by D P Lyle
“And heads in jars.”
“That’s too creepy for words.”
“I never liked him much,” Rankin said.
“I know.”
“A fancy pants. And spoiled.”
Cutler laughed. “Last time his name came up you called him a pussy.”
“That, too,” Rankin said. “It’s a strange rock we live on.”
He turned onto Hank Dixon’s street and rolled to a stop in front of his house.
“Looks dark,” Cutler said.
“Don’t see his truck.”
“Or his boat. Doesn’t he usually park it over there by the garage?”
“Yep.”
“You think he’s with Tyler and Norris? Out on the lake?”
Rankin looked at her. “Good place to dump bodies.”
“I hate it when you’re right.”
“Happens a lot.” He grinned.
“Occasionally.”
“I’ll take that.”
“Okay,” Cutler said. “Let’s say that’s their plan. Where would they go?”
“The lake’s a hundred and seventy miles long. Stretches all the way to Winchester. A ton of hidden coves and out-of-the-way places.”
Cutler considered that. “Where do you think they’d put in? We could start there.”
“Not down by the marina,” Rankin said. “That’d be too risky.”
“Nearest other place is Cooper’s Landing.”
Cooper’s Landing was five miles up the road from Moss Landing. Named after Jonathan Cooper who had owned the land before his death decades earlier. It wasn’t really a landing. No dock or anything like that. Just a gravel lot off the county road that possessed ample parking and angled down to the lake. Place where fishermen and boaters could easily slide their rigs into the water.
“Want to check it out?” Rankin said.
“Probably should.”
Ten minutes later they arrived. It was dark, no one around. Typical for this time of night. Particularly in rain like this.
Made seeing Hank Dixon’s truck and boat trailer, and Tyler’s SUV, even more ominous.
“I really, really hate it when your hunches are right,” Cutler said.
“This time I do, too.” Rankin aimed his car out toward the water, cranked up the high beams. “See anything?”
“A lake.”
“We need a boat.”
“And some idea where to look.”
Rankin pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call my cousin Tommy Earl. He’s got a nice boat.”
“It’s late. He might not appreciate it.”
“He’s up. He watches old movies all night.” He bounced an eyebrow. “When he ain’t out doing some night fishing.”
“Do it.”
CHAPTER 68
Shivers racked Chelsie’s entire body, chattering her teeth. Even her joints ached. The coldness of the damp soil penetrated deeply inside. Or was it the smothering fear that sent electric ripples through her?
Rain battered the trees, dribbles splatted against her cover, seeping inside, adding to her misery. She tried to ignore all of it, even the insects that crawled over her legs, body, one even trying to invade her nose.
She had thought she’d never be in a worse situation than that cage. But this might be it.
How long had it been? Seemed hours. How much longer could she lay here?
A hard shiver shook her. Her hands and feet felt numb.
What if Harper and Cain had been killed? The three men hunting her would eventually find her, wouldn’t they? They had plenty of time. She had seen no signs of life when she stepped off the boat and into this isolated world.
How big was this island? Was there a way off?
Would someone else come to rescue her? Did anyone ever come here?
They had told her to stay put, isolated, buried. Said that she shouldn’t move, much less crawl free from this frigid cocoon.
But if they had been killed? What then?
She had heard nothing. No footsteps, no conversations, nothing. No one had come anywhere near where she lay.
An insect bit her calf, causing her to jump.
She couldn’t do it. Not just lay here and wait. She’d freeze to death if nothing else.
She sat up and began brushing the leaves and pine needles from her. She stood. Dirt and debris matted her hair, invaded her clothing, prickling her flesh. She shook her hair out.
Lightning pulsed above the trees, followed quickly by a peel of throaty thunder. She looked around. Which way should she go?
She sensed the boat was behind her. But was it? They had run this way and that, right and left, up and down, all seemingly random. And in the dark. If this was indeed an island, any direction would bring her to a shoreline. But, so what? Swim? To were? How far? She wasn’t that good of a swimmer. Never really liked water. Never felt comfortable in it. Even a pool. And here? A lake? Middle of the night in a thunder storm?
