Fugitive Trail

by Elizabeth Goddard

  Sierra grabbed Bryce’s arm and squeezed, tugging him back. “Bryce, be careful.”

  Her tone was intense, and something else in her voice told him she did still care deeply about him.

  But neither of them would act on that, each having their own reasons.

  Gunfire exploded.

  The bullet whizzed by his ear even as he shoved Sierra to the ground. She held firm to Samson who wanted to take off. “Nein!”

  “Sierra, we could use his help here.” Bryce edged away from her, preparing to make a run for it and get this guy.

  “I won’t send him in there to be shot and killed,” she said. “I’ve seen that happen before. I won’t do it.”

  “Then don’t. Let’s take cover.” They were still too exposed.

  They crept behind a van they could use for a temporary barrier. Sierra kept her dog close. Bryce could breathe a little easier now that they had some protection—but they weren’t out of danger yet. He didn’t want to get pinned here. “Contact your sheriff and let him know we have an active shooter.”

  Sierra nodded and tugged out her cell. She wasn’t wearing her radio. She spoke quickly into the cell letting dispatch know about the shooter at the edge of town. Good thing the festivalgoers were mostly at the other end of town near the vendor booths.

  Bryce and Sierra had both pulled their weapons out. Another shot rang out and Samson was eager to work. If he weren’t well trained, he would already have taken off.

  “Cover me.” Bryce prepared to dash across the street.

  “No, wait!” Sierra whispered. “Don’t go out there.”

  “This is our chance to get him, Sierra.”

  “You’re not law enforcement anymore, Bryce. Remember? You can’t arrest that guy even if you catch him. I’m the deputy sheriff. I need to come with you if you go.”

  Bryce wanted to give her a piece of his mind, but this wasn’t the time. They’d have to work together then. As much as he didn’t want her in the line of fire, he knew she wasn’t going to back down.

  Another shot rang out, this time from a different position. Pain stabbed through Bryce.

  * * *

  “Bryce!” Sierra shouted. Fear coursed through her.

  He’d been shot. Bryce stumbled back. Then grabbed his upper arm. He lifted his bloody hand to stare at the wound. “It’s just a graze. I’m all right.”

  “How do you know that? You can’t tell by looking at the blood on your hand.”

  He moved his arm, though with a grimace. “See? It’s just a graze.” They moved out of harm’s way and he peered around the vehicle, his weapon at the ready.

  “Well, the sheriff knows where we are, someone should be here soon.” Sierra’s voice shook.

  “Stay here with Samson. You’re not going with me. Raul wants you dead, remember? I don’t need to worry about you or Samson getting shot.”

  Oh, that was a low blow. Bryce knew she would want to protect Samson.

  “Does he have a command for guarding you?” Bryce asked.

  “Of course he does. I’ll be fine. I just need you to be safe too, Bryce.”

  Wind whipped around the vehicles and sliced through her like a frozen knife, and of course—the snow had to pick up.

  And just like that, Bryce disappeared around the vehicle and ran across the street.

  Grrrrr!

  Sierra got on her cell again for dispatch. “Where’s the sheriff? Is he on his way? Or a deputy or something. One of those state officers. Bryce is chasing after the shooter.”

  “Aren’t you a deputy?”

  “That’s beside the point. I don’t want to put Samson at more risk from a bullet by chasing after the shooter.” She didn’t use him as anything but a SAR dog. And sure, if someone broke into her home with intentions to harm her, then Samson was there to guard her, but that didn’t mean she’d deliberately put him in harm’s way. And yet, it didn’t sit right to let Bryce face whoever was out there by himself. Apprehension warred inside—Sierra wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing.

  “Sheriff’s on his way.”

  “Okay. Tell him to hurry.”

  Samson yanked on his leash, pulled her away from the van. He wanted to follow Bryce to track and find the threat per his original K-9 training. That, and Samson was protective like any dog, wanting to neutralize the threat.

