by Linda Ladd
She propped the radio on the rocks, went inside and picked up the baby. She didn't want to let Joey go for a moment, even though he needed to stretch and squirm after being cooped up all day inside the sling. She felt the blue receiving blanket by the fire and found it dry and toasty. She wrapped him up, and with belly full and content, he slept against her shoulder almost at once.
Outside again, she sat cross-legged beside the radio, patting Joey's back. She closed heavy eyes, thinking about the grueling chase, incredulous now that she'd escaped with only scratches and bruises. But she had come very close to death that day, she and Joey both, so close it terrified her.
Her eyes snapped open as the radio newscaster came on, a woman with a soft, alluring voice a lot like Marilyn Monroe's, and began a rapid summary of the top-of-the-hour news. What time was it? Kate wondered, as the woman went on in her fawning, dulcet tones.
“Our top story continues to develop.” The woman sounded a bit more animated now as though she was growing excited: “A Van Buren couple is now being sought by the authorities in connection with the kidnapping of a baby from a wealthy St. Louis family. Although our reports are sketchy at this time, the Missouri State Highway Patrol has identified the female accomplice as Kate Reed, a woman well known throughout this region as the winner of a bronze medal in the marathon nearly three years ago at the Olympic games...."
Astonished, Kate bolted upright, startling Joey awake. He fussed a little but Kate hardly heard him as she stared down at the radio.
“...Kate Reed's husband, Michael Reed, a former Van Buren resident and well-known criminal defense attorney in St. Louis, is also on the run from the authorities. The kidnapped infant is purportedly still in their possession. If anyone should sight either of these individuals, the Van Buren police is asking that you call 911 without delay or contact the Carter County sheriff's office or the Missouri State Highway Patrol. Both kidnappers are considered armed and dangerous, and the public is warned not to approach or try to apprehend them. In other news, the Missouri Senate voted in favor of repealing..."
Kate couldn't believe her ears. Kidnapped? Now they were accused of kidnapping Joey? Who had come up with that absurd charge? Good God, had Michael lied to her about that, too? She stared down at Joey in stunned disbelief. Could Michael have actually had a hand in something that terrible? Obtaining Joey off the black market was one thing, but kidnapping him? Oh, God, surely he couldn't have done such a thing.
In her heart she admitted that he could have done it, probably had done plenty of illegal things through his practice. Had the men chasing them been his accomplices in the abduction? Was that why they wanted Joey? To hold until his parents paid the ransom?
She squeezed her eyes shut as Moon River, the smooth version from Henry Mancini, began to play on the radio. If Michael had done it, the police would think she'd played a part in it, too. And the killers thought she'd double-crossed them. That's why they were so determined to murder Michael and her. Oh, God help her, she was in worse trouble than she ever could have imagined.
Nine
KATE CAME AWAKE with a start, heart hammering. She lurched upright and grabbed the knife, instinctively aware something was wrong. Rigidly straining to hear any sound outside, she stared at the dusty shaft of sunlight slanting across the cavern floor, fearing armed men would burst in at any moment. A few seconds passed without attack, and she forced herself to relax a little, wondering if she'd been dreaming the danger. Then she heard it, a strange, low-pitched buzz very close beside her. The hairs on the back of her neck quivered and stood up as she slowly turned her head and looked down at Joey.
A snake lay close beside the baby, a huge one, so near that its flat, triangular head nearly touched his blanket. Oh, God, oh, God, the orange and black bands were unmistakable in the dim light. A timber rattler, the biggest one Kate had ever seen.
Sheer, unmitigated aversion shook her to her bones. Timber rattlers were the largest poisonous snakes in Missouri, and this one was five feet long and as big around as a grapefruit, its head alone as big as Kate's doubled fist. It was stretched out close to the fire, drawn by the warmth. And she'd already disturbed the deadly pit viper enough to make him flick his rattle.
