by Lisa Harris
“Stop trying to fix me, Jonas.” She huffed, picking up speed as they headed toward her room. “Like it or not, this is how I’m going to be the rest of my life.”
He hurried to keep up with her. “But there are so many advances. I’ve been reading about people without limbs who have climbed Mt. Everest, played professional baseball, people who’ve become runners, even pilots and airplane—”
“Enough.” She stopped in the hallway and angled her chair toward him. “You’re not the one who lost a leg.”
“And I can’t imagine how terrifying it’s been.” He crouched down in front of her and took her hands. “But you’re not alone. I promised I’d be here every step of the way with you, and I meant it. You can’t give up—”
“I’m not giving up, but you keep thinking you can fix this. That you can somehow make it okay. But you can’t, because things will never be the same again. I’ll never have two legs.” She blew out a breath. “Before all this, I was training for the Ironman.”
“There was a double amputee who completed—”
“Stop. You don’t get it. I don’t care how many people finished, or ran, or whatever. This is me. I lost my leg. I’ll never be able to compete like I did before and nothing you can do will ever fix that.”
“I get it, but while a lot has changed, how I feel for you hasn’t.” He caught the distant look in her eyes and straightened his posture. He took a step backward. “What about us?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. This is something I have to do on my own.”
“I’m not going to let you push me away.”
“Don’t come back, Jonas.”
“Why? This doesn’t change anything for me. I still want to marry you.”
“Do you? I’ll never know if you’re just marrying me because you feel sorry for me, or if you really love me.”
“You know I love you. You know I want to marry you.”
“I’ll never be sure. Why didn’t you ask me before the accident? Why are you suddenly wanting to ask me now?”
“Because I love you—”
“No, it’s because you think you can make me whole, but I have to learn to be whole without a leg. Without you.” She avoided his gaze. “I’m sorry, but I’m leaving.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m moving back to Texas to live with my parents. There’s a rehabilitation center near their house that has agreed to work with me.”
“Felicia—”
“It’s over, Jonas.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I’m sorry, but I do.”
“Felicia, please.”
Tears were streaming down her face, but he recognized the stubborn set of her jaw and the emptiness in her eyes as she looked at him. “I really am sorry.”
She spun her wheelchair around and rolled back down the hallway toward her room, the wheel he’d tried to fix still squeaking.
He couldn’t fix it. Just like he couldn’t fix her.
A crack of lightning brought him back to the present.
Eighteen months had passed, and he still wondered what had happened to her. If he ever allowed himself to fall in love again, he’d decided it was going to be someone with a normal job without the high stress of his work. Like a kindergarten teacher or a gym instructor. Someone who he didn’t have to worry about not coming home at night. Or maybe his career choice meant falling in love and getting married simply wasn’t going to happen.
He shifted his gaze to Madison, who was still sound asleep. He resisted the urge to brush a strand of hair off her forehead, not missing the irony in the unwelcome thought. He’d chosen this life because it gave him a sense of purpose. Made him feel as if he was doing something positive in the world every day by making the world a better place. He had also learned that he didn’t have to have someone in his life in order to be complete. Maybe that would change one day, but for now, his life was fine the way it was.
He must have dozed off for a while because the sound of something creaking outside woke him. The step. He shook Madison gently, then signaled for her to be quiet when she opened her eyes. Apparently, he’d been wrong about Barrick.
Ten
Madison scrambled to her feet at Jonas’s silent nudge, the heaviness of sleep gone in an instant. The rain had finally stopped, and the light coming in from the window told her that the sun had just begun its ascent above the horizon. But her only thought at the moment was that Barrick was out there.
Jonas moved to the window, then signaled for her to cover the area behind the door. She grabbed a thick log from beside the fire, then moved into position, pulse racing, her body geared up to fight. There might be two of them against one of him, but not having her weapon put her at a tactical disadvantage. On the other hand, they’d trained together, making it easier for her to know what Jonas was thinking. The intruder couldn’t know for certain that they were in here.
A second later, the handle jiggled. When the door didn’t open, someone tried to kick it in. The chair she’d jammed beneath the handle last night rattled but held. They kicked against the door again. This time, the entire frame shook. A third time, the chair cracked, and the door flew open. Jonas fired off a shot while she caught the bottom edge of the door with her boot, stopped its momentum, then kicked it closed. The man cried out in pain.
“It’s him.” Jonas grabbed a piece of the chair and shattered one of the windows, keeping his body behind the frame as he took aim and fired off three quick shots.
Barrick responded with three of his own shots from outside, two that managed to penetrate the door and slam into the back wall.
“Do you see him?” she asked.
“He’s retreated to the tree line.”
For now.
She stood still in the middle of the cabin. The storm was gone and now an eerie silence seemed to surround them.
“I’m pretty sure I hit him,” Jonas said.
“How bad?”
“I couldn’t tell, but we need to get out there and track him down.”
