Lawman on the Hunt

by Cindi Myers

  She had learned early on in her association with him that most terrorists didn’t provide any visual clues. Duane’s followers included housewives and doctors, military men and preachers and successful businessmen. They gave him money and followed his orders and believed he was the means to their salvation.

  Travis shoved the phone back into his pocket. “If we keep moving, we’re bound to eventually get a signal or reach a road or something.”

  She nodded, though the wearier and hungrier she became, the more her optimism faded. She didn’t want to have finally escaped Duane only to die here in the wilderness.

  She pushed the thought away. She hadn’t come this far, held on to life this tightly, to lose it now. For a time, Duane had made her feel helpless, even hopeless. She wasn’t those things anymore. She was strong. A survivor. And she would survive this ordeal, too.

  The higher they climbed up the mountain, the steeper the trek. She labored to breathe in the thin air and lagged farther and farther behind Travis, so that he was forced to stop and wait for her more often. “You’re doing great,” he said, when she caught up with him near the top of the peak. “We’re almost there.”

  “Almost” proved to be another hour of climbing, but at last no other rock outcroppings or false summits blocked their view. After a last scramble over loose rock and boulders, they reached their goal. Travis, who was hiking ahead of her, stopped and extended his hand to pull her up beside him onto a narrow ledge. “We did it,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “What an incredible view.”

  From this elevation, they could see for miles, the world a child’s play set spread out before them, with a miniature forest, rocky hills and golden valleys; sun and shadow played across them like spilled paint from a clumsy artist. The scene was both beautiful and intimidating, with no roads or houses or other people as far as the eye could see. How would they ever find their way to safety across such vastness?

  “You’re very quiet,” Travis said. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m worried about the weather.” She tore her gaze from the view below to stare up at the sky. All morning, the sun had played hide-and-seek with the clouds and the temperature had dropped.

  “The clouds don’t look serious to me,” he said. “We’ll be okay.”

  As if to contradict him, a stiff breeze kicked up, pushing her into him. She had no room to move away, even if she could have found the willpower to do so. His warm, strong arms around her made her feel so safe and reminded her so much of when her life had been good and they had been happy together.

  She forced herself not to think of that, or to contemplate the way his arms brushed the side of her breasts or the way her heart sped up as he shifted against her. She turned her eyes again to the view below. “It’s like being in a plane,” she said. “Everything down there looks so small and far away.”

  “I can see a river.” He pointed, and she followed his gaze to a narrow ribbon of silver threading through the trees.

  “We can see other peaks from here, too.” She nodded toward the mountains that jutted up around them. “Maybe we can figure out where we are.”

  “Get the map.” He released her and turned so that she could unzip the pack. As she pulled out the map, the wind threatened to rip it from her hand.

  “Don’t let it go,” she said, wrinkling the plastic-coated paper as she clutched it tightly. The map was their best chance of navigating out of here.

  “Turn toward the mountain,” Travis said. “We’ll shield the map with our bodies.”

  Carefully, she did as he instructed. They huddled together, the map between them, and she tried not to think about the thousand-foot drop at her back. All she had to do was stand still and not move.

  Travis studied the map, forehead furrowed in concentration, then stabbed at a blue line on the paper. “That’s the Animas River. I think that’s what we’re looking at.”

  “That’s one of the largest rivers in this part of Colorado,” she said. “Do you see anything else familiar?”

  “That tallest peak to our north might be Mount Eolus.” He indicated the jagged peak that rose above the others in their view. “My best guess is that we’re standing on either Mount Kennedy or Aztec Mountain. If we head slightly northwest, that will take us to the Needle Creek Trail.” He traced the dashed line that marked the trail on the map. “That will take us to a bridge over the river, and the Needleton Station for the Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railway. We can flag down the train, and in Durango or Silverton I can call for help.”

  She let his words sink in, then turned to stare across the valley once more. The glinting silver thread through the trees, and the railroad that followed its banks, seemed so far away. And yet so tantalizingly close. As she stared, a thin trail of smoke rose up from the trees.

  “There’s the train,” Travis said. His arm came around her once more and together they watched as the engine with its line of cars emerged from the trees, looking like a child’s toy, puffs of white smoke marking its path.

  “How long do you think it will take us to reach it?” she asked.

  “It’s only a couple of miles to the trail on the map, but it’s rugged country. We may have to detour more than once. After that, it’s only about seven miles to the train station. We probably won’t make it to the trail before dark, but we can get close, and finish the trip tomorrow.”

  “The trains run twice a day,” she said. “I remember that from some tourist brochures the leasing agent for the house left us.”

  “Did you ever ride it when you were a kid?” he asked.

  “We rode it a couple of times, when we had relatives visiting who wanted to see the area. The scenery is spectacular, but the most fun for me and Sarah as kids was moving between the cars and hanging out the windows of the open cars to watch the engine as it puffed along the curves.” She smiled, remembering the fun of exploring the train with Sarah, their parents and visiting relatives engrossed in the scenery. “I remember one time in Silverton, the town staged a mock shoot-out in the street in front of the depot. It was like traveling back in time.”

