CHAPTER TWENTY
CASEY SLOWLY AWOKE. She lay bound in a cave. Her head was pounding in pain, and memories dripped down into her awakening consciousness. She’d gone into the thickets to locate the Frisbee. A hand had shot out of nowhere and clamped over her mouth. In seconds, she was pulled back against a big man with garlic on his breath. She struggled, her scream suffocated by his hand. Casey felt the biting sting of a needle entering her upper arm through her jacket. And then…blackness.
Until now. She forced herself to look around even though the violent pain in her head made her wince. Whatever was in the needle had knocked her out cold within a minute. She recalled struggling, the man’s breath fetid as he dragged her backward. The sunlight was barely on the other hill across the valley. Where was she? Who had done this? Looking around, she realized she was alone. And it was getting colder.
Looking at her hands, Casey groggily realized they were bound with duct tape. And so were her ankles. Her fingers were numb and she flexed them. The tape was so tight that it had cut off much of the blood supply to them. Frightened, Casey realized someone would come back. And then what? The last event where she’d been attacked roared back to her. And then, rage followed.
The rage was real. Casey sat up and shook her head to clear it, determined to escape. The cave was barely ten feet in depth, about six feet wide and eight feet high. The ground was dry. After looking around, her heart pounding with fear and anger, Casey lay down on her side. Maneuvering her fingers to her right pocket, she sought and found her Buck knife that she always carried. To her relief, it was still there. Whoever had captured her hadn’t done a body search.
Casey unsnapped the leather case. With uncoordinated and torturous movements over the next five minutes, she managed to pull the knife out. Groaning softly, she pushed herself into a sitting position once more. Glancing apprehensively at the cave entrance, she strained to press hard enough to pop the blade from its casing. It took several frustrating minutes but she accomplished it. The knife dropped to the dirt, a small dust cloud rising in its wake. Groaning, her head pounding with pain, Casey picked it up and anchored it between her hands. In three quick slices, her ankles were free.
It wasn’t going to be as easy to get her hands free. Breathing coming in gasps, Casey was fueled by righteous rage. She was never going to allow any man ever to hurt her again! Forcing herself to her knees, she settled the Buck knife between them so that the blade lay up and available. With careful movements, she sliced through the tape after a number of attempts.
The moment her hands were free, she ripped off the sticky tape and disgustedly threw it aside. Grabbing the knife and holding it close to her side, Casey forced herself to her feet. Instantly, dizziness attacked her and her knees buckled. She fell unceremoniously to the dirt floor with an “Oomph!”
No! No! I have to get out of here! He’ll be coming back! Oh, God, give me the strength to run away! Breath coming in explosions, Casey got to her hands and knees, the knife clenched in her fist. If she couldn’t walk, she’d crawl!
Making it to the lip of the cave, Casey quickly looked around. This cave was at least a thousand feet higher than where she and Matt and Megan had been. Below her was a beautiful and bright coverlet of red, yellow and orange deciduous trees interspersed with the dark evergreens. She saw no humans.
Looking around, Casey felt alarm and fear. She had to leave this place! But where was she? Her mind was fuzzy. She wasn’t thinking clearly and she knew it was the drug that had been given to her. Rage continued to clear her mind, though, and she lifted her chin. The Tetons were on one side of the huge valley. Casey was familiar with the other side and quickly realized that she wasn’t that far from where she’d been attacked.
Grunting, Casey heaved herself to her feet. The cave sat on a talus slope of nothing but rocks, large and small. She realized she was at about the ten-thousand-foot level where no trees would grow. And, even worse, Casey realized this could be the cave home of a grizzly bear. Not. Good. Legs shaking, she gripped the rock wall and forced herself out of her prison.
She hadn’t gone more than a few wobbling steps down the slope when she slipped and fell. With a groan, Casey rolled a good ten feet, the biting rocks striking and bruising her. Fearfully looking around, the knife still clutched in her hand, Casey watched for her attacker to reappear. She knew it was a man. The cloying smell of the garlic hung in the cave. Taking a ragged breath, she got to her feet, legs wide to try and compensate for her lack of balance.
