They started across the sand and grass when Matty stopped. “Wait a minute,” he said, and turned back. He found a short stick, went to the mouth of the cave and carved a message in the dirt. “Back soon. Don’t worry.” He stuck the stick in the sand so his father would be sure to see it if he returned before them, and then stood back.
“That should do it,” he said. “Let’s go.” He led the way across the beach, and then stopped and held a hand up in his friend’s direction. “Keep quiet, in case anyone’s around.”
He turned and crept up the grade to their old campsite. He wasn’t going to take any chances. If his mother was in danger, and someone was responsible, he might be lurking around. They moved cautiously toward the site, staying behind trees and bushes.
The camp was deserted. He glanced around, and then pointed. “This way,” he said, and headed into the trees.
Kyle followed him awhile before asking, “What’s your idea? How’re we going to find the cabin?”
Matty kept on, picking his way around low branches, clumps of bushes, and fallen trees. “First we have to find the clearing where we saw the bear.”
“What if the bear is around?”
“He won’t likely be there.” Matty hoped he was correct on that point. The last thing he wanted right now was a run-in with a crazy bear. They were lucky the first time, but he decided to be cautious just in case.
He was certain he could find the clearing. He had been there twice before and he was pretty sure it was dead ahead.
“I’m hungry,” Kyle said.
Matty stopped and looked at his friend. “Yeah, me too. We should’ve had something before we left. We’ll just have to wait, that’s all.” He continued on and in a few minutes, pointed ahead. “There it is.”
He moved carefully through the trees, memories of their frightening encounter with the bear foremost in his mind. He stepped slowly into the clearing and looked around. The awful creature wasn’t there. “This is it, Matty,” Kyle said.” He pointed. “That’s where the bear was.”
They stood still a moment, Matty with his hand on the flap of his backpack, Kyle glaring toward the spot the bear had appeared, listening in case the fearsome animal lurked close by.
“I think it’s ok,” Matty whispered.
Kyle stood straight, cocked his head to one side, and squinted at Matty. “Now what?”
Matty pointed. “The bear was there.” He moved his hand. “And we were standing there.” He spun around, pointing again. “And then we ran like crazy that way.”
“So?”
“So, we do it again.”
“Run like crazy?”
“Yup.”
“How far?”
Matty thought a moment, doing some quick calculations in his head. “After we found the cabin last time, it took us about half an hour to get back to camp.” He looked up and frowned. “So it’s about a mile from here.”
Kyle shrugged. “I’m ready if you are.”
Matty adjusted his backpack and poked a finger to his left. “Watch out for the bear,” he shouted, and charged into the forest, Kyle right behind.
Matty tried not to pay much attention to the route they took, rather run by instinct like they’d done before. He was positive they would find the cabin soon.
“Are you sure this is the right way?” Kyle asked after a few minutes, panting out the words as he followed his friend.
“I’m sure,” Matty said, and waved a hand. “I recognize that fallen tree over there. We ran right past it before.” He was growing tired as well, but didn’t dare stop. He had to keep on; he had to find that cabin, and if possible, get back to the cave before his father returned.
CHAPTER 44
Sunday, 6:35 AM
VARICK LUCAS had been up early, polished off the rest of the rabbit meat, smoked a cigarette from the dwindling pack, and was now eager to get his plans for the day underway.
Annie had awakened a few minutes earlier. She lay on her side on the cot, watching him as he went about his morning business.
He flashed her a smile. “Did you sleep well?”
She rolled to her back and didn’t answer.
“Just trying to be friendly,” he said.
Silence.
“Do you want some breakfast?”
“No thanks.” She turned to face him. “I would like a glass of water.”
He brought her a drink and she swallowed it eagerly. “Thank you.”
“More?”
She shook her head.
“I have to go out,” he said. “The crux of the game has just begun.”
Annie didn’t comment.
He rummaged around in a box in the corner and came up with a length of nylon rope. He was going to lock her in the cabin when he left, but he wanted to be safe, and tying her up would make her doubly secure.
He carried the rope over to her and held it up. “This is for you.”
She turned her face to the wall.
“Just for a while,” he said. “I’ll take it off again when I get back.” Then in a stern voice, “Sit up.”
She rolled over, dropped her feet on the floor, and sat on the edge of the cot. She gave him a look of disdain and said, “You don’t have to tie me up. If you padlock the door, I can’t get away.”
He smiled. “One can never be too careful. Now please stand up and turn around.”
She stood, raised her nose in the air, and spun around. He tied her wrists together securely, pushed her onto her back on the cot, and then tied her ankles. “I guess I won’t have to gag you,” he said. “Only the birds and the squirrels will hear you, and they don’t care.” He laughed at his own joke and stood back.
“Do you need anything before I go?” he asked.
“A knife would be nice.”
He chuckled. “The knives are well out of your reach, unfortunately. So you’d best just stay put until I get back.”
“Don’t hurry back,” she said.
He crossed his arms and looked at her. “I’m glad you still have a sense of humor.”
