A Critical Tangent

by Reily Garrett

  The screech of a large hawk conveyed a sense of urgency and kicked her metabolic system to a higher gear. Fear overriding pain compelled her shaking legs to carry her forward, her senses hyper alert to every sight, every sound.

  Thick branches intertwined overhead to foster a sense of surreal tranquility when, with every step, she expected a heavy hand to drag her to the ground. Each whisper of nature’s breath swirled in from the collecting shadows to add a new layer of fear twisting in her gut.

  Vaulting over a log and dodging a snarled thicket of thorns brought her to an opening in the path. Sunlight stung her eyes.

  She found herself positioned at the edge of a deep ravine which would take precious time to navigate. Her first step down the descending slope sent her skidding on her ass.

  Her blonde hair would stand out against the darker shades of fall as she skidded downslope to the ravine’s bottom but couldn’t be helped. Gravity had done most of the work.

  If Porter made it to the ridge before she topped the other side, she’d prove easy pickings with his height advantage. If she’d taken a zig-zag route or at least avoided a straight path, she might’ve thrown him off course.

  A fact to remember if I make it to the other side.

  The steep grade presented less opportunity for trees to take root, and therefore less cover. Climbing the opposite side proved more treacherous after the previous night’s rain. Twice, she slipped and landed face first in the briars. The warmth of blood stinging her eye goaded her to scramble up and regain lost ground. Once at the top, she couldn’t help but look back.

  Porter was taking aim at the same time she dropped to the ground. Small spurs from a broken branch gouged her calf.

  Another bark from his pistol kicked dirt up and into her face. She imagined her scream strengthened his sense of power and sadistic intent.

  Shit.

  Porter carried at least an extra hundred pounds with a disproportionate few extra around his middle. As long as she maintained her pace and avoided his cohorts, she could outrun him.

  One up for not drinking booze.

  Already, she’d gained distance and time. Unfortunately, he held the advantage of knowing the terrain. She ducked into the cover of woods and kept running as another bark of his gun ruptured the quiet.

  Tall trees thickened with late fall vines had surrounded the kidnapper’s house on three sides. Karma and fate probably conspired to set her in the middle of nowhere, headed for miles and miles of treacherous wilderness ahead.

  Better than the killer behind me.

  Low dishrag clouds covered the sky, or what she’d seen of it before her mad dash for survival. If it rained again, it would wash away her trail and make it more difficult for a SAR dog to retrace her steps and find her friend.

  When animals fled, instinct urged them downhill. She’d be no exception, able to make better time and cover more distance.

  Increased odds of reaching civilization guided her current if erratic path. She hadn’t heard another shot. It would take Porter longer to cross the deep ravine.

  Her heart raced, and her breath puffed in the cool morning air, punctuated by quiet curses with each cut from barbed vines. Stealth wasn’t as important as distance for the time being. Keiki was young, and had the physical advantage. She held no misconception of what motivated her enemy.

  Minutes passed while each step added physical evidence to her panic. Her clothes ripped, her hair snagged in passing, and her flesh leaked a crimson trail. She had no idea where she was, where she was headed, or what awaited her.

  What felt like ten miles probably equated to a five K run for someone not fleeing for their life. When she had to catch her breath again, she hunkered down behind a broad oak and listened for the telltale signs of pursuit.

  Normal woodland sounds provided a small measure of hope. At the time of her capture, she hadn’t heard Porter’s approach. In her defense, she’d just exited a building. The depth of her enemy’s skills remained a mystery. One thing was clear—he’d cross any line to accomplish his goal.

  If anything could be considered lucky, she knew where to find Gabby’s evidence. She just had to live long enough to get it.

  He could’ve transported her across state lines while she lay unconscious on the back seat of his car.

  Exposure to the elements wouldn’t become a factor as long as temperatures didn’t drop too low at night. If she didn’t run afoul of critters looking for a meal, she’d survive. Several forays into hiking had given her basic skills, which she used to head south.

  Her mind forged links between Gabby’s confession and past conversations with Harock Industry personnel. It still wasn’t clear if the engineers she’d worked with were part of Franklin Harock’s scheme or whether he used outside help.

  Porter’s demand for precious information declared him a competitor in the drug trade, but not the identity of his boss. It could be a local gang, or heaven forbid, something a lot bigger and more sinister.

  The sound of water rushing ahead drew her to the source. Rivers meant bridges and roads, which meant people. Her intent to avoid anyone in the immediate vicinity made her shy away to a parallel path in hopes of reaching a small town. Any place with a phone would suffice.

  Navigating down a steep hill took longer than expected after a misstep sent her tumbling a solid thirty yards. Scrambling up the next hill proved worth the effort when she looked back. The forest was far too dense for Porter to track her without a dog or keen skills.

  He didn’t strike her as the outdoorsy type.

  From the top of the next ridge, she stood at the edge of a small clearing, careful to stay behind cover. Nonetheless, skin on the back of her neck itched with the feeling of a cross hair centered on her spine.

  Deep breaths while resting against a trunk provided a view of the small valley below. Down and to her right, an old narrow bridge didn’t appear to be in good shape. Four groups of concrete piles spanned the river and supported questionable decking. It didn’t look well used—or safe.