Kate's heart thudded harder inside her chest, every muscle tensed tight, her instincts telling her to snatch up the baby, get him away, now, now, before it's too late. Her stomach rolled with helpless horror. She'd never been so close to a venomous snake. She forced herself to remain still, knew she could not make a quick movement that might cause the rattlesnake to strike. But she had to get Joey away! She couldn't stand it, it was almost touching him! Oh, God help her, a timber rattler was so deadly. If it bit either of them, they'd die in agony.
Swallowing hard, trying to subjugate the rising panic, she clenched her fists and forced herself to think rationally. She had to drag Joey to safely, slowly, carefully, without disturbing the viper. She inched her left hand toward the bundled baby. The snake lifted its head. Its black, elliptical eyes focused on her. Kate stopped moving. The rattler twisted nervously, its rattle brushing Joey's legs as it began to coil. Its tail rose very slowly and loud rhythmic clicking filled the quiet cave.
Kate's stomach dropped. It was coiling to strike. She could remember Pop's warnings about how snakes could lunge at people, but only for about a third of their length. Joey was much closer than that, and now the rattlesnake's neck was undulating into the deadly “S” curve, probably thinking her prey. Or, oh, God, what if it thought Joey was the prey? Snakes that size could disengage their jaws and swallow small animals whole—squirrels, chipmunks, even rabbits.
Gooseflesh rippled her skin, making her tremble like a leaf. The snake twisted its head side to side and drew its tail into a tighter coil. She'd never be quick enough with the knife. It'd get her before she could kill it. She had to do something, distract it, throw something, a stone, anything, to make it strike away from Joey.
Kate groped the ground beside her for a rock, then caught her breath as Joey began to rouse. He whimpered and kicked inside the blanket. Oh, no, no, the snake was twisting toward the baby and finishing its coil. Thinking only that it was going to bite Joey if she didn't do something, she lunged away from the baby, yelling and clapping her hands. The timber rattler turned and struck, launching its long, heavy body at her.
Screaming, Kate jerked back to evade the bared fangs, then panicked completely as it fell writhing near the fire. She snatched up a handful of burning coals and hurled them as hard as she could at the twisting, rattling serpent. The snake recoiled under the rain of fire and slithered like a sidewinder into the shadows. Kate grabbed Joey and fled the cave, scrambling hysterically down the ledges, sobbing and shaking, taking to the trees and not stopping her flight until she heard Joey making strangling sounds against her breast.
Afraid he was choking or bitten, she dropped to her knees and jerked open the blanket. Joey lay on his back staring up at her, and she frantically examined his arms and legs, but when she looked into his face again, she realized that he wasn't hurt at all. He was laughing. She couldn't believe it at first. She'd never heard him laugh before, not the giggling, gleeful little sound he was making now. She stared at him, stunned, then he did it again, the same funny little chortle. He thought this was all amusing, their mad scramble down the cliffs, the way she was panting and sobbing, all done for his entertainment.
Joey smiled, kicking and gooing, as if nothing had happened, and Kate buried her face against him. She felt his little fingers tangle in her hair and hang on, and she wept hysterically, the sound muffled against his body. She had to get him to safely, she had to, before something terrible happened to him.
After a good, hard cry, she forcibly pulled herself together, sat up, looked around, and realized she was making too much noise. For the first time she felt the sharp burning sensation inside her palm. She opened her hand and found the skin red and throbbing. It hurt like hell and she cradled it against her chest. She had to get going before
the men came. She had to have her backpack. Oh, God, she had to go back inside the cave.
It took several minutes to dredge up enough courage. The rattler's long gone, she told herself as she reclimbed the cliff, then repeated that reassurance a few more times outside the cave's entrance. Joey was crying now, hungry for his morning bottle. She had to feed him, had to get the canned milk and the rest of the supplies. She bent and peered into the opening. She didn't want to put Joey down on the ground, but she didn't want to take him inside either.
“Okay,” she said, “Okay, suck it up, do it."
She still didn't go inside.
“Okay, the rattler's a mile away by now. You probably scared it as much as it scared you."
Kate didn't believe herself.
