Chapter 13
Cody stood in the middle of the drive. The hood of the Range Rover almost touched his chest. Heat leaked from the engine and enveloped him, but it was the sense of betrayal he felt that burned him from within.
Viktoria blanched, her brows drawn together and her jaw tight. Then her countenance darkened. She revved the engine—an easily understood threat.
She was running again. He thought they worked together well, that they’d become a team. You never ran out on your teammate. He opened his mouth, furious and ready to tell her off, to order her to get out of the car.
Then he stopped.
Yes, she was running—leaving him. But wasn’t he at fault, too? In assuming she would remain at his house and wait to get arrested like a sitting duck, hadn’t he abandoned his promise to keep her and her son safe, and preserve their family—the only family she had left?
Leaning forward, Cody placed both hands on the hood. “Run me over if you have to,” he said, “but I’m not getting out of the way.”
The driver’s side window lowered with an electric whir. Heat escaped the car’s interior in a wave. “I can’t let them take Gregory,” she said. “I will do anything to keep my child safe.”
From the back seat, Gregory blanched and Cody hated that the kid would be traumatized again and again—with no way for Cody to keep him safe and feeling secure.
Yet, Viktoria’s last words had been full of steel and resolve. Despite his pain, he was in awe of her. He didn’t know where all that courage came from.
“You can’t run forever. Eventually, you’ll be found and the more miles you travel the worse you’ll be viewed.”
“Do you think I care what people think about me?”
“Viewed by the courts, law enforcement. Running implies guilt.”
“Or that I’m being chased.”
“And speaking of being chased—what do you think will happen when Belkin or Mateev finally catch you? You’ll be murdered, just like they tried to do last night. And maybe there won’t be someone around to help the next time.”
“So, you’re saying that I should just stay and wait for them to find me?”
Cody slammed his hand on the hood in frustration. “You can stay and let me help you.”
“I know that you said you would. It’s just...” her voice trailed off.
The silence gave Cody pause. “You don’t trust me,” he said.
The engine stilled. Through the windshield, he saw Viktoria lean into the headrest and place the heels of her hands over her eyes. She remained that way for a moment and Cody let his hands drop away from the car—as if he’d ever really had the power to stop her from leaving.
She opened the door and stepped out into the darkness. She wrapped her arms across her chest—to stay warm or to protect herself, Cody couldn’t tell. The wind whipped around them and pulled Viktoria’s hair across her face. Cody longed to run his fingers through the strands, to pull her to him, to feel her breath on his skin.
“Stay,” he said.
“Because of your job?” she challenged.
“Are you really questioning my loyalty to you? After all we’ve been through?”
“I’m protecting my son. Don’t you understand that I have to go?”
“Stay,” he said again.
“Why?”
“Because.” Cody swallowed. Because if she left, he would be alone. Because over the course of this single day, Cody had discovered what he wanted out of life. Because there was nothing he would not do for Viktoria. “Because,” he said again, “I need you.” The admission was a release—and yet, if she refused him, he knew it would cost him everything.
“Cody.” Tears coursed down her cheeks. “I can’t wait to be arrested for protecting my child from criminals, and then be treated like a criminal myself.”
“No,” said Cody, “you can’t. But I’m not about to let you slip away like this,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I wish it could be different.”
“It can be,” he said. “I’m going with you.”
* * *
Belkin pulled out of the circular drive and headed the SUV down the mountain. His visit to Russia needed to be sped up, and perhaps extended. But first he had some loose ends to tie up.
And he couldn’t get on that plane without Gregory Mateev.
He entered an address he found for Cody Samuels into the GPS, and started following the directions. The snow no longer fell, but the roads had yet to be plowed a final time and Belkin dared not drive too fast—lest he lose control of his vehicle.