Tears pushed against her eyes.
No, Chelsie. Don’t break. You’ve come this far. Move. Go anywhere but don’t just stand here.
She chose what she believed to be forward, away from where the boat was docked. Maybe the far end of the island offered hope. Maybe it wasn’t an island at all.
She had covered only a hundred yards, max, when she sensed movement. Up ahead in the trees. She froze. Even her breathing halted.
Was it Cain or Harper? The police? How would they know what was going on? Should she call out to them?
No. Best to be cautious. She crouched, crab-walked behind a small pine. It offered essentially no cover but it’s all she saw.
The footsteps advanced toward her. A form emerged among the trees. A vague outline, no details. Male, female, who? She couldn’t tell. Her chest ached. She could feel her heart hammering so hard that it was almost audible.
The shadow pushed between the final two trees and stepped into the clear. Only fifteen feet away.
Her heart flipped and sank. It was him.
“There you are.” He smiled.
Her head swiveled, searching for an escape. She coiled, ready to run. When her gaze returned to him, he directed his crossbow at her.
“You take one step, and I’ll kill you.”
“Please?”
Tyler smiled. “Looks like I win the big prize.”
CHAPTER 69
Tommy Earl’s boat was indeed a nice fishing rig. And he knew how to handle it. Once Cutler and Rankin were on board, he gunned it out into the lake, bucking the washboard surface as if he’d done it a thousand times. Probably had.
The canvas-topped bridge was tight, just spacious enough for the three of them, but it provided cover from the hammering rain. Lightning streaked the sky but the wind had diminished somewhat.
“Nice night for a boat ride, ain’t it?” Tommy Earl said.
“Not exactly my idea of fun,” Cutler said.
Tommy Earl laughed. “I figure we’d start by running the far side of the lake. It’s fairly narrow here, and there aren’t many houses on the north shore along this stretch. Seems to me if they’re looking for a place to hide out or whatever, it’d be over on the north side. I mean, if you ain’t going to cross the lake, why would you need a boat?”
That made sense to Cutler and she said so.
Tims Ford Lake was one of the most beautiful lakes anyone was likely to see. Long and narrow with a disordered—almost randomly so—shoreline, pocked with finger-like inlets, shallow coves, and a few small islands. It stretched over a hundred and seventy miles from Lynchburg to Winchester. Though there were many pockets of civilization, mainly clusters of cabins, and some impressively larger homes, it was mostly free of habitation. The thick forests that surrounded it draped over the slopes and extended down to the shoreline.
Finding a single boat that was likely secreted in one of the many undulations, seemed an impossible task. Especially at night in this weather. Cutler wasn’t optimistic. But the truth was she saw no other options. She no lo
nger had doubts that Tyler, Dixon, and Norris were in this together and they now had Cain and Harper, and the missing girl, with them. She also harbored no illusions about the fact that they would kill all three of them. Probably bury or deep six the bodies. They had to now. Too late to backtrack.
When they approached the far side, a hundred yards offshore, Tommy Lee turned east. Rankin used a pair of binoculars to scan the shoreline. Cutler did the same, sans binoculars.
The minutes dripped by. The rain slackened some and the storm seemed to move to the west, now distant flickers and rumbles.
“I got a searchlight mounted up front if you want to use that,” Tommy Earl said.
Cutler considered it. “No. They’d be able to see it for miles. Know where we are.”
“And who we are,” Rankin added. “Even if they hear or see the boat they’ll just think it’s someone out fishing or something.”
“In this weather? Fishing?” Cutler said.
“I would,” Tommy Earl said.
More minutes melted away. Cutler’s pessimism grew.
But sometimes the proverbial ‘needle in the haystack’ rises from the straw.