Finally she forced herself to edge just inside the mouth. She searched the darkness but didn't see the viper. Her pack was against the wall where she'd used it as a pillow. She began to react with long, awful shudders that crawled up her back like wakes behind a boat, and she heard herself make a low, repulsed moan at the back of her throat. Inhaling deeply, she held the air inside her lungs and stepped carefully, watching the darkness where the rattlesnake had slithered, listening for its lethal buzz. When she got close enough, she grabbed the strap of her knapsack and jerked it toward her. Nothing moved, so she pulled her sweatshirt, quilts, and baby sling away from the fire where she'd spread them to dry, then backed warily to safety.
Outside she took a moment to get a grip. She hated snakes, even the little green garter snakes she often found in her backyard. Her hand felt on fire now, and she didn't know what to do for it, had no medicine, nothing to doctor it with. She tried to remember what she'd heard about treating burns, any plants or natural forest remedies, thought of aloe, then remembered something about plunging burned skin into cold water. She took a moment to get Joey settled across her chest in the sling, but he was throwing a screaming, twisting fit. She had to get out of there, now, before someone heard him, but she did take a moment to submerge her injured hand in the creek.
Shivering all over, she realized her hand was the least of her problems. Her knee hurt more, brought on by the abuse of the day before. Her whole body was stiff and sore. She wasn't used to running for her life, falling down hills and floundering through frigid, rushing rivers. This life-or-death struggle was far different from jogging or riding a bicycle. She looked around, listening for any kind of threat each time Joey stopped wailing long enough to take a breath. She heard nothing but her own distressed breathing.
For the first time since she'd seen the snake, she put Joey down but only long enough to pull her sweatshirt over her head. The sun was up but hidden by a thick bank of rain clouds that grayed the day to dreary. She wasn't sure what time it was. She hadn't gotten much sleep, tossing and turning, and startling awake every few minutes from one terrorizing nightmare after another.
Going down on her knees, she set about taking care of Joey's needs. She had to quiet him before they could move on. Otherwise, his cries would bring their pursuers down on top of them. Praying the killers weren't close enough to hear him, she lifted him, grimacing and trying to support him with the back side of her scorched hand. When she cradled him against her shoulder, he felt very tiny and helpless.
Briefly she wondered about his real mother, whoever she was, especially if he'd been abducted, and it took no imagination to envision how frantic the poor woman must be. But she didn't want to think about Joey belonging to someone else, couldn't conceive how horrible it'd be to have your baby snatched away. She didn't want to think of her husband lying dead either, a bullet lodged in his head.
Thrusting the terrible thoughts aside, she went to work, crooning to Joey about how much she loved him as she quickly removed his soiled diaper and cleaned him with water from the stream. She quickly wrapped him in a fresh Bounty diaper and put his gown back on, and then he was happy as a lark, gurgling up a storm. Kate was glad he didn't understand about big, poisonous rattlesnakes and maniacal Russian killers. Her nerves quivered as she glanced up at the caves, and she hoped she could find a safer shelter next time.
Despite her resolve to keep her mind blank, thoughts of Joey's real family haunted her, and she wondered who they were, how Michael had become involved in stealing their baby. Had he hired killers to do his dirty work? But why would Russians be involved? Where had he met such men? None of it added up. Joey's mother must have gone crazy for the last month, wondering if her baby was dead or alive.
Michael's story about the unwed Filipino mother must have been an out-an-out lie. How many deceptions had Michael fed her, after all his reassurances that everything was aboveboard? All the legal documents she'd signed, the medical records proving the mother was healthy; everything must have been a sham. She'd believed every word her husband had told her, had swallowed it all because she'd wanted a baby so much. How gullible she'd been! How could she not have seen through the deceit? Probably because Michael had played her like a fine-tuned fiddle, as he had so many other times during their marriage. Now because of him, she was being hunted down like an animal.
Even worse, if she did make it out of this ordeal in one piece, she might have to give Joey back to his real parents. God help her, she wasn't sure she could. It wasn't fair, none of it, but she had to concentrate on getting help, then letting the authorities handle the legalities. She'd never been in trouble before. Maybe she could convince them of her innocence. At least they weren't trying to kill her as Michael's Russian accomplices were.
