“But if we’re going to get back to the city we need to go west, don’t we?”
“Eventually. For now, maybe we can just get to the road that runs north and south. There’s traffic there, and more houses.”
A flashlight beam bobbed below. As much as I wished we had brought one, at this point it would be a liability. Too easy for the enemy to keep track.
Rachael spotted the light and took off again. It took all my concentration to keep up. Without her white socks leading me, my only guide was the pale brown collar of the sheepskin coat. I lost all sense of direction as we wound over the twisty trail. Five or ten minutes went by before she paused again, minutes of steep climbing that left my leg muscles throbbing.
“Breathe, Charlie,” she said, watching me huff my way up the final three feet.
“Al . . . altitude,” I croaked.
“Yeah, gets to you, huh?” With my blood pumping in noisy rushes through my eardrums and my breathing sounding like gusts of strong wind, I barely heard her. My body was warm in the heavy coat, but my hands felt like ice.
I felt better when I noticed that she, too, was breathing hard. We sat for a minute, scanning the hillside for light or movement. Nothing.
“I think we can head downhill now,” Rachael said.
“Wait a sec—I think I heard . . .” I let my whisper trail away.
A twig snapped, closer than I liked. I clapped a hand over my mouth to hush my heavy breathing. Unfortunately, I couldn’t silence my pounding heart.
“Did you . . . see which . . . way they went?” The male voice huffed roughly, his breath coming in ragged bursts.
“No.” The second male puffed. “I think . . . we lost ‘em.”
“Shit!” Leaves crackled and pine branches swished in the air. Two heavy bodies settled onto the ground somewhere on the other side of a huge boulder, probably no more than twenty feet away.
“Gotta catch . . . my breath,” one of them said.
I glanced uphill at Rachael and saw the whites of her wide eyes in the dark. I blinked twice at her and she blinked once in response. Five minutes of grunts and groans and shuffling dry ground matter followed.
“Shit, this ain’t worth it,” the first man said, once he could speak again. “My best knife gone, now I’m sitting out here in the middle of piss-off nowhere in the freezing-ass cold.”
The other man grumbled something sympathetic sounding in response.
“I’m heading back,” voice one said again. “You coming?”
A flashlight switched on and swung over the downhill terrain. I held my breath. One swing up the hill and we’d be spotted. Our luck held as the two men stood up and began following the beam back down the hill.
Once the beam was out of sight, Rachael reached over and squeezed my arm.
“Do we dare go back to the house?” she whispered.
“I don’t think so. If that guy dropped the knife, he’s still got intentions of damaging your balloon. We don’t have any backup or sufficient weapons to take on two of them.”
A pained look crossed her face at the mention of the balloon, but she saw the wisdom of letting it go in favor of staying alive.
“Can you find a way out of here that doesn’t take us near the house?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” She found an opening in the forest that headed downhill, and I followed. Sooner than I would have expected, we came to the barbed wire fence with the road on the other side. I held the upper strand for Rachael and she did the same for me once she’d crawled through.
“There are several houses along this road,” she said. “Maybe we can find someone home and use a phone.”
Wondering where our two pursuers had parked, I motioned Rachael to the edge of the dirt road. Out here, with a little more open space overhead, the glow from the city gave enough light to ease navigation.
“There’s a house on the right—the Farnsworth’s,” Rachael said, “but I think Sam said they were out of town. We’ll see. Otherwise, we may have to go another mile or so.”
I didn’t say anything but was secretly glad when lights appeared a few dozen yards away. My legs felt like mush spread with Jell-O. A small cabin sat in a clearing, lights shining in several of the windows, and a white pickup truck beside it. I felt tears prickle at my eyelids. A phone, a cup of hot cocoa, the familiar sound of Ron’s voice . . . I began to visualize ahead to being able to sleep in my own bed, make love to my husband, and hug my dog. My legs picked up the pace.
Rachael and I nearly raced each other for the front door. She got there first and pounded on the door.
“Hello, Rachael.”