  It could be the first place Porter stations someone to grab me.

  Her sense of self-preservation dictated she turned in the opposite direction. The water may or may not be deep and would be cold, but she was a strong enough swimmer to make it. She hadn’t put enough distance between herself and her captor would to take chances crossing the bridge.

  Several hundred yards north, the river curved into an S shape, the middle of which she chose to forge. Daytime air temperatures were comfortable enough, but sundown would bring cooler air to drop water temps by a significant amount. She’d cross as fast as possible then pray to find a safe place to dry off and get warm.

  Initial steps into the cold water bit deep, the combination of fear, temperature, and exhaustion slowing her strokes. Despair edged the periphery of her thoughts before she reached midpoint. Desperation focused her mind on the picture on her nightstand. Nolan’s intense concentration animated and reinforced her flagging will.

  At each turn, she hadn’t been honest, either concerning the investigation or her feelings. He’d turn her away, but life had taught her a valuable lesson. If she never let him know how she felt, she wouldn’t give him a chance to prove her wrong.

  The current’s fury overwhelmed her diminishing energy. Assuming an armchair position and floating for a short break restored a small portion.

  The approaching bend where she’d become visible to anyone lurking near the bridge encouraged her to resume her desperate bid for survival. She hadn’t seen any traffic, which meant a sniper could pick her off and leave her for dead with no one the wiser.

  Once she sprawled on the far bank under a tangle of vines, chattering teeth promoted the warning of advancing hypothermia. Her fingers were numb and her mind sluggish. As much as Keiki wanted to rest, a sense of foreboding urged her to stand and resume her woodland hike.

  When the trees began thinning, a moment of truth approached, a decision to be made. Once she reached the outskirts of a
town, she’d be vulnerable and out in the open. It was a necessary risk.

  Shaking, numb, and depleted of energy, she couldn’t hold out much longer before succumbing to the inevitable.

  Small houses dotted the landscape ahead, the closest of which appeared to be a double wide planted in the middle of a field. An aroma, the slight dusty sweet odor of fresh cut corn, registered another sign of fall.

  A child’s swing set, a seesaw with a twisted two-by-twelve weathered plank, and a rusted sliding board deemed the home unapproachable. Bringing trouble to a stranger’s door didn’t sit well. A home with children even less so.

  Similar dwellings dotted the surrounding area, which gave hope of finding access to law enforcement of some type.

  Skirting the small development lengthened her journey but in the end might save lives. With great effort, she forced one foot in front of the other until more signs of civilization pricked her attention.

  The first thing she noticed was the sun’s reflection off something shiny through the thinning trees. A parking lot and moderate sized block building.

  Dozens of cars meant people, and phones, and the chance to find out if Nolan survived. If he was in the hospital, Coyote would blame her.

  Every town had some type of law enforcement coverage. One with a few small businesses might warrant a small police station.

  In a desperate bid for survival, she broke cover and shuffled out into the open. The sun’s warmth on her face contrasted her cold squishy footsteps leading to warmth if not safety.

  Instead of relying on her bedraggled appearance to thwart anyone’s attempt to stop and ask questions, she skirted the business. It was the first sign of public safety and a place Porter might stake out.

  The town was small but quiet. Maple trees lined the quiet streets where modest homes and small yards offered no hint of her desired direction.

  A young woman opening her mailbox to retrieve letters paused to take in her limp, damp hair, and clothes. A brief if false explanation ensued, along with directions to the local sheriff.

  Her thoughts drifted to what might be Porter’s next move. If his men hadn’t killed her detective, he’d be the greatest source of help with the least amount of time wasted in explanation.

  Circumstances forced her to accept the reality of what her heart knew and her mind repeatedly crushed. She cared for the man behind the badge. His fierce determination and unwavering intent to protect her at every turn had eaten away her veneer of virtual armor. The next time she saw him, if she saw him, she’d confess.

  And he’ll laugh in my face.

  At least that would end her private fascination bordering on obsessive infatuation.

  It stood to reason that some law enforcement officials would work within the drug operation’s circuit, which meant she needed a well-concocted, vague story of recent events.

  The local sheriff could contact Nolan’s department and ascertain his status. If last night’s thugs had killed him, Detective Waylin would never believe her story.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nolan woke to the annoying sound of chittering and rustling. His teeth chattered, and his fingers were numb.

  Blurry vision and a pounding headache counteracted the softness of damp forest floor cushioning his head. Every bone in his body ached.

  Something flitted about in the leaves several feet away. A curious squirrel flitted around the fallen leaves and watched the intruder invading its domain.

  Closing his eyes helped stem the rolling wave of nausea. Each thundering heartbeat in his ears emphasized another fragment of memory to piece together his predicament.

  He prayed to find Keiki nearby in like circumstances but fate hadn’t favored him so far.

  His arm had gone to sleep while lying unconscious on his side. A tentative touch of his skull revealed a lump on the side with a crusty line leading down his neck. His moment of distraction had cost Keiki her freedom, possibly her life.

