Primal Force

by D. D. Ayres

  He grunted. Guess he’d learned not to be so selfish, after all.

  Except he wasn’t ready for that final conversation.

  He turned off the blacktop onto the gravel drive leading up to his cabin. The sight of a strange truck in his yard didn’t alarm him. He’d been avoiding reporters for two weeks. He’d just have thought the news of Tice’s imminent arrest would have outstripped a two-week-old story about a one-legged police officer.

  His headlights gave him the first clue.

  Missouri license plates. Not a reporter.

  Law rolled to a stop fifty feet short. All his senses on alert. He lived in the woods for privacy. But that same privacy had liabilities. Whoever drove that truck would have heard him coming long before he saw that he had company. That didn’t mean he didn’t have a few advantages. The obvious advertisement painted on the side of his vehicle: STATE TROOPER. Being the law had its uses. Even with perps.

  His headlights on bright to illuminate the area ahead, he waited a few seconds to see if anyone would exit the truck, or his front door. When that didn’t happen, he reached back to release the safety on his holster then eased out of his cruiser, leaving the door open as a shield.

  His guest might be some innocent civilian. Whoever it was, he was about to scare the bejabbers out of his uninvited guest.

  “State police. Show yourself.” At that moment he heard Sam’s low growl and swung around. But it was too late.

  “Stop right there, Battise. Don’t make me shoot you.”

  He couldn’t see the face of the man who’d been lying in wait for him. The guy had used the bright shaft of a high-beam flashlight to momentarily blind him. But he did recognize the voice.

  “Pecker.”

  “Turn around real slow. You know the drill.”

  Law didn’t move, hand still on his holstered weapon, though he could not make out the barrel of Becker’s drawn weapon in the light. “You’re one of the fugitives, are you?”

  “You don’t want to test me, Battise. I’m cold and getting wetter by the second. I want to talk to you. That’s all I came for. Talk. Now turn around. Hands on the back of your neck.”

  Law turned around slowly. He’d have another opportunity.

  “Kick your door shut. I don’t want to have to shoot your mutt.”

  “No. She’ll freeze out here.”

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do about that?”

  “Let me call her. I’ll put the leash on her. You’ve seen her. She’s harmless. Sam! Heel, girl.”

  Even as the words left his lips Law hated saying them. Every K-9 he’d ever partnered with would have had Becker already on the ground and subdued without his command. It was an innate instinct in most dogs, even pets, to defend the pack. Sam was growling. But she lacked the bite drive of a German shepherd or Malinois. He wouldn’t risk her going for Becker and getting shot.

  Sam leaped out of the car, head low. “Sam, heel.” Her gaze still on Becker, she moved to Law and bounced up on his chest to check him out.

  Law looked down. “Good girl. Down. Heel. Now I’m going to attach her leash, Becker. Don’t get squirrelly on me while I reach in my pocket.”

  “Use one hand. And move slowly so I can see everything.” Becker watched Law attach Sam’s leash. “Now move away the hell from the cruiser. Three easy side steps. That’s right. Take off your rig. Use only your left hand. No, fuck. You’re left-handed, aren’t you? Right hand. That’s right. Now extend the belt out the full length of your arm. Drop it and take three steps forward. Two more. Nice and easy.”

  Becker moved in behind Law, careful to maintain his distance. “Now head for the house. I’m only going to warn you once. Make a move of any kind and I’ll shoot you and your dog.”

  The rain was already changing to ice. Law could feel it freezing on his face and on the ground. It caused his prosthetic foot to slide ever so slightly on the gravel as he resumed the walk toward his cabin. He had to concentrate not to slip. Becker wouldn’t get far if this kept up. Winter in the Ozarks could be as dangerous and sudden as anywhere in the Lower Forty-Eight. Mountain roads and ice did not mix well. Add in the winds that whipped through the narrow hollows at fifty-plus miles an hour and the roads became deadly.

  They reached the porch, Law six feet ahead. He thought about pushing through the door and taking his chances that he’d make it to the hearth and the loaded pistol he kept in the stack of firewood before Becker got to him. Lousy odds.

