They looked ready to go back and Wes felt his body uncoiling. Kaitlyn had something in her hand. The soft glow of a phone turned on in her palm.
“What’s up with this phone, anyway?” she asked. “Diego had it. The resident must have given it to him. But there’s no signal up here. So what was he doing?”
“Don’t overthink it, Kait. He’s just some brain-damaged reject. What could he possibly do?”
The woman turned off her penlight, shuffling with something else in her hand as she followed the light cast by her companion’s more powerful flashlight.
Wes bristled hearing his brother dismissed in such callous terms. Becca tightened her grip on his hand, as if to keep him from springing to his feet.
Then it struck him. They weren’t looking for Diego, they were looking for Eric. It was Wes’s brother who had left Colina Nublosa carrying Meggie up to the Devil’s Cauldron. He must be coming to look for Wes. And these two were searching for Eric. Then where was Diego? Had they done something to him?
Furious now, he shrugged off Becca’s warning hiss.
“Hey!” he shouted as he rose to his feet. “That’s my brother you’re talking about. And that pisses me off.”
He turned on his flashlight and shone it on the pair, who whirled, blinking as he blasted it in their eyes.
“No, Wes,” Becca said. “She has a gun!”
Too late, he realized she was right. That was what Becca was trying to warn him about. When Kaitlyn had been putting away the phone, it was to bring out a handgun. They weren’t searching for Eric and Meggie to question them—they were hunting to kill them. The gun now pointed at Wes’s chest as Kaitlyn stepped toward him.
Wes lowered his flashlight to the gun, his anger giving way to fear. For himself, of course, but mostly for Becca, now rising to her feet. And for Eric, hiding somewhere with a paralyzed woman.
“What are you doing here?” Kaitlyn asked.
His mind turned quickly. First, protect his pregnant wife and his brother. Then himself.
“My brother thought someone was trying to kill him. He’s paranoid, he worries about stuff like that, but I agreed to—”
Kaitlyn fired her gun. Wes flinched, anticipating the bullet slamming into his chest. She was only ten feet away and her aim was steady. But nothing hit him.
Someone was screaming behind him, and through the ringing in his ears—mostly caused by fear, not the gunshot—he realized it was Becca.
“I’m okay!” he shouted. “Becca!” Then, to Kaitlyn, he said angrily, “What the hell is wrong with you? Put that down!”
“You had one warning shot,” Kaitlyn said. “That was it. Lie to me again and you will die.”
Tell the truth and I die, too.
There was no questioning her intentions. She stared at him coldly through the rain, while Benjamin shone the flashlight in his face. Her gun hand remained steady. As soon as Wes told her the full truth, she would kill him.
“Please don’t,” Becca said. “Please, we’re not your enemies. We—”
“Stand back or I shoot him. Then you.”
Becca had been stepping forward, but now she hesitated. Wes was glad for that. He wasn’t willing to let her be a distraction so he could make a feint, or whatever. He motioned her back.
Kaitlyn fished something out of her pocket. It was Wes’s phone. “You heard what I said, didn’t you? That’s right, I know he was carrying this. Why? What was he doing?”
“Eric was helping us find the patient with locked-in syndrome,” Wes said.
“That’s what I know already.”
“But that’s all he was doing. That’s all any of us are doing. It’s our job—we find people who can’t communicate and we help. We want to help Meggie, that’s it.”
“Sorry, I can’t let that happen.”
“We don’t care about anything else. Your history with Meggie, any of that. We’re not interested in any sort of vendetta or conflict. We bring help, that’s all. If you’re guilty of any crime, anything at all, it has nothing to do with us.”
“Please, believe us,” Becca said. “If we go to the police, then we stop getting access to people with LIS. So we can’t make too much noise. We have to be discreet.”
Wes glanced at his wife, impressed. Her lie sounded so much more convincing than his version. But it was still a lie. The foundation was all too happy to bring justice to people like Kaitlyn Potterman. Anyone who would abuse, hide, or injure a person incapable of fighting back deserved to be hung, so far as Wes was concerned. No, to rot in solitary confinement for the rest of her life. That was more fitting.