In desperate need of some distraction, Peter Belkin turned on the radio. Carols blared from the speakers. Trees. Reindeer. Happy voices urging him to have a jolly Christmas. He’d come to hate them all. He searched through the stations, finally finding one with a news-only format. He drove for over a quarter of an hour as banal stories of insignificant lives served as the backdrop to his own worries.
“And in local news,” said the announcer, “the body of San Miguel County Sheriff Raymond Benjamin was discovered in his office early this morning, dead by a gunshot wound to the head.”
Belkin stared at the radio, willing it to give him more information.
“In what appears to be an accident, Sheriff Benjamin was shot while cleaning his sidearm late on December the twenty-third. His body was found when the first shift of deputies arrived in the morning of the twenty-fourth.”
That was a lie. Belkin could smell it, like fetid cheese. There was no way the shooting was accidental. Self-inflicted, certainly. Sheriff Benjamin knew exactly what he was doing and Peter Belkin knew why. At least one of his problems had been solved on its own.
The road descended a steep hill and the SUV picked up speed. Belkin came to a bend in the road. He began to ease his foot off the brake as a thought came to him, and he tensed, his mind absorbed by a new worry. Sheriff Benjamin had been troubled by taking the bribe and providing Belkin with the Mateev woman’s location. He was beset with guilt—and guilty people often confessed. What if Sheriff Benjamin had called his wife before swallowing a bullet? Or worse yet, left a detailed note?
Belkin suddenly realized that the SUV was rocketing toward the bend at much too quick a speed. On one side was a steep cliff; the tops of trees at the bottom of the canyon were level with the road. On the other side rose a sheer mountainside. He let off the gas and swerved hard to avoid a fall over the cliff side and into the trees. The SUV’s tires didn’t respond and careened toward the abyss. Despite his better judgment, he slammed on the brakes. The SUV skidded and slammed into the mountainside, then bounced back, its engine still humming.
Peter Belkin gripped the steering wheel. His hands shook. With a shoulder, he wiped away the sweat trickling down his face and into his eyes. Belkin gingerly shifted the SUV into Reverse. To his amazement, the vehicle moved. Taking up both lanes, he kept his eyes trained on the car’s rear bumper and the road beyond, careful not to veer too near to the edge.
The lights came quickly into his peripheral vision. He didn’t have time to react, only to know that another car was barreling straight toward him.
* * *
Heart thumping, Viktoria braced her arms on the dashboard. Her foot slamming into the imaginary brake on the floor. “Cody!” she screamed. “Look out!”
At the same instant Cody cursed and jerked hard on the steering wheel. The grill of the Range Rover struck the rear bumper of another vehicle. Sparks flew as metal grated against metal. Viktoria held the dashboard as the Range Rover pitched backward with the impact.
The front driver’s tire exploded and the Range Rover listed to the side. With the other three tires still turning, Cody’s car swung around to the left and headed directly toward the drop-off.
Cody’s leg furiously pumped as his foot continually slammed
the brake pedal. Viktoria quickly unsnapped her seat belt, turned and pressed Gregory back into his seat. For a split second, Viktoria was weightless, suspended in midair. Then they crashed down; the airbag exploded into her back, shoving her hard into the seat. She lost her breath. The Range Rover bumped and jostled, falling farther and farther. It stopped with a jolt and Viktoria’s head snapped back.
Wide-eyed she looked at Cody. He gripped the steering wheel. His foot was still firmly planted on the brake.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Her neck hurt. “I’m fine,” she said, breathless. She continued to press Gregory into the seat, where she had somehow kept him in place. His heartbeat raced under her palm. He whimpered and she shushed him with an “It’s alright, Mommy’s here.”
“Avoid any sudden movements,” said Cody.
Viktoria eased her hands off Gregory’s chest and looked out the side window. The Range Rover sat at a downward angle. Thick trunks of pine trees lined her view.
“Can I turn around?” she asked.
“You can,” said Cody, “but slowly.”
Viktoria untwisted until she faced forward. The sight took her breath away.
