Safely past that blockade, the snowmobile stopped again. The driver twisted around on the seat and once more lifted the gun. Unable to look away, Liss braced herself for the impact of a bullet. It never came. At the last second, the passenger knocked the weapon out of the driver’s hand. It sailed high into the air, landed hard enough to penetrate the icy surface of the snow, and disappeared into a deep patch.
The two on the snowmobile began to argue. Liss cocked her head, straining to catch a word or two. It was hopeless. Her ears were still ringing. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she had a feeling that the shooter wanted to go after the gun, or maybe turn the snowmobile around and try to run right over Liss and Gordon.
Gordon. Was he okay? He hadn’t moved since he’d fallen on top of her. She tried to tell herself he was playing possum, but a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach warned her that something was wrong with him. Had he been hit?
She’d just managed to prop herself up on her elbows when the engine revved again. As she watched, the snowmobile left the clearing, speeding off along the trail she and Gordon had come in on.
Once again Liss tried to roll over. “Gordon! Get up!” She shoved at his big, immovable body. “Gordon?”
Twisting at her waist, she finally managed to get a good look at him. His upper body was partially hidden from view by the angle of his fall, but she could hardly miss seeing that a spray of bright red drops had spattered across the white snow. He’d been hit by that first bullet and been bleeding as he fell.
Liss felt her face drain of color. Her breath caught and for a moment her heart seemed to stop beating. Her cry of distress seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness of the clearing.
Squirming, trying to free herself so that she could help him, she was once again horribly aware that he hadn’t moved since he’d landed on top of her. Unconsciousness was not a good sign.
“You can’t be dead,” she whispered. “Oh, God! Oh, God. Don’t be dead, Gordon. Please tell me I didn’t get you killed!”
One of her legs came free, then the other. On hands and knees Liss crawled along Gordon’s ominously still form until she reached his head.
He lay on his side in the snow, facing away from her. There was more blood on the whiteness pillowing his head. Afraid to touch him, afraid not to, Liss carefully rolled him over. The last thing she wanted was to do more damage, but she had to see where that blood was coming from.
A shallow graze, still oozing, scored Gordon’s forehead. Liss let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. This was good. At least according to the mystery novels she’d read, dead bodies didn’t bleed. If he was bleeding, that meant his heart was still pumping.
Belatedly, she gathered her wits sufficiently to bend down and place her ear on his chest. At first her own heart kept her from hearing his, but then she felt it beating strong and steady. Lifting her head, she touched his fingers to the pulse at his neck. That was even easier to find, and if anything was a little fast.
But he was still unconscious. Concussion? Shock? Brain damage? The wound didn’t look very deep, but what did she know?
The low groaning sound he made was the sweetest music she’d ever heard.
“Gordon! Wake up! They’re gone. We’re safe.”
Slowly, he opened his eyes. He blinked, as if he couldn’t quite bring the anxious face bending over him into focus.
“Gordon, are you okay?”
Stupid question! Liss could have kicked herself. She continued to kneel beside him, reluctant to encourage him to move in case there was more to his injury than she could see. There seemed to be quite a bit of blood, but head wounds always bled a lot. She’d read that somewhere, too.
“I’ll live.” The shaky note in Gordon’s voice was not reassuring. He sounded weak as a kitten. Weaker.
“You’ve been shot.”
“I got that.” He lifted one trembling hand to his forehead. Using his fingertips, he gently probed the groove. “You okay?”
“We got lucky. The passenger hit the driver’s hand and knocked the gun into the snow.” She shuddered, remembering. “It was aimed at me. We’d be dead right now if—”
“Think you can find it?”
It took Liss a minute to understand what he meant. The gun. He wanted her to look for the fallen gun. “I…I think so.”
“Get it.”
“Shouldn’t I dig out the first-aid kit first?” Berating herself for not remembering sooner that they carried one as standard equipment, Liss started to go after it. It might have been Gordon who’d been clipped on the head, but she was the one acting like she’d had her brain rattled.
