“Cole is taking Robo up to join the search on the ridge by horseback,” McCoy told Lawson and then looked back at Cole. “Deputy Brody will have the satellite phone with him, so once you connect with each other, you can stay in contact with us here at the base.”
“Can you put me on a horse?” Lawson asked Cole.
“I can arrange it. I have to run home to get my rig and pick up horses.”
“I can communicate with the helicopter while we’re on the trail,” Lawson said to McCoy. “Once we connect with Brody we can loop you in on the sat phone and have three-way communication. If the chopper spots something, they can direct us where to go.”
“I’ll take you to your house, Cole,” Stella said. “I need to talk to Riley.”
“I’ll wake up Mrs. Gibbs. She keeps her cell phone by her bed.” Antsy, Cole stood, and Robo leaped up to join him, both of them more than ready to get started.
THIRTY-ONE
Firelight flickered and danced at the cave’s opening. A fire pit like Willie’s. Smoke intensified, along with a growing sense of urgency. Mattie battled nausea brought on by the odor. She held the frayed end of the rope freed from her wrists, wondering how she could use it as a weapon. No doubt this guy was strong. Bracing a hand against the cave’s stone floor, she pushed into a half-sitting position. Vertigo almost bowled her over.
She drew a breath, battling the dizziness. What was it Rainbow said during their yoga lessons? Breathe all the way to the bottom of your lungs on a count of three. Extend the exhalation for a count of six.
During the count, she pushed herself up into a tentative sit and crossed her legs. She gave each leg a brisk rubdown with her palms, thankful that her limbs were moving again.
How much time do I have?
She extended her legs, bending forward slowly at the waist, and lowered her head toward her knees. The spot where the dart had embedded in her back screamed in protest. Using her yoga breath to fight the pain, she continued her gradual movements, reaching forward to give her calves a quick pat down, welcoming discomfort if that meant her sensation had returned.
How do I fight this guy? The ultimate question. Grand prize for the right answer—you get to live.
She placed both palms on the stone floor and shifted into a kneeling position, holding the pose until her head stopped swimming. Regular breaths. Inhale, count to three, exhale, count to six. Listen, ears straining, for footsteps. Watch the cave’s opening for return of the flashlight.
Can I stand? Moving in coordination with her breath, she ended in a poor example of a forward bend, knees shaky and bent. With caution, she began to unfold into a standing posture, catching herself when she felt her body tip forward. Dizzy and sweating, she failed at several attempts before rising to a full stand, her muscles trembling with the effort.
With Rainbow’s count inside her head, she struggled to take in enough oxygen for her body, imagining strength flowing into her limbs with every breath. She stretched her arms above her head and envisioned herself as a warrior preparing for battle.
The flicker of the firelight set the cave spinning. She fixed her gaze straight ahead and knelt, lowering her hands to the firm stone to steady herself.
Return to stand. Breathe in, breathe out. She repeated the process until she could stand without the threat of dizziness striking her down.
Since forward movement made things worse, she decided against trying to escape and outrun her captor. She needed more time, but she wasn’t sure she was going to get it. And fighting this guy seemed all but hopeless.
Breathe, she told herself when she felt her chest tighten. Think. What are my weapons?
She was dressed in light sweats, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. Nothing in the hoodie’s pockets.
She had a frayed rope, the sharp-edged shale—and the element of surprise. This last asset felt like her ace in the hole.
Sinking into a cross-legged sit, she searched blindly with her fingers for a large piece of rock while she found the rope with the fingers of her other hand. First, she came across the sharp piece of shale that she’d used to cut her bindings, and she placed it in her pocket for safekeeping. Finally, she found a hefty stone. After wrapping the rope around the rock like ribbon on a present, she tied a strong knot, securing the rock at the end.
Then she remembered a weapon that Willie once made to hunt rabbits. A bola—a string of rocks tied together with twine. She hurried to duplicate it and managed to tie three rocks in a row along the length of the rope.
