Stalking Ground

by Margaret Mizushima

  “Will he get up?” Cole started drawing the proper dosage of the new med into a syringe. He bent over Diablo and injected it quickly, sending out a request to the powers that be that it wasn’t too late to do some good.

  “We had him up about an hour ago. He drank some water.”

  “When did you stop giving him the frog juice?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Her refusal to acknowledge the truth and give him the medical information he needed infuriated him. “This horse could die. As it is now, you risk losing your trainer’s license. Do you want to face animal abuse charges on top of that?”

  She shot him a venomous look. “I have nothing to do with these accusations. I need to question my employees.”

  “Your employees dosed this horse without your knowledge? I find that hard to believe.”

  “What is the plan to make Diablo well?”

  “I’ll leave this medication for you. Otherwise, we need to continue as we have been, supporting him and working through the symptoms. He’s probably got damage to his liver, kidneys, and heart. What were you thinking? That it would increase his endurance?”

  She stared at him, her face expressionless.

  “This drug can break down muscle tissue and compromise vital organs.” Cole typically tried to educate clients, but this made him mad enough to lash out. “Dosing horses with it is illegal and cruel.”

  “I believe Juan is the one you should speak with about this. I’ll go find him.” She went to the door of the box stall and let herself out.

  Right . . . pass the buck. Cole tried to put a damper on his fury and looked around the stall. He went to the hayrack to check the quality of hay and to make sure there was no alfalfa in it. Scooping the hay away from the wall, he examined the dry grass, noticing it was of excellent quality, weed and alfalfa free. He was about to replace it when his eye caught a glint of white from behind the rack.

  Peering into the crack, he saw something with a black-and-white pattern. As his eyes adjusted to the poor lighting in the narrow space, he realized he was looking at a laptop computer. With a zebra-striped cover.

  His memory clicked on an image of Adrienne Howard typing information into a laptop like that. And he remembered Mattie asking him about Adrienne’s missing computer.

  He reached into the narrow space. Barely able to grasp the plastic case, he pulled out the laptop and stared at it. This must belong to Adrienne.

  Did someone put it here? Did she?

  The stall door flew open and Juan Fiero dashed inside, frantic. “You must come with me, Doctor. Hurry. She’s going to kill you,” he said in English.

  “What?”

  “There’s no time to talk. Come with me.”

  Knowing that the man’s panic was real, Cole followed, placing the laptop into the front of his coverall and zipping it in tightly against his chest. Juan ran a few doors down the alley to the opposite side and tugged open a door. He led Cole into a room filled with hay bales.

  “There is a door to the outside there,” Juan said, pointing. “It’s the back side of the barn. Go! She killed the lady. She wants to kill you!”

  Stunned, Cole tried to process what he was being told. “Carmen killed Adrienne?”

  Juan’s eyes darted to the inside door and back. “No time to talk. Get away! Go to the top of the ridge. You can use a cell phone up there.”

  Cole’s thoughts were hazy. Juan began pushing him across the room toward the outside door, his hands shaking with urgency. Cole felt the man’s terror, making him believe what he’d said.

  “Stop!” Carmen stood inside the doorway, the alley at her back, an evil-looking crossbow in her hands. Cole froze, staring at her as she raised the bow and sighted through the scope. Juan pushed him outside the back door, shouting as he slammed the door shut behind him, “Lock the door! Run!”

  Cole stumbled out onto a rocky verge scraped up around the barn’s foundation. He had the presence of mind to process Juan’s last instruction, even as he heard the man’s scream and a thud. He found the latch that secured the door from the outside and slammed the heavy bolt in place.

  My God! What the hell’s happening? But even with shock making his thoughts disjointed and confused, his instinct for survival kicked in. He scanned his environment: heavy forest upslope about fifty yards. Running for all he was worth, he headed toward the trees.

