by Cari Hunter
“Thank you, Tanner.” Deakin’s intervention had an instant effect. The pressure on Alex’s arms ceased, and she heard Tanner’s boots tread heavily in the mud as he stepped back. “Watch the other one,” Deakin told him curtly.
She scrambled around, trying to see where Tanner was going, and took a shaky breath when she saw him stop just in front of the shelter.
“He won’t touch her,” Deakin said, and Alex turned back to face him. He chewed a mouthful of food deliberately. “Not like that. He has a wife and a child. He is given to God and would not debase himself with one given to deviance.”
She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. She had no response to Deakin’s statement, no response that wouldn’t earn her a bullet between the eyes, at least; and if their vile ideology kept Sarah safe then she wasn’t about to start arguing the finer points.
He continued to eat, ignoring her as he scraped his plate clean. He set it aside with his knife and fork arranged neatly on top, and reached for a steaming mug. For several minutes, he did nothing but take careful sips. His gamesmanship gave Alex her first opportunity to look at him properly—not that there was much to note. In appearance, he was the archetype of everyone’s favorite uncle, the one who would buy you candy and not say a word if you sneaked a piece before dinner. His age was difficult to determine, but she estimated that he was somewhere in his mid-fifties. He was lean and athletic in build, with muscles bulging beneath the sweater he wore. The outdoor life seemed to agree with him, but the hands wrapped around his mug were clean and well-manicured, as if somehow symbolic of a man who had any number of devotees willing to do his dirty work. She knew from her time on the force that the police rarely managed to tie men like Deakin to their crimes. They would invariably slither free without a stain on their character, leaving some unfortunate lackey to do the time on their behalf. That Deakin was out here, taking such a massive risk by directly involving himself, made her even more afraid of whatever it was that he was searching for.
He turned to refill his mug and she shuddered before she could stop herself. The firelight had picked out a small black swastika tattooed on his scalp. It was an insignia he could easily have covered by letting his hair grow, but out here he seemed entirely comfortable with it being on display. Although by no means conclusive, it gave further credence to the theory that he was linked to Merrick; not that being right about that made her feel any better.
“Did you kill my niece, Alex?”
She jumped at his voice, and when she met his eyes, she suspected he had been studying her for some time.
“No,” she said. She didn’t know who his niece was, but the only person she had ever killed was Merrick.
Deakin leaned forward, watching her intently. “Is Nathan Merrick dead?”
“Yes.”
Her answer seemed to provide him with some semblance of satisfaction, and she belatedly realized that his niece was most likely the woman Sarah had seen with Merrick.
“He took Sarah,” she said by way of explanation. “But before that, we’d heard a gunshot…” She left the implication hanging. There was nothing she could do to make him believe her version of events, but she didn’t think she had anything to lose by giving him the information.
He stared at her for a long moment before raising his mug in her direction. “Then I guess you did me a favor,” he said in a tone that suggested she shouldn’t expect one in return.
“How did you find us?” she asked, careful not to sound as if she was demanding an answer. It was something she had been unable to work out. Although it was true that they had arranged to rendezvous at the caves with him, Deakin had obviously been right on their tail before then.
He grinned at her, baring his teeth, and patted the radio on his belt.
“Nathan Merrick would have sold his own sister if there was a profit in it,” he said. “That back-stabbing son of a bitch stored something in the park for us but neglected to tell us exactly where he’d hidden the keys to the store.” The grin had disappeared and a vein throbbed at Deakin’s temple. His face was red with anger. “We went to a lot of trouble to arrange for him to come out here and complete his side of our contract. My niece Bethany was assigned to him.” He didn’t seem concerned by the double-standards implicit in whoring out his niece to further his own business deals. “The radio we issued to her had a tracker implanted in it. We intended to monitor Merrick’s location.” He arched an eyebrow at Alex. “Imagine my surprise when I heard your voice.”
Fresh blood burned against her freezing fingers as she wrenched her wrists against the cuffs. She didn’t need another reminder of the threat Deakin posed, but when she thought of his organization and the technology he had access to, the hairs stood up on the back of her neck.