She’d lost track of time. How long had he been gone? Maybe fifteen minutes? A half hour? The pattern of firelight against the cave wall flared, and she could imagine the flames licking at branches and logs as this lowlife threw them into the pit.
Her mind flashed on a time when Robo had come to her rescue in another place where she’d been surrounded by walls of stone. Thinking of him made her heartsick. She would take strength from his fighting spirit, because this time she was on her own.
Still woozy, she gathered her energy to make the effort to stand. The drug that had been used on her was messing with her equilibrium. Dizziness and nausea threatened to overtake her. She appeared to have two choices: she could wait in ambush and fight him here inside the cave, or she could try to escape and run away from him outside.
Much as she wanted to bank on her ability to outrun the guy, she hesitated to stake her escape on a body she could barely control. She hugged her bola against her chest so that she wouldn’t lose it in the darkness and continued to use breath and slow movement to recover.
The play of the flashlight’s beam at the cave entrance told Mattie her time was up. She took the sharp-edged shale out of her pocket and grasped it in the palm of her right hand as she lay down on her side facing the back wall. In a fetal position, she tucked her hands close to her belly, the rope draped over her wrists, the rocks of the bola hidden beneath her upper leg.
His footsteps crunched as he approached. Smoke thickened the cave’s atmosphere as if it came with him.
“Okay, girlie.”
Did she actually hear glee in that eerie distorted voice?
“Look here what I got for you.”
He circled near and stopped in front of her, this time directing the flashlight toward the ground rather than shining it in her eyes. In his other hand he held a stick that was about a foot long and a quarter inch around. He poked it forward, the end aglow with a red ember. Smoke spiraled off, wafting up to the cave’s ceiling.
This is how he burned and tortured Willie.
He still wore the horrible mask. Maybe he hated the stench of burning flesh.
“Wait,” she said. “I thought of something I should tell you about Ramona.”
“What?” He sounded disappointed. She was certain that it was cat-and-mouse play he was after now, rather than information.
“Ramona had a sister that came to see us. She—” Mattie faked a spasm of coughing, which wasn’t too hard considering the amount of smoke in the cave.
“What sister?”
She continued to cough, drawing up her knees. Between coughs, she sputtered, acting out an attempt to speak.
He leaned down, and she lashed out with the piece of shale, aiming for his neck. She felt it connect.
Gagging noises came through the mask, and he dropped the flashlight to grab at his throat. The flashlight tumbled and rolled, making the cave walls pinwheel around her dizzy head.
She stayed low to the ground. With the speed of a one-two punch, she recoiled and aimed lower—this time at his crotch.
The shale connected somewhere on his lower torso, and the mask on his face hissed with his sharp intake of breath. Bellowing with rage, he struck the back of her hand with his fist, knocking the shale out of her grasp.
Her hand stinging from the blow, she stayed on her side, drew back her right leg and kicked him as hard as she could on the ankle.
He stumbled, thrusting the burning stick at her like a blade. She raised her forearm to bl
ock her face, and the hot poker stabbed it, leaving a burning sting on her arm.
She didn’t dare let him close in on top of her; she could never fend off someone his size. Rising up on one arm, she pushed herself backward about foot, dragging the bola with her.
Using a backhand swing, he whipped the hot poker toward her face. Instead of backing away, she ducked under and dove for his legs. With the heel of her hand, she popped a straight-arm punch to the front of his left knee, hoping to hyperextend it. He howled, kicking at her ineffectively with his right leg as his left knee buckled.
Grasping the end of the bola, she swung it sideways and forward, wrapping it around both legs. She yanked the rope, and he went down, landing on his back. Air whooshed through the speaker on the mask as the wind got knocked out of him.
She’d lost both weapons and played her ace in the hole. Time to escape. The cave spun around her, and she couldn’t hold on much longer.
