Her arms and shoulders screamed in agony. Tiny fish nibbled at her clothes. She shivered, more from fear and exhaustion than from the cold. The shiver became a fierce spasm, convulsing her entire body. She felt the water rush into her mouth, its oily taste acrid on her tongue, yet she was unable to stop its course down her throat. She gagged, choked, and with painful racking coughs she shot out of the water, her arms thrashing the surface.
A steely hand wound around her upper arm and yanked upward, pulling her from the pond. Still holding the shotgun, she flailed out with it wildly.
“Robbi!” Jake’s voice, hushed yet urgent, whispered against her ear as he tried to hold on to her and keep the gun’s barrel from splitting his head open.
She cried out in relief, then clung to him, coughing, sobbing, trying to talk.
He pushed her hair back from her eyes, held her face tenderly, kissed her.
“You’re alive. Thank God,” she cried. “Bodies, there … under a pine tree … oh, Jake, Jake…” She coughed, clung to him tighter.
“Shhh, don’t think about that now.”
She tried to sit up. “We have to hurry.”
“Robbi… hon, rest a minute.” He held her securely, tried to calm her. “Rest a minute.”
When the coughing was under control, Jake took off his shirt and made Robbi put it on. Although it was damp, it covered her exposed skin, the layers somewhat cutting the wind and cool air.
“Before we go on,” Jake said, “we have to figure out how to do this.”
“I want you to take the gun,” Robbi said. “Divert him in some way. Get him away from the church. Then I’ll go in and find Tobie.”
“I think we should stick together.”
“Believe me, I’d like nothing more, but I have a better chance to home in on her if she’s alone. Do you understand?”
“No, not really.”
“Trust me.”
“Then take the gun. I’m not leaving you totally defenseless.”
“No. He’ll come after you and you’ll need it.”
“What if he goes after you?”
“Then I’ll scream, and you can come and save me,” she said, touching his face tenderly, “… again.”
They found the lone shotgun shell, loaded it, and moved on.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Eckker filled the footlocker with food rations, clothing, blankets, the first aid kit, flashlight, and anything else he thought he might need. The white dress went in last. If there was time, he would come back for the phonograph and records and maybe the generator.
He carried the footlocker up the stairs and out the trapdoor into a light drizzle. Hoisting the locker onto his back, he started down the path to his pickup.
________
Jake and Roberta followed the fence up the mountain, then, to be certain they wouldn’t bypass the ruins, they traveled perpendicular to the fence for several hundred yards and crossed diagonally back to it, employing a serrated pattern.
Jake carried the shotgun. As they climbed he wondered where one aimed a gun to kill a giant. If he hit him at close range with a shotgun blast and the guy kept coming, his life, as well as the lives of Robbi and Tobie, wouldn’t be worth the powder it took to fire the ineffectual shell.
They were midway to the fence when Robbi put out an arm to stop Jake.
“I think she’s close,” she said quietly. “I can sense her.” She started off again. “Hurry.”
________
In the dark Tobie had paced off the small room. Five by six, cell size. She’d found the suspended bulb in the middle of the room, but when she pulled the chain, no light came on.
Where was she? Who was this creepy guy who’d snuck up on her at the pond and tried to choke her? What did he want with her? He knew her name. He’d called her Tobie. She shivered.
Blanketed by the blackness and the confined quarters, Tobie felt panic rising. She’d heard of claustrophobia, but until now she had no idea how debilitating it could be.
A scream was forming in her throat when the door suddenly swung open. Wan light from an indirect source glowed faintly, illuminating the big man as he entered, shoulders hunched to clear the top of the doorway.
Tobie’s heart thumped insanely.
He tossed her her shoes. “Put em on.”
Tobie tried not to stare at the commanding giant, yet she found it impossible to look away. He terrified her. A filthy dark stubble made his craggy features even more menacing. His hair, dirty, greasy, burrs locked in, was tangled like a mangy dog. The bandage on his hand was gray with grime, the dried blood black and stiff. The foul smell of him overpowered her.