Apparently finished with his interrogation, he clicked his fingers at Tanner, who came and escorted her none too gently back to the shelter. The whites of Sarah’s eyes were the first thing she saw, staring up at her. As Tanner retied her ankles, she nodded to let Sarah know she was okay. Then, from the gap at the front of the shelter, she watched him walk back to Deakin. The two men spoke briefly before Deakin retired into the tent and left Tanner sitting by the fire. There was no point in Tanner keeping watch from anywhere else, since any escape attempt would have to pass straight through the clearing, alerting him immediately.
When Alex turned around, Sarah was close enough to touch her. Unable to use her hands, she did the next best thing and pushed up against Alex’s chest.
“You’re all right,” she said, relief stark in her voice. Her hair was wet beneath Alex’s chin and Alex realized she had risked antagonizing Tanner by watching all that had transpired between herself and Deakin. It gave her an idea.
“Tanner’s by the fire,” she whispered. “Is there any way you can watch him without letting him see you?”
“Should be able to. The canvas hangs down in a flap. It gives pretty decent cover.” Sarah frowned. “Why?”
“Watch him. Let me know if he moves an inch.”
Although obviously perplexed, Sarah did as she asked, maneuvering close to the shelter’s entrance on her belly and signaling with her bound hands when she was in position.
Alex, meanwhile, had tucked herself as far into the shelter as she could possibly go. The chain at her wrists was short, but one time on a night shift—fueled by caffeine, a sugar rush, and plenty of bets against her—she had succeeded with a chain that had been a few links shorter. Her jaw set with concentration, she stretched the chain to its limits, pushed her shackled hands down, and wriggled them beneath her bottom. It hurt more than she could have imagined, placing stress on shoulder joints that already ached deep in the bones, but she persevered, keeping one eye on Sarah for any kind of warning. Blood made her fingers tacky, and perspiration dripped off her nose as she inched her wrists to the top of her thighs and then rolled onto her side. Back on that night shift, she had won the money without breaking a sweat, but then she hadn’t just endured days of punishing hikes, and her limbs hadn’t been covered with bruises that overlapped to the point where she would have difficulty finding an unmarred patch of skin. Now her legs complained bitterly as she scrunched them up and strained to pass her chained wrists over them. Agonizing seconds ticked by before she felt the soles of her boots scrape across the metal.
When she dared to look up, Sarah hadn’t moved. Lying with sleet glistening in her hair and her eyes fixed on the fire, she gave no indication that anyone beyond the shelter was aware of what Alex had done. Alex curled into a ball and pressed her bleeding wrists to her chest. Every part of her seemed to be throbbing in unison and the exertion had made her head spin, but at least they now had a chance.
Chapter Fifteen
The water tasted faintly of moss and blood but Sarah didn’t care. She pressed her lips to Alex’s cupped hands and drank until there was nothing left but cold skin. Patiently, Alex repositioned her hands at the juncture where melted sleet dripped down the canvas, and allowed the water
to pool in her palms again. They were taking advantage of the water while it continued to run into the shelter, but collecting it was a slow process, and what little Sarah had drunk had barely quenched her thirst. Alex offered her hands again, but Sarah shook her head.
“You,” she whispered, careful to keep her words to a minimum. The sleet had just stopped, and the only noises to break the stillness of the forest were the background drone of the river and the faint crackling of the fire. As Alex drank her share, Sarah spoke directly into her ear.
“Top pocket.” She nudged her chin toward the one she meant.
Alex dried her hands on her pants and unzipped the pocket. She grimaced at the rasp of the zipper even though there was no realistic chance of the noise carrying beyond the canvas. A faint rustle of plastic packaging told Sarah she had remembered correctly, and she smiled as Alex manipulated the remnant of the Kendal Mint Cake from its wrapper. It snapped cleanly in two and Sarah stopped Alex when she made as if to break it again; there was so little left that it was pointless trying to ration it. Keen to savor the candy, Sarah tried to let her piece dissolve on her tongue. Her attempt failed dismally and she ended up chewing and swallowing it greedily. Her stomach rumbled, eager for more, but she shook her head vehemently when Alex offered her the tiny piece that remained of her own portion.