“We’re sitting ducks,” she said.
“I know. How many rounds do you think he has left?”
She searched her memory. “Probably nine.”
She glanced again at the window. If they left the cabin, he’d have a direct shot at them, but they couldn’t stay holed up there. Something on the porch caught Madison’s eye. “There’s blood here.”
“He was definitely hit,” he said. “He was also out of his handcuffs.” Jonas grabbed his backpack. “I’ll cover us while we run across the porch, right, toward the back of the house.”
She nodded, pulled open the door, and ran. The pop, pop, pop of Jonas’s pistol echoed through the morning air. Barrick fired back. She caught her breath at the back of the cabin as Jonas ran up to her.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Madison turned around in the soggy ground and studied him. “Jonas, wait, your arm.”
“What?” Blood ran down his arm, right below his shoulder. “It’s just a graze. I’m fine.”
She reached up to check it, but he stopped her.
“I’ll clean it up later. We need to go after him. Now.”
They stayed low as they ran across the grass toward the tree line behind the cabin, hyperaware of any movement. Madison studied the ground in front of them. With all the rain last night, it would be hard for him to hide his tracks. The injury from Jonas’s bullet was another disadvantage that would slow him down. What they would have to be careful about was another ambush.
“Jonas, I’ve got something.” A breath of relief shot out of Madison’s lungs as Jonas crouched down beside her. “After last night’s storm I wouldn’t expect to find fresh prints from a hiker on this trail, so this has to be him. Look here. He tried to miss this patch of mud, but he hit it with the heel of his boot.”
“You’re right. That’s got to be him.”
“He’s headed north out of here.” She studied the trail, making sure she
didn’t miss anything. “So you think he gave up on us?”
“I certainly would at this point.”
“And this time I agree.”
They paused by a cluster of trees to catch their breath and Jonas offered her another power bar. She took it but couldn’t help but wish for a large espresso with an extra shot of caffeine to go with it. She needed it today, if only to warm her up. But that would have to wait. They had a fugitive to track down.
Even though they’d found a trail after about an hour of searching, Madison was worried they were going in circles or at the very least going deeper into the forest. Still, she was certain they were close on Barrick’s tail despite the fact that he was trying his best to leave no trace. The rain had made that impossible.
They just had to catch up with him.
“How’s your arm?” she asked, breaking the silence that had settled between them.
“The bleeding seems to have stopped and the pain is minimal.”
She glanced at him. “What are you thinking?”
“Just going over in my mind what we read in his file. We know he’s violent, but he’s also charismatic and manipulative.”
“Which won’t do him any good out here. He’s a city boy, out of his element, and his options are limited.”
“True, but he has spent some time hunting. I don’t think we can totally dismiss his ability to survive temporarily out here. And if he runs into people, he has the ability to manipulate the situation to his advantage.”
Madison frowned. “Then we need to get to him first.”
But where was he?
A scream pierced the morning air.
Madison froze momentarily, trying to determine which direction the cry had come from, then rushed down the trail, with Jonas right behind her. At a bend in the trail, Jonas pulled out his gun. A woman in her thirties, dark hair pulled up into a ponytail, was hovering over a man wearing only a pair of briefs. An orange jumpsuit was jammed into the bushes.
The woman put her hands up and stumbled backward. “Please, please don’t shoot us.”
Madison held up her hand. “We’re US Marshals, and we’re here to help. Where’s the man who did this to you?”
“I don’t know. He took off running.”
Jonas handed Madison his backpack. “Stay here and help them.”
Madison knelt down beside them. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“He . . . he came at me from behind.” She was nearly hyperventilating.
Madison put her arm on the woman’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”
“Amy.”
“And your partner?”
“My husband, Keith.”
“Good. Amy, I need you to take a deep breath. In and out. Slowly. You’re going to be okay. Keith, I don’t want you to move, but can you talk to me?”
“Yeah.” His eyes were open, but there was a large bruise forming on his cheek. “I think I’m okay. He just knocked the wind out of me and my head hurts.”
Madison pulled out the first aid kit from the pack. “Did he hit you?”
“He punched him in the face and stomach,” Amy said. “What’s a prisoner doing out here?”
“Plane crash,” Madison said. “We were on a prisoner transport.”
“A prison transport?” A look of fear registered in her eyes. “Are there other prisoners out here?”
“No. He was the only one.”
The only one who survived.
“We’re trying to track him down. Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
“I didn’t even hear him coming. He grabbed me, held a gun to my head, and told me not to make a sound, then forced my husband to take off his clothes. He put the clothes on, snatched our backpacks, then he just ran.”
“What was in your backpacks?”
Amy rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “Just basic supplies for a day trip. Food and water, sunscreen, Keith’s phone, insect repellent, and a first aid kit. Stuff like that.”
“What about weapons?”
“My husband had a knife and a gear repair kit.” Amy blew out a sharp breath. “He also has our car keys.”