A sense of urgency streaked through her. She didn't have time to sit back and figure out how she'd gotten into this predicament. She wasn't safe yet. She had to feed Joey and get on the move again. She rinsed out a baby bottle, struggled with her burned hand to use the can opener, diluted the milk with clear spring water and prayed Joey'd take it. Thankfully he did, and she secured it in the elastic band and took off, stepping carefully, now on the lookout for snakes. She had another long walk ahead of her today, but even if she pressed hard, didn't stop often, she couldn't make it to Van Buren for several days. Once there, though, Gus would protect her. Until then her primary concern was to evade her Russian stalkers. She was under no illusions about them. They were probably in the woods now, hot on her trail.
The morning was becoming more overcast, with a stiff breeze pushing smoky clouds across the sky like an eraser cleaning a blackboard. It looked like rain, and she hoped to God it didn't pan out. Her journey was going to be hard enough without plowing through sucking mud and driving rain. If the thunderstorm that was threatening materialized, they'd have to hole up somewhere again. Possibly inside another cave. She wasn't sure she could bring herself to do that, but she would have little choice if she didn't find a logging road or trail that would take her out of the woods.
After about an hour of walking, Kate's knee ached worse and her burned hand throbbed unbearably. She stopped when she heard a muffled thut-thut of helicopter rotors beating somewhere downriver. She wondered if the State Highway Patrol was searching the sandbars and forested banks for her. Maybe Gus had found her missing and put two and two together about the St. Louis kidnapping. He knew they'd adopted Joey about the same time; he'd been out to visit him countless times. Or had the authorities found Michael's body and deduced he'd been involved somehow?
The awful moment when the young Russian shot him in the head had been running like a rewinding video tape inside her head. She was next. Maybe she'd get lucky; maybe the police would capture Michael's killers before they got her. Even as she hoped that would happen, she knew it was unlikely. The men chasing her were professionals; it was a miracle she'd gotten away the first time.
Kate set her jaw, anger rising. Mentally she stiffened her backbone, surveying the thick forest tracts stretching in every direction. They'd come after her, all right, there was no doubt about it. They would kill her and take Joey. God only knew who'd get him after that, but it was unlikely it'd be his real family now that the abduction had gone so w
rong.
“I won't let them take you, Joey, I swear to God I won't,” she whispered to Joey.
Her pursuers were not close at the moment or she would have heard them shuffling through the dead leaves littering the forest floor. Not so the strange bearded man, who could tiptoe around without a sound, but if he'd wanted them, he'd had them in his gun sights. He was probably miles away now. She thought again of Pop's friend, John, wished he'd happened on her instead of the hermit, wished she knew where to find him, but she couldn't depend on that long shot.
What she had to do was throw her pursuers off her trail, trick them, send them on wild goose chases while she made good her escape. Pop had taught her how to track, and part of that was to recognize false trails. If the men after her weren't trained trackers, and she doubted they were, by God, she'd leave them a few calling cards to remember her by. She had to use her wits, outsmart them. There were things she could do to delay them. She'd be damned if she'd make it easy for them.
For almost an hour she did just that, nerves constantly on edge, eyes and ears alert for any movement in the quiet woods. She backtracked her own footsteps, doubled back over her trail, crisscrossing several times and making dead ends in the middle of sticky briar patches. She broke branches and twigs leading away from the trail atop the ridge on which she intended to walk into Van Buren.
When she happened upon a nest of swarming yellow jackets hidden in a leaf-choked depression in the ground, she smiled coldly and set a trap that the men following her wouldn't soon forget. She worked hurriedly but took enough time to do the job right. It would pay off in the long run, and while she meticulously laid a trail straight into the lethal mass of buzzing yellow jackets, she enjoyed a pleasurable vision of the big blond with the earring who'd accosted her in her kitchen blundering into that particularly nasty surprise.