Текст книги "Stranded"
Автор книги: Alex Kava
Соавторы: Alex Kava,Alex Kava
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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
CHAPTER 67
Creed scrambled to put his gear back on as he watched the storm clouds move east. Veins of lightning streaked through the black mass that still roared, though the sound had diminished. Under the black mass Creed could see the first light of dawn.
He was harnessing Bolo when a call came in from Agent Alonzo.
“I found it,” the young agent yelled before Creed could say anything.
“Otis has a cabin?”
“Not Otis.” Alonzo explained what he’d learned about John Howard Elliott and the connection between the two men. “Our guy is John Howard Junior. The senior Elliott owns a piece of land right on Blackwater River. Just on the other side of the forest. Been in the family for years. But the taxes don’t list a dwelling.”
“It might not,” Creed said and the urgency kicked up his pulse. “Some of them are shacks. No electricity. No indoor plumbing. So they don’t qualify as a dwelling. Can you give a GPS coordinate?”
Alonzo gave him what he needed. He asked the agent to call the Coast Guard and give them the information they needed to put a helicopter up.
“Cell phone reception’s going to be spotty once I get on the river,” he told the agent. “So you might not hear from me.”
“Wait a minute. Why not wait for the Coast Guard? They should be able to spot the cabin. It’s almost daylight there, right?”
Creed grimaced but smiled. “Agent Alonzo, have you ever looked down from above on a forest?”
Silence.
“Tell them my dog will be wearing a bright yellow vest. I don’t want them thinking I’m one of the bad guys.”
“You got it.”
Then before he could end the call, he heard Alonzo say, “Good luck, Mr. Creed.”
CHAPTER 68
Jack had given them a head start, just as he’d promised.
It was impossible to run.
Maggie held Tully up. They stumbled and shuffled. She had his arm looped around her shoulder so he could lean on her. But again the handcuffs trapped her left arm against her body, which limited their movement even more.
She needed to get them out of sight from the cabin. Not such a difficult task—it was still dark inside the forest, though she could see the sky starting to lighten. A mist still hung over the river, thick enough to make you second-guess what you saw.
Already Maggie’s adrenaline came to her aid, shoving her exhausted mind into gear. Urgency trampled panic, kicking her into fight or flight overdrive. For now it had to be flight. At least until she could get Tully somewhere out of sight and halfway safe.
She pulled them behind the trunk of huge live oak and she gently yanked Tully down into a sitting position.
“What are we doing?” he whispered.
His eyes were focused even if his mind couldn’t make his body work as well as he wanted.
Maggie untangled his arm from around her. Then she ripped her hiking boot off her right foot without bothering to untie the laces. She had to roll her sock down almost all the way off her foot to reach the item she had placed in the cuff of her sock. It had worked its way to the bottom of her foot. When she had rummaged through Trooper Campos’s gun belt and taken the handcuffs, she had taken the key as well.
Tully saw what she had in her fingers. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it, but then he grinned.
Metal clicked against metal and in seconds they were free of each other. Maggie ignored the raw welt and caked blood on her wrist. She pulled down the sleeve of her shirt and hurried to put her boot back on.
“Okay, what’s the plan?” Tully continued to whisper and for the first time he sounded almost like himself.
With his right hand finally free, she saw him touch his shoulder, his fingers anxious to feel the damage. He winced and stopped. His hand hovered over the wound.
“Clean shot through?” he asked her.
“It looks like it.”
“Okay. I can do this.”
She had witnessed how weak and dizzy he had been on his feet even with her help. He’d only slow her down.
“We need to find a place where you can stay put and be safe.”
He didn’t respond. He just stared at her. She had expected an argument. Never had she expected this quiet, wounded look. Then it occurred to her. He thought she had taken him up on his earlier offer. He thought she was leaving him behind.
“I’m not leaving this forest without you.”
“Sure. I know.”
“I’m serious, Tully.”
She peeked around the tree trunk. Jack had promised he and Otis would give them a half hour. Experience had taught her that killers don’t usually keep their promises. She figured she had fifteen to twenty minutes at best.
“Come on,” she said, standing and stretching out her left arm for him to use as a pull-up bar.
He tried standing on his own. Cursed under his breath. Then he grabbed hold and allowed her to help haul him to his feet. He slammed a palm against the tree to steady himself, his lower lip between his teeth.
She found a place for them to cross the river. It took too much time. She was surprised to find the rain had transformed the shallow water to waist-deep. The air temperature was balmy and warm, so Maggie was shocked to find the river ice cold. Tully didn’t complain. She made him follow close behind with a hand latched onto each of her shoulders. They waddled liked ducks at an excruciatingly slow pace.