Kaitlyn snorted. “Even if that were true, that doesn’t mean Meggie would feel the same way. What’s to keep her from talking?”
“We’ll speak with her,” Wes said, lamely. “We’ll explain—”
She pulled out Wes’s cell phone from her pocket. “Why do you have the cell phone?”
Wes shrugged. “If my brother got lonely he could call.”
The gun cracked. A blow slammed into Wes’s leg. He fell to the ground with a cry, then rolled over, writhing in agony. His hands grabbed at the gunshot wound, trying to put out the wildfire burning up his thigh muscle.
Becca dropped to his side. “Wes!”
“Get away from him,” Kaitlyn snarled. “The next bullet goes in his skull.”
Crying and shaking with what Wes knew was anger more than fear, Becca backed away on the wet, muddy ground. She kept moving until she was several feet behind, up near the tree. Wes lay on the ground, teeth clenched, hurt and afraid.
“Now,” Kaitlyn said, “I suppose you could call that a second warning shot. A little more serious than the first. I’d kill you, but somehow I don’t think this other one would cooperate if I did. You were lying again, weren’t you?”
The pain eliminated Wes’s defiance. He nodded.
“There’s no signal at Colina Nublosa.” She flung his phone at him. It bounced off his shoulder and landed on the ground. He didn’t pick it up. “You knew that. There’s no signal anywhere around here. So why did he have it? Why did he pass it to Diego?”
Wes swallowed hard, trying to frame the truth in such a way that she would believe. Kaitlyn must have taken this as additional equivocating. She pointed her gun back toward the woods to Becca.
“The next shot goes through your wife’s pregnant abdomen. Should I do that now, or will you cooperate?”
“No, please. I’ll tell you.”
“Good.”
“My brother was going to use the phone’s camera to take video of Meggie. Ask her questions, get her to blink her answers.”
“What? You expect me to believe that? With his mental retardation?”
“It’s true, I swear. We made it simple and drilled with him. He was having a hard time remembering—that’s why we met him behind the cauldron this afternoon.”
“And Diego?”
“He was never a part of our plans,” Wes said. “But he must have talked to Eric today, because he sent me an email saying he was going to do it himself and leave the phone in the hollow of that tree behind me, wrapped in a plastic sack to keep it dry.”
Kaitlyn turned the flashlight to her companion. “What do you think? Should we kill the woman to make him tell the truth?”
“It is the truth!” Wes shouted.
“I think he’s coming clean,” Benjamin said. “Probably.”
Kaitlyn stared down at Wes. “Then what? Diego leaves the phone. What do you do with it?”
“We were going to take the footage.” The pain rose and he took shallow gasps. “And use it to raise a stink. Force the Costa Rican government to turn Meggie over.”
“This must be the discreet part of your organization.” A sneer crept into her voice. She pointed her gun down at him. “You can feel good knowing you died trying to protect your brother. I’m sure the world would have been a better place with that low-IQ cretin still running around. Too bad.”
The rain had at las
t come to a halt, reduced to a fine mist. The clouds cleared overhead, and the moon gleamed through, full and white and cold. A dull ache spread through him, knowing he would never see it again.
Wes closed his eyes. No resisting now. He sent one final, pleading thought to his wife.
Run. The moment Kaitlyn fired, when her attention was distracted, Becca could flee into the woods. It was dark; she was clever. She could hide. Take out her knife in case they found her. Whatever she did, she couldn’t come to his aide.
Please, don’t do that.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Eric sprinted uphill, leaving Meggie behind. He ignored branches that lashed at his bare chest, rocks that jutted from the hillside to bash his legs, and mud that splattered him every time he stomped through a puddle. He didn’t have a flashlight, and he fell twice when roots rose to trip him. His heart thumped like a bird trapped in his hands.