Gordon caught her arm in a surprisingly firm grip. “Gun first. They might come back.”
That possibility was enough to send Liss crunching her way across the surface of the snow. It was icy on top but gave under her weight, sending a foot plunging downward with every step she took.
She expected to have to dig for the gun, but it proved easy to locate. It had fallen with the barrel pointing straight down. The handle stuck out at a right angle, as if waiting for Liss to reach down and wrap her hand around it.
Once she’d collected the weapon, Liss carried it carefully pointed away from herself. By the time she made her way back to Gordon, he was sitting up and had retrieved his helmet, which had landed a few feet away from him when he fell.
He took charge of the gun, tucking it carefully inside one of his zippered pockets. “Which way did they go?”
“Back toward the main trail.”
“How long was I out?”
“It seemed like eons. Where do you think you’re going?” In spite of her squawk of protest, Gordon levered himself to his feet.
“After them.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not planning on the gunfight at the OK Corral. I just want to see if we can get close enough to identify them.”
“We’ll never catch up. They’ve got too much of a head start.”
Doggedly, Gordon made his way toward the snowmobile. He staggered the first couple of steps and his progress remained noticeably unsteady.
“Dizzy?” she inquired, catching up to him.
“A little. Good thing you’re driving.”
“Yes, isn’t it.” She was not about to go chasing after that other snowmobile, no matter what Gordon wanted. She’d take him back to his truck and drive him to the hospital. He could like it or lump it.
While he fished in a pocket and produced a cell phone, Liss retrieved the first-aid kit.
“No signal.”
“And you’re surprised?” They were nowhere near a tower and deep in a valley, besides.
Liss cleaned the wound as best she could and applied a bandage. Gordon still looked dazed, but she felt more confident. His injury didn’t seem to be serious. Still, she intended to get him back home as quickly as possible.
She climbed onto the snowmobile. When they both had their helmets securely fastened and he’d wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, she started the engine.
She wouldn’t bother loading the snowmobile onto the trailer, Liss decided. They could pick it up later, once she was sure Gordon was really all right.
Proceeding slowly, they reached the groomed trail. They hadn’t gone far along it when Liss caught sight of the back end of another snowmobile. Gordon saw it, too. He let go of her waist with his right hand and reached for the throttle. She slapped his fingers away. Speed up when the driver of that sled had tried to kill them? No way!
“Get closer,” he shouted in her ear.
Maybe it wasn’t the same snowmobile, Liss thought. That one should be much farther ahead by this time.
But it was. The markings on the machine, the colors of the snowmobile suits the two passengers wore—everything matched. For whatever reason, they had delayed their getaway. Liss wondered if they’d stopped to argue over going back to the clearing to finish off inconvenient witnesses.
T
he driver glanced around and spotted Liss and Gordon. The sled sped up.
Gordon reached forward a second time.
Liss swiveled far enough to see his face. His eyes looked clear and they were fixed on the machine ahead. His determined expression convinced Liss that if she didn’t cooperate and let him get to the throttle, he’d probably hit the kill switch, dump her off, and continue the pursuit on his own. Once again she slapped his hand away, but this time she followed orders and increased her speed.
“Hold on,” she yelled over the noise of the engine.
They had nothing to worry about, she told herself. The bad guys no longer had a gun. But a wave of relief washed over her when they didn’t open fire.
Stu’s snowmobile hit a rough patch and slewed sideways. Her heart in her throat, Liss righted it and kept going. Nope. No danger of being shot at. Falling off the sled, however, was still a possibility.
Once again, Gordon shouted something into her ear, but she lost whatever he said to the roar of the engine.
The ride to the clearing had given Liss enough practice to feel comfortable on the snowmobile, even now when they were going faster than she liked. Figuratively, she shrugged her shoulders. She could do this, get close enough to the other sled to see the faces of the two riders.