She turned her head away and stared at the ceiling.
He opened the cupboard and found a pair of padlocks, the keys in them, then fastened the hunting knife to his leg, checked the pistol tucked behind his belt, and left the cabin.
He padlocked the front door, went to the side of the building, unhooked the shutters from the outside wall, swung them closed, and fastened them securely with one of the padlocks. The back window got the same treatment. The solid shutters would make it dark in there, but they would guarantee she stayed put.
He dropped the keys into his pocket, turned, and strode into the woods.
~~*~~
RCMP SERGEANT LANCE BREWER had been awake into the wee hours of the morning, waiting to hear whether or not his team had found the location of the cabin where Varick Lucas was holed up. He had hoped Padre would’ve been more precise, but even with the sketchy information they had, he expected his men to zero in on Lucas’s position before long.
Immediately after interviewing Padre, he’d spoken to the chief of intelligence and surveillance and was advised a pair of Air-1 service helicopters, each complete with sophisticated surveillance equipment and an expert team, was at his disposal.
By the time he had the operation assembled, their short window of opportunity had dwindled with the daylight and they were forced to put the bulk of their efforts on hold until daybreak.
A renewed push was now underway. Up in the air, RCMP officers were in the cockpits with the pilots, passing information to constables on the ground by radio. Meanwhile, RCMP commanders in the situation center watched images relayed by satellite.
Three thousand square miles was a lot of space to cover with just two units, so existing aerial photographs were consulted, poured over, and scrutinized.
Brewer was now on the phone with Special Constable Dunkirk. Brewer had remained in the Haddleburg region and sent Dunkirk to oversee the gathering of intelligence.
&n
bsp; “I don’t have anything promising to report,” Dunkirk said. “As you know, it’s a large park, and we have narrowed the possibilities to fifty-six locations.”
“Fifty-six?” Brewer roared. “Is that the best you can do?”
“I believe it is, sir.”
Brewer paced the floor of his hotel room. “That’ll take weeks to cover with a ground approach. I don’t have that kind of time.”
“I can assemble three task forces and cover it in two weeks.”
“Not good enough.” Brewer bit the end off a cigar and spat it across the room. “Can you narrow the possibilities down more than that?”
“I’m afraid not, sir. With nothing else to go on, as far as location is concerned, that’s the best we can do.”
“What about thermal imaging?”
“Sure, but in a heavily forested area, the thick trees block video cameras as well as limit the capability of thermal imaging devices.” Dunkirk paused a moment before patiently continuing, “Thermal imaging picks up heat. There’re thousands of campfires at any given time and thousands of campers throughout the park. We can eliminate the ones in known camping spots, but thermal imaging is not the way to go, sir.”
“What else do we have?”
“Without a more precise location, all we can do is send in tactical troop members to investigate possible targets one at a time.”
Brewer swore. He didn’t have that kind of time to waste but he had no other choice at the moment. “Start the ground search. I’ll let you know if we come up with anything further here. And keep me posted.” He hung up, tossed his phone onto the bed, went to the window, and gazed over the small town spread out before him.
He chewed impatiently at his cigar. He wasn’t optimistic about the ground search. Lucas was volatile and could move his location at any time. He needed something else, and he needed it now.
His team had confirmed Lucas’s parents were dead, and the whereabouts of Otis, his one known friend, was undetermined. There was no other information forthcoming as to the location of the cabin where Lucas was allegedly hiding out.
His men still questioned possible acquaintances of Lucas in an attempt to come up with some information, but to date it was a dead end. Lucas had been transient, never spending more than a couple of years in any one place, and his trail of friends was sparse.
Brewer needed a break soon, something to go on. In the meantime, there wasn’t much use in hanging around Haddleburg.
At first, he’d planned to head north early that morning, but the uncertain information Dunkirk had provided was not encouraging. He decided to make the trip to the town where Lucas was arrested. If any information was forthcoming, he wanted to be there.
It was a good two-hour trip, but it seemed right now, unless one of the teams in the service helicopters came up with something soon, he had lots of time to get there.
This would go down, one way or another, and when the ground assault on Lucas’s hideout by tactical troops was finally activated, he had plans to be present.
CHAPTER 45
Sunday, 6:44 AM
ANNIE STRUGGLED at the rope that held her hands. The bonds were tight; not so tight they hurt her wrists, but secure enough to keep them from slipping off. Any attempts she’d made only resulted in chafing her skin, and with her arms behind her back, her movement was severely constricted.
She maneuvered herself into a sitting position, her back against the wall, her feet extending out over the edge of the cot. She had but one concern for herself—to get free from the ropes, and then escape the cabin.
But her chief concern was for Jake and the boys. The maniac, Varick Lucas, had mentioned some kind of game he was playing. She expected its end result would be an attempt on Jake’s life, an attempt that might succeed, and she agonized over the thought. She was uncertain how her freedom could thwart the madman’s plans, but was determined to get away, thoughts of her family driving her on.