  *

  Mattie completed her reports and looked at the clock. Shortly after three. Stella’s lab hadn’t called back yet on the boot print, and she was tired of waiting. She decided to call Cole to see if he could share any impressions of Juan Fiero. She swiped to her quick-dial list and pressed Cole’s cell phone number. She listened to a few dial tones and a click before hearing a female voice answer: “Timber Creek Veterinary Clinic. This is Tess.”

  Mattie identified herself. “I’m trying to reach Dr. Walker.”

  “Hi, Mattie. He must be out of cell phone range. Your call transferred to the office.”

  “Oh. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “He went up to Dark Horse Stable. Actually, he should be home any minute.”

  A twinge of anxiety worked its way into Mattie’s chest.

  “He wanted to be home in time to meet the kids after school,” Tess continued. “I’m surprised he isn’t within cell phone range yet. Do you want me to leave him a message to call you?”

  “Tell him to call my cell; he has the number.”

  “All righty. Talk to you later.”

  Mattie disconnected the call and took a long breath. The people at Dark Horse had set off her radar. If Cole didn’t call back soon, she would try to reach him again.

  She went to Stella’s office to see if she’d heard from her lab yet. She tapped on the door and entered the room. Stella looked up from her computer.

  “I just tried to reach Cole Walker, and his assistant told me he went to Dark Horse this afternoon,” Mattie said. “He’s late getting back.”

  Stella nodded, a furrow of concern creasing her brow. “I’ll call and build a fire under my CSI unit. I expected them to call back by now.” Her cell phone rang, making her pull it out of her pocket and look at the caller ID. “That’s them now. Hold on a minute.”

  Mattie listened to Stella’s side of the conversation while a sense of urgency tightened her chest.

  “Okay,” Stella was saying, summing up the information with the CSI tech for clarification while stating the information for Mattie. “So you’re saying that you can’t say the boot prints are the same size since one is a partial, but the toe prints match exactly. You’re extracting the shape and sole information that you have to see if you can determine the brand of boot that made it. But since the sole is flat and has no tread marks, you consider being able to do that a long shot.”

  Stella listened, nodding at what she was hearing.

  “Okay. See what else you can do,” she said, ending the call. She looked up at Mattie. “Toe shape is as close as we can get on that print match, but it’s close enough to give us probable cause. I’ll get the sheriff started on that search warrant.”

  Stella headed for McCoy’s office while anxiety circled Mattie’s chest. She knew her brain had taken a leap from a match on a toe print to labeling Fiero a killer, but she couldn’t help herself. The thought of Cole inadvertently walking into a dangerous situation—a situation that she should have uncovered sooner and warned him about—made her shoot into red alert.

  She needed to go now and see if she could find him; she couldn’t wait the hour it would take to get a warrant. She started after Stella when her cell phone rang.

  Relief melted through her when caller ID told her the call came from the Walker residence. But when she answered the phone and heard Angela’s voice coming through the receiver, her relief was short-lived.

  “Mattie?” Angela asked, her voice sounding high-pitched and tight.

  “Yes, Angie. Is something wrong?”

  “I
don’t know. Dad said he’d be here by three and he’s thirty minutes late. Tess says she expected him back about an hour ago.”

  Mattie’s throat tightened. “Okay.”

  “Dad told us this morning that he’d always let us know if he was going to be late. He made a big deal of it, you know. And . . . well, I’m worried that something happened to him.”

  Mattie knew Cole Walker, and a promise to his children would not be something made lightly. “I talked to Tess about twenty minutes ago. Have you talked to her since then?”

  “Just now. Right before I called you.”

  “And she hasn’t heard from your dad yet?” Mattie knew the answer but needed to confirm.

  “No. I asked Mrs. Gibbs to drive me up toward Dark Horse Stable to look for him, but she suggested I call you instead.”

  “She’s right. I’m glad you did. You girls need to stay put in case your dad calls. Call me immediately if he does. I’ll drive up that way and find him. Maybe he had a flat tire outside of cell phone range or something. I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

  “Okay.” Angela still sounded frightened.

  “I’m sure your dad’s fine, Angie. Don’t worry so much. You’ll hear from one of us soon.”