Grabbing a stone in one hand, she scrambled on hands and feet to get past him. Just when she thought she could make it to the cave’s opening, he grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her toward him. Flipping onto her back, she allowed him to pull her closer, cocking her other leg at the knee while the sharp rocks on the cave’s floor bit into her back.
When she felt she was close enough, she let loose with the most powerful kick she could muster and planted her shoe in the middle of that horrid mask, smashing it into his nose. She bent forward at the waist and whacked him on his bare head with the stone she still held.
He grunted, released her ankle, and she scooted backwards out of his reach. She’d stunned him, but he wasn’t out.
Pumped with adrenaline, Mattie scrambled away on hands and knees and then rose up on two feet, lunging for the mouth of the cave and the open forest that now symbolized life and freedom—if only she could reach it.
She used the cave wall for support and stumbled along, gaining momentum while her captor roared. As she reached the cave’s opening, she heard him regain his feet and charge toward her.
A huge fire blazed on the right, sparks popping ten feet into the air. Run, run, run, her mind screamed, and she turned left toward the shelter of the dense, black forest. She sprinted away, dodging boulders that littered the cave’s entry. Her only hope was to get deeper into the trees where she could hide.
A gust of wind caromed downslope, slamming into her. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted her captor at the mouth of the cave, his flashlight beam swinging back and forth, searching for her. He turned off the light, and she wondered if the mask provided night vision, perhaps the reason that he’d kept it on.
The whomp-whomp-whomp of a helicopter resounded from high overhead—too high to offer help. She ran as fast as she could for the shelter of the forest.
THIRTY-TWO
When Cole and Lawson arrived at the fork in the trail, they met Brody and two posse members, Garrett Hartman and Frank Sullivan, grim-faced men with determination etched on their faces. As they approached, Cole could hear Brody check in with McCoy on the satellite phone, telling him they’d arrived.
Robo bounded ahead to greet Brody, stopping at the end of the retractable leash. The leash had caused problems at first on the ride up, and Cole had been at his wits’ end, not wanting to entangle Mountaineer’s legs but fearful of losing Robo in the wilderness. Finally, Robo had understood that he was expected to follow, and he’d kept his place in their lineup. Until he spotted Brody. Cole figured the dog hoped he’d find Mattie with the chief deputy.
Brody returned Robo’s greeting, thumping his side with a few pats. Sure enough, the dog looked beyond him toward the others, sniffing, searching for Mattie’s scent.
“I’m glad to see he’s none the worse for wear,” Brody said, looking up at Cole. “This is bad business, Doc.”
“It is that.” Cole nodded at Garrett and Frank, standing hunched in the moonlight, their Stetsons pulled low and tight against the wind roaring through the pine trees. He projected his voice to speak over the noise. “Agent Lawson just heard from the helicopter.”
Lawson filled in the details. “Because of the wind, the chopper needs to pull out and go back to base. They got in one pass before having to turn around, and they spotted a large campfire about a mile north of the backside of the ridge. I’ve got the estimated coordinates.”
“This trail leads straight up to the top of the ridge, but it ends too far south to get to where we need to go,” Cole said. “The campfire is farther north. Does anyone know an alternate route to get from here to the north side?”
“There’s a game trail that heads north just beyond this fork,” Garrett said. “It crosses some rugged country through a couple ravines, but I’ve hunted in there before. It can be done.”
“There’s another trail that leads to the north side, the Balderhouse off Soldier Canyon Road,” Brody said. “Does anyone know the trail I’m talking about?”
Cole and the posse members acknowledged that they did.
Brody pulled a gadget from his coat pocket, evidently a GPS unit. “What are those coordinates?”
Lawson told him while Brody tapped them in.
