat and tried to reach behind it, searching for whatever the man might have left there. He found nothing. Taking a breath, he opened the door, and frigid air rushed in. Dylan wouldn’t have considered the interior of the truck warm, but the temperature was far colder outside it. He got out of the vehicle and sank into several inches of snow. Swore. Blindly, he stuck his hand into the back. Searched the seat. Then the floor. His fingers closed around something metal. A gun. Grabbing it, he carefully scrambled back into the pickup. Slammed the door. Setting the weapon on the dash, he blew on his hands. Rubbed them together. Because his feet were now freezing, he tucked them under his body to warm them up. And decided what to do next.

  Even armed, he didn’t want to be here when Forrester got back. Dylan craned his neck to look out the back window. There was the faintest beam of light painting the pavement. Unmoving. Did that mean one of the cop cars was out there? Maybe searching for the truck? No one else would be up here in the middle of the night. He’d give it another few minutes. See if it came closer.

  His body was shaking with cold. Wrapping his arms around his middle, he pressed as close as he could to the truck’s ripped seat back. He knew from science class that he needed to create a seal of warmth.

  Trev and me pressed together in the hollowed-out log, trembling with fear.

  No, that wasn’t right. He shook his head violently. They’d run to the tree. They’d run. Dylan had looked over his shoulder, but Trev wasn’t there. Forrester had gotten him.

  I never killed no one in the woods that night, although I sure as hell wanted to.

  Liar. Nothing Forrester said could be trusted.

  Trev grabbing the backpack before we’d run away. Dylan folded both arms over his hea
d to stop the clanging that had started there. Maybe, maybe he almost remembered that. Pressing something in his hand in the hollow log. But that could have been any time they’d been in the woods. It could have been a stone. A stick. Once they’d found an arrowhead.

  But it hadn’t been an arrowhead in his bank.

  Them men are long gone. Don’t be such a pussy. Look how far we’ve come. Put it in here.

  The voice rang through his memory like a long-ago echo. Dylan’s head was hammering. His gut heaving. Go back to the house if you’re so scared. But I’m playing with it.

  He began to rock, attempting to suppress the nausea in his stomach. Dylan tried to picture the rope swing. He and Trev swinging out over the creek.

  But only Trev’s picture would form. Lying there in the creek, his eyes wide and staring as the dark water whispered around him.

  Chapter 94

  “The pilot will start from where we picked up the trail again.” Cady had to raise her voice to be heard above the sound of the helicopter as she spoke through the radio. “Once Forrester is spotted, we’ll triangulate the area and converge on him from all sides, if possible. Remember he’ll be armed.”

  She could have added that a man like Bruce Forrester was unlikely to surrender. He’d relish taking as many down with him as he could. But it wasn’t necessary. Every task-force member here knew what they were up against. And none of them was leaving until the man was in cuffs or dead.

  Everyone adjusted their night-vision goggles into place. They’d need them to see the thermal imaging laser pointer the pilot would use when the FLIR pinpointed Forrester’s position. The lasers on their rifles would pick up their target. And seal Forrester’s fate.

  The chopper moved away slowly. Sometimes it rose, and other times it lowered close enough to the ground that she could feel the rush of wind from the rotors. If Forrester was still around—and Cady didn’t know how the man could have made it back to the road yet—the pilot would find him.

  The search team moved again in tandem, more swiftly now that they didn’t have to search every possible hiding place along the way.

  The pilot spoke over the radio. “Air to ground. FLIR can’t see through trees. You’ll have to check out the stands of spruce yourselves. Thirty degrees to the left of team member one.” Cady looked at Miguel on her right. He was already moving toward her. From the bob and weave of flashlight beams, she knew the line of searchers was reforming. She slipped the rifle off her shoulder as she kept her beam pointed at her feet. One by one, the lights switched off as the members closed in around the trees. If Forrester was hiding there, no use providing him with targets.

  Cady approached silently, crouching behind a spruce, trying to see between the snow-capped branches. Forrester could be behind any of the trees. Beneath one. Crouching under it.

  She looked for tracks. Not seeing any, she turned sideways to sidle between two of the firs, nearly jumping when her movement caused one icy branch to sweep across her neck. Crouching down, Cady flicked on her flashlight again, sweeping the beam from one tree to another beneath the lower branches. Yellow eyes peered out at her. In one smooth movement, she had her weapon up and trained.

  Deer. Cady released a breath, only then aware of the racing of her heart. Reaching for the radio, she murmured into it, “A family of deer beneath one of the spruces.”

  “Yeah, I see it.” Miguel.

  A few minutes later, having searched more thoroughly, the team moved away from the firs and reformed their grid line search formation. As they trudged forward, she saw the tracks of something besides the man they followed. A big cat. Mountain lion maybe. Perhaps it’d find Forrester before they did.

  Light snow began to fall, the flakes dancing on the breeze. Cady was long past the point of being able to appreciate the view. Her fingers were beginning to stiffen even inside the gloves. Every so often, she’d raise one gloved hand to warm her nose. If it began to snow in earnest—and if the wind picked up—they’d lose Forrester’s trail. And likely their aerial support. She was acutely aware that their window of opportunity was limited by the chopper’s fuel tank.