  “Sitzen!” Samson followed her command and sat next to her, his huge form giving her warmth. “Zei Brav,” she said, then again in English: “Good boy.”

  After a few seconds ticked by, Sierra tightened her hold on Samson’s leash. “Hier. Come on. I’m taking you home. I need to go after Bryce.” Just what Bryce wouldn’t want. “From now on, you’re wearing your vest when we go out.”

  Because of his enormous size, Samson had to have a special vest created for him. That had been back in Boulder—over a year earlier. Now that she thought about it, his vest probably wouldn’t fit him anymore. They made their way quickly down the street back toward the toy store. Only a few people were out visiting restaurants in this cold. The vendor exhibits still open were at the far end of town.

  No one reacted as if they’d heard gunfire.

  Samson barked again, letting her know his displeasure. He was well trained. Samson could track the shooter, but she knew what could happen to him as well.

  Raul would shoot and kill Samson.

  As for Bryce, she couldn’t control him. He was a grown man—and he was fully trained in dealing with dangerous criminals. Samson couldn’t shoot back or protect himself against a deadly bullet. She pushed through the deepening snow, heading back toward the toy store as fast as she could. And away from Bryce.

  Lord, please, please keep him safe.

  She didn’t like that he’d run off from her, and later on she would scold him for it. But only after he was back and safe. She started around to the back, which was the entrance she usually took with Samson, then remembered the woods—the same woods Bryce had probably entered to find the shooter. She’d assured him she wouldn’t take that route.

  Sierra took Samson through the front of the toy store to the apartment in back and found Dad still watching his program. He glanced up at her. “That was a short walk. Did Bryce go back to his hotel?”

  “Dad, didn’t you hear those shots fired?”

  He turned the television down. “What’d you say?”

  Right. “Never mind. I have to go back out. Keep an eye on Samson for me, okay?”

  “Always do.”

  Samson growled then barked at her. He wanted to come along. He nipped at her gloved hands as if he would keep her from going back outside without him. She pressed a kiss on his massive forehead. “You’re a good boy. You know what’s going on, don’t you?”

  Her weapon tucked away, she exited through the front, locking all doors behind her. The sheriff met her at the door. Great timing, but she nearly ran into him.

  “I got the message about the shots fired. I couldn’t find you so hoped you were back here,” he said.

  “Where’s Bryce?” she asked.

  “I didn’t see him. Tell me what’s happened.”

  “Walk with me while we talk.” The snow was growing deep enough to slow them down, filling her with frustration. “Someone took a couple of shots at us while we were out walking the dog. Bryce went after the shooter.”

  “And you let him go by himself?”

  “I tried to stop him. He wanted me to take Samson back home, which I did.”

  “The dog could find the shooter. Maybe take him down too.”

  “Yes, and the dog could also get shot and killed. I don’t have Samson for these kinds of circumstances, Sheriff.” Even though the fear of an attacker was the exact reason she’d wanted a big dog. “Samson is trained for mountain search and rescue.”

  In response, the sh
eriff merely offered her a severe frown. Clearly he didn’t agree with the way she used her dog. Sierra didn’t care what he thought.

  Samson wasn’t an employee of the sheriff’s department. No one other than Sierra had any right to say what he should or shouldn’t face.

  She tugged her weapon out. She hoped the shooter hadn’t taken Bryce out already. Her heart ached at the mere thought of it. And if Bryce got seriously injured out there—how much of the blame lay with her?

  “Now are you going to help me then?” she asked. “Because I’m not sitting this one out.”

  Sheriff Locke readied his own weapon. “That, I am.”

  FOUR

  Bryce continued following the footsteps through the nearly thigh-deep snow. With the way the snow was falling, soon the tracks left behind would be completely gone.

  The snow was to his knees, and hip-deep in some places. He tried to step into the shooter’s steps to ease his efforts, but it was still slow going. Without snowshoes, he had no hope of picking up the pace, and this kind of exertion was going to exhaust him too quickly. He wasn’t out of shape but navigating the snow-covered rocky terrain took all his effort and focus.