“Here we go. It looks most likely he took the Balderhouse trail to get to this position. We need to split up and cover the lower part of the trail, too, in case we estimate wrong.” Brody turned to Garrett and Frank. “Upon the orders of Sheriff McCoy, I’m going to swear you posse members in as special deputies. Do you accept the duties assigned to you by me and will you use anything within your means including lethal force to protect and serve, and to apprehend the person who is holding Deputy Cobb? Say I do.”
They chimed in as instructed.
“Garrett, you lead the way across country to the upper part of the Balderhouse, and Cole, you come with us. Frank, you take Agent Lawson to the Balderhouse trailhead and head up from there.”
Positioning Robo beside Mountaineer, Cole swung into the saddle and got ready to ride. Brody made a call to the sheriff to give him an update as they headed up the trail.
* * *
Mattie forced her legs to keep moving, digging deep to dredge up the muscle memory to run, an activity that usually came so easily to her but was now like slogging through mire. With the wind at her back, she headed downhill, knowing from experience that her low-to-the-ground build helped her outdistance larger runners on a downslope course.
Tall timber closed around, tempting her to stop and hide. But if her captor wore night vision lenses, and if she was still within his sight, she’d be lost. She had no energy left with which to fight.
Her head swam and the trees circled within her vision in cogwheel-like, freeze frames. Vertigo became as big a threat as the man chasing her. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep moving.
After long minutes of putting one foot in front of the other, nausea forced her to stop and heave. Bile burned her throat. She spit to clear her mouth and moved on, trying to keep trees between her and her captor.
The density of the surrounding forest offered a new strategy—darting from one pine to another, from boulder to boulder, bush to bush. She hoped to stay hidden as she moved away. Dizziness made her disoriented, but putting distance between herself and her captor seemed more important than having a clear plan for where she needed to go.
She pushed forward, driving hard. The sharp edge of a half-buried rock caught the toe of her shoe and sent her sprawling, the hard ground knocking the wind out of her. Spent, she lay still, heaving for breath.
Her world gradually stopped swaying and she spotted the shadow of bushes off to her right. Staying low, she crawled into them, sharp thorns from prickly rose snagging her clothing and piercing her skin. She huddled inside the shrub like a rabbit brought to ground. Burning thirst made her yearn for water.
She rested for a few minutes, the shelter protecting her from the wind that roared through the trees. Gradually, another sound worked its way into her consciousness, and she raised her head to listen. An ominous thunder
rose above the whistling wind, followed by a crack like the explosion of an oil drum.
Smoke seeped into her hideaway. An image of the huge, dancing fire her captor had built for her came into her mind, along with sparks flying from it, launching themselves into the wind like fireflies.
Forest fire. Her captor had set the forest on fire.
She eased through the thorny branches and stood. Blazing orange lit the ridge above her, rapidly feeding on timber and eating its way downward. Balls of fire leapt from tree to tree, the dry needles wicking flames into branches and sap, setting off booming explosions in the treetops.
And she happened to be right in its path.
Fear gripped her and she froze. She no longer had the luxury of hiding. She needed to run.
But where? She couldn’t continue her downhill course. She’d never be able to outdistance the fire. It appeared to be spreading downhill and swirling off to her left.
Don’t panic. Her disorientation cleared as she paused for a moment to think things through. Prevailing winds came from the northwest. She must be on the north side of Redstone Ridge. She needed to cut across slope to the right and head farther north to try to beat this dragon.
Relieved that her vertigo had eased a bit, she set off on her course, moving as fast as she could.
* * *
It had taken a precious hour to bushwhack their way through a deep ravine. When they reached the top of the other side, Cole became aware of a change in the wind. It was warmer than it had been before going down into the ravine’s shelter. He caught a whiff of smoke.
Garrett shouted from up front. “Fire!”
Then Cole saw it through gaps in the surrounding pines, an orange glow in the distance. Blazing fire lit the horizon directly above them.
“Damn,” Brody said as he rode up, reining in his horse beside Cole. “The son of a bitch has started a forest fire.”
Burning Ridge Page 23
