by Tim Green
“Go?” she asked, separating herself.
“To my brother’s hunting cabin,” he said. The place they’d been that summer. It was only forty minutes away, but it was deep in the woods near Shenandoah National Park. It was built on a flat spot above a deep ravine near a thundering waterfall.
Parker’s face was beginning to flush, the way it always did when he talked about his brother’s place. His voice was invigorated. “We can go there and stay there and wait until this blows over. I’ll call him.”
“Blows over?” she said. “How long are you thinking to stay?”
Parker shrugged and said, “Who knows. We’ll just stay. It’ll be great, really. You can get the kids’ schoolwork or something. I can do some hunting. We can be a family . . .”
“This isn’t . . .” she said, then stopped. “No. This is good. They’ll be safe. You’ll take the kids and keep them there . . . You’ll keep everything as normal as you can, Parker. You have to try to do that. I don’t want them upset.”
“Me? Where will you be?”
Amanda pressed her lips tightly together and pushed the strand of hair free from her eyes.
“I’ve seen what Wheeler is capable of. He’s sick. Mike Collins says he won’t go away. He says he’s coming after me. Well . . . we’ll let him come. And when he does . . . I’ll be waiting for him.”
CHAPTER 76
The Humvee was the perfect vehicle for going to the cabin. Parker pulled out onto the main road leading from their suburban development riding high. He punched the gas pedal and the big machine roared. The kids were strapped in and bouncing along with their hands holding tight to the sides of the seats. Both his guns were resting in the custom rack behind the seats, glistening with gun oil. Their gear was expertly loaded up in the back. Teddy sat up front next to Parker with his Washington Redskins blanket and a favorite pillow. Glenda sat in the back, clutching Big Bird and sneaking her pinkie into the corner of her mouth.
“Glenda,” Parker said, casting her a frown in the rearview mirror. The finger shot out. “You gonna swim in the waterfall?”
“It’s too cold, Daddy,” she said, her voice like the chirp of a small bird.
“Well,” he said, “not if we get a good sunny day it won’t be.”
“Can I shoot Marty’s BB gun?” Teddy asked, looking anxiously at his father. Marty was his cousin and the proud owner of a Daisy single-pump. Amanda said no guns for Teddy until he was twelve. When no one was around, Parker would sometimes let Teddy tote the Daisy around in the woods near the cabin.
“Yeah,” Parker said. “I don’t see why not.”
Teddy grinned broadly, clenched his fist and pumped it in the air. “Yess.”
“What do you want to do, honey, if you don’t swim?” Parker asked into the rearview mirror.
Glenda shrugged and bounced almost out of her seat when they hit a bump. She frowned.
“That’s what the seat belts are for,” Parker said, chuckling at the look on her face. Sometimes she was so much like Amanda.
“Can we have a fire tonight?” Teddy asked.
“Not outside,” Parker said. “But in the fireplace, okay.”
“Yeah,” Glenda said. “Can I light it?”
“Can I?” Teddy chimed in.
“Glenda asked first,” Parker said.
“Aww.”
“You can help.”
“But I go first, right?” Glenda asked.
“Yes,” Parker said. “You go first, but Teddy can help.”
As they headed west, the hills around them began to grow in size. The sky was cloudy but crisp and dry, and the autumn foliage blanketing the countryside was fiery orange, speckled in places with dark green pines. They took Route 66 all the way to the Riverton exit and then headed south. When they got to the dirt road that led to the cabin, Parker reached down and put the Hummer into four-wheel drive.
“Hang on,” he said, smiling. It was like an adventure.
The twisting road ran through a canopy of colorful hardwoods and climbed steadily upward until they came to the cabin. It was perched on a knoll in a stand of silver beech. A small brook ran past the back of the cabin, singing its endless babbling song. In the background the nearby waterfall hissed like a monstrous snake. The rich smell of fallen leaves riding on the fresh easterly breeze was intoxicating to Parker. He took a deep breath.