  Once inside, Becker lowered his gun. But he didn’t holster it. “Now, this is better. Been freezing my nuts off waiting for you.”

  Law turned around slowly. “What’s this about?”

  “I need to get out of Arkansas.”

  “I can’t help you.”

  “Oh, I think you can. And you will want to when you hear what I’ve got to say. Now get down on your knees.”

  “I can’t do that. Prosthesis.”

  “I saw that video of you chasing the robber. You two were rolling around on the ground like a couple of puppies. You’ll find a way.” He raised his weapon. “Now. If you touch the knife strapped to your leg I will shoot you.”

  “In the back? That’s a damn cowardly thing to do.”

  “I’ll shoot your dog.”

  Law stiffened. Not Sam’s fault she didn’t have a killer instinct. “Let me sit in a chair.”

  “Okay. But slow. I swear, one move and I’ll plug that curly bag of bones and tag you, too.”

  Law made his way to the kitchen table, hands still behind his head. He could judge by Becker’s footsteps that he was staying far enough away to have a clear shot if he moved to attack. But Becker sounded exhausted. He’d probably spent hours in the cold and dark. That would make him distractible, but also unpredictable. He wasn’t about to underestimate a longtime trooper like Becker.

  When Law had seated himself, Becker moved in behind him and placed the barrel of his gun against the nape of his neck. “I’m just going to cuff you so we can talk without a problem. I’m trying to do the right thing here.” He cuffed Law, hands behind his back, with flex cuffs.

  When he was done, he moved back in front of Law and said, “I’ve had nothing to do with the drug trade. I’m a cop. Traffickers are the scum of the earth. Those other officers they arrested this morning have no honor.”

  “It’s me you’re talking to, Becker. I know you’re on the take with Tice. I know someone sent you to the Springdale office to spy on me. And I know you broke in here looking for something. Was it evidence I was collecting on Tice? You were helping him cover up drug dealings.”

  “No. It wasn’t like that. I had information the Tices were willing to pay me to keep quiet about. Nothing to do with drugs but good enough to ruin a political career.” Becker grinned, looking a little more relaxed. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. It’ll cost you your truck, some cash, and a twenty-four-hour head start to get my information. Then I’ll give you enough to ruin Tice.”

  “No.”

  Becker smirked. “You think you’re too good to do a deal?”

  “What deal? I let you get away and you promise to phone me from Brazil and tell me about the Tices? A six-year-old could see the problem with that bargain.”

  Becker nodded. “What if I could guarantee that Luke Tice will end up in jail?”

  “The feds are taking care of that as we speak.”

  Becker shook his head. “That’ll never stick on Luke. His dad, maybe. But he can buy enough lawyers to keep this mess tied up in court for the next ten years. Luke is slick as shit. He’ll rally sympathy. Might even win the election because his poor daddy’s been indicted. You’ve seen stranger things happen.”

  Law didn’t argue. “Why do you care?”

  “I hate to see a bad man get away.”

  “Since he’s no longer paying you.”

  Becker’s face went crimson. “I was holding them to account.” He thumbed his nose. “You know, it was so simple. I didn’t have anything but a hu
nch. But I worked it out in such a way that I could benefit on both sides, father and son.”

  “That must have been some hunch.” Law was watching Becker’s every action, calculating the odds of which chance to take when. He needed to keep him talking while he did that.

  “I need money and your vehicle.”

  “I’m broke. My truck is yours. Keys in my rig outside.”

  Becker swore under his breath. “I’ll give you this much, Battise. The father was paying to keep the son out of the news. The son was paying to keep the father from knowing the truth.”

  “I’m impressed you could play the pair off each other like that.”

  Becker nodded. “What I got could get your girlfriend what she wants.”

  “What do you think that is?”

  “Revenge. Papa Tice says your piece of ass wants revenge for her time behind bars.”

  “Unlike you, she really wasn’t guilty.”