  “We’ll get an early start and try to catch the morning train,” Travis said.

  “Should we try the phone again?” she asked.

  He pulled out the phone once more and turned it to show her that there was still no signal. “No towers in the wilderness area,” he said. “But my team will be looking for us. We could meet up with them before too much longer.”

  “How will they know where to look?” she asked. “We must be miles from where we started.”

  “That’s true,” he said. “But they won’t give up until they find us. In the meantime, we won’t wait for them. We’ve got a hard hike ahead of us. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” Her heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and dread. The distance they needed to cover over such rugged terrain still intimidated her, but having a goal in sight and a plan to get there made her feel stronger. Anything could happen over the next twelve hours or so, but they were going to make it, she was more sure than ever.

  Another strong gust of wind threatened to knock them from their perch, and raindrops the size of BBs pelted them. “We’re getting off the mountain just in time,” she said, raising her voice over the drumbeat of rain on the rocks.

  “Wait just a minute,” Travis said, unclipping the binoculars from his belt. “I want to take a closer look, see if I can make out a trail.”

  She ducked her head as the rain began to fall harder while Travis focused the binoculars to the north. “How does it look?” she asked.

  “Steep. Rocky. But doable if we’re careful. I’m trying to see if I can spot the trail...” His voice trailed off, then he swore, the sudden sharp exclamation rocking her back on her heels.

  “What is it?” She clutched at his arm. “What’s wrong?”

/>   He lowered the glasses, his expression grim. “I found the trail,” he said. “There’s a big party headed up it. I’m pretty sure it’s Braeswood. And it looks like he’s brought in reinforcements.”

  Chapter Nine

  Travis ignored the rain pelting his face and soaking his clothing as he studied the line of men snaking their way down the distant trail. Even with the binoculars, they resembled a line of ants. Black-clad ants carrying heavy packs and marching with military purpose up the trail.

  “Are you sure it’s them?” Leah asked.

  “I can’t be sure at this distance.” Though he had memorized the faces of thousands of people, he had to be close enough to see details in order to use that talent. “But my gut tells me it’s them.” Casual hikers didn’t move that way, or carry so much gear.

  She clung to his arm. “Have they spotted us?”

  “I don’t think so. At least, they’re not stopping to look this way.” They were covering ground quickly, though. Men on a mission. Hunters out for prey.

  He stashed the binoculars and made sure the pack was secure, then took Leah’s arm. “Come on,” he said. “We’d better get moving.”

  The rock was slick from the rain, and they were already soaked to the skin from the torrents of water pelting them. “Careful!” he called, reaching out to steady her as she slipped on the loose gravel.

  “I’m okay,” she said, pushing him away. “Just hurry. We need—”

  Thunder, like a cannon shot, drowned out the rest of her words. She screamed as the rain turned to hail, ice pellets the size of grapes bombarding them. He glanced over his shoulder toward the river, no longer visible through the storm. Would the weather slow down their pursuers, or would they press on?

  He and Leah had no choice but to keep moving. They had to get down off this peak, and fast. “Come on,” he said, moving past her. “This way.”

  She remained still, rain plastering her hair to her head, glinting on her lashes like tears. “You’re planning to move toward them?”

  “It’s our best chance to reach safety.”

  “We’ll run right into them.”

  “Not if we’re careful. We’ll evade them and go around them. There’s a lot of territory out there, and they can’t cover it all.”

  She glanced toward the distant trail and the men who were invisible to the naked eye. “They’ll know we’ll head for the train station. It’s the closest way out of here.”

  “Yes. They’ll probably have someone watching. We’ll have to find a way to get past.”

  She seemed to consider this, her expression as serious as if she were weighing the pros and cons of undergoing surgery.

  “It’s either go forward toward the train station or go back,” he said. “It’s at least three days’ hiking to any kind of road. Maybe longer to safety.” He didn’t mention that Braeswood might very well have a second crew hiking in from that direction, intending to trap them in the middle.

  Another crash of thunder shook the air, jarring her from her stupor. “All right,” she said. “Let’s hurry.”

  Descending with any speed proved challenging, with the rain and hail obscuring their vision and making the footing treacherous. The loose rock scree slid from beneath their boots, so that every step threatened to send them careering down the steep slope. Thunder shook them, and lightning exploded behind them, the light blinding and the air sharp with the smell of ozone.

  “We’ve got to find shelter!” he shouted, and grabbed her hand.

  “We’re on bare rock. There is no shelter.”

  He’d been an idiot, ignoring her concerns about the weather. Now they were going to end up another statistic, among the half dozen or so climbers who died each year because their desire to reach a summit overruled their common sense.

  “Come on.” He tugged at her hand. “We have to move down.”

  They half ran, half slid down the next stretch of bare rock. The hail stopped, replaced by rain in silver sheets, water running in streams down the rock. Thunder crashed in percussive waves, and lightning bathed the air in eerie blue light. The hair on Travis’s arms stood up and the back of his neck prickled. He gritted his teeth, bracing himself for the strike he was sure would come, but it did not.

