by BJ Bourg
“You’ll get your confirmation, just as long as you stick to the plan and don’t involve local law enforcement or the feds. We’ve got people everywhere and we’ve got people watching you. If you step out of line even for a second, it’s over and you’ll never see your beautiful Dawn again. Keep your phone close by—I’ll be in touch shortly with more information.”
I opened my mouth to ask him how he knew so much about the vice president’s plans, but he abruptly ended the call. I sank back in my chair and stared at the ceiling, weighing my options. If I didn’t kill the vice president, Bruce and his team would surely kill Dawn. But even if I did kill her, there was a chance they would still kill Dawn, just like they killed Bagford’s fiancé and Mullins’ wife and daughters. These guys had no code of honor and they were not at all trustworthy.
One thing was certain—even if I did go through with the assassination, I would never know if Dawn survived or not, because the Secret Service would take me out immediately. Essentially, I’d be giving my life for a chance at saving Dawn’s—and that wasn’t good enough. I wanted a guarantee that she would be spared, and I certainly didn’t want to kill the vice president.
I stood and paced back and forth along the row of cubicles, trying my best to come up with a solution to this complicated problem. Ideally, this would end with only the hostage takers being killed, but I didn’t even know where they were, much less how to stop them—
Tricia! I suddenly remembered Detective Clark was on her way to Dead Man’s Canyon. If Bruce and his men caught her snooping around, they would know I had violated their rules and would kill Dawn for sure—and probably kill Tricia for good measure. I quickly called Tricia’s cell phone, but it went straight to voicemail. She was already in the mountains!
I glanced at the clock on the far wall. It was almost ten o’clock. If I left now I could be in Arkansas by eight tonight, and Bruce would be none the wiser.
I rushed outside and jumped into my truck. I left a strip of rubber on the pavement as I sped out of the parking lot, calling Sheriff Chiasson as I drove. When he answered I told him I had to get to Arkansas as fast as I could and that it was about Dawn.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, the concern in his voice evident. “Is she in some kind of trouble?”
“Look, I can’t explain right now. I’ll just need you to trust me and don’t let anyone know I’ve left town—no one at all.”
The sheriff paused for a brief moment. “I’ve been asking you for days to do that interview and you’ve been flat turning me down. I’ve been patient and I don’t want to have to give you a direct order, but it seems you’re asking a whole lot from me without giving anything in return—”
“I’ll do the interview,” I said quickly. “Just please have my back on this one.”
“Sure,” he said hesitantly. “Take care of whatever you need to take care of. I’ll get someone to cover your call…I’ll tell them you’re sick, or something.”
“Thanks, Sheriff.”
“Don’t thank me; just do the damn interview when they call again and—for the love of God—act like you want to do it. This can help put our department on the map.”
I told him I would do him proud and raced out of Payneville. When I reached Route Twenty-Three, I headed west and was blowing through the town limits of Scales in record time. I had turned on my dash lights so I wouldn’t catch interference from officers working radar. It had also helped to clear away the traffic, as cars swerved to the shoulders of the highway to let me through.
I was about fifteen miles west of the Magnolia Parish boundary line when my cell phone rang. I shoved it to my ear. “This is London.”
“Mr. Carter, why on earth are you leaving Magnolia Parish?” It was Bruce and his tone was cocky. “Could it be you’ve decided to violate our agreement and come out here to find your lovely girlfriend?”
My heart turned cold as I looked in my rearview mirror. There was no one behind me. “Excuse me?”
“Did I not tell you I’ve got people everywhere?” he asked. “Now, if you don’t turn around like a good little helper and head back to Magnolia Parish to await further instructions, I’m going to carve my initials into your girl’s forehead. How does that sound?”
Before I could answer, the line went dead. Tossing my phone in the center console, I jerked my steering wheel to the right and pulled onto the shoulder of the highway. I jumped out of my truck and stood there waiting. My head was on a swivel, searching the highway in both directions, but I didn’t see or hear anything. There wasn’t a car on the road, nor a plane or drone in the sky. How in the hell does he know where I am?
There could only be one of two explanations—either the sheriff was a mole or I was being tracked. I dropped to the ground and scooted under my truck. Using the flashlight feature on my cell phone, I searched the most inconspicuous areas of the undercarriage. After five minutes of searching, I sighed when I spotted the tracker.
CHAPTER 28
Dead Man’s Canyon
Detective Tricia Clark turned off of the dirt road that led to the mouth of Dead Man’s Canyon and drove her personally-owned four-by-four pickup truck into a patch of thick trees. Once she was deep enough that her vehicle wouldn’t be seen from the road, she exited and made her way stealthily through the woods. It was only a mile to the mouth of the canyon, but it took about thirty minutes because she stayed off of the road and covered the distance over rough terrain. She had to make her way around and between thick trees, climb over jagged rocks, and even cross a stream, but she finally reached the edge of the trees that opened into a small meadow near the canyon’s mouth.
Tricia pursed her lips when she saw Dawn’s Jeep Wrangler. It was backed into a spot near a clump of trees and the mountains rose majestically behind it, blending with the dark clouds that were forming in the sky.