  Bryce stopped to catch his breath and take in his surroundings. It was pitch black out here. The only illumination came from the town lights that reflected from the clouds. That reflection helped him to see the way, but it wasn’t nearly enough to let him track down the man who had shot him.

  What was Bryce doing out here?

  This seemed like a suicide mission.

  Standing beneath the low-hanging branches of a spruce tree, he considered his options. If he didn’t silence his gasps for breath they would give him away—that is, if someone was watching and waiting for the chance to take Bryce out. Except Bryce had no doubt the shooter had come for Sierra specifically and taking Bryce out would simply be a bonus.

  Anger coiled in his gut. He couldn’t let Raul get to Sierra. His efforts might fall short, but he wouldn’t stop trying.

  He drew in a sharp, cold breath. Bryce wouldn’t give up so easily.

  Even though Raul wasn’t the typical perp.

  Shoving from the spruce tree, Bryce continued following the tracks before it was too late and the shooter was gone for good.

  He pushed harder and hiked farther than he thought he could. Finally the snow clouds thinned, allowing the moon to illuminate the forest into an eerie, foreboding scene.

  Glancing back, Bryce noticed Crescent Springs was growing smaller. He was putting himself in danger by going deeper into the cold without proper clothing. He wasn’t prepared to face off against the elements.

  But he’d only been thinking about getting his hands on Raul, ending this once and for all so Sierra could be safe.

  He caught a glimpse of the mountains that stood watch over the small tourist town. Bryce flexed his cold fingers in both hands to shake the stiffness away. He wished he’d worn ski bibs instead of jeans layered with thermals. He hadn’t thought through what having dinner with Sierra would look like—and he certainly hadn’t expected the evening to end this way, with Raul taking a shot at her.

  Bryce should have been better prepared.

  Regardless, he couldn’t stay out here much longer.

  The clack of tree trunks rustling with the wind drew his attention to the south. A crunching sound followed. Was Raul pushing on too now that he knew Bryce would follow?

  Frustration boiled through him and warmed him—good.

  Just a little farther. God, the tracks are here for me to follow. Help me find this guy before he hurts Sierra!

  He allowed the hot anger to fuel his steps.

  A shadow moved in the trees ahead of him.

  Yes!

  Bryce was catching up. His weapon ready, he prepared to pull the trigger.

  He aimed at the silhouette of a man in the trees. “Stop, police!”

  Only he wasn’t the police anymore. Old habits die hard.

  His prey fled deeper into the woods. He was so close! Bryce would get his hands on Raul. Adrenaline pushed him farther and deeper.

  A force slammed into his body. The breath whooshed from him. He crashed face-first into the biting snow that rushed into his mouth and nose.

  Bryce fought for purchase, grappling with the snow. Reaching for something, anything, to push the weight from him. He twisted around to face the barrel of a weapon.

  Reflex kicked in.

  Bryce rolled as gunfire blasted into the space where he’d been mere seconds before. Using his training, he knocked the weapon from the man’s hand. Kicked his attacker to the ground as he twisted away and scrambled to his feet, despite the snow impeding his efforts. Bryce searched, digging through the snow and found his weapon. Gasping for breath, he shoved the fear down.

  Aiming his weapon, he turned in a circle looking for Raul.

  No.

  No, no, no.

  Bryce had lost him. He’d fled into the night again. Bryce could follow the tracks farther, but the cold was making him numb and slowing both his moving and thinking. Grousing that he’d let the man get the best of him and get away on top of it, he decided to follow the footprints left behind. The cold seeped through his inadequate clothes all the way to his bones. From now on, he’d dress for unexpected treks through snow on cold winter nights. Maybe even drag snowshoes around with him so he’d be prepared.

  He took one more step.

  A crack resounded directly under his feet—a familiar and terrifying sound.