  “Look over there!” Leah stopped and pointed. He followed her gaze to a dark shadow on the side of the mountain.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I think it’s a cave. Or maybe a mine tunnel.”

  Before she had finished speaking, he was pulling her toward it. They needed shelter, and even a hole in the ground might be enough to save them.

  They had to walk sideways along a narrow ledge to reach the cave, a shallow opening beneath a rock ledge. It smelled of animals, and a faded, crushed beer can testified that they were not the first humans to use it as a refuge. He ducked inside and Leah followed. She dropped to the ground, panting and wide-eyed. “I’ve never been so terrified in my life,” she said.

  “We should be okay now.” He stirred a pile of rubbish at the back of the cave with his walking stick—twigs, paper, moss and bark made a messy nest of sorts, but otherwise it was empty.

  “Looks like a pack rat.” Leah wrinkled her nose. “That’s probably the smell, too. Let’s hope the rat itself is long gone.” She struggled out of the fleece jacket and wrung water from it. “I’m soaked.”

  “We need a fire,” he said. The nest would make a good starter, but they needed bigger wood to burn if they wanted to get enough of a blaze to warm and dry them.

  “I guess Braeswood’s men wouldn’t notice a fire way up here,” she said. “Not with all the rain.”

  Travis raked the rat’s nest to the opening of the cave, then took out his multi-tool and began sawing at his walking stick. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “We need the wood for fire. I’ll need your stick, too.”

  She didn’t protest, but handed over the stick. Within a few minutes he had a neat pile of kindling beside him. He took the matches and tinder from the pack and quickly had a blaze going.

  “Too bad we don’t have marshmallows,” she said.

  “I never liked roasted marshmallows,” he said, carefully feeding one of the sticks to the flames. “Though I wouldn’t say no to a nice sausage.”

  “Stop it. You’re torturing me.”

  He sat back, watching the wood catch and the flames flicker bright gold. They had needed this, to stop and warm themselves by a fire, and rest in a place where they felt safe. Even if Braeswood’s men did notice them up here, it would take hours of climbing for them to reach this spot, and by then he and Leah would be long gone.

  “This feels so good,” she said, scooting closer to him and stretching her hands toward the blaze. “I don’t know what it is about a fire that’s so comforting.”

  “It’s probably genetic,” he said. “Our cavemen ancestors looked to fire for protection and warmth.”

  “Hmmm.” She let out a long sigh. “I think the rain is already letting up.”

  “We’ll stay here until it stops and we dry off,” he said. “The rest will do us good.”

  He fed another stick to the blaze. “Besides, we might as well use up the wood I cut.”

  “I’m going to miss my walking stick,” she said.

  “I’ll cut you another one when we get down to the tree line,” he said.

  “Who knew you were such a woodsman?” Her smile was gentle and teasing, and he felt the familiar pull of longing for her. He forced himself to look away, focusing on the fire. She wasn’t the woman he had known before, and he wasn’t the same man. Whatever they had shared before, that was gone now. Trying to re-create it would be a mistake.

  “You know what I’ve been up to for the past six months,” she said. “But what have you been doing?”
>
  Missing you. But no point going there. “Working. I was in Denver last month. I took a week this spring to go to Texas and see my folks.” What could he possibly tell her that would sound interesting? His life was routine and boring, except for his work, which he couldn’t talk about. “You remember my friend Luke?”

  “Of course.” She smiled—the same smile most women got when they thought of Luke, who was movie-star handsome and had charm to spare. “How is he doing?”

  “He’s engaged. To a sports reporter he met in Denver.”

  “Engaged! How wonderful for him. Do you like her?”

  “I do.” Morgan Westfield was smart and funny and she had courage to spare. “She’s a lot like you, really. A strong woman.”

  She leaned forward to add a stick to the fire. “I’m happy for them, then.”

  He studied her profile, the smooth curve of her cheek, the slight jut of her chin, the curl of hair around her ear, and remembered the first time he had seen her—in the lunch line at their high school. He hadn’t been able to stop looking at her and had followed her to her table and introduced himself. Later, when they were both grown and working in DC, he’d run into her at the Senate cafeteria, and that time he’d vowed not to let her get away.

  Maybe some promises simply weren’t meant to be kept.

  “Will you go back to DC when this is over?” he asked.

  She looked startled. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it much.” She plucked a piece of gravel from the floor of the cave and rolled it back and forth in her fingers. “I never let myself think about the future when I was with Duane. It was too frightening. Too painful.” She shook her head.

  “You’re smart, and you have good experience. You could find a job anywhere,” he said.

  “I’m sure employers will be lining up to hire a suspected terrorist.” She made a face. “I’m sure I’ll find something to do and somewhere to live when the time comes. I can’t think that far ahead.” She glanced at him. “What about you? What will you do when you’re back in Durango?”

  “Keep working on the case,” he said. “Maybe go back to DC, or wherever the Bureau sends me.” He shrugged. “The job doesn’t make planning ahead easy.” Though one time they had had big plans for a life together. They had been so optimistic and full of faith that everything would work out for the best. Braeswood had stolen that, too.