They stared at each other as she quickly pulled on her shoes.
“You and me, we like the same things,” he said in his deep voice.
“I want to go home.”
“We’re going home. A new home.”
He grabbed her arm and took her out of the room, out from under the stairwell into the main room. He looked around as though double-checking for something. Then he led her up the stairs.
Above their heads on the ground floor she heard something thump against the structure.
The man paused, looked upward, listened. More thuds, sounding heavier, coming more frequently now.
Tobie’s eyes darted upward. “Robbi?” she whispered.
He started back down, pulling her behind him. “I gotta do something first.”
“No!” Tobie screamed. “Robbi, I’m here!” She twisted free, caught him off guard. He stumbled down several steps as Tobie scrambled upward. She reached the trapdoor just as his massive hand curled around her ankle. She kicked out at him. He fell on top of her, knocking the wind out of her. Beneath his oppressive weight, she struggled for air. Frantic now, she bit, clawed, and kicked. He began to shake her. Her head whipped on her neck, cracking against the wooden steps. Tobie cried out, fought harder.
“Tobie. Tobie, please.” His repulsive face pressed close to hers, his hot breath enveloping her with a nauseating stench. “I don’t want to hurt you.” But his expression belied the soft words. His eyes were maniacal, his face contorted with rage. “Tobie, don’t fight me.” He continued to bang her head on the steps until light exploded in her head, then nothing.
________
The rumbling grew louder. Behind the church, up the tree-studded slope, rocks and debris tumbled down.
Eckker burst through the trapdoor. He looked around, listened. More rocks descended, thudding against the back of the ruined church, causing what was left of the decrepit structure to groan and tremble.
He cursed. Nothing would stop him. He’d waited too long. He’d had to kill his own grandfather to keep her. He would annihilate everyone on the mountain to keep her. The meddling sister would be the first to go. He would not leave this mountain until she was dead.
He started up the slope in the direction of the rock slide. At the deer trail he knelt, took in the single tracks of a shoe within the thin beam of his penlight. Not the same tracks he’d followed across the meadow. The man was above him. The woman was somewhere else. He turned and started down.
________
Roberta crouched in a thicket of manzanita, staring at the church. She clutched her stomach, sick with anxiety. In her mind she had seen the killer shaking her sister, had felt the hard wooden riser beneath her head.
Several moments later she saw Eckker appear out of the ground from a trapdoor. He hesitated, then moved out of sight behind one of the building’s remaining walls. He reappeared on the slope, heading up toward Jake. She lost track of him a dozen yards farther up.
She watched. Waited. If she was going in there, she’d have to do it now. She hurried out of the thicket and ran the fifty feet to the ruins. She was well inside the shell when she stopped to listen.
Silence.
The silence was broken by a voice from above. The words carried downhill with crystal-clear clarity. “Hey, you big, stupid sonofabitch! You! Eckker! You’re not king of
the mountain anymore!”
Jake!
Robbi’s heart leapt into her throat. He was trying to warn her. She saw Eckker then, about two hundred yards away, coming back down the slope.
She could hide. The three of them could play this game all night. But still her sister was his prisoner somewhere in those ruins. It would all be for nothing if he managed to escape and take Tobie with him.
Something below caught her eye. Lights, down the mountain. Streamers of headlights, turning off the highway, moved up the road toward her parents’ house. Police?
She hesitated. If she went down and the killer followed her, she’d lead him away from Jake and Tobie … and into the hands of the law.
Without trying to be quiet, she ran through the shell of the church. From the corner of her eye she saw him moving in her direction.
Turning, she started to run downhill.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Jake cautiously worked his way down the steep incline. When he reached the ruins of the church, he skirted the building, staying in the cover of the trees and boulders. Gripping the shotgun, he moved in slowly.
A basement. Roberta had mentioned a basement. Jake advanced, entered the shell of the church, and began to look for some type of cellar entrance.