  Becker’s face swelled again with anger. “I don’t have time for this. You interested in a deal or not?”

  “Not.”

  “A regular Boy Scout.” Becker glanced around the room as his thumb played with the safety.

  “If you’ve got information, take it to the feds, Becker. Cut a deal. Lighten your sentence.”

  “No deal will keep me out of prison. I can’t go to prison. I’m a cop. You know what’ll happen.”

  “The feds could send you out of state. Give you a new identity in prison. If you know enough you can make that deal.”

  “No.” He slid the back of his hand over his mouth. “I’m not going behind bars like the scum I put away. Douchebags getting to see me locked up? I can’t do that. If you won’t deal, then I need a hostage.”

  He raised the barrel and thumbed the safety, then palmed one into the chamber. He aimed his weapon at Law’s good leg. “Don’t make me regret what I’ll have to do next if you don’t cooperate. I’m going to need your leg.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Becker chuckled and moved in behind him.

  “Sorry about this, Battise. I kinda always respected you. Guess I still do, you son of a bitch.”

  Becker’s left arm encircled Law’s neck. Law braced his feet against the floor and kicked hard. Overturning the chair and himself, and causing Becker to fall. But the bastard had him. Becker had placed the palm of the hand against Law’s shoulder. As he applied pressure on both sides of his neck. Law felt the white-hot shock of rage before he passed out.

  * * *

  Jori was surprised to see Law’s truck pulling out on the highway just as she approached. She honked, trying to get his attention, but the truck turned off in the opposite direction.

  She’d tried calling him half a dozen times on the drive but he wouldn’t pick up. She doubted he’d even listened to her messages. Stubborn man!

  The news of Tice’s arrest had stunned her. She had a dozen questions and she was certain Law had information the public wouldn’t get. So here she was, two hours later, arriving just as he was leaving. The ice had begun to build up on the trees, rain freezing on contact. Another hour and she wouldn’t have attempted the trip.

  She blew her horn a second time as she passed the turnoff, following the truck instead.

  To her surprise, the truck speeded up.

  “Dammit, Law. Stubborn male.”

  He didn’t want to see her. Well, tough. She’d driven all the way up here to—A cursory glance in her rearview made her foot reach for the brakes.

  Sam was galloping down the road behind her. Why would Law leave Sam behind?

  Jori pulled over and opened the passenger-side door.

  Sam bolted into the front seat, shaking rain and sleet from her coat. And then she barked.

  Jori looked up. Law’s truck had disappeared around a bend.

  Jori shut the door and put her foot on the gas. The SUV tires spun before getting traction.

  “Dammit. It’s icing up.” Jori looked at Sam. “Sorry, it’s going to be rough.”

  She put her foot more carefully on the gas, increasing slowly only as she felt the SUV roll forward. It was well past daybreak but it seemed like dusk with the deep shadows of the mountainside surrounding her. She could hear the sleet pinging softly on the windshield as she edged her way along in second gear.

  The road took a sharp turn, the grade climbing upward toward a sharp drop-off. She had passed an earlier highway commission warning sign about the steep grade coming up, telling truckers to shift to lower gears. She was already in second on the climb up.

  She held her breath as she edged her car forward. She didn’t like ice. Drove on it only when absolutely necessary. Seeing Law seemed absolutely necessary until this moment.

  She made it to the top of the grade by sheer will at a crawl of less than four miles an hour. But her stomach dropped to her feet as she crested the top and stared out across the edge of the curved road, about to head steeply downward.

  There were skid marks on the road and a gap in the railing on the outside. Bare broken branches still swayed, flinging icicles onto the road. Out and beyond the break and drop-off was a pair of high beams arching through the darkness below.

  “Oh my God. Law!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Jori’s hands shook as she fumbled to plug her cell phone into its charger and punched 911 for the third time. Maybe more juice would help the call get through.

  Don’t think about what just happened. Don’t think about it. Don’t think.

  There was a single ring this time. Even before she could react in joy, the line went dead.