  He stilled and listened. Gurgling water. A river? A stream? Whatever it was, he’d just stepped on the thin layer of ice covering moving water—thin and dangerous.

  Another crack and then his foot plunged into the icy water.

  * * *

  Sierra heard the snap and the plunge into water that came after.

  Oh, no!

  “Bryce!” she shouted.

  Gasping for breath, she pushed forward through the snow, following his tracks. She’d seen a man standing there not fifteen yards away through the trees. She had just decided it was Bryce at the moment he’d stepped on the ice.

  Now she couldn’t see him at all. “We have to hurry!” she shouted to the sheriff who trailed her.

  “Bryce, I’m coming.” She pushed faster, breathing cold hair into her lungs.

  “We’re on our way!” Sheriff Locke shouted. “Hold on!”

  Holding on when you fell into a frozen river wasn’t always an option. Oh, Lord, please let us reach him in time!

  She hiked as fast as she could, wishing she could push faster. “Answer me, Bryce!”

  Another splash of water resounded.

  “No!” Sierra cried out.

  Then she was at the river that weaved through these woods. It was wide and deep enough to be lethal.

  Bryce was clinging to a frozen branch as more ice gave away again beneath him. He held tight...for now. She knew that he would soon succumb to hypothermia and would no longer be able to hold himself up on that branch.

  “Stay back.” His voice was commanding, but she heard the hint of fear. The shivering in his words.

  That sound shook her to the core.

  “No.” She crawled along the thick snow-covered branch and scooted along until she reached him. The sheriff found a boulder nearby so he wouldn’t risk stepping through the ice. Together they hefted Bryce up and out of the river.

  They dragged him away from the riverbank.

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “Scratch that. It’s a stupid question. Let’s get you back.”

  He wasn’t out of danger yet.

  Shivering, he gasped for breath. “Thank you. But you shouldn’t—”

  “Let’s get you back.” Sheriff Locke’s voice was authoritative. No nonsense.

  As was Sierra. “Of course we should have. Now, let�
�s go and get you warm.”

  “But he’s still out there. Raul is still out there.” Bryce teeth chattered. “I can’t let him get to you.”

  What was it about Bryce that made him feel personally responsible for protecting her from Raul? It confounded her and warmed her heart at the same time. But she needed to stick to the no-nonsense attitude. Experience had taught her it was the best way to push past his stubbornness.

  “I’ll get more deputies,” the sheriff offered. “We’ll follow the tracks until we find him, Bryce. In the meantime, you’re going to freeze to death if you don’t get out of those clothes.”

  “Sheriff Locke,” she said. “It’s too treacherous to go after Raul at night. You see what happened to Bryce. He almost got swept away in the river. You can’t send deputies out there after him.”

  The sheriff growled. “I’ll let the state boys know and we’ll see if they want to join in the search tonight. He’s too close to let get away. We all know the risks. Leaving him out there is also a risk.”

  “I agree. That’s a big risk to Sierra.” Bryce forced the words out through his shivers.

  Sierra didn’t want to argue with the two of them. They had a point, but the danger was real to anyone who was going to search for him in this terrain on a cold snowy night.

  She kept her mouth shut as they hiked the rest of the way back to town, Bryce between them. His legs weren’t moving too well—numb and cold—and he was unstable on his feet.

  What if they hadn’t followed him? What then? Bryce would have died out there tonight.

  “Are you sure it was Novack?” Sheriff Locke finally asked.

  “I fought with him. But I didn’t get a look at his face. It was too dark and happened too fast. But it must have been the same man who attacked Sierra today in town. Who else could it have been tonight?” Bryce’s words slurred as his body grew colder. “I shouldn’t have let him get the best of me.”

  “Need I remind you that you’re not law enforcement? You should have waited on me and my men or the state officers in town.”

  “Do we have to talk about this now?” Sierra asked. She wanted to get Bryce somewhere warm before it was too late and frostbite took his legs or worse. The sheriff could wait until later to dress him down. But he seemed to disagree as he continued his scolding.