“Got something,” Rankin said. He pointed and handed the binocs to Cutler. “Look along the east end of that spit of land. She did.
“It’s a boat,” Cutler said.
Tommy Earl cut the throttle, let the boat glide to a stop. “That there’s a little island,” he said. “Good fishing on the north and west sides of it.”
They were three to four hundred yards away. The boat a tiny, ghost-like blur.
“Get closer,” Cutler said.
Tommy Earl eased the throttle forward and turned that way. He again slowed, coming to a stop when they were a hundred yards away.
Rankin had the glasses again. “I don’t see anyone. Boat’s backed up to the shore.” He lowered the binocs and looked at Cutler. “What do you want to do?”
“How big is this island?”
“Not very,” Tommy Earl said.
She nodded. “Let’s take a lap. See what’s what.”
“We got time for that?” Rankin asked. “I mean, they have hostages.”
“They have prey,” Cutler said. “They’re hunting.” She scanned the island’s silhouette. “And the perfect hunting grounds. No escape.”
“So maybe we should go on in,” Rankin said.
“Might just walk into a trap,” Cutler said. She nudged Tommy Earl’s shoulder. “Give us the scenic tour.”
CHAPTER 70
Cain crept through the trees, Harper just off his left shoulder. Back toward where Chelsie waited. Now that there was only Tyler to track down, getting her back in the fold was critical. If they ran across Tyler in the process, so much the better.
They each held a crossbow and each had a Glock stuffed in their waistbands. The advantage was now theirs. Tyler was no hunter. Other than hunting down naked and barefoot women, he possessed none of the needed skills. Cain and Harper did. Each had tracked more dangerous targets in much more hostile environments. Still, Cain knew that in any such mission, surprises were the wild cards. In many ways, amateurs were more dangerous than pros. Less predictable. Would do things that made no sense. But that would sometimes work.
Such was the case when they reached Chelsie’s burial spot.
She was gone.
“You think he found her?” Harper whispered.
“Or she got impatient and left. Looking for us, or some path to escape.”
“Which means we no longer have a free-fire zone.”
True. Meant that before taking Tyler down, they had to be sure it was him and not Chelsie. No shooting at shadows.
“Which way?” Harper asked.
Cain scanned a three-hundred-and-sixty degree circle. “With someone like her, it’s a guess, but I think she’d head away from the boat.”
“I agree.”
They turned west.
Three minutes later, they heard voices. Ahead. They couldn’t make out what was being said. They eased forward until the voices became clear. They stopped, crouched.
“Please.” Chelsie.
“Please what?” Tyler.
Cain laid the bow on the ground and pulled the Glock. Harper followed suit. Cain slid a couple of feet to his left. He could see them through the branches of a pine tree. Chelsie on her knees, facing his way; Tyler behind her, gun in hand, pointing to the back of her head. Dicey.
“I won’t tell anyone,” Chelsie said.
“I know. As soon as Hank and Ted get here, maybe I’ll give you another chance to run.”
“What if they don’t? What if they’re dead?”
Tyler chuckled. “I think they can handle themselves. Against a couple of citified P.I.s.”
“Dixon isn’t coming,” Cain said. He rose from his crouch and pushed through the trees.
Tyler recoiled, but recovered. He grabbed Chelsie by her hair, yanked her to her feet, pulling her tightly against him. The gun now pressed against the side of her head.
“Neither is Norris,” Harper said as she stepped up beside Cain.
“Don’t move,” Tyler said.
Cain and Harper raised their weapons.
“I’ll kill her.”
Cain smiled. “And we’ll kill you.”
The sound of a boat motor ground through the trees.
“Hear that?” Cain said. “That’s the cavalry.”
Tyler’s head swiveled toward the sound, his panic and confusion rising. “Or maybe just someone out fishing.”
“In this weather?” Harper said. “Do you really believe that?”
Tyler hesitated. Cain could almost hear the argument going on inside his head. Shoot, run, what?