We both spun to find ourselves facing the heavyset man who’d just come down from the mountainside.
“Kevin?” Rachael’s face registered total confusion. “What . . .?”
My brain tried to fix itself around the situation. Kevin Pierce.
“Come inside, ladies. I’m sure you’re cold.” He opened the cabin’s door and politely pointed the way. Rachael stepped inside without question. I started to turn away but the second man stood right at my side. He smelled of sweat and his thinning black hair revealed dots of perspiration on the top of his shiny head. He gently took my elbow and spun me toward the door.
The place was much more rustic than Sam’s, a cabin instead of a house. One main room served as living, dining and kitchen, with a daybed along one wall. Two doors led away, probably to a bedroom and bath. A fireplace made of river stones dominated one of the short walls of the rectangular structure. I spotted a set of fireplace tools with a stack of newspapers beside them. A mantle contained several candles and an oil lamp, presumably of use during those frequent power outages Rachael had told me about. A yellow plaid sofa and two orange armchairs pretty well filled the place furniture-wise.
“Roger was just about to put some coffee on,” Kevin said. “Weren’t you?”
The man called Roger nodded but didn’t move.
“Kevin, what are you doing here?” Rachael demanded. “The Farnsworths are on vacation, aren’t they? Why are you in their house?”
He’d crossed the room to the sofa where two jackets lay in a pile. He didn’t answer Rachael’s question, but rummaged in a pocket for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
I piped up. “I think the more important question is, why were you at Sam’s place a little while ago.”
Rachael gave a little gasp. “How did you find us there?” she demanded.
Rare is the criminal who can resist bragging a bit. “Liz told me. Didn’t you notice Beauty’s Beast flying near you today? She radioed me your landing spot, and a few minutes later told me that your guys were hustling to pack everything into the truck. I told her to fly higher and report, so she was able to tell me that Sam drove through a bunch of residential neighborhoods, then south on Eubank. By the time you turned onto I-40 it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that you’d head to Sam’s place.”
It hit me that Liz had mentioned their previous visit for a barbeque.
“And you’re certainly no rocket scientist,” Rachael said. “But why?”
Kevin’s face hardened as he lit his cigarette.
“Dear ladies,” he said. “It’s too bad you’ve put this all together. My original goal was simply to scare you away from making your world record attempt, Rachael. The letters and shots at your balloon were supposed to make you hang it all up. But you didn’t. You, with the best equipment, the money behind you, and that smart-ass Sam to help you cash in on it.”
He focused on his friend. “Where’s that coffee, Roger?” he demanded.
Roger finally left my side and headed for the small kitchen alcove. He pulled a coffee maker from one corner of the countertop and began opening random cabinets in search of supplies.
I edged an inch closer to the door while Kevin’s attention strayed.
“But no,” he continued, “you couldn’t just give up the record so my wife could take it. No, you had to keep up the br
ave face. All that publicity, all those reporters fawning over you.”
“Liz wanted the record that much?” Rachael asked.
I edged another inch closer to the door.
“Do you honestly think she would’ve beaten you, with that crappy balloon of ours, with no oxygen equipment?”
“Well, sure,” Rachael said tentatively. “Why not? I mean, I don’t have any claim on it. Anyone can file the paperwork and make the attempt. Even if I do attempt it, there’s no guarantee I’ll actually get it.”
I edged another inch closer to the door.
Unfortunately, this time Kevin noticed me. When I looked up he held a gun. A lot bigger gun than my measly .22.
“Let’s get right to it,” Kevin said. “You’re not going out there tomorrow, Rachael. You didn’t make the choice yourself, so I’m making it for you. Roger, skip the coffee. Find me a good place to stash these two.”
Roger, good little gofer that he was, left the kitchen and began to explore the rest of the cabin. I realized, as he went around switching on lights, that the two of them must have only discovered the place minutes before Rachael and I arrived. They’d probably parked their truck in front of the dark cabin, rather than driving it all the way to Sam’s. Then they’d gotten in somehow and turned on a few lights to make the truck seem like it belonged.