On the other side of the river Maggie hunted for a spot to climb up the bank. This side was the state forest, left wild and undeveloped. They had to wade through water lilies and reeds. Finally Maggie found a downed tree, partially submerged in the river. They could walk alongside it, holding on for balance. She pulled herself up the slippery clay bank, then turned around and helped Tully.
Not far from the river they found the perfect hiding place under another fallen tree. The root ball had been yanked out of the ground, providing a nest of twisted roots that snaked and weaved together. From within, Tully would be able to see out. After they smeared his blue FBI windbreaker with mud, it would be difficult to see him inside.
She handed him the ASR canister that she had also taken off Trooper Campos’s belt and stuck inside the cuff of her other sock.
“It’ll slow him down.” She tried to sound convincing.
When she turned to leave, Tully grabbed her arm. He waited for her to look him in the eyes.
“I know you’re going back, aren’t you?”
“It’s the only way,” Maggie said. “If you can’t outrun a killer, you’ve got to outwit him.”
He didn’t look pleased, but she knew he wouldn’t try to talk her out of it. He dug in his windbreaker and pulled out the pen Gwen had given him. It was all he had to offer.
“Put the X-Acto blade into place and slit that bastard’s throat.”
CHAPTER 69
Creed had put Bolo in the front of the two-man inflatable and the dog was working the air, his huge nose making snuffling sounds. He let the dog help, though he knew exactly where he was going. As he rowed he watched the GPS’s screen and followed, taking narrow creeks and winding his way around fresh debris that the rains and wind had set loose.
He’d been up Blackwater River before and was familiar with most of the creeks that forked into it. The river was thirty-one miles long and was one of the best canoe trips in the area. The mist lifted little by little and night lifted into dawn. Streaks of light shot through the trees as daylight broke on the other side of the tall pines. With the sunrise came a fresh hope and renewed belief that anything was possible.
He had changed his cell phone ringer to Vibrate but he had lost all reception miles ago, so he turned it off to preserve the battery.
“Not much farther, Bolo,” he told the dog, who acknowledged him with a wag of his tail, but that was the only thing that moved on his rigid body.
A couple more bends and twists and they would be at the property that John Howard Elliott owned. Creed only hoped it wasn’t too late.
CHAPTER 70
Maggie thought she heard a helicopter in the distance. Was her imagination already playing tricks on her? A part of her wanted to stay with Tully and hide until someone came to their rescue. The sound of the helicopter made her hesitate and reconsider. Then it faded and disappeared. Replaced by the drumming of her heart.
Jack would expect Maggie and Tully to trip over each other. He’d expect them to be frightened, to get frustrated then get angry with each other. He’d want them to become enemies, so that by the time he caught them they would be so enraged with each other they’d be begging him to kill the other first.
Jack would also count on them running as fast and as far away as they could. Using their allotted time to run for help.
What he wouldn’t expect was for Maggie to come back.
When she left Tully she backtracked. It took hardly any time now that she was alone. As the sky continued to lighten and the mist dissipated, she needed to be more careful about taking cover. Crossing the river, she remembered every obstacle and quickly maneuvered around them. By now she was drenched in sweat, and the bone-deep cold of the river actually revitalized her senses.
She was struck by the fact that the cabin couldn’t be seen from the river. Trees surrounded it. Tall long-leaf pines crowded together with not a shoulder-width between them. Other hardwood trees were interspersed. Scrub bushes, junipers, tall grass, and vines grew so thick it made it impossible to walk without them scraping skin or snagging clothing.
Maggie sneaked back to the live oak that she and Tully had hid behind earlier. She hadn’t climbed a tree since she was a little girl, but within minutes she was perched high above the ground with a perfect bird’s-eye view of the cabin’s only door. And she could see the river all the way to the first bend.
She knew that Otis and Jack had taken both troopers’ service revolvers along with Tully’s Glock and her Smith & Wesson. And Jack already had what she believed to be a Glock. Surely they wouldn’t take all five weapons with them. After all, Jack didn’t like to use guns. He preferred to cut.
She decided to watch them leave. Then she’d wait. How long? She had no idea. She’d depend on her gut to tell her.
By her wristwatch, it had been nineteen minutes since she and Tully had left the cabin. Jack had promised them thirty. At twenty-one minutes she saw the cabin door open. Her body went still, her back pressed against the bark. She did not move a muscle. A breeze ruffled the leaves around her and sent the smaller branches swaying. Her heart had been banging against her chest the whole time she hobbled Tully across the river and into hiding. But now she found herself remarkably calm, her breathing steady and her mind clear.
She watched Jack point to something on the ground. Footprints.