  “Oh, come on!” She glanced at the bars, swinging her phone around on her extended arm inside the SUV, seeking a stronger signal. One bar, then the NO SERVICE message came on. Hills made a joke of wireless coverage claims.

  Jori closed her eyes then opened them immediately. Mistake.

  Don’t think about what just happened. Don’t think about it. Don’t think.

  She couldn’t call for help. She needed to go for help.

  Jori stepped on the gas. The SUV jerked forward.

  “Crap!” Too much, too fast. The road was slick from rain, and getting slicker from the fact that the water was turning to ice on contact with all surfaces.

  Yet even as she applied the brakes softly, the SUV continued to roll because she was now over the crest of the rise. The grade was steep. Too steep for her to attempt. She applied a tiny bit more pressure and felt the back end began to fishtail.

  Take your foot off the accelerator. She could practically hear her father’s voice in her ear as he taught her to drive. Don’t apply the brakes until tires regain traction.

  In the time it took to think those two thoughts, the SUV found traction and slowed as the rear tires grabbed asphalt. But now her vehicle was smack in the middle of the road and turned almost sideways, pointed toward the outside edge.

  “Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!” Heart thundering in her chest, she glanced over the hood and down over the edge for the first time since she’d seen the accident. Her heart nearly stopped.

  Fifty yards away and maybe two dozen feet down, blazing headlights illuminated a swath of evergreen trees, the only indication in the gloom that there was a vehicle down below. Law was down there. He needed help but she couldn’t get it.

  Sam whimpered, scratching at the passenger-side door as if she sensed something had happened and what needed to be done.

  “I know. I know. It’s going to be okay.” Jori gave her slow hard strokes from neck to tail. A frantic dog wasn’t going to help. “I’ll think of something.”

  Sam was shaking, a combination of her own exertions, her wet fur, and the anxiousness pouring from Jori.

  Even as she tried her phone for the fourth time, texting a message in the hope it might get through when a phone signal would not, she noticed that her windshield wipers were no longer able to scrape away all the ice from the glass. She looked at the thermometer. Thirty-one degrees, the magic number for disaster. The seve
re weather was arriving earlier than forecast. She had to get Law help.

  She knew he must be hurt. Equally, she refused to even acknowledge the possibility of anything worse.

  She needed a plan. She needed to get to him. To tend to his injuries. Keep him warm until help came. Three things.

  “I can do this.” She said the words aloud to help make herself believe them.

  Except help. What would bring help if her cell phone wouldn’t work down at the crash site?

  Inventory.

  She needed to think about what she could carry with her to accomplish her goals before she stepped out into the sharp cold slowly encasing her world in ice. Once she was out, every second counted. The freezing rain was forecast to change into snow, eventually. Snow would be easier to deal with.

  “Please, let it snow.” The thought came and went. She had to deal with what was, not wishes.

  “Inventory, Jori. Think.”

  But nothing came to mind. Her heart was in that wrecked truck below. Her brain was stalled. Nothing else came to mind. She was wasting precious seconds.

  She thumped the horn, making long hard blasts. “Dammit, think!”

  Whining in distress, Sam leaned in and licked her face. “Stop. I don’t have time for a dog—” A lightbulb went on. She grabbed Sam and hugged her neck. “Thank you!”

  Working with dogs for a living made her more prepared for emergencies than most pet owners. Training included first aid for dogs. Like Law, she carried a full canine first-aid kit and two blankets. There was also the roadside emergency kit her father had sent her when she bought this SUV. At the time she’d wondered when she’d ever need it, other than maybe the booster cables. But canned compressed air, bungee cords, and flares? Flares! Flares were good. They could be used to mark the way.

  But first she needed to find Law.

  She leaned across Sam and opened her glove compartment. A big heavy flashlight rolled out into her hand.

  As she stuffed the flashlight into a pocket of her micro-puff jacket, she gazed at the goldendoodle with misgivings. Service dogs were taught to find things when given a direct order. Sam would certainly help her find her way to Law. But the weather would be hard on her. Sam didn’t have protective clothing.