With each step down the talus slope, Casey felt a little stronger, her head a little clearer. Looking at her watch, she realized a good hour had passed since the attack. Who had done this to her? And why? Breathing raggedly, she pushed herself. Casey wanted to get to the line of trees far below. If she could reach it, she could fade into the forest and not be seen as easily. Up here on the rocky, vertical slope, she was an obvious target to man and grizzly alike.
Where was her attacker? Why had she been targeted? Was this a man from her past? No, it couldn’t be; all five of those men were in prison, each serving a ten-year sentence. Had one of them escaped? And abruptly, Casey recalled Gwen Garner warning her about Frank Benson. She’d brought her a photo of the man, a murderer who had been in prison, at a later date. Casey didn’t know him. But was he the one stalking her now? His face was heavy, his eyes black and lifeless. Scared now, she threw out her arms to try and balance herself. Her feet skidded across the finer gravel and she wobbled unsteadily from side to side.
Her mind worked sporadically. One moment, she was thinking clearly, the next, her balance was gone and she couldn’t think her way out of a paper bag. Frustrated, yet fueled by rage that this had happened to her again, Casey resolved to push on toward the safety of the tree line.
And then, in a moment of clarity, Casey realized that Matt and Megan must be terrified by her disappearance. Her love for Matt overwhelmed her. Casey sobbed. Just as quickly, she forced back her emotions. Right now, she had to survive this and run away from whoever her attacker was. And she knew he had to be around. Somewhere. But where?
Her mind dove down into filmy, disparate elements again. Her balance dissolved and she fell. This time, Casey pitched forward. She threw her arms out in front of her. The knife was knocked out of her hand as her wrist hit a rock. She had fallen hard and then slid several feet before slowing to a halt. Breathing in ragged gasps, Casey scrambled to her hands and knees. She lunged up the slope and recovered her knife. There was no way she was going to be without some kind of protection. Ever since her first attack, Casey always carried this knife. Now she was so glad she had it. Grabbing it in her bloodied and bruised fingers, she turned around.
Her mind cleared again. It was as if her body was trying to purge itself of the effects of the drug. Almost in a tidelike fashion, Casey could count on thirty seconds of clarity followed by thirty seconds of feeling like a rag mop with no coordination or balance. She labored knowing this, and when she felt the drug hit her again, she slowed her descent. Each time her mind focused again, her legs were stronger and her balance more sure. Then she would rush down the slope. The rocks tumbled around her as she took advantage of those moments.
Finally, breathing explosively, Casey dove into the tree line. Leaning her back up against a huge ever green, Casey tried to quiet her rasping gasp. The forest was silent. She heard nothing. Not even a bird, but at this time of year, there weren’t many around because it was time to fly south. Realizing her eyesight was coming and going as well, Casey felt rage tunnel through her. Whoever had done this to her meant to hurt her.
Rubbing the elbow that she’d bruised in a fall, Casey kept the knife in her hand and aimed herself down the slope toward where she knew the oval meadow was located. As she moved, she tried not to step on any branches that would crack and make a noise. Her senses were so raw that she felt fear more than anger right now. Where was her attacker? Had he seen her escape? Was he on his way to recapture her? Mouth compressed for a mome
nt, Casey knew she wasn’t going to let that happen. Her hand tightened around the knife. She’d kill the son of a bitch before he’d ever touch her. The resolve was so powerful that when it flowed through Casey it gave her a surge of instant strength.
She began to trot instead of walk. The moments of clarity lengthened as she wove drunkenly in and around the trees. The pine needles made the slope slippery and sometimes she fell. Every time, Casey pushed herself back up, looked around and then continued down the steep incline.
Suddenly, Casey heard the thump, thump, thump of someone running behind her. Gasping, she jerked her head around and looked behind her. There! Her eyes widened. A cry erupted from her.
A tall man in camo gear, pistol in his hand, his eyes focused on her, was charging toward her! His narrow face was emphasized by his short, black hair, fierce-looking brown eyes filled with anger and his thin, determined mouth. Casey recognized him as Frank Benson. He was a murderer!