Would they be able to tell that she had come back? Or did it simply look like two frantic people, running one way and then another?
Then the men split up. Jack followed the riverbank. Otis disappeared into the forest behind the cabin.
Maggie checked her watch again. She’d give herself ten minutes. Anything more would be dangerous, but ten minutes was all it should take.
CHAPTER 71
Eleven minutes.
Maggie couldn’t find the guns anywhere. Where would Jack have hidden them?
She crawled along the floor, ducking under the windows and staying low. She had already searched every cabinet and cubbyhole in the cabin. She’d looked under furniture, between the mattress and box spring, under the sofa cushions, even behind the chemical toilet. None of the floorboards was loose. The walls were solid. She had rifled through the only two drawers of clothing and patted down folded towels. She picked apart the wood and kindling crate and shoved her hand into the ice chest beneath the carton of milk and packages of ground beef.
No guns.
Twelve minutes.
Maggie scooted under the window that overlooked the river and stole a glance out. She’d never see them return in time to escape.
She tried to remember. It was raining hard by the time they got to the cabin. Neither man had gone out. Otis had brought a duffel bag in with him from the boat. Gray, canvas. She still hadn’t come across it. She needed to go through the cabinets again.
Then she heard something. Her body froze and she held her breath. It sounded like a dog barking.
Creed. It had to be Creed.
Relief swept over her before she caught herself. Grace had never once barked. If Creed had found the bodies in the clearing and followed them here, he would never allow his dog to bark and give them away.
And suddenly Maggie’s pulse began to race.
CHAPTER 72
Maggie’s breath came in quick bursts. All the calm and steady resolve she had built up now threatened to break apart. She started to race from the cabin, then stopped herself.
Was it a trick? Jack claimed to know everything about her. Did he know she was a sucker for dogs? And especially dogs in distress.
Once outside she could hear the barking again. It sounded like it was coming from the same direction she had seen Jack headed. And the dog was frantic.
Instead of following along the riverbank, Maggie stayed back in the forest. Her eyes searched while she darted from tree to tree. The knee-high brush jabbed and poked. It was impossible to walk through the forest and be quiet. Branches snapped. Closer to the riverbank, clay sucked at her boots. Birds fluttered out of her path. Water rushed over a logjam.
And suddenly it occurred to her and she stopped dead in her tracks.
Would Jack have a dog to help track her and Tully? Had the dog already found Tully?
No, the barking came from the opposite direction.
She started walking again, only this time she took careful steps, watching ahead for movement and frustrated because she still didn’t see any. The ground sloped enough that she needed to climb. She kept a steady pace and glanced over her shoulder. Streaks of daylight created shadows as well as blind spots.
Maggie slowed her pace as she got closer to the barking dog. Just over this next slope she knew she’d be able to see the commotion. She slammed her back against a tree, then dropped into a crouch. Urgency fought a battle with caution. The trees came right up to the edge of the river. Keeping low to the ground, she hid behind the shrubs and fallen branches. Now she could hear the dog’s sharp bark and growls within a hundred feet. But she also heard rushing water. She eased herself up to take a look over the edge of the riverbank.
Down below she could see an inflatable blue-and-white boat pulled up on a sandbar. Two men wrestled and rolled in the sand while a huge dog barked and snarled from its perch inside the boat. The dog had on a bright yellow vest and harness. And then Maggie realized one of the men was Creed. The other was Jack. Her eyes caught a glint of sunlight off the knife blade in Jack’s hand.
She stumbled to her feet and searched for a way to get down the bank. She’d have to cross the river to reach them. A tangle of debris—branches and stumps and roots, three and four feet thick—prevented her from charging down. When she looked up again, the dog had given up barking from the boat and now danced and snapped around the men, but they were locked and rolling in such a tight clench that even the dog couldn’t get a bite of its owner’s attacker.
Maggie started to yell. Jack wanted her, not Creed.
The gushing water filled her ears and drowned out her voice.
The debris was all along her side of the bank. She couldn’t get to the water without plunging down and hoping not to get tangled in it. She sat on the slick clay bank and slid her legs over the edge. She tested her feet, then her weight on some of the thicker branches in the snarl of debris.
Just as she was getting ready to push herself from the bank she saw Otis. He was coming out of the trees from behind Jack and Creed.
The dog whimpered. Maggie saw a spray of blood as the dog jumped back.
“Damn it, Jack. Stop!” she yelled, pushing off and stepping onto the debris.
Immediately wood snapped and cracked, sending her right leg down into the mess of twisted roots, fallen branches, and a snare of twigs and vines. Something stabbed into her calf and she could feel the rush of cold water. She pulled her leg up and tried again. Instead of walking over the tangle, she crawled. Almost to the water, the debris swallowed her again as wood snapped.