All he could think about was Wes, shouting. Becca, screaming. They had hiked to the hot springs to help him. He knew that. The witch must have found them and pulled out a gun. Did she shoot them? Did she kill them?
“I won’t let her. I won’t let her.”
Eric burst into the open. The rain had stopped at last, and the clouds were opening up. Moonlight glinted off the lake far below, which spread like a smooth sheet of glass surrounded by dark, hulking shapes. Ancient volcanoes.
Just ahead, the Devil’s Cauldron sat on the hillside, almost invisible beneath the billowing steam. Water boiled over the edge like from a giant pot left on the stove.
There were three people between the cauldron and the forest behind it, about thirty feet away from him. One held a flashlight, shining it on the other two, one of which was the bad woman. Kaitlyn. She held a gun in her hand. In front of her, on his back, lay Eric’s brother. Wes clutched his leg, his face twisted in pain and fear.
Only three? Where was Becca? Oh, no! Eric’s gut turned to water. Oh, no. They must have got to her. And the woman who had shot Wes now stood over him with her gun pointed down. She was going to shoot again.
A hot rage burned through him. He wanted to do something . . . bad. Very, very bad. He felt like that movie of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. That movie scared him, when the doctor twisted and groaned and his face changed, his body straining with muscles. But now he understood. It was a rage tearing beneath the skin.
“Leave my brother ALONE!” he roared.
Even before the words were out of his mouth, he broke into a charge, like an enraged bull. Kaitlyn whirled. She looked startled, but not alarmed or afraid. Instead of squeezing off a quick shot, she smiled, took aim and waited until he had closed half the distance. And in that moment, Eric realized she was going to kill him. He wouldn’t reach her in time. Instead, the bullet would slam into him. Then she would kill his brother anyway.
He was fifteen feet away, then ten. Then . . . bang!
Just as she fired, Wes reached from where he lay and hooked her ankle. He jerked it. She lost her balance with a cry. The shot disappeared into the night. Kaitlyn stumbled, almost fell, then regained her footing. She kicked at Wes to free herself, then turned around as Eric rammed into her.
They fell backward together. Another gunshot rang out as he landed on top of her. A white pain lanced through his left shoulder. He’d been shot. Or grazed maybe. It didn’t seem to stop the use of that arm, but it hurt like hell.
He rolled on the ground with Kaitlyn. She was stronger than he expected, and a nasty fighter. She clawed at his face and drove her elbow under his chin. Her teeth sank into his forearm and he cried out and pushed her away. They separated. She got to her feet. She turned, looking frantically for something on the ground and calling for Benjamin to shine his light down.
Eric struggled to his feet. He put a hand to his shoulder, felt blood, but he could still move his arm. He was lucky; it was barely a scratch. What now? Oh yeah, the gun. Where was it? He must have jarred it loose when he knocked her to the ground.
But at that moment, Becca sprang forward, stepping over Wes. She’d been behind him, near the trees, and that’s why Eric hadn’t seen her. He let out a cry of relief.
“Kill him!” Kaitlyn screamed.
“Eric, look out!” Becca called.
Benjamin, who had been holding the flashlight, had seemed stunned by Eric’s charge. He’d done nothing but stupidly point his flashlight at him, then at Kaitlyn. But now he groped at his waist and came up with the knife. It was the weapon Kaitlyn had used to gut Diego. Now he thrust it toward Eric. It was tentative. If he’d stabbed hard, he would have jammed it up under Eric’s ribs and that would have been the end. Eric jumped back and it only grazed his bare stomach.
As he lurched away from the knife, Becca slammed into Benjamin from the side. He jumped back and slashed, but she stayed out of his way. The two of them circled each other warily. Becca held her own knife. Where had that come from?
Wes was trying to get to his feet, but struggling against the gunshot wound in his leg. “She’s going for the gun,” he warned Eric. “Stop her.”