Digging the toes of her boots into the slippery pine needles, Casey hurtled down the slope. She wove in and out of the trees, her breath exploding. Hurry! Hurry! Tripping on a limb, Casey flew forward. She caught herself. Steadied. Hurry! She had no idea of where to go except toward the meadow. Her mind focused only on surviving. The slope began to be less steep. She ran faster. The thump, thump, thump was coming closer! Adrenaline shot through Casey. The memory of her last attack by a group of men gave wings to her feet as she ran to the breaking point.
And then, a shot was fired. The tree she had just passed exploded with flying bits of bark.
Casey gave a cry, and threw up her hand to protect her face from the flying debris. Hurry! Benson was trying to kill her! Why was he doing this to her? That question jammed into her head as she raced down the slope. Somewhere in her shattered senses, Casey knew he’d have a hard time hitting her because of the trees. She continued to weave and bob around them.
And then ahead, she saw the thickets where she’d been captured by this killer. With a scream, Casey began to call for help. Someone had to hear her! She launched herself into the thickets. Instantly, the brush snapped and whipped around her face and body. Casey didn’t feel anything. All she wanted to do was escape and get to the meadow!
“DID YOU HEAR THAT?” sheriff’s deputy Cade Garner said to Matt. They were standing near the tent that had been erected in the meadow. Right now, rangers and deputies were fanned out in teams of two in an effort to locate Casey Cantrell.
Matt was shrugging into his pack when his friend asked the question. He’d already spent a fruitless hour searching to the south with another team and had just come back for more water and supplies before he went out in another direction. “No? What did you hear?” He saw Garner’s profile looking grim. And he was looking north.
“A gunshot. I’d swear it,” Cade answered, unsnapping his holster and pulling out his firearm. “Come on!” He bolted toward the thickets.
Matt didn’t hesitate. In a moment, they were striding toward the wall.
He heard another shot.
And a scream.
“That’s Casey!” Matt roared, racing past the deputy.
No one was more surprised than Matt when Casey came bursting out of the thickets. He saw the terror in her face, her hands outspread, the knife in one, as she flew through the last of the brush.
“Stay down!” Garner shouted to her. In seconds, he was lunging into the thicket, gun held high.
Matt skidded to a halt as Casey fell and rolled into the meadow. She was bleeding from her hands. Her cheek was scratched. The terror in her eyes gripped his heart.
“Casey!” Matt shouted, and quickly dropped to his knees where she had fallen onto her stomach.
Gasping, Casey screamed, “Frank Benson’s after me! He’s a murderer.” She rolled to a sitting position, jabbing her finger in the same direction Garner had gone.
Matt gripped her and instantly shielded her with his body. Several shots were fired. The gunfire was sharp. And then…silence.
Breathing hard, Casey gripped Matt’s jacket, looking toward the thicket. “Oh, God, Matt. The man’s name is Benson. He drugged me in the bushes. I woke up with my hands and feet tied in a cave about one thousand feet above the meadow. Go help Cade!”
“Stay here,” Matt rasped, leaping to his feet. He ran into the thickets. When he pushed out the other side, he saw Cade Garner standing over a man in a camo suit. He was getting his handcuffs out from behind his belt. Whoever the stranger was, he was wounded and not giving Garner any trouble.
Running up to the deputy, Matt said, “Casey says this is Frank Benson. He’s a murderer.” He spotted the man’s weapon farther up the slope where Cade had shot him. He glanced over at his friend. The sheriff’s deputy was all business, his face grim, his mouth taut as he ordered the stranger to turn over on his stomach to be cuffed.
“I’ll be damned—Frank Benson,” Garner snarled, slipping the cuffs on the man. “We’ve got a rap sheet on you.” Once done, he holstered his weapon. “Help me get him to his feet. I winged him.”
Nodding, Matt gripped the stranger’s camo jacket and together, they hauled him to his feet. Matt saw blood leaking out of the jacket near Benson’s right shoulder. The convict glared at him.
“Hold him,” Cade ordered. “I’m getting his weapon.” He trotted up the slope to retrieve it.