  “Air to ground. We have a target.” Urgency sprinted up Cady’s spine at the pilot’s voice. “The rock formation thirty degrees to the left of position one. Target is actively hiding in the brush pile on a ledge behind it. Watch your step. There’s a helluva drop three feet farther back.”

  Once again, the line of team members turned as one. As they got nearer, Cady could see the unmistakable laser pointer visible with her goggles. She looked for cover for their approach. She wanted to get as close to the rock formation as she could manage. A single spruce stood near it, but only some boulders and scrub brush would shield them on their way to the fir.

  The chopper slowly orbited to gain a different vantage point.

  “Positions one and two to the right of the formation,” she said quietly into the radio. “Three and four to the left. Five, six, seven take the perimeter.” Silently, the members moved toward their positions.

  “Air to ground. Target is moving. Pushing aside the brush. Holding a handgun.”

  The ground beneath the snow grew rockier. Cady and Miguel ran to crouch behind one boulder. Then another. She held out a hand. Counted down from three. They ran in tandem to the spruce. Belly-crawled beneath it. It provided good cover. But to get a visual of Forrester, they’d have to get parallel to him.

  Cady looked at Miguel. Motioned. He nodded, and they began moving toward a boulder twenty feet from the rock formation, mindful of the cliff the pilot had mentioned.

  Her cell vibrated in her pocket. She dug it out, her gloved fingers fumbling a little. Saw a number she didn’t recognize on the screen. Not the one Dylan had called from. She almost ignored it. But recognition flickered. It was one of Forrester’s numbers. And Fielding had admitted sharing Cady’s phone number with him.

  She connected, holding the cell to her ear but saying nothing. There was breathing on the other side. Maybe a sound that could have been teeth chattering. Then a voice she didn’t recognize, shouting over the sound of the helicopter. “Marshal fucking Maddix.”

  One hand crept to the radio on her belt. Turned down the volume. “Bruce Forrester?”

  “You out there?”

  She waved to get Miguel’s attention. Pointed to the phone she held, then the rocks to the left of them. He needed no other hints. His hand went to the radio on his belt.

  “You know I am. There are a lot of us here. You’re surrounded. Throw out your weapon. Come out with your hands behind your head.” She crouched behind a mound of rocks. Peered around it. She still didn’t have a view of behind the formation.

  “That’s not my only option.”

  “It’s your best option. You can survive this thing.” The falling snow was heavier now. If Forrester was on the ledge, his footing would be even more precarious. “Who wouldn’t choose life?”

  “Maybe you’re smarter than the average cop. But that’s not saying much.”

  “Air to ground. Target is holding something in each hand.” The pilot’s voice came over the radio. “Weapon. And something smaller. A phone, maybe.”

  Cady gave a tight smile. She looked at Miguel, pointed to the edge of the formation. Made a motion to indicate for them to draw closer. He shook his head violently.

  “I didn’t kill them kids, you know.”

  “My warrants are for drug charges. Abduction. We can talk about the rest. I want to hear your side of things.”

  “You don’t lie any better than your cop friends.”

  “You’re going to freeze out here.” The chopper was low. She had to raise her voice to be heard over its noise. “You likely won’t last the night.” She didn’t know how he was dressed, but he wouldn’t have had time to prepare for an escape.

  “I tell you what, Marshal. Why don’t you come back here and bring me out? If I see you—only you—I’ll come in quietly.”

  “Show good faith first. Throw out your weapo
n. East or west, your choice.” Miguel belly-crawled over to her. Indicated for her to put the man on speakerphone. Cady did so.

  “Lost my gun when I took a fall down a hill a while back. I’ve got nothing to show you.”

  Liar. The pilot had already sighted it. “Then put your arms behind your head and walk slowly toward me.”

  “I had plans for you, you know.” There was something dark in the man’s tone. A wet, syrupy evil. “I really needed to watch the life leave your eyes.”

  Ice skated over her skin. “I’m going to have to disappoint you on that. Come out now, Bruce. No one has to die tonight.”

  “Someone always has to die, Marshal. Tell your friends I’m coming out. I’m not armed. Don’t let one of these bastards shoot me.”

  Miguel quietly relayed the information to the team, except for the lie about being unarmed. She watched him point to the left. Understood that Rossi was in position. He stabbed a finger to his chest and then gestured toward the right. She nodded, and he crawled over to get in position to cover her.

  She shifted the cell to her left hand. “Slow and easy, Bruce. The rocks are slippery.” She shifted her rifle. Aimed for the spot where he’d emerge from the formation.

  “Air to ground. Target is moving toward the east. Still armed.”

  A moment after the pilot’s warning, a bullet pinged off the rock Cady’s head was resting against. In quick succession, she heard one hit near where Miguel was stationed. She returned fire. There was a steady exchange of gunfire for a couple of minutes. Then it stopped as suddenly as it had begun. In the silence that followed, Cady wiped the snowflakes from her face and peered around the rock. If she could get parallel to him, she’d have a shot. But only if the position didn’t threaten Rossi on his other side.

  Almost in tandem with that thought came the pilot’s voice. “Air to ground. Target is descending the side of the cliff.”