“Can we see the waterfalls?” Glenda asked.
“Sure.”
Parker held Glenda’s hand. They followed Teddy around to the back of the cabin and down a carefully groomed gravel path that led them straight through the beech trees to a small rocky bluff that overlooked the precipitous falls. The water cascaded a good hundred feet to the bottom and left a small shimmering mist in its wake.
“Stay back from the edge, Teddy,” Parker said. He always said it, even though his brother had bordered the bluff’s edge with boulders and the kids knew better than to go beyond them. The sight of the swimming hole and the rocky stream below was dizzying.
It was a sight that even the kids found fascinating.
Hugging one of the big boulders, Teddy peered up over the edge. “When can I go down that rope, Dad?” he asked.
“Never.”
“Well why?” he asked. “Why is it there then?”
“Because my brother is a . . .” Parker said. He took a deep breath. “This isn’t our place Teddy, it’s Uncle Bob’s place. He likes to do crazy things sometimes, but we’re not doing them.”
“Like ‘You don’t jump off a bridge just ’cause your friend does,’ right, Dad?” Glenda said.
“Or shimmy down a rope and drop into a swimming hole,” Parker said. “That’s right, honey. You hear that, boy? Don’t you ever.”
Parker looked at his watch. If he was going to get out in the woods, they needed to get going. He led them back to the cabin and unloaded the vehicle. By the time he had finished, Teddy already had the Daisy in hand and was lining up the stock of recyclable cans for target practice on a big moss-covered rock by the brook. Glenda went straight to work unpacking their clothes and putting them in a drawer the way Amanda would have if she were there. When they were settled in, Parker threw a can of beans in a pan and fried up some hot dogs. It was a little early for dinner, but the mountain air made them all hungry and the kids even used the ends of their hot dog rolls to wipe up the juice from the beans.
They sat at one end of a long rough wooden table that was the only delineation between the great room with its stone fireplace and the kitchen area. There was one bedroom off the great room and two more up a narrow set of stairs. Teddy emitted a loud belch, expressing his happiness with the meal and the soda their father had let them drink instead of milk.
“You’re the best, Dad,” the boy said.
“Hey,” Parker said, “I’m in my element here. We’re in the hunt camp now.”
“When’s Mommy coming?” Glenda asked.
“Oh, you know Mom,” Parker said. “She’ll be here as soon as she can. She’s got some important work.”
“’Cause this is an unexpended family vacation, right?” Glenda asked.
“That’s what it is, a little unexpected, but fun,” Parker said, pushing back from the table. “Now, I want you two to clean up here—”
“Awww.”
“You want to have a fire don’t you?” he asked. “And marshmallows?”
“Marshmallows?”
“Uh-huh, I’ve got some in my bag. I was hiding them,” he said, “but if you don’t want to help clean up . . .”
“No, we will,” Teddy said. Glenda nodded.
“Okay,” Parker said, rising and taking his camouflage coat down off a peg by the door. “I’m going out to see if I can take a nice buck before dark. You guys just get cleaned up and crumple up some paper for the fire. I’ll build it when I get back. I don’t have to tell you not to touch the matches and Teddy, you don’t use that Daisy unless I’m here. Okay?”
“Okay, Dad,” he said.
>
Parker nodded. He kissed them on the tops of their heads and took his rifle from where it rested leaning against the wall by the coats next to his beloved turkey gun.
“I’ll be back just after dark,” he said. “You stay in the cabin now. Okay?”
On the porch Parker inhaled deeply again. He took the grunt call from his pocket and tested it out. He loaded three shells into his gun and checked the safety. Then he zipped up his coat and started back up the driveway, past his glorious black machine. He walked for nearly a quarter mile, conscious of the wind and dreaming of a scent-lock suit that would enable him to hunt without worrying about the direction of the wind. The thought of a scent-lock suit made him smile.