Easing her Model 1911, .45 caliber, semi-automatic pistol from the holster concealed in her waistband, she squatted near a large tree and waited. Other than normal mountain sounds, there was nothing going on. After several minutes of waiting and watching, she stood to her feet and took a careful step out into the open. Nothing happened.
Allowing the muzzle of her pistol to follow her gaze, she scanned her surroundings as she made her way toward the Jeep. She took one step at a time, careful not to put her weight on anything that would snap or pop and give away her presence.
She was still a dozen feet from the Jeep when she saw blood on the ground. She swallowed hard. “Damn, that’s not good.”
If London was right and the same men who tried to assassinate the vice president were after Dawn, then it seemed they might have already found her. Her hands trembling, Tricia considered retreating and calling for backup. She’d never fired her weapon in the line of duty and she didn’t want her first time to be against trained killers. Her mind wandered briefly to her children at home, but she forced the thought from her head. If she began imagining her children growing up without her, she knew she’d be too tempted to turn and walk away.
Licking her lips, she surveyed her surroundings for the umpteenth time. Everything looked safe, but she couldn’t be sure. If Dawn is hurt, she needs help, she thought. And I’m the only one who knows where she’s at right now.
Summoning what courage she could muster, she by-passed the blood and continued toward the Jeep. If Dawn was in trouble, she needed to reach her as soon as possible. Although she’d been taught not to put her finger on the trigger of her weapon until she was ready to fire, she slid the first pad of her index finger off of the trigger guard and let it brush the trigger. If she needed to shoot someone, she didn’t want to waste any time.
When Tricia reached the Jeep, she dropped to her knees beneath the spare tire and tried to calm her breathing. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her pistol shook violently in her right hand.
Jesus, girl, get a hold of yourself! Tricia crawled around to the driver’s side of the Jeep and reached for the driver’s door w
ith her left hand. She could see her fingers trembling and she wondered if she could shoot accurately if called upon to defend herself.
Holding her breath, she pushed the door button until she heard it click. In one swift motion, she jerked the door open and jumped to her feet, swinging the muzzle of her pistol around as she frantically scanned the interior of the Jeep.
Nothing.
She sighed and sank to the running board, resting her head against the doorframe. It was only then that she realized how tense she had been. Her entire body trembled and she cursed herself silently. She didn’t see a lot of action in her jurisdiction and, while that was nice and all, it did nothing for her confidence.
Once she’d gathered her wits, she searched the Jeep carefully, looking for any signs of blood or other evidence on the inside, but there was nothing except cuts to the rag top.
When she was done, she returned to the blood stain and scanned the ground carefully, looking for other evidence. There were multiple boot patterns in the surrounding area and—if she was counting correctly—there looked to be at least five different sets of boot impressions. She holstered her pistol momentarily and pulled out her cell phone. Placing a ten-dollar bill next to each of the impressions, she took several pictures of them from different angles. This was not her jurisdiction and London didn’t want her involving other law enforcement officers, but she wanted to preserve the evidence in case it was needed later.
Once she had documented the boot impressions and blood, she drew her pistol again and began to follow the footsteps toward the east, where the mouth of the canyon stood ominous. She didn’t know what she would find inside the canyon and it scared her to death. If that was Dawn’s blood, it meant her friend was hurt. She knew how tough of a cop Dawn was, and it frightened her to think she might have to fight the men who hurt Dawn. If they could take Dawn down, then she didn’t stand a chance against them.
Careful not to make any unnecessary sounds and hugging the cliff wall to her right, Tricia picked her way into the throat of the canyon. It was cool in the dark shadows of the wall. The cool breeze caressed her sweaty shirt and a chill reverberated up and down her back. Her teeth chattered and she couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or out of fear. Either way, she didn’t like it.
After she’d walked for what seemed like forever, she saw a colorful object flapping in the wind along the banks of the river. Gripping her pistol in both hands, she stepped out of the shadows and approached the object.
CHAPTER 29
When Tricia got closer to the object, she recognized it to be a partially erected tent. Other gear was scattered about and a small stack of wood had been gathered for a fire, but it didn’t look like it had been lit. It was obvious these campers had been interrupted. But who were they and who had interrupted them? Was this the campsite of Dawn and her dad? Without having a description of their gear, it was impossible to know for sure, but she was willing to bet this was it.
Tricia took more pictures and then began conducting a spiral search of the area, beginning at the tent and working outward in an ever-enlarging semi-circle. It was during this process that she located more blood near the cliff wall, but it was much more than she had found near the Jeep.
As she took pictures and searched the area, something caught her eye on the wall of the cliff. While most of the wall was a dark gray color, this one spot was white. She moved closer and saw that there was a small, round indention. She brushed the surface with her finger. It felt pulverized. “This is a gunshot,” she said softly. “The bullet exited the victim and hit the wall here, but where did it go afterward?”
After looking around to make sure no one was about to attack her, she dropped to her hands and knees and began scouring the ground in search of a bullet. Cool moisture seeped through her pants and wet her knees as she crawled around on the damp ground.