Liss didn’t allow herself think beyond that goal. The coordination she’d acquired from her years as a professional dancer stood her in good stead as she leaned way, way out on a turn. Gordon’s grip on her waist tightened. He stopped trying to talk to her.
On the flat, she increased her speed yet again, in tandem with the snowmobile ahead of them. Concentration fixed on the spot of navy blue that was the passenger’s back, her vision narrowed to the width of a tunnel. She saw nothing but her quarry, heard nothing but the rush of the wind past her helmet.
Coming in, Liss had reduced her speed when she went over icy patches, but this time around there was no slowing down. When the killer threw caution aside and veered off the trail onto virgin snow, Liss did the same without a moment’s hesitation. Grimly determined not to lose sight of the other sled, she pushed Stu’s snowmobile to its limits, following every zig and zag of the hair-raising cross-country course the other driver set.
There was potential for disaster here. Liss knew it, but she shoved the possibility ruthlessly aside. She didn’t allow herself to think about the rugged terrain or the wretched condition of the snow or her own inexperience. She couldn’t afford doubts. She had to believe she could control and maneuver the sled. With absolute faith in her ability to respond to the constantly changing demands of their situation, she trusted her instincts and kept going.
Liss barely felt the jolts when they went airborne and landed hard. The cold meant nothing to her, nor the snow flying in every direction as she barreled along. A certain curious detachment had descended, making her feel as if she were outside the action, watching herself chase across the countryside.
At the same time, exhilaration filled her. She let her body flow with the movement of the powerful machine beneath her. Following the other sled’s lead was like improvising a dance with a partner.
On another level, she was aware that what she was doing was dangerous. Dangerous? It was just plain crazy. But she was on an adrenaline high and loving every moment of it. She couldn’t stop now, especially since, at long last, she was gaining on the other sled!
A fine mist struck Liss full in the face mask. Momentarily blinded, she felt her stomach clench in panic but even that didn’t slow her down. She swiped at the visor with one gloved hand and kept going.
Behind her, Gordon was molded to her back. His body shadowed hers as she leaned out on turns or bent low over the handlebars. His grip on her waist remained firm and he made no move toward the kill switch.
As Liss drew closer to the other machine, the driver looked back. Liss stared hard at the face mask. She couldn’t make out a single feature, but there was something….
Abruptly, the sled swerved into a heavily wooded area. Liss followed, automatically decreasing her speed. She had no interest in colliding with a pine tree at fifty miles an hour.
Thirty was still fast enough to feel the pull of gravity on turns. The ground came frighteningly close when she leaned a little too far into one of them. It was Gordon who pulled them upright again before they both tumbled off.
Liss almost lost her seat a second time when she followed the other sled off snow-covered ground onto a dirt road. The impact of dropping a foot from snow bank to hard-packed ground rattled every bone in her body.
Their quarry was getting desperate, taking wild risks. Snowmobiles had not been designed to do more than cross the occasional street or railroad track. Liss felt as if her teeth were being jarred loose as they raced along the rutted surface.
Gravel and rocks tossed up by the sled ahead dinged off the front of Stu’s snowmobile. From beneath the treads, Liss heard a grinding noise. Much more of that and the chase would be over.
They were on a hilly road full of twists and turns as well as ruts and soft shoulders. Liss slowed a little more, common sense asserting itself even as every other instinct she possessed urged her to continue her pursuit. Gaining more of a lead, the fleeing sled careened around a hairpin curve at breakneck speed.
Momentarily on higher ground, Liss could see what was obscured from the other driver’s view by the blind corner. There was a stand of trees dead ahead.
Liss let up on the throttle. Her snowmobile skidded sideways and came a bone-jarring halt. The engine sputtered and stalled.
The crash of metal against timber was terrifyingly loud in the sudden quiet.
Liss’s insides twisted and she squeezed her eyes shut.
It wasn’t until she felt Gordon release her and slide off the sled that she could force herself to look.
As he ran toward the scene, she dismounted on trembling legs. With clumsy fingers she fished the first-aid kit out of its storage space and stumbled after him.