He came to the bend in the road that was marked by a small footpath. The path only went about fifty feet before ending at the foot of a sixteen-foot ladder leading up into a box treestand. Parker climbed up and sat down on the wooden seat with his back to the trunk of the massive beech. Below to his right, and halfway down a shallow ravine, he could make out the intersection of two well-used deer trails, two muddy lines snaking through the woods in the ocean of fallen leaves. To his left, he had a clear view up the driveway before it went into the bend. Sometimes deer would walk right down the drive.
Parker brought the rifle up to his shoulder and looked through the scope. If he saw a deer, that would be a nice bonus, but the wind wasn’t quite right for this stand. He was here as a scout. If that son-of-a-bitch Wheeler somehow found them, then he would be there to greet him with his .243. Amanda wasn’t the only one capable of protecting the family. She should know that.
And as the breeze drifted through the trees, pulling random leaves free from their purchase and sending them spinning to the mat below, Parker daydreamed about that. He could see that scumbag pervert with his little black beard trying to come down this path, and him putting a bullet right between his eyes. Parker had never killed anyone or even thought of it before, but fuck this guy. These were his kids, and this was his element.
He rested the rifle in the corner and leaned forward with his forearms on the edge of the stand to listen. If Wheeler came, Parker would definitely kill him.
CHAPTER 77
Amanda put the lights on upstairs only. Downstairs, everything remained dark, even the porch light. The thought of what Wheeler was capable of made her eyes water. She had always pushed her work into a separate corner of her mind. The evil was out there. She’d seen the horrifying corpses, but it had always been in another place. She never imagined it could come to her home, threaten her family. But now that it had, she wasn’t going to go to slaughter like some dumb animal. She knew how to save herself. She walked the inside perimeter, checking locks and windows with her P40 in hand. She wanted everything open.
The front room of the house, across the foyer from their dining room, was a formal sitting room they never used. She walked across the thick gold carpet and ran her hand over the thickly woven upholstery of a large overstuffed chair tucked in the corner. It still smelled faintly new, hinting of plastic. Amanda sat down and pushed herself back into the chair, wiggling until she was comfortable. With her back to the corner, she felt safe. It was also the perfect vantage point.
Through the picture window, she could see across the front lawn all the way to the street. There was a smaller window on the wall to her right that let her look out onto the side yard. If she turned her head the other way, she could look back through another opening to the living room and the sliding glass doors that went out back. Immediately in front of her was the foyer. She could watch the front door and the stairway that led to their bedrooms. If Wheeler wanted to get at them, he’d have to cross her path of fire—and she’d have plenty of time to see him coming.
She knew the laws. An intruder in someone’s house at night could be shot and killed, and that’s what she intended to do as soon as he set a single foot inside her home. She wasn’t going to have Wheeler thrown in jail. He was a monster, dangerous, determined, and stoppable in only one way. Even if he were sentenced to a jail term for breaking and entering, he’d be out in a few months and right back after her. No, he had to be dealt with aggressively, but still within the confines of the law, and she knew how to do that.
She checked her weapon, took a breath, and began what she knew might be a long wait.
It wasn’t.
She saw a car go past that she didn’t recognize. It was slowing down. It disappeared from her sight behind a tall thick wall of lilacs and a cluster of twelve-foot blue spruce. Her palms grew damp and the knuckles wrapped around the grip of her pistol began to ache from the pressure. She focused on breathing, controlling herself. Then she saw his shadow appear from behind the black dense mass of lilacs. Only the faintest glow of moonlight shone through the clouds overhead, but it was enough for her to see his moving shape.
He was walking up the sidewalk. When he got to the driveway, he looked up and down the street before starting for the house. She could see by the tilt of his head that he was focused on the upstairs windows. Then she lost him from sight. Her heart nearly stopped. She tried to swallow. Her mouth was too dry. She listened. The doorbell rang suddenly and the sound made her jump. She stifled a cry.
Had he cut the phone line?