“Put the weapon down, Tyler,” Harper said. “You can’t win here.”
“You don’t think I’ll kill her?”
“No, I don’t,” Cain said.
“I have nothing to lose,” Tyler said.
Cain knew that was true. Maybe he or Harper could take him. Maybe he wouldn’t get a shot off. But he didn’t like the odds. Time to decompress the situation. Make Tyler think he’d won. Make him confident. Arrogant. Something Tyler had plenty of.
“Okay,” Cain said. “We’ll put our weapons down. You let her go. Then we three can find a way out of this.”
Tyler stared at them. Considering the situation.
“Why would you do that?” Tyler said.
“It’s Chelsie we’re worried about,” Harper said. “Let her go. You’ll still have us.”
“There’s a trick here somewhere.”
“Let me know when you figure it out,” Cain said. “All I see is a bad situation. We’re simply seeking a solution.”
Tyler said nothing.
Cain lowered his weapon, bent, and dropped it at his feet. Harper did the same.
“Hands up,” Tyler said. “On top of your head.”
He had watched too much TV. Cain and Harper complied. Mostly. Cain actually laced his fingers behind his head.
“Now let her go,” Cain said.
“You think I’m stupid? Why wouldn’t I simply shoot her, then both of you?”
Cain eased his right index finger and thumb beneath his collar until he felt the handle of the knife sheathed there.
“And then what? Bury five bodies before Chief Cutler and her crew get here?”
“No small task,” Harper said. She sidestepped a couple of feet to her right, creating a gap, an angle between her and Cain.
“I’ve got plenty of time.”
Cain tugged the knife up until he had a grip on it.
“The boat,” Cain said. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“I don’t think so. I see no way Laura Cutler could know where we are.”
Cain glanced at Harper, gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“You willing to take that chance?” Harper asked.
“Like I said before, I don’t really have a choice.”
“Sure you do.” She t
ook another step to her right.
“Don’t move,” Tyler said.
Another step.
Tyler angled the gun away from Chelsie and toward Harper. “I will shoot you.”
Harper coughed. A signal.
Everything happened quickly.
Harper dropped to the ground.
The gun discharged.
Cain flicked the knife.
Chelsie screamed.
The blade entered Tyler’s right eye.
He staggered, the gun fell from his hand. He clutched this face and spun to the ground, a few twitches, then he lay there completely still.
Chelsie collapsed to her knees, sobbing. Harper came over and put an arm around her.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s over now.”
She helped Chelsie to her feet.
Chelsie looked down at the unmoving, un-breathing Tyler Stenson. She turned away, bent over, and dry heaved.
Cain waited until Chelsie regained control, then said, “Let’s get out of here.”
Ten minutes later they stepped out of the trees and onto the rocky landing site. There were now two boats parked there. And Cutler and Rankin, each on one knee, guns leveled in their direction.
“Don’t move,” Cutler shouted.
“It’s the good guys,” Cain said.
“Jesus.” Cutler stood. “You nearly got yourself shot.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Harper said.
CHAPTER 71
Cain awoke the next morning sore, stiff, and exhausted. Not as exhausted as he had been when he collapsed in the bed six hours earlier, but still not overly energetic.
Last night after they ferried the two boats back to Cooper’s Landing, Cutler said she’d mount a body recovery crew at first light. They put Chelsie in the back of Jimmy Rankin’s car for a trip to the ER, so Chelsie could be checked over by the doc and call her parents.
Cain and Harper helped Tommy Earl trailer his boat, then he dropped them by Tyler Stenson’s place. They retrieved the things they had left there—Harper’s H&K VP9, Cain’s knives, their cell phones, and the car keys. Tommy Earl asked if they needed a lift somewhere else, but Cain declined, saying his car was nearby.
It seemed to take forever to backtrack to where the Mercedes sat, both Harper and Cain drag-assing. They drove over to Lily Butler’s Creekside Inn, apologizing for rousting her at midnight.