  Mattie tried to reassure the girl before disconnecting the call, but she couldn’t damper her own alarm bells. With Robo following, she went directly into McCoy’s office and summarized the situation for him and Stella.

  “He’s an hour late now,” Mattie said. “I think under the circumstances, I’d better drive up that way and see if I can find him.” Not intending to wait for permission, Mattie turned to leave.

  “I’ll go with you,” Stella said, falling in behind Robo.

  “Get Deputy Brody to go along as back up,” McCoy said. “I’ll get this warrant request over to the judge and meet you up there.”

  Chapter 28

  Cole sprinted up the hillside. Adrienne’s laptop felt bulky against his chest, and he worried that it would slow him down, but he didn’t dare leave it where Carmen might find it. This piece of evidence proved that Adrienne had been at Dark Horse Stable on the day she died.

  If only I can get out of here and get it to Mattie.

  He crossed the fifty yards of open space and reached the tree line in seconds. Pine, spruce, and large boulders gave him enough shelter to slow down and think. He ducked in behind a ponderosa, turning back to look at the barn. No one was following.

  He patted his shirt pocket. I left my cell phone in the truck! It felt like a nightmare. Juan said that Carmen killed Adrienne. And she seemed willing to kill again. He’d seen her sight down a crossbow at him before Juan shoved him out the door. The disturbing image was burned into his memory.

  Had Juan stopped her? He remembered the man’s scream. No, he’d taken the bolt meant for Cole. Carmen was still out there.

  The open space between him and the barn remained still and lifeless. A hawk wheeled overhead and screeched a haunting call. Could he circle back to his truck?

  Suddenly, the Doberman pinscher tore around the edge of the barn, dragging Carmen on the end of his leash. She carried the crossbow and a quiver of bolts on her back. She directed the dog straight to the hay room door. The Doberman swept the area with his nose as he went.

  Good Lord! She’s using the dog to track me.

  Cole gave up all hope of reaching his truck. Maybe he could sneak around Carmen and beat her to his vehicle, but there was no way could he outrun that dog. He snatched the laptop from inside his coverall, scooped aside pine needles, and buried the computer at the base of the tree, making sure it was well hidden by the needles.

  Turning away from the barn, he dashed upslope, running as fast as he could, dodging through the trees. The more distance between them the better, but still, he knew he couldn’t outrun Bruno. He hoped Carmen would keep him on the leash—anything to slow him down.

  Even so, he had to think of something else—something besides running.

  Finding a game trail allowed him to increase his speed, and he did a quick mental assessment of his assets. The only thing he had with him that he could use as a weapon was the Leatherman he always carried in his coverall pocket.

  He heard the deadly clunk of the crossbow before he felt the searing pain in his arm. The bolt flew past and thudded into a tree. Blood trickled from his left upper arm. He grabbed at the wound where the steel tip had grazed him, trying to stop the blood from leaving a trail on the ground.

  Topping a rise and going down the other side for cover, he jerked a bandanna from his back pocket. He wrapped it around his arm, using his teeth to help tie it snug. He kept running and almost stepped on a dead coyote, a wicked crossbow bolt lodged in its side, surrounded by darkened, bloody fur. The stench of decomposition stifled his breath.

  She’s been using the animals for target practice. And it looks like she’s a damn good shot!

  Grabbing the bolt, he ripped it from the half-rotten carcass, the razor-sharp broadhead tip coming with it. He’d gained a weapon, for whatever it was worth. He tucked it into a loop on his pants leg.

  He searched his surroundings, looking for a good place to get off the game trail. He needed more rocky terrain. There, near a large boulder, he found what he was looking for: shale and flat stones leading into some scrub. He leaped from stone to stone. He grabbed onto prickly rose branches to pull himself up and into the shrubs, the barbs drawing blood that blossomed bright red on his palms.

  The Doberman’s sharp, staccato bark wafted upslope on a chill breeze. Cole realized he was downwind from the dog. Thank God Mattie had told him about wind interference. How could he use it?