She sat still, determined not to give her position away. The bell rang again, and then again. He didn’t stop. She thought she’d go mad. He was trying to flush her out. She rose from the chair. She needed him to be inside the house. Then she could kill him. She had to kill him, or sooner or later he’d get her children.
Without making a sound, she inched her way across the room. The ringing stopped when she reached the foyer. She froze. He knocked, loud. She raised the gun and held it chest high at the door. If he would just open it, open it and step in.
Her hands began to shake. She leaned against the wall to steady herself, bracing her elbow. The knocking stopped. The door handle began to turn. It squeaked, stopped, and turned some more.
CHAPTER 78
Slowly, the front door began to open. Amanda backed up. Her hands were shaking badly now. She needed more support. She couldn’t get Marco out of her mind. She thought of the last man that she’d pointed a gun at, Jack Ruskin. She hadn’t been able to hold steady, hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. But she had to pull it now.
She knelt on the blue carpet and braced both hands against the molding between the foyer and the sitting room. The touch of dim yellow light spilling down the stairway from above made all the difference. The door swung the rest of the way open and there he stood, on the threshold. One more step and he was a dead man. He froze.
“Agent Lee?”
Amanda felt her hands drop. Her mouth followed. She stood up, still trembling.
“I almost killed you,” she said.
There was a silent pause as both of them absorbed the scene.
Ruskin finally said, “You’re waiting for him, aren’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You’re going to kill him.”
“I . . . You have no right,” Amanda said. “What do you want? Why are you here?”
“I came to help you,” he said. The two of them stood there, facing each other in the near darkness. She made no effort to turn the lights on.
“How can you help me?” she said. The bitterness remained.
Ruskin just looked at her.
“I’m not you,” she said. “I’m not like you.”
“I read about you,” he said. “I know what you’ve been through, the things you’ve seen. I can’t believe you even did what you did with Tupp, letting him out.”
“He was getting out anyway,” she said. “I don’t have to explain this to you. You’re a criminal.”
Jack stepped toward her. He took a gentle hold of her upper arm.
“I want to help you,” he said. “Let me.”
Amanda looked up at him. Even in the faintest light she could see the clear blue of his eyes, luminescent
amid his scraggly growth of beard and his dark cap and clothes. The phone rang.
Without a word, Amanda turned her back on him. She went down the hall and into the kitchen. The phone was on the desk.
“Hello?” she said in a hushed voice.
“Mommy?”
“Teddy, honey,” she said, panic surging through her frame, “where’s Daddy? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know, Mommy,” he said. He started to cry. “He said he’d be back and don’t worry, Mommy, but he said he’d be back at dark and it’s been dark, Mommy. Glenda’s scared.”
“Teddy, listen to me,” she said, her voice rising. “You get your sister and you get into the basement. Get inside the crawl space where Uncle Bob keeps the peaches. Go, Teddy. Go and hide. Don’t come out until Mommy gets there. Don’t come out! And don’t make a sound, honey. No matter what, don’t make a sound.”
CHAPTER 79
Wheeler was driving down the four-lane road, heading toward the park, when he braked to a stop. The big black Hummer was going the opposite way. It was like a fucking beacon. He whipped the Tahoe around but kept his distance. A fucking beacon. It was easy. Where was he going with them?
That fat-ass thought he could run and hide, hide the children. The bitch deserved to die, but first she should suffer, the way he did. Life with Hubble was like a symphony, perfect, clear, and climactic. And then she killed him.
When he got hold of those brats, he was going to do what Hubble would have done.
An angry little noise leaked out of his throat. He pricked the inside of his mouth with one of his sharpened teeth. The black vehicle got off the highway. He followed it down a rural road, keeping well back. It was so big and stupid and shiny he could let it slip from sight from time to time and then pick it back up easily. He almost lost it when it turned down the dirt road, but as he topped a rise, the glint off its back end caught his eye moving through the trees. He rolled slowly past the dirt road and then kept going.