  Again, his feelings for the young woman got in the way of following procedure. No wonder his partner stayed on his case.

  The moon had sunk below overarching branches with the faint light of dawn breaching his tightly clenched lids. Even dim light blinded him with pain. Finding his way back to the warehouse and his vehicle would be problematic since he didn’t know his current location. Always pick up where you left off.

  A wave of dizziness sent him crashing to the ground when he tried to stand. Blackness closed in and took him under. His last thought included a prayer for Keiki.

  Bright sunlight stabbing his closed eyelids produced a veil of red. If not for sudden panic, he would’ve ignored his surroundings and let unconsciousness snatch him again.

  Nice of the bastards who’d taken him by surprise to leave him with his watch to time the pounding throbs in his brain. Shoving his hand around his back, he realized the thugs had taken his gun and cell. Forthcoming paperwork involved the least of his problems.

  Keiki must’ve been savvy enough to avoid announcing his cop status, or he’d be dead. It helped his cause that no sensible officer would cover himself in glitter.

  Light drizzle during the night dampened his clothes, but not enough to remove his psychedelic camouflage.

  Precious time ticked by in his attempt to get his bearings. Until familiar markings or an epiphany could guide him, he couldn’t get a fix on direction, so he sat and collected himself, taking a few precious moments to recall any significant detail that might help identify Keiki’s soon-to-be-dead kidnapper.

  Multi-tasking permitted the addition of remorse to his shame. He didn’t need to see the evidence on her phone. His instincts confirmed as much from the sincerity in her eyes and the truth in her voice.

  A small part of him had doubted her then listened to that insignificant whine instead of his instinct.

  Or his heart.

  As much as he couldn’t admit it out loud, he wanted her, with all her quirks, stubbornness, and bent for devious pranks.

  Two furrows leading to his position presented him with a path to follow. Fear for her quickened his step. He could follow the trail of broken limbs and trampled grass back to the warehouse. He never thought he’d be glad someone had dragged him through a forest.

  The killer would be gone, thinking to vanish, but there always remained a thread of evidence.

  In this case, it was like silk in a spider’s web that drove him to consider the bigger picture, fitting all the pieces together. Whatever detail his little snoop uncovered in that building had lit a fire in her soul. There will be some type of evidence even if they took all the drones.

  When he reached the edge of the clearing, the building’s door stood ajar. No sounds or slight movement reflected another presence. Whoever they were, they’d left without a trace.

  If the bastards hadn’t yet destroyed her phone, and at least three towers received its signal, he could track her.

  Once he found her—and he couldn’t stomach the image of her with anything more than a few bruises, he’d contact Tucker for help.

  Should’ve already done so.

  The PI would employ a bit more vigorous approach with less respect for restrictions when it came to her safety. All Nolan had to do was insinuate she was in danger.

  He’d make it perfectly clear how Keiki liked her black jacket, and the benefits of them knowing where she was in case they had questions. Then he’d inquire about Tucker’s newest devices. He’d deliver the message without breaking any laws. Any more laws.

  Memory of Shelly’s body left in the forest debris for scavengers caused a violent shudder. Nolan picked up his pace.

  Concern over leaving his prints in the storage building wasn’t an issue since he’d be present when the team of forensics arrived. Before opening the door, he took a deep breath, acid boiling in his gut at the thought of finding Keiki’s lifeless body inside.

  Instead, the first thing he saw was a kaleidoscopic cap lying in the dirt next to a wooden post. Snatching it up was part insti
nct, part intuition.

  I’m not tampering with evidence. It’s cold out and she’ll need it. He followed the letter of the law splendidly.

  A quick visual verified the building was empty, cleared of the drones. He’d suspected as much. It would take time for forensics to decipher trace evidence, time his little snoop wouldn’t have.

  In backing out, something hard underfoot made him step lightly and stoop to explore. Leafy debris covered Keiki’s phone. The significance of her gesture knocked the breath from his lungs. By hiding it, she’d given him the evidence to prove her innocence. She may also have signed her own death warrant.

  His first call went to Coyote. The call to Tucker could wait a bit.

  Rumor mill stated the PI had quit after an innocent bystander got pulled into an ongoing investigation and charged with conspiracy. Keiki traveled a similar path.

  The private sector experienced more leeway in certain situations and were held to different standards, for which Nolan found a new respect. Friendship with the PI would hold merit.

  Regardless, determination and instincts would keep Nolan wearing a badge.

  It took ten minutes to make his way back to his vehicle, time to gather his thoughts. Relief washed through his chest to find the doors locked, windows intact, and no evidence of tampering. After checking the undercarriage for quickly planted devices, he retrieved his spare key and grabbed his backup weapon from the glove compartment.

  By the time the neighboring sheriff’s call came in, Nolan had endured enough teasing from fellow officers and the CSI techs searching the building. Repeatedly combing his hair, swiping at his face, and brushing the remnants of glitter from his clothes hadn’t helped.

  Saving grace came in the form of his partner acquiring his own share of sparkle after sitting in the passenger seat.

  “You sure you’re up to driving?” Coyote nipped his lips between his teeth to stifle a smile.