“Ladies, take off your coats,” Kevin ordered. The gun convinced us to comply.
“Bathroom looks good,” Roger reported. “No windows, not much way to get in trouble.”
“Good. Secure that one first,” Kevin said, giving a nod in my direction.
The shorter man pawed through a few kitchen drawers until he came up with a ball of twine. He twirled out a couple of feet of it and cut it with a kitchen knife. I felt my nose wrinkle as the stench of unwashed clothes and sweaty armpits came nearer. Before he could direct me to put my hands behind my back, I held them out in front. Any little advantage, I figured.
He doubled the twine and wound it tightly at my wrists. No sailor, clearly, he yanked three granny knots into the rough string before turning to the second part of his assignment. I cringed as he raised my shirt to find the gun in my waistband.
“Nice view,” Kevin commented. “But get on with it.”
Roger patted my pockets, all of them, then thrust his hand into the one where I’d stashed the knife. “Look what I found,” he said to Kevin as he slowly rubbed his palm against my thigh.
I came seriously close to kneeing him but realized that would only serve to remind him that he hadn’t tied my feet. I gritted my teeth instead and actually looked forward to being locked in the bathroom.
“Ah, my knife,” Kevin said. “You know, this thing’s real dear to me. You woulda been in lots of trouble if I hadn’t gotten it back.”
Like we weren’t already?
Roger, meanwhile, moved on to Rachael and gave her the same tying and frisking treatment. She came closer to actually kicking him, but he’d already given her a shove toward the open bathroom door and didn’t notice.
Kevin waved the gun to show me that I better follow quietly, so I did.
The bathroom was pretty bare bones. Molded fiberglass tub-shower with plastic curtain, white porcelain toilet with a few chips in the lid, a similarly chipped white sink hanging from the wall. Decoration consisted of two blue towels and a walnut-framed mirror. Geez, where did these people keep their stuff? Doesn’t everyone own toothbrushes, pill bottles and general junk?
Roger gave each of us a ceremonial shove to assert his authority, but conveniently forgot to tie our legs. He only seemed to realize afterward that locking us in would prove tricky since the door opened inward and only locked from our side. We heard him asking Kevin how he could rig the door to keep us in, but the conversation degenerated as they walked away. For good measure, I reached out and flipped the little button on the knob. A swift kick or a plastic card would easily get past it, but we’d made our statement.
I pressed my ear to the door and discerned that the men were back to the task of brewing coffee. My stomach growled as the smell of it began to come our way, but I told myself to get over it. Life was a little more complicated right now than what a cup of coffee would fix.
“What’re we going to do?” Rachael whispered. She’d lowered the lid on the toilet, commandeering the best seat in the place.
I moved away from the door and perched on the edge of the tub. “Guess that depends on what they do. Maybe they only want to be sure you don’t fly tomorrow. If we’re lucky, they’ll finish their coffee and go home. We can figure a way out of here once we know they aren’t watching anymore.”
“Should we start untying these things?” she asked, holding out her hands.
“Let’s wait. Unless we can manage to yank that sink off the wall, we don’t have much in the way of weapons in here.” Of course, I could towel whip them. “Better let them think we’re being submissive until we find out how far they’re willing to go.”
“That coffee’s making me hungry. What time is it?”
I couldn’t pull up my sleeve and angle my watch’s face toward myself one-handed, so I held it out toward her.
“Nine? That’s it?” she said. “It feels like three in the morning, doesn’t it?”
The news heartened me somewhat. I kept holding out hope that Ron and Sam had merely met with some delay, or maybe they’d stopped for pizza at a place with incredibly slow service. They’d surely show up any time.
But where? There was no reason on earth to think they’d look for us in this cabin.
“So, what are our escape options?” I asked. “Give me some ideas.”
“They fall asleep, we unlock the door and walk out?”
“That’d be nice, but I wouldn’t count on it.”
“They leave, we unlock the door and walk out?”