Sarah’s body felt reenergized after even this tiny amount of fuel, and she made no complaint as Alex repositioned herself to resume their task. Over an hour had passed since Alex had first wrestled her wrists from behind her back. They had quickly discussed their strategy and decided that dividing the men was the obvious tactic. Sarah had shrugged, pointing out in a whisper that their captors would have to let them go and pee at some point. And that—such as it was—was currently their plan. They were working to get Sarah to the point where she would appear bound but be able to slip free if an opportunity presented itself. The probability that Tanner would check on them increased the longer they took, and she knew that Alex would have to return her own hands to their original position sooner rather than later.
With her chin resting on her knees and her eyes squeezed shut, she counted to three hundred to take her mind away from the discomfort. When she reached her target, she rotated her wrists against their bindings to check whether Alex had yet managed to loosen them. The dressings beneath the rope shifted, exposing her torn skin, but the rope stayed firmly secured and she shook her head to let Alex know she needed to keep trying. She restarted her count and had reached two hundred and fifty-six when Alex paused. “Try now.” Alex mouthed the words against Sarah’s ear, the rush of air feathering the hair that had come loose from Sarah’s ponytail.
Sarah took a breath to steel herself. The rope felt different somehow, and there was more room for her to move her hands. Pain burned up and down her forearms as the dressing on her left wrist gradually unraveled. Alex pulled it away completely, giving Sarah even more room with which to work. The instant she was certain she could wriggle her hands free, she nodded urgently.
“Done.”
It was the only cue Alex needed. They changed places without speaking; Sarah lying at the shelter’s entrance and Alex pushed into its darkest recesses. A faint draft of warm air tickled over Sarah’s face as Tanner stoked the fire and the wind changed direction. Embers flew into the air, and a fresh log caught quickly, throwing up more sparks. Behind her, she heard Alex grunt once and then a clack of metal that didn’t even make Tanner raise his head. She pushed back beneath the canvas when Alex gently nudged her foot.
“Sleep,” Alex whispered.
Sarah hunched up against her gratefully, even though she was too wired to close her eyes. The tiny space filled with the smell of musty damp wool as they spread out the blankets. After so many days, there was something comforting about its familiarity and she found herself yawning. She felt Alex kiss her cheek and then her forehead, the chapped skin of Alex’s lips lingering there as if checking for a fever. She wanted so much to stay awake, to mark these hours as precious, if they were to be some of their last, but weariness was rapidly taking the place of fading adrenaline. As the tips of Alex’s fingers brushed against hers, she allowed herself to give in, and closed her eyes.
*
Sarah woke to find her teeth chattering so hard they were making her jaw ache. Despite a chill that seemed to reach down into her very core, her cheeks felt hot, and sweat had plastered her hair to her forehead.
“Bugger.” She mouthed the curse, trying not to disturb Alex, and dried her hair by rubbing it on the knees of her pants. She knew she had an infection; she could feel the pulsating heat centered on the bullet wound in her side, and straightening her legs made something thick and wet seep onto the dressing that covered her sutures. She was already feeling sick, and the oozing sensation was almost enough to tip her over the edge. She breathed raggedly through her nose, keeping her mouth firmly shut and waiting for the queasiness to pass. As soon as it had, a series of violent shivers racked her and, unable to reach the blanket, she curled in on herself instead. When she was finally able to look up, she found that Alex was awake and watching her intently.
“Jesus,” Alex whispered. Repeating her gesture of the previous night, she put her lips to Sarah’s forehead. It made Sarah wonder exactly how long Alex had known she was sick.
“How bad?” Sarah wasn’t sure she wanted an answer.
“Bad enough,” Alex said.
“So we need to do this now, before it gets any worse.” Sarah pushed with her feet, moving her bottom along the canvas.