The Range Rover’s hood was crammed against the bases of several trees, wedged into an outcropping of the mountain. But the drop-off beyond was treacherous, as was the climb back out.
“Mommy,” said Gregory, “I’m scared.”
“I know, Captain Kiddo. That was pretty terrifying,” Viktoria said to her son. Then lowering her voice, she said to Cody, “I’ve jeopardized all our safety. I’m sorry I got you into this.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I told you—I’m with you.”
He reached for her hand.
They felt the slightest movement, and then the Range Rover rolled forward. One of the trees holding them in place cracked, its trunk bending at an ominous angle.
* * *
Cody refused to panic. He turned off the car and reached with his left hand and unlatched his seat belt. Next, he gently lifted the door handle and pushed. The door was stuck. Not to worry, he reminded himself, there were other doors to be opened, other ways to get out. He used the driver controls and tried to roll down the windows. They didn’t budge.
He silently cursed.
To Viktoria he said, “Unbuckle Gregory.” Then to the kid, he said, “Even after your mommy gets you out of the seat belt, I want you to stay put. That’s real important, stay put. Got that, Gregory?”
The boy nodded, fear etched across his face.
Viktoria eased around and unbuckled her son. The boy listened and held himself with statue-like stillness. It would have been comical, if not for the deadly seriousness of their situation.
As long as they weren’t pinned in the car, they could escape. Now they had to get out of the car.
From the back seat Gregory said, “Mommy, look. Fire.”
A small tree next to their car, crushed and bent, was alight. The flames crackled and consumed the pine needles. It was only a matter of time before the fire reached the gas tank and caused an explosion. That was, if the smoke didn’t overtake them first.
“Try your door,” Cody said to Viktoria.
She jerked the handle several times. “It’s stuck,” she said, her voice high and filled with alarm.
Outside, he only saw the scarred and scratched trunk of the trees holding them in place. There wasn’t enough room for Gregory to squeeze out, much less Viktoria or Cody. A quick glance told him that all the windows were covered. On one hand, it had helped to stop the Range Rover from careening down to the bottom of the canyon. It also held them steady in their downward pitch on the mountainside. On the other hand, they were truly trapped.
The Range Rover slid forward.
“Calm down,” Cody said as he placed his arm on Viktoria’s shoulder. Her muscles were tight and she trembled. “The worst thing we can do is panic,” he said, keeping his voice even.
She bit her lip and nodded. “Okay.”
“Don’t think of what might happen, think of what needs to be done. Can you do that?”
She nodded again. “But if the windows are disabled and the doors are blocked, what can we do?”
There was only one possible way to escape. The rear hatch. “Stay where you are,” Cody said as he slipped the key into his pocket. He eased out of the seat and backed up over the center console. He kept his movements light and minimal. The SUV remained steady. He stopped next to Gregory. Silent tears slid down the kid’s cheeks. His fear lodged as a pain in Cody’s chest. He gave the kid’s cheek a quick pat as he passed. “We’ll be okay, I promise.”
Wide-eyed, Gregory nodded. Cody struggled to find something else reassuring to say, but didn’t want to waste valuable time on sentiments.
Head bent and shoulders stooped, he climbed backward into the small cargo space.
Flames encircled the trees that had stopped their fall in a deadly embrace. Smoke was thicker at the rear of the vehicle and Cody’s eyes began to water. He muffled a cough, lest his movements wrest the Range Rover loose from its precarious position.
He reached back. His hand danced blindly along the hatch until he found the handle. He pulled up and the rear gate opened. Cold air washed over Cody, then the updraft pulled a hot cloud of smoke and ash into the night.
He lifted the tailgate slowly. Slowly. Ever so slowly. The car remained still. Then the rear hatch stopped as metal grated against mountainside. He shoved the gate upward, trying to gain another inch. It didn’t move. Cody didn’t bother estimating the gap’s width. It was too small for any of them to slip through.