The rain began in earnest again. Jake swiped at the dripping hair on his forehead as he stepped behind the pulpit. With the barrel of the gun he tapped at the debris on the ground. A hollow sound. Jake dropped to his knees, used his knuckles to rap on the plank. He dug his fingers around the floor until he located the seam, then pulled up the trapdoor.
He cautiously stepped down into the dark basement. He wished he had a flashlight, a lighter, or even a match. But he soon realized he wouldn’t need a light; less than three risers down, he heard a moan. When he touched her she made a noise deep in her throat and flailed out, fighting.
“Tobie, it’s me, Jake,” he said, trying to catch her hands.
She became perfectly still.
“Tobie, it’s okay.”
He heard her suck in her breath. Then she sobbed once.
Jake lifted her and carried her out into the pouring rain. “Are you all right. Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay.”
“We’ve got to go after Robbi.”
“There’s a logging road.” She held the back of her head with one hand and pointed southeast with the other.
“Can you walk?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She came to her feet. Her knees buckled.
Jake handed her the shotgun, bent down, and said, “Climb aboard, you go piggyback to the road.”
Tobie climbed on.
________
Roberta glanced behind her. He was back there, she heard him, caught a glimpse of him now and then through the trees. Her nightmare was playing itself out exactly as she’d dreamt it. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, her throat felt raw, her chest tight. She raced sure-footedly through the trees, thankful for the cool rain, thankful for the stream of headlights weaving their way up a winding dirt road, but above all, she was thankful that her sister was out of his clutches. For now.
Through the quaking aspens in front of her, she saw a streak of lightning snake to the ground. The meadow. She was about to enter the meadow. Thunder crashed like cymbals inside her head.
The procession of lights jounced along to the east of the open field. If she could just cut across diagonally, she’d reach the road and the safety within those lights. Behind her, like a charging grizzly, his breathing as tortured as hers, he closed the distance.
Robbi lunged forward into that immense open space and ran for her life.
________
Jake saw the headlights, bouncing, coming toward them on the deep rutted road. He held Tobie’s hand as they ran. She was concentrating on the ground in front of her.
“Look,” he said.
She raised her head. Wonder and relief sprang into her eyes at the sight of the cars.
A spotlight from one of the vehicles cut through the pouring rain and swept across the open field. More funnels of light crisscrossed the first. The span of trees on the far side of the meadow glowed with a dozen beams of lesser intensity. Flashlights. Lanterns. Men on foot, their beacons sweeping back and forth, were combing the land.
Through the driving rain and thunder the pinpoints of light seemed to sing. Help had arrived. They’d be okay. All they had to do was find Roberta.
His gaze followed the spotlight as it panned across the meadow. Just breaking through the trees he made out a running figure. And close behind, a mere twenty feet away and gaining, was a second, larger figure.
Panic rocked Jake. The way Eckker was bearing down on her, it was obvious he had little or no regard for the score of armed men surrounding him. If he caught her, he could snap her neck in an instant and no one could stop him.
Jake gave Tobie a slight nudge in the direction of the sheriff and his men, clutched the small .20-gauge shotgun, and, oblivious of the shouts behind him, took off across the meadow.
________
Roberta’s breath was ragged in her throat. She thought her chest would burst. Every muscle in her body screamed. The toe of her shoe caught in a chuckhole. She tripped, staggered. Oh, please, don’t fall, don’t fall. If she fell, he would be on her instantly, tearing her to pieces. She smothered a sob.
Someone was running toward her. Someone was coming out to help her! She heard her name. It was Jake. He was shouting something, but the thunderous sounds of the storm tore his words away. He stopped abruptly, positioned the shotgun against his shoulder, and took a shooter’s stance. His left hand slashed downward.