“No.” Alex automatically reached out to her, but the handcuff chain snapped taut and her effort fell well short. She rocked backward in anguish. “Sarah, no.”
Sarah shook her head, unable to meet Alex’s eyes as she continued to shuffle toward the entrance of the shelter. She saw Tanner walking back from the river with a pot of water, and called out to him before she lost her nerve or Alex had a chance to stop her.
“Excuse me!”
Behind her, Alex made a noise like a wounded animal but didn’t attempt to intervene. They both knew that this was their best shot and that, with her hands as good as untied, only Sarah would have the element of surprise in her favor.
Sarah tried again. “Excuse me!”
Tanner placed the pot down on the ground and walked over to her.
“What?”
“I’m sorry, sir.” She did her best to appear embarrassed. “I need to go.”
“Too fucking bad.” He turned to leave. “You’re not going anywhere.”
She somehow managed not to roll her eyes. Did he actually think she was asking to go home? “No, I need to go.”
This time he seemed to grasp her meaning. She realized he was probably punch-drunk from lack of sleep; Deakin was nowhere to be seen, and she doubted there had been a fair division of guard duties through the night.
“Right. Uh…” Obviously not keen to make a decision on his own, Tanner looked at the closed flap of the tent and then across the clearing to a thick patch of trees. Sarah bowed her head and sniffled miserably, looking as weak and helpless as possible. She tensed when she felt his hand tighten around her bicep. “Come on then,” he said.
She fell down as soon as he pulled her up. “My legs,” she gasped, instinctively shrinking back, expecting a blow. “They’re tied.”
He didn’t hit her, but just swore softly and snatched at the knot binding her ankles, giving her the chance to recover from the head rush that had all but incapacitated her when she stood. The second time around, she was able to walk alongside him as he marched her over to the clump of trees that stood about fifty yards from the tent, beyond the rocks that delineated the boundary of the clearing. It was darker beneath the trees; she blinked, trying to adjust to the gloom. Exertion and fear combined to make her heart thrum rapidly in her chest, but Tanner’s pace was slowing. He gauged the terrain and then pushed her in the direction of a broad thicket of undergrowth that would be tall enough to shield her from
view. She hesitated and he gestured impatiently. The movement pulled his jacket open and she tried not to stare at the gun she could see tucked into the waistband of his pants.
“What the fuck you waiting for?”
Sarah licked her lips. Her mouth was dry, and this time she didn’t know if she could stop herself from being sick. “I can’t,” she said, so quietly that he had to come closer to hear her. “My hands…Please.” Her terror might have been feigned earlier, but as he stopped right in front of her, it was real enough.
“Turn around,” he said, casting a nervous glance in the direction of the clearing.
She knew she wasn’t going to get a better opportunity. Before he could look back at her, she had ripped her hands free of the rope. Its bloodied strands slapped against her arms as she grabbed for the gun and then shoved him with all the strength she could muster. He stumbled, stepping awkwardly to one side, but the force had been nowhere near enough to push him over. He turned to face her, a sneer curling his lip as he realized what she had done.
“Stay right there,” she said. Her arms shook as she pointed the gun at him, her finger poised on the trigger. She couldn’t be certain, but it looked like the gun Alex had taken from Merrick. Pull the trigger all the way back, Alex had told her. Pull it like you mean it.
Sarah widened her stance in readiness. She was gasping for breath and sweating so much that the gun slid in her grip.
“Lie down, facedown,” she hissed. Tanner didn’t move, didn’t make any indication that he had even heard her. “Now.” She took a step back, sure that she wasn’t safe even though she was holding him at gunpoint.
She was right. He raised his arms as if in surrender and then lunged for the gun. She pulled the trigger, yanking it as hard as she could and sending him lurching away from her even as the recoil knocked her into the dirt. She sat there stunned, with nothing but a buzzing in her ears, and the reek of cordite making her cough until her eyes watered. As she struggled to stand, the buzzing noise was slowly replaced by the agonized shrieking coming from Tanner.