Then he realized he had the key. If he could break the side window, he could break the rear one, as well. Shielding his eyes with one arm, he gripped the key fob and swung out as if he was delivering a cross punch. The car rocked as the tip of the key connected with a crack. The glass crumbled and rained down. Using his sleeve, Cody brushed away the remaining shards of glass then pulled the door closed.
Without another thought, he moved on to the next task: getting out.
“Viktoria,” Cody urged. “Get Gregory and come back to me.”
She crawled carefully out of her seat and leaned toward the middle bench. Viktoria lifted Gregory over the rear seat. Heat rushed over Cody as a loud pop shot through the night. Flames crept through the air-conditioning vents and began heating up the car. The dashboard smoldered and the instrumental panel started to bubble. The car shuddered and rolled forward again. The fire lit Viktoria from the back and her face was lost in the shadows. “Take Gregory and go,” she said.
Cody reached for the boy and set him near the window where the air was cleanest and the flames were farthest away.
The Range Rover shuddered and rolled forward.
“Come on. Viktoria,” urged Cody. “We’re running out of time.”
“Go,” she said again, her tone more urgent. “Save my son.”
“What are you talking about?” Cody reached for her, but his hand found nothing. “I’m not leaving without you.”
Her voice came from the fiery abyss. “My foot’s stuck. I can’t move.”
* * *
Belkin sat in the idling SUV and watched the home of Cody Samuels. He hadn’t seen a single person on the ground floor. It could be, he reasoned, that they were all on the second story.
No, he decided, something wasn’t right. He put the SUV into gear and moved to the far side of the house, where it was hidden from the road and not easily seen even from the front door.
Conscious of the noise, he carefully closed the door before trudging through the snow. By the time he reached the porch, his feet were wet and cold and balls of snow clung to his trousers.
He tried the doorknob. It turned and the door swung open. Belkin took in the room at a single glance. A
fire smoldered in the hearth. A cartoon played on the TV. A plate of cookies with thick icing sat in the middle of the table. His own laptop sat on the counter.
As Belkin crossed the threshold, he withdrew the gun from the pocket of his coat and held it at the ready. The cartoon. The cookies. The computer. They all told the same story—Viktoria and Gregory were here with Cody Samuels, and they were the ones who had made him a prisoner in his own home. But where, exactly, were they now?
Belkin climbed the staircase at the far side of the house. Upstairs he found two bedrooms and a half bath—all empty. Back downstairs he searched through another bathroom and a cluttered storage room. Without question, the house was unoccupied.
With the house awash with lights and a fire left untended, he guessed that Viktoria and Cody had not gone far nor for too long. Belkin opened his laptop and hit the power button. The screen and keyboard remained dark, obviously drained of power.
He rummaged through a drawer filled with odds and ends until he found a small screwdriver. Flipping over his laptop, he removed four screws and lifted off the back plate.
Gritting his teeth, he cursed. His hard drive was missing. He flung the laptop aside, visually taking in the room. Someone with Cody Samuels’s level of knowledge wouldn’t leave Belkin’s hard drive lying around. He’d hide it—someplace safe.
But where? Then another thought came to Belkin and his chest began to burn. What if Samuels was delivering the hard drive to the FBI right now?
Belkin pulled open every drawer in the kitchen, dumping their contents on the floor.
Nothing.
He pulled the cushions from the furniture, tossing them aside.
Nothing.
Belkin began to sweat. He couldn’t simply ransack the whole house. If the hard drive was still here, Samuels would have hidden it with care.
Surveying the destruction, Belkin thought of what he knew. Cody Samuels. Graduate of the University of Colorado. Former DEA agent.
While Belkin’s knowledge of DEA agents wasn’t exhaustive, his understanding of drug dealers was. They had a variety of creative places to hide their stash.
Her Rocky Mountain Hero (Rocky Mountain Justice Book 1) Page 16