Both riders had been thrown. Gordon had already reached the driver, who had landed in the road. Glancing back at Liss, he gestured for her to go to the passenger. The figure in navy blue lay supine on the snow a few yards away.
Kneeling beside the fallen body, her heart in her throat, Liss opened the face mask. The features she revealed did not belong to anyone she’d ever seen before. A stranger stared up at Liss with a dazed look in her eyes.
Definitely a woman. Definitely alive. The snow had been deep enough and soft enough to cushion her fall.
“Can you speak?” Liss asked. “Don’t move yet. You might have broken something.”
“Just…winded…I…think.”
“Good. That’s good.” Liss looked for blood. She didn’t see any.
The woman wiggled her hands and feet experimentally. She winced when she tried to move her right leg, but didn’t seem to be in severe pain. “What…what happened?”
“You hit a tree.”
Liss turned her head to look at the driver of the crashed sled. All she could see were feet.
They weren’t moving. Gordon had climbed the bank on the opposite side of the dirt road and had his cell phone to his ear.
It was cold out in the open. Bitterly cold. Blowing snow stung Liss’s cheeks when she removed her helmet. She started to shake, but not from the chill in the air. Now that the chase was over, she realized just how close they had all come to disaster.
“Will you be okay alone for a minute?” Liss’s voice wasn’t steady, either.
“I’m not going anywhere. I think I did something to my knee.” The woman managed a wry smile, but it cost her.
“Knees can be fixed,” Liss said. How well she knew it! Promising she’d be right back, she went straight to Gordon, reaching his side just as he finished his phone call.
Dark eyes filled with sorrow, he turned to her. “She’s dead, Liss.” His voice sounded strained. “She was thrown into the same tree her snowmobile hit. The impact broke her neck.”
�
�She? So, it’s not Eric Moss?”
“No. And not Felicity Thorne, either.”
She blinked at him in confusion. She’d been so certain they were chasing one or the other. “The passenger is a stranger,” she whispered. “The driver, too?”
But Gordon shook his head. “The dead woman is someone we know, all right. It’s Marcia Milliken Katz.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Good thing Jim Uxbridge likes to check on his camp in winter,” Pete Campbell muttered as they jounced over the ruts in the narrow dirt road. “If he hadn’t plowed out after the storm, we’d never be able to get through.”
“There they are!” Sherri tightened her grip on the Crown Vic’s dashboard as Pete hit the brakes.
They were the first responders at the accident scene. Sherri was out of her jurisdiction and off duty besides, but she’d been riding with Pete when the call came in over the police radio. Knowing Liss’s plans for the afternoon, she expected to find her friend with Gordon Tandy. What she couldn’t predict was whether or not Liss was the one requiring medical attention.
She spotted the bandage on Gordon’s forehead first. Then she caught sight of the body, half concealed by two trees with ugly slashes across their bark. Her heart stuttered and for a moment she forgot how to breathe.
Then Pete said, “There’s Liss, sitting on that log.”
“Thank God!” Sherri fumbled with her seat belt and scrambled out of the sheriff’s department cruiser.
Taking the most direct route, Sherri cut across unbroken snow. Liss looked relatively undamaged, but her face was paler than the icy ground beneath Sherri’s feet and she had a spectacular bruise coming up on one cheek. The silver space blanket wrapped around her shimmered in the setting sun every time Liss shivered.
A woman sat next to her, a middle-aged blonde cocooned in a second blanket, this one blaze orange. Sherri had never seen her before.
“There’s an ambulance en route.” Sherri’s voice came out as a squeak. She had to clear her throat before she could go on. “You okay?”
“I’ll survive. Did you know these space emergency blankets only weigh three ounces and will fit into a first aid kit? Stu had two of them. Isn’t that lucky?” The hand that held the blanket closed trembled violently. “Why can’t I get warm?”
A Wee Christmas Homicide Page 21