  Being downwind was a lucky break. At least the breeze wouldn’t carry his scent back to the dog. Cole needed to head across the slope. He paused, thinking of the coyote carcass. Maybe he could use the heavy scent of decomp to distort his trail and slow down the dog.

  Leaping back along the stones, he retraced his steps to the dead animal. He picked it up by the shoulders, dragging it along as he backed toward the shale. He rubbed the carcass over his own steps while struggling to keep the decaying flesh intact. When he reached the stones, he arranged the carcass to look as natural as possible, as if it had died in place. After rubbing scent from his hands along the soles of his boots, he crossed over the shale and sprinted through timber.

  Spotting a limber pine, he pulled his Leatherman out of his pocket and opened a blade. Taking mere seconds, he sliced a heavily needled bough and stuffed it down the back of his bib overall to block his shirt from sight. Closing the blade on his Leatherman, he continued to run, stuffing the tool into his pocket.

  His breath was starting to recover from his mad dash uphill, but he knew he needed to head back upslope gradually to use the wind factor to his advantage. Branches scratched his arms as he sped through the trees. He angled his direction uphill, his feet pounding the rocky surface. Knowing his endurance wouldn’t allow him to run uphill forever, he started to think about what kind of terrain would be best to take a stand. He would need the element of surprise to set up an ambush.

  The Doberman barked, the sound coming from much more near than Cole expected. His attempt to sully his trail with the coyote’s strong scent might have slowed the dog, but it didn’t throw him off the trail. He tried to run faster, but his legs were getting tired.

  He came upon a shallow stream. This can mask my scent. Running full tilt, he leaped into the frigid water. Its icy fingers snatched at his ankles and snaked into his boots, taking away what little breath he had left. Gasping, he jogged upstream, bending to scoop a handful of mud that he smeared on the front of his shirt and as far as he could reach in the back. Another palmful covered the bright blue color he’d been worried about. He smeared it on his face as well.

  The Doberman continued to bark, and it sounded like he was closing in. Slogging through the cold water, Cole realized he was almost spent. He needed an area of limited access with protection at his back. Maybe a cave? Too d
angerous. He needed a back door for escape.

  Scanning the forest in quick snatches, he took his eye off his footing for a split second. His foot slipped off a smooth, wet stone in the streambed, and his boot lodged between two rocks. Pain shot through his ankle. Shit!

  Cursing himself, he pulled his boot from where it was wedged and hobbled onward. Frigid water swirled up to his calves, numbing the pain. One moment of inattention could be the difference between life and death. Now he’d be forced to find a place to hole up.

  Digging deep, Cole trudged uphill. He came upon another dead and decaying animal with a bolt in its ribcage, this time a deer. A crash behind him made him whirl. He prepared for the worst but spotted a buck coming through the trees. The large deer charged past and continued uphill.

  He’s running from the dog, too.

  Breath heaving, Cole stopped, deciding this was a good place to leave the water. As he went up the bank, he yanked the limber pine bough out of the back of his coverall and used it to wipe away his footprints. He rubbed the branch against the deer to load it with the scent of decomposition and repeated his action. After swiping his boots over the carcass a few times, he limped across slope, finding easier footing and hoping to catch his breath.

  If he could ditch the dog, he might have a chance. He doubted Carmen could track him herself, but who knew? If only he could stay alive until darkness fell, maybe he could hike out to the road overnight. But first he needed to stabilize his ankle.

  Pushing himself, he limped upslope at the fastest pace he could manage.

  How fit was Carmen Santiago? Could she follow him up this severe grade at the pace he’d set? Was the Doberman still on a leash, or had she turned him loose to chase Cole through the forest?

  The Doberman barked again, this time from a little farther away. Buoyed by hope that the buck had distracted the dog, Cole decided to keep pushing uphill. After a while, he spotted what he’d been searching for—a rocky cliff face that led up to a ridge. It looked like something he could scale, and it would afford a vantage point. The boulders would provide shelter from both front and back, and it would be steep enough to at least slow down the dog. He would climb close enough to the top to provide a back door getaway if he needed it.