“Yeah, right. Roger’s not the brightest bulb in the chandelier but even he’s going to figure out that they have to barricade this door.”
“We get our hands free and wait until we hear them starting to nail the door shut, or whatever they’re going to do. Before they actually nail it, we open it from our side, kick ‘em in the balls and run for it.”
“Well, I like that one a lot better.” I had to smile at the image.
Rachael sniffed at the air. “Now I think I smell steak. You don’t think they’ll actually hang around and cook a great dinner, right here in front of us, do you?”
That truly was a depressing thought. I calculated that our shared can of soup must have been eaten five or six hours ago. And we’d not even made a dent in the cookies and other goodies that now lay scattered on the garage floor at Sam’s. My stomach growled and Rachael looked at me with a grin.
A new noise came from the other side of the door, something scraping across the wooden floor. I closed my eyes to visualize what it could be. Furniture, maybe. Something large and heavy. The scrapes approached our door, becoming loud. They were planning to block us in with something, but I couldn’t envision what would work. The sofa was big, but we’d simply climb out over it. The daybed, perhaps? I waited until I heard them move away and I twisted the little lock button and turned the knob slowly. Something large and wooden filled the doorway almost completely.
“What’s that?” I whispered to Rachael.
She peeked and backed away. “Careful! Here they come.”
I eased the door closed and relocked it.
“So? What do you think? I don’t remember anything that big in the cabin,” I said.
She sat again and thought. “The gun cabinet. I think Mr. Farnsworth had a gun cabinet in the bedroom.”
I considered that. If the two men could push it into place, surely Rachael and I could push it away. Couldn’t we? That’s when I realized the steak Rachael smelled was really smoke.
Chapter 24
Rachael apparently realized the implications about the same time I did. Her eyes grew wide and she began picking at the knots on her restraints with her teeth.<
br />
“Wait, that’s not going to work,” I said, realizing that wet twine would only form tighter knots. “Let’s see if we can untie each other.”
After a couple of fumbling minutes in which neither of us accomplished anything, I decided to hold still and merely let her work on my wrists. She picked at the knots with her short nails and slowly managed to loosen one small loop. At this rate it would take forever. I looked around the tiny room for an idea. Any sharp object would do. But the place was filled with nice, soft objects like towels and smooth ones like porcelain. Meanwhile, I could hear the two men moving another large object.
“Right . . . there,” Kevin grunted. “Spread the stuff on the couch and let’s get out of here.”
The pungent odor of lighter fluid trickled under the closed door.
“We’re never going to get untied,” I said. “We better try to push our way through.”
I opened the bathroom door again, in time to hear the front door of the cabin slam shut.
“They’re gone. We’ve got to hurry.”
We both crowded into the narrow doorway and put our shoulders to the high, wooden cabinet. It shuddered but didn’t move. Again. Same result. I stepped back to assess the situation. The door frame was only a couple of inches wider than the cabinet. No way to squeeze past it.
Through the crack, I spotted a touch of yellow. The men had pushed the sofa against the cabinet, effectively making an impenetrable barrier. Smoke began to drift around the edges of the doorframe and a peek at the top of it told me that the ceiling of the main room was becoming murky. I pulled Rachael away from the door and slammed it.
“Wet those towels,” I said. We were going to have to think of something else. As we stuffed the sopping material around the base of the door, wedging it as tightly closed as possible, I considered our options. There were none.
In an hour or so, someone would notice the flames and report the cabin fire. A volunteer fire department from somewhere miles away would find the place engulfed and do their best to keep the rest of the forest from going with it. If there was anything left of the two charred bodies, no one would know who they were because the cabin’s owners were out of town. When Rachael and I never showed up again, Ron or Sam might think to investigate the chance that our dental work might match up. I felt despair wash over me. I hadn’t seen Drake in nearly a week, he didn’t even know that we might have made a baby. I didn’t want it to end like this.
Balloons Can Be Murder: The Ninth Charlie Parker Mystery Page 19