Anger tunneled through Matt. Benson was still breathing hard, his thin mouth working, the air filled with a barrage of curses. He had tried to kill Casey. Why? And then, Matt felt rage so powerful and lethal that he shoved the killer toward Garner. Benson stumbled but righted himself. The deputy gripped him by the shoulder.
“Let’s go, Benson, you have a date with the hospital and then jail,” he snarled and read him his Miranda rights as he shoved him down the hill.
Casey was sitting in the meadow with two other deputies. She saw Benson in custody, the grim look on Cade Garner’s face. Matt met her gaze and she saw the banked rage in his eyes. He had his hand on the killer’s other shoulder. A paramedic quickly checked the prisoner’s upper-arm wound, then, saying the wound was superficial, she pointed down below, to the trailhead. Together, Matt and Cade roughly forced Benson down the trail that led to the parking lot far below. There, he would be cared for by another paramedic and taken to the hospital for further treatment. She pulled the radio from her waist belt and gave a report to her partner waiting with the ambulance down at the trailhead.
Sitting there, Casey began to shake. Matt came and knelt by her side, his hand on her shoulder. The paramedic signed off her radio, turned and focused on her, then hurried over to where Casey sat.
“Hey, Casey, are you okay?” she asked, kneeling down in front of her with her bag. “I’m Brenda Parsons. My partner, Peggy, is down at the trailhead waiting for that creep. I called her to let her know he was slightly wounded.”
Tears began to come to Casey’s eyes. She felt the protection of Matt and the gentle touch of his hand on her arm. “I—I— Yes, I’m okay.” She held up her hands. “They’re a little worse for wear, but I’m okay. Really, I am…” She battled back more tears.
“Let me see,” Brenda said gently. She began her systematic examination of Casey from head to toe. Matt dug into his pack and brought out a thermos.
“Can she have some coffee, Brenda?” he asked.
“You bet.” Brenda smiled. “Casey? You feel like a belt of good, hot, black coffee?”
“Y-yes,” Casey said, giving Matt a look of thanks. He handed her the cap of the thermos filled with hot coffee. She was going to live. She had survived. Looking around as she held the cup in both hands, she whispered, “My God, that man is a convict and murderer. He drugged me, tied me up in a bear cave. When I escaped, he tried to kill me, Brenda.”
“He’s not going to hurt you anymore,” Brenda said, opening her case. She already had her gloves on and she brought out gauze and gently wiped the blood off Casey’s cheek. “Cade will take him back to the jail after his visit to the hosp
ital.” She frowned. “Do you guys know this dude?” She looked at the two deputies who flanked them.
The tall, lean deputy with black hair and green eyes standing nearby said, “We just had a photo of Benson passed around the department this morning.”
Brenda gave Casey a smile. “How are you feeling? I know you said he drugged you up.”
“Better every minute,” Casey murmured, gratefully sipping the black coffee. As she sat there, the reality that she could now be dead hit her. The coffee burned her tongue. She was alive. Alive! And Matt’s presence was a huge comfort.
Brenda took one of her hands and washed off the blood and expertly applied antibiotic ointment to the scratches. “As soon as I’m done we’ll walk you back to the parking lot, and get you to the hospital.”
“I don’t need a hospital, Brenda. I’m fine. All I really want,” Casey said in a trembling voice, “is to be home with Matt and Megan. That’s all.” Matt squeezed her arm and gave her a tender look.
“Honey,” Brenda said in a husky chuckle, “they’ll need a blood sample from you first, for this case.”
“What about Megan?” Casey asked, beginning to look around. She realized now there were a lot of people in the meadow. One of the deputies had called off the search and she saw several knots of hikers returning. Realizing they had all been looking for her made Casey feel better.
“Right after you disappeared,” Matt told her, “I looked about twenty minutes for you. Megan got scared because you’d disappeared. I was forced to take her down to the parking lot, but not before I called in your disappearance to the fire department and the sheriff’s office. One of the other officers took Megan back home. My sister, Jessie, met them there and she’s caring for her right now. She’s okay, Casey.”
Relief shot through her. “Why did this guy Benson do this? I don’t understand.”
Deadly Silence Page 23