Tricia made imaginary grids and searched each one thoroughly before moving on to the next one. Finally, after searching for about twenty minutes, she located a badly damaged bullet under a small bush. It had pulverized shards of rock stuck in its tiny crevices, and it was fresh. She snapped a picture of it and then carefully wrapped it in a leaf and tucked it into her shirt pocket.
After taking a final look around, she stood and walked to the riverbank. She pulled out her pocket knife and cut a thin strip from her white undershirt and dipped it in the water. Next, she returned to the pool of dried blood and swabbed it with her wet shirt. Her shirt was not sterile and the water not distilled, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances.
Tricia cut two more strips from her shirt and saturated them in the river. Securing one of the strips as a reference sample, she hurried back to Dawn’s Jeep to swab the blood stain on the ground at that location. As she was walking to secure the evidence in her four-by-four, she noticed two sets of fresh tire tracks in the soft mud. It was obvious there hadn’t been much traffic in and out of this area in a while and, since the large tire tracks were obviously from Dawn’s mud tires, the other tracks had to belong to the bad guys.
Tricia checked her cell phone, but she didn’t have service. She hurried to her four-by-four and backed it out of the hiding spot she had found. Turning back the way she had come, she hung out of the driver’s window and began following the tire tracks she believed belonged to the bad guys.
The going was easy enough for a while, because there weren’t many trails leading away from the main road, but she had to stop when she came to a rocky patch in the road that forked in three different directions. Keeping her pistol in her hand, she dismounted and walked about a hundred yards up the main road, searching for any signs of the tire tracks. There was none.
Returning to the fork, she started down the second dirt and rock road, which was narrower and a bit rougher than the first road, studying the ground closely as she walked. There was a rocky creek bed paralleling the road to the right and it was dry.
The heel of her right boot caught on a root and she stumbled forward, cursing as she nearly fell onto her face. After regaining her balance, she stopped to wipe sweat from her forehead. Although the wind was cool, she felt hot.
As she started to resume her walk, she noticed that the rocky creek bed veered off and away from the road at a ninety-degree angle. About twenty yards away, there was a soft patch of damp earth amidst the rocky ground, and it appeared something had plowed right through the middle of it. Curious, she strode in that direction and grunted when she reached the mud. The tire pattern that ran right through the middle of the soft ground matched the pattern on the vehicle she’d been following.
She jogged back to her truck—careful not to twist an ankle on the jagged ground—and drove to the creek bed. Before advancing any farther, she pulled out a map of the area and studied the trails and creeks. Once she found the creek in front of her on the map, she used her finger to trace it from her current location, wondering where they could be going. When her finger intersected with a county road, she nodded her understanding.
“These people have to be from around here,” she said out loud, folding her map and tossing it back into her glove compartment. While she had been in this area many times over her lifetime, she didn’t know this creek was a shortcut to a county road, and she certainly wouldn’t have guessed it was passable by vehicle.
When she reached the creek bed in her truck, she punched it in four-wheel-drive and began the rough drive forward. While it was a shortcut in mileage, the drive was much slower because of the condition of the route. As her truck jostled roughly along the route and she was thrust deeper into the wilderness, she figured the group had chosen the creek bed not to save time, but to cover their escape.
The creek bed twisted like a snake through the forest. Tricia found herself travelling north one second, then west, then east, and even south sometimes. Her arms ached from the constant steering and her neck had a serious case of whiplash, but she pressed on, keeping a wary eye on her surroundings.
After about th
irty minutes of jostling about in her truck, she saw a break in the trees ahead, where sunlight shined brightly through a tunnel-looking opening. As she neared the opening, she realized it was the point where the creek crossed under the county road.
“How the hell do I get up there?” she asked out loud, stopping to exit her truck and survey the area. She walked up a narrow embankment and found herself on a paved road. It extended east to west through the forest and she found herself wondering in which direction to travel. She thought about flipping a coin as she walked westward, still searching for a way up the embankment, but then stopped in her tracks when she saw deep ruts leading to the embankment up ahead. The tire tracks came from the direction of the creek bed and the mud on the road let her know they were headed west.
Sliding down the embankment, she followed the tracks to the point where it left the creek bed and then hurried to her truck to backtrack a few hundred feet. Once she was on the county road and heading west, she made excellent time. If she remembered correctly, this was County Road 2136 and it would intersect with State Highway Two within five or six miles.
“Yep, this is it!” Tricia grinned when she reached the state highway, but her grin quickly faded when she realized she had no idea if the vehicle continued west on the country road or turned onto the state highway. And if it turned onto Highway Two, in what direction did it go?
Just then, her phone chirped in her pocket. Finally, she thought. I’ve got cell service again.
She dug out her phone and checked the screen. It was a voicemail from London Carter. When she played it, she was surprised how tense his voice sounded. She’d never heard him sound that way.
“Tricia, whatever you do…stay away from Dead Man’s Canyon! They’ve got Dawn and they’re going to kill her if anyone comes near them. I need you to back off and forget I ever called you. Just go back to your daily life and act like nothing ever happened. Oh, and don’t mention any of this to anyone. If you do, Dawn could die.”