Drop, he wanted her to drop so he could fire. Obeying immediately, she threw herself to the side, falling, then tumbling over and over in the slick grass. Pain shot into her joints, cruelly twisted at her air-starved muscles. An explosion rang in her ears. Robbi turned to see the towering man, thrown back by the blast to his chest, stagger, then reel like a drunk before regaining his footing. The front of his shirt opened up; blood poured forth.
Eckker braced his feet, stood spread-eagle. He put his bandaged hand to his chest; blood instantly soaked into the porous fabric.
The wounded man opened his mouth and screamed, a savage, primal, beastly scream, then turned, glared at Roberta with eyes so wild, so enraged, so utterly mad that she thought her heart would seize from the sheer malevolence of it.
Roberta scrabbled backward in the wet grass, trying desperately to get to her feet. He came for her, fell on her, his massive weight knocking the air out of her. His blood flowed over her, hot, sticky, the acrid smell mingling with the rank odor of his body and its particles of putrid, dying flesh.
The shotgun blast had failed to bring him down. He seemed to possess the power of ten men. He must kill me before he can die, Roberta thought in despair. Nothing can stop him now.
Beams of light danced over her. Through the storm’s steady cadence she heard shouting, advancing forms, yet no one dared fire.
On his knees now, the man held her across her chest. His hands moved to her throat.
Jake charged. Hauling back, he swung the shotgun at the killer. The wooden stock grazed the back of the man’s head.
Roberta screamed when Eckker wrenched the shotgun from Jake’s hands and, with the barrel, clubbed him across the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. He raised the weapon up, high above his head at arm’s length, to club Jake again.
Suddenly, from nowhere, she heard pounding hooves rapidly approaching.
With the shotgun above his head, the killer gazed in confusion at the horse and rider bearing down on him. He released Roberta, fell backward.
The horse reared up as Hanley fired the powerful shotgun, pumping shell after shell into his grandson. The giant flew backward, a mass of bloody, ravaged flesh tumbling over and over to finally lie unmoving, facedown, in the marshy grass.
Hanley slid from the horse, the gun falling from his hands. “Joseph,” he wh
ispered, his hand stretching out toward his grandson.
Jake moved to Robbi.
Over Jake’s shoulder Robbi saw a score of people running, advancing on them. Tobie led the pack.
Roberta buried her face in the soft, pulsing place of Jake’s neck and sobbed.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Three days after the storm the ground was once again hard, unyielding. The summer morning dawned calm. Easterly clouds blocked the sun.
Roberta and Jake stood on the springy grass of the cemetery grounds. She leaned against him, his arm circled her waist. Several feet away Lois and Tobie stood tall, proud, despite the presence of the man who scowled from his wheelchair on the other side of the coffin.
The funeral service for Hanley Gates ended. An aide began to push the wheelchair toward the limousine. Lois and Tobie followed, holding hands. Tobie wiped tears from her eyes, turned to look at Robbi. She smiled weakly and raised her fingers in a gesture of parting.
Roberta waved back. Then, with the aid of the cane, she let Jake steer her off in the opposite direction. They walked in silence, the solemnness dropping away like falling leaves as they distanced themselves from Hanley’s gravesite.
Crossing an arched latticework bridge, Jake said quietly, “Feel like getting away for a few days?”
She slowed, glanced at him. “I’d like nothing better. You must’ve read my mind.”
“No, that’s your department. I only work with minds, you read them.”
“I hope not for a while. It’s weird, isn’t it… nothing for over twenty years, then in just a few weeks enough to last anyone a lifetime.”
“You saved her, Robbi. You said you would and you did.”
“I had help.” She leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Now, back to the subject of a weekend getaway.”
“It doesn’t have to be just the weekend. We can make it a week, two weeks. What’s a decent interval for a honeymoon?”
The sun broke through the clouds. A perfect omen.
Roberta felt a rush of happiness, then fear. She gazed into his keen blue eyes, now tender. “Jake, have you thought this through? What if it comes back? The nightmares, the visions, the telepathy…” The words faded.
Mortal Crimes 1 Page 95