It occurred to her the only reason he kept her alive at the moment was as a pawn in his game. She expected he would eventually use her against Jake. But how? If he wanted to kill her husband, he surely could’ve done so by now. Why would he need her?
At first, she’d feared he would attempt to rape her, or worse, but as time went by, she realized his plan involved much more than temporary physical pleasure, and certainly not longtime containment of her as a prisoner, but rather, something more sinister and immediate.
She assumed, as a convict on the run, his first priority would be to evade the law and remain hidden. In disregarding that, he exposed himself as a highly unstable and dangerous maniac, and she was frightened more by the unknown than by what she knew.
The horrific thought spurred her on, giving her determination and a single-minded purpose—freedom. She cleared her mind and squinted through the murkiness at her surroundings.
The cabin was in total darkness other than a small amount of sun creeping through cracks in the shutters, painting a dozen parallel slashes across the wooden floor. Some light came down the chimney, barely enough to illuminate the cold ashes and the stone hearth in front.
She slid forward on the cot until she could bend her knees and touch her feet on the floor. She tried to stand, but lost her balance and fell back onto the bed. Had her abductor not tied the rope from her wrists around her waist, she could’ve slipped her bound hands under her feet, then out in front.
Her only option was to attempt to remove the ropes from her wrists first, and then she could untie her feet, and then—
She slid off the cot and crumpled to the floor, managed to roll, and finally position herself with her back to the fireplace. She rubbed the ropes at her wrists against the sharp edge of the hearth, up and down, up and down.
She paused, raised her eyes upward, and listened intently. The unmistakable sound of a helicopter was barely visible through the thick wooden roof, but it was a helicopter, no doubt. The sound faded, and with it, her hopes they’d finally come to rescue her. She took a deep breath and continued with her task.
It was hard to maintain the steady motion. Her shoulders grew tired, her wrists were sore, her fingers numb, and she rested often. She celebrated silently as each of the dozens of small strands making up the nylon rope snapped. It was slowly wearing through.
She started and held her breath as she heard a thump, then the patter of small feet. She breathed freely; it was just a squirrel on the roof. Perhaps a pair of squirrels, playing in the sunlight, enjoying the freedom she’d taken for granted and now struggled to reclaim.
A final snap, and the ropes fell away, her arms free. Then it was a simple matter to remove the rope from her waist, and she flung the tattered cord across the room and massaged away the pain in her wrists and shoulders.
The cord holding her ankles was next. The slick nylon rope clung stubbornly to itself, difficult to untie. She peeled off a broken fingernail with her teeth and continued her battle with the cord. It took her several minutes until finally it loosened and fell away. She flung it into the corner with the other one and stood to her feet.
In the near darkness, she stumbled to a cupboard near the sink and groped inside. She knew Lucas kept a box of matches in there somewhere; she’d watched him as he lit the lantern earlier. She found them and struck one. The light from the match lit up the small room and made it slightly more bearable. She lit the oil lantern by the fireplace and welcomed its warm glow.
She went to the window and pushed against the shutters. They were solid—very solid, intended to keep intruders out rather than in. The door was likewise sturdy, inches thick, and padlocked securely from the outside. It seemed unlikely she could break through either the shutters or the door without a tool of some kind.
There were a handful of utensils in the drawer, but nothing sharp. Cans of beans and other preserves occupied the lower cupboard. She rummaged through boxes and trunks, but found nothing to serve as a battering ram or crowbar.
She turned her attention toward the ce
iling. Fishing rods and tackle were useless to her. There was a small canoe, holding a pair of oars, but they would snap before the shutters ever did.
The floorboards were solid, immovable. The walls were built to last and none of the strong logs would budge with her desperate attempt. The stones on the well-built fireplace and sturdy hearth were unyielding. Even the flimsy cot was useless.
Her search continued in vain until finally her assurance of escape ended, her determination faded, her hopes now dead.
She dropped onto the cot in despair. She had loosened her bonds, tasted freedom, and yet, still remained a prisoner.
CHAPTER 46
Sunday, 6:55 AM
VARICK LUCAS approached the camp of the teenagers with the stealth of a seasoned hunter. He was getting good at this, and starting to enjoy the game, even with its ever-changing rules. But since he wrote the rulebook himself, he was free to change them whenever he saw fit.
And right now, he saw fit.
His plan was to get rid of the two guys there, and that meant killing them, but as he crept toward their campsite, he was disappointed to find it vacated. It didn’t appear they’d left completely; the tents were still there. Perhaps they were sleeping the day away.
He stole forward and peeked inside the closest one. A pair of backpacks lay on the floor, right next to their sleeping bags.
The other tent was the same—two backpacks, and two sleeping bags. An empty wine bottle and candy bar wrappers littered the floor. He stepped back. They were likely here somewhere.
He crossed his arms and looked around, unsure what to do. Turning abruptly, he kicked aside an empty potato chip bag, strolled down to the beach, and went to edge of the lake. He peered left, then right. Nothing. Nobody around.
Justice Overdue: A Private Investigator Mystery Series Page 16