He turned to see Kaitlyn bending over and groping on the ground. He came at her, punching. One of his blows missed, but the other slammed into her shoulder and knocked her off balance. Cursing, she came up with the pistol and smashed it on the side of his head. He staggered. But before she could get the gun around, he wrapped his arms around her and drove her forward. They slammed against the side of the cauldron. Water boiled over, splashing like fire onto his skin. Steam choked Eric’s lungs.
Kaitlyn cried out in pain. “Get away from me, you freak. Let go!”
“I am NOT a freak. And I am NOT a retard, too!”
He grabbed her wrist, the one with the gun. She twisted her arm, trying to free it, but he forced it back, toward the cauldron. Hot water sloshed over them and she screamed. He shoved her hand under the surface and she dropped the gun into the cauldron. Kaitlyn lashed out, and her hand raked him across the face. Momentarily, she drove him back, then he wrapped her in a fresh bear hug and crushed her against the side of the cauldron.
The heat was intense, like standing in front of an oven. Sweat beaded on his face and back. And he’d burned his hand and chest. The bullet wound throbbed in his arm.
Kaitlyn bit at him, snarling, trying to knee him in the groin. Anything to gain an advantage. Grimly, he pushed and pushed. Water washed over them both, but Kaitlyn took the brunt of it. She thrashed and screamed like a rabbit with its leg caught in a trap.
He gave a final heave and she flipped over the stone lip and toppled into the cauldron. She shrieked, a sound so awful, so penetrating that it tore the night in two. Arms flailed out, trying to get over the side.
Eric staggered backward, horrified. He clamped his hands over his ears. The awful screaming went on and on and on.
Arms came up again, followed by her head. Eyes bulged in their sockets and her mouth froze into a grimace of pain and rage. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. The shriek died, trailing off into a final, strangled gurgle. Her head disappeared beneath the water and steam.
He thrust his fingers into his hair and gave a terrific pull. Clumps came out. It hurt so badly, but he couldn’t stop. He took another fistful by the roots.
“No, Eric! No!” Wes cried.
Wes dragged him back from the edge of the cauldron. Eric started to struggle, then realized who it was and went limp in his brother’s arms. He let out a long, shuddering sob.
“I killed her!”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. You didn’t want to. You didn’t try. It’s not your fault.”
He buried his head in his brother’s chest and cried. Wes staggered and Eric remembered that his brother had been shot, so he let himself be taken to the ground. When he finally stopped crying, feeling stupid and miserable, he looked around for Becca.
She stood, holding both knives in one hand, with a flashlight in the other. It shone down on Benjamin, who sat with his knees up and his head buried in his hands. His body shuddered.
“He gave up,” she said. “I gave one feint and he threw down his knife.”
“Oh God,” Benjamin said. “Please. Oh, please.”
Becca handed the knives to Wes, then bent to look at his leg. “We’ve got to get you to a hospital.”
“I’ll be all right,” he said.
“He shot you in the leg,” Eric said.
“You got shot, too, buddy.”
“It doesn’t really hurt. The burns are worse.” He shuddered as he looked at his brother’s leg. It looked awful.
“It seems to have gone right through the muscle. I’ll be okay.” He was pale, but his face held a hard, determined expression. He turned to Becca. “Let’s get it now, while he’s like this.”
“Get what?”
“The video.”
“Of course.” She turned to Eric. “There’s another flashlight in my bag. Grab it, will you? No, over there, by the tree. Now look on the ground, right there. Wes’s cell phone is around there somewhere.”
“We know what you did,” Wes said to Benjamin while Eric searched on the ground. “We know everything.”
“What are you going to do to me?” the man asked.
Eric spotted the phone and snatched it up triumphantly. “Got it!”
He handed it to Becca, who pressed a button and grinned when the light came on. She wiped it on her shirt.
“We don’t care about you,” Wes went on. “We only want to get Meggie away from here. Away from you.”
“But will you tell the police?”
“We have to. Your cousin is dead. And you caused the accident in the first place, didn’t you? What happened in the cave that day.”
“It wasn’t me!”
“Tell me what happened.”
9 More Killer Thrillers Page 155