The men had not stopped. The dog had joined the fight, again. There was more blood on the sugar-white sand.
She shoved and yanked, back and forth, ripping and pulling at the sticks and branches and vines that trapped her. Her feet kicked and splashed at the water underneath. Over the pounding of her heartbeat and the rush of water she thought she heard the helicopter again.
She was almost free of the tangled mess when she saw Otis jump down off the bank and onto the sandbar. He didn’t call to Jack. He didn’t seem to notice her, didn’t even look in her direction. He walked straight for the men with purpose, but not at all in a hurry. There was an unnatural calm about him.
He came within a foot of the twisted knot of men and dog. Otis was so close he could easily reach out with those huge hands of his and simply pluck the men apart. But instead he stopped and stood over them.
Then he raised the revolver in his hand and fired.
CHAPTER 73
The blast echoed through the trees and everything stopped.
No birds, no breeze, no rushing water. Maggie’s ears filled with the beat of her heart and the sound of her breathing.
“Otis, stop,” she yelled.
One shot. Only one. Why was he waiting?
Only one because he didn’t need to fire again. He had hit his target. Maggie’s stomach sank to her knees.
She shoved herself out of the debris, finally free, and staggered in the knee-deep water. The sandy river bottom sucked at her boots. The cold river numbed her senses. It was taking a lifetime for her to cross the forty feet of river. She didn’t look down. Didn’t check for logs jutting up out of the water. She didn’t take her eyes off the scene on the sandbar. Otis stood stockstill over the pile of limbs that hadn’t moved. Only the dog had backed away and now stood pointing, alert and waiting, not knowing what to do without its master’s instruction.
Otis’s hand with the gun fell to his side as he looked toward Maggie. She still wasn’t sure if he saw her, though she was thrashing through the water now. Adrenaline and dread kicking her heartbeat back up a notch. Then Otis slowly sank down onto his knees, letting the gun drag in the sand.
“Not right,” he mumbled. “Just not right.”
Maggie got to the sandbar as one of the men began to stir. The sand beneath them was red with blood. Maggie kept moving. She heard a moan and there was more movement. The dog raced toward the men, sniffing and poking. That’s when she saw that it was Creed pushing his way out from under Jack’s dead body. The dog had Jack’s shirttail in his teeth and was helping to pull the obstacle off his master.
Somewhere in the distance Maggie heard the helicopter.
Relief swept too quickly. She wanted to help Creed but she needed to focus on Otis. He hadn’t moved from where he had gone down in the sand. Now sitting, legs tucked under him, the man looked spent. But the revolver was still too close.
“I just wanna go home,” Otis said, glancing toward Jack. Almost as if he were telling the dead man.
Creed rolled onto his side, pushing the rest of Jack’s body off him.
“Bolo, stay.”
The dog immediately let go of the mouthful of Jack’s shirt. Bolo sat facing his master, anxiously waiting for his next command. Creed sat back in the sand and tapped his right palm against his heart. The dog bounded to his master, tail wagging. Immediately Creed’s hands were examining where blood streaked the side of the dog’s tan coat.
Maggie stepped around Jack’s body. She could see the back of his head had been blasted away. She kept moving, slowly, not wanting to set off Otis. As she eased her way toward Otis, she came around Creed. She was close enough to touch him, and she dragged her fingertips gently across his back. He looked up and she caught his eyes. They were a blue so deep she couldn’t imagine them lifeless. She pointed at Otis, giving Creed a warning look. And she continued her slow movement toward the sitting giant.
“I just wanna go home,” Otis was saying, the lopsided grin almost a grimace. “Three meals a day, TV …”
She stood off to his side, her shadow casting over him, and he looked up at her.
“Miss Helen’s was a real nice place, you know.” His tongue darted out to lick his lips and he squinted his eyes. His head tilted like he was thinking about it. “I was calm there. She was good to me and Jack. She was real good to me. Just like Miss Gwen.”
“Miss Helen sounds like a very special lady,” Maggie said.
Then the smile lifted one side of his mouth as if he had tasted something bad. “She wouldn’t like what Jack was doing.”
Maggie was sure he had forgotten about the gun, discarded in the sand right next to him. If she picked it up right now, would he even notice? But just as she reached down for it, Otis’s hand snatched it up.
And Maggie’s heart stopped.
His eyes met hers again, forehead furrowed, anxious but still grinning.
“I just wanna go home,” he told her. Then he held out the gun to her, grip first.
“We’ll do that, Otis. We’ll all go home,” she said.