Madison carefully checked the husband over for injuries, still aware of her surroundings, but Barrick was long gone. He’d got what he needed, a clean set of clothes so he no longer looked like a prisoner, more supplies, and the keys to a vehicle.
“What about a map?” Madison asked.
“There was one in my pack, but I have a grid map in my pocket. He didn’t take that, or my phone.”
“So he could find his way out,” she said.
Amy nodded. “He left heading east along this trail. If he keeps going that way, he’ll hit one of the main roads leading out of here.”
“How far?” Madison asked.
“We’re about, I don’t know, an hour from where we parked our car.” Amy glanced at her husband. “What are we supposed to do if he takes our car?”
“As soon as we get somewhere with cell coverage, we’ll send someone to help you,” Madison said. “I’ll leave you with the rest of our food, but hopefully you won’t have to wait long.”
“Barrick’s moving quickly,” Jonas said after doubling back. “I think we both need to go after him.”
Keith moved to get up. “I think I can start walking out of here.”
Jonas helped the husband to his feet. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I think so. I feel like I’ve been hit by a brick, but no dizziness or shortness of breath.”
Jonas dug a pair of shorts and a T-shirt out of his backpack. “It won’t keep you particularly warm, but it will help. And you can take my jacket.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
“Yes, you can. It’s fine.” He removed his badge then handed over the jacket.
“What if he comes back?” Amy asked.
“I don’t think he will,” Madison said. “If he thought you were worth something to him, he wouldn’t have let you go. He knows we’re right behind. At this point just be thankful you’re alive.”
“We could use your map though,” Jonas said.
“Of course.” Amy pulled out the map from her back pocket. “Do you even know where you are?”
Madison glanced at Jonas, then shook her head.
Amy handed her the map. “Welcome to Idaho.”
They parted ways with the hikers before heading down a trail. Madison jogged beside Jonas, hoping they could catch up with Barrick and unable to forget that the man who had killed someone with a shiv now had both a gun and a knife. She’d seen the desperation in the man’s eyes when he’d tackled her near the river. As far as she was concerned, he’d killed before, and he’d kill again.
“So much for being creative,” she said. “He decided to do things the old-fashioned way.”
“So what would you do now if you were him?” Jonas asked.
It was a scenario she’d played out a hundred times. Get into the fugitive’s mind. Figure out their next move. “Time is crucial. Get as far away as possible as quick as possible. He’ll take the car, but not for very long. He knows we’re behind him, so he also knows we’ll probably expect him to take the car.”
“His options?”
“He drives it until he can find another car.” She shrugged. “Or he could hitchhike. People are trusting for the most part. He’s no longer in his prison uniform, which means he has the ability to blend in. He also doesn’t particularly look like a felon, which is another plus for him. And because we’re so isolated, he knows it’s going to take law enforcement time to get here.”
Jonas held up his hand for her to stop.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing. I thought I heard something, but I think I’m just getting paranoid.”
Something he had every right to be. They kept moving at a slow jog while she waded through possible scenarios in her head. What she did know was that Barrick would do whatever it took to ensure he wasn’t caught again.
&nbs
p; “What if Barrick decided not to head to the end of the trail like we’re assuming?” she asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I glanced at this map.” She stopped at the edge of a clearing, pulling out Amy’s map. “There should be a ranch located just across this valley at the edge of the forest. I can see a couple outbuildings, and it looks like there’s a trail leading that direction ahead. What if he went there?”
“It is closer, and if nothing else, they should have cell service, so I can call for backup.”
They followed the trail toward the ranch through a narrow ridge with outcroppings of rocks on either side.
Someone shouted from above them. “I’ve got my rifle aimed at you. Weapons on the ground, then hands in the air and don’t move.”
Madison glanced at Jonas, then hesitated as three more men stepped out of the brush in front of them, each one armed.
The tallest, heavily bearded and aiming his rifle at her heart, rested his finger on the trigger. “Hands in the air now, both of you, or I swear, I’ll shoot you.”
Eleven
Madison felt a shot of adrenaline rush through her as the men circled tighter around them, each one holding his weapon steady on her and Jonas. Somehow their shortcut had just landed them in the middle of a hornet’s nest.
“I mean what I said,” the man repeated. “Hands in the air or I will shoot.”
She studied the face of the man who was clearly in charge, then slowly raised her hands. Jonas set his gun on the ground.
“I don’t know what’s going on here,” Jonas said, “but you need to know that we’re with the US Marshals—”
“We already know who you are, and you certainly aren’t marshals.”
She glanced at Jonas, trying to put the pieces together. “We’re US Marshals, searching for a man who escaped a prisoner flight transport after a plane crash. We tracked him here.”
“An escaped convict?”
Madison nodded. “Have you seen him?”
A second man cocked his rifle and took a step closer to her. “I’d say our escaped convicts are right in front of us, Simon. There were two on the plane. And his descriptions match perfectly.”