by Meryl Sawyer
“I want to help you find Zach. Then I’m going to cruise the Greek Isles and maybe travel to China. Afterward, I’ve saved enough money to retire in Florida. I just may take up golf.”
Claire held out her arms, and Maude willingly came into them. They hugged each other, saddened by what might have been.
“Be happy, Maude. You deserve it. And keep in touch. Promise?”
Maude swiped at her eyes with the back of her cuff. “Promise. Now what can I do?”
Claire explained the arrangements, then said, “I can’t just wait here. I’m going crazy. I have to try to find Zach. Please take over the information center.”
Thirty-four
“Running Water Draw must be where Bam took Zach,” Claire told Lucy as they drove into the countryside.
The dry riverbed on the outskirts of town had a lean-to shack on the south facing bank. Teenagers often came to the isolated area to drink. Heaven only knew what else went on at such a lonely spot. The gathering dusk cast deep purple shadows over the stone-lined creek and the dilapidated shack, but no one was in sight.
She hopped out of the car, and Lucy followed her. As they walked closer to the bungalow, Claire saw no one was inside. The whole gulch was deserted and silent except the screech of a vulture overhead. Brushstroke clouds against the dusk sky warned her that night would soon fall.
Claire asked herself where Bam could have taken Zach as she climbed into the car again. A man bordering two hundred pounds. A motorcycle was a powerful machine but not capable of transporting an unwilling man terribly far. The bikers certainly wouldn’t have spent much time on the highway where they would have been seen by passing motorists.
Zach was still in the area. She could feel it in her bones. But where was he? Think, she told herself, think. Bam Stegner is not a genius. You can outguess him.
Where was Zachary Coulter?
Hogs and Heifers, Bam’s nightclub was too obvious. But what about The Hideaway next door to the infamous club? Perfect, Claire decided as she put the car into gear. She backed up so fast that rooster tails of dust kicked outward from beneath the tires, clouding her rearview mirror.
By the time she’d reached the club, it was just dark, so there were few cars parked in the lot. There were no motorcycles in sight, not even Bam’s crimson Harley with the spit-shined chrome. She hadn’t expected to see any of the bikers. The highway patrol report was probably correct. The gang had left the area.
She turned off the engine and sat in the dark, inspecting The Hideaway. The only light was on in number five. She got out and hurried across the parking lot, Lucy following her.
She had to peer through a crack in the blackout drapes to see what was going on in number five. Two women were entwined on the bed, a whipcord thin man watching them, grinning.
“Disgusting!” she said under her breath.
The other deserted bungalows provided no more clues to Zach Coulter’s whereabouts. She kneeled down to pet Lucy, thinking.
The last place you’d ever look.
Those were Zach’s words when they’d discussed the placement of the laser printers used to duplicate original art in Duncan Morrell’s scheme. The words echoed through Claire’s brain like a mantra. The last place you’d ever look. The last place you’d ever look. The last place you’d ever look.
“The last place I would ever look is that horrible, rat-infested shed where Bam kept the bear,” Claire whispered to Lucy. “Or Bam’s own house.”
She glanced toward the thicket of pine trees behind the club and could just barely make out the weathered gray shed with the sagging roof. She hurried to her car for the small flashlight she kept in the glove compartment. Then she veered into the dark shadows, stepping as carefully as possible to avoid broken bottles that had been tossed out the back door of the club.
The jukebox kicked on, blaring sound suddenly filling the warm night air. The noise startled her and she flinched, brushing against a jack pine. Lucy cowered beside her.
From what she could tell, no one had been down the weed-choked path to the shed lately. The only other time she’d been here was when she’d sneaked out to take pictures of the bear. This was probably a complete waste of valuable time, but next to Bam’s house itself, the shed was the last place she’d expect to find Zach.
The club was only a mile or so down the road from the turn off for Zach’s house. The bikers could have easily driven along the highway just this far, then veered off to leave Zach without being spotted.
“Phew! Do you smell that Lucy?”
The light breeze riffling the pines was blowing in their direction. She would never forget that smell. The poor bear had been chained in the small shed. No one ever bothered to change the straw or shovel out the poop. Even though the bear was gone, the smell remained. The roof had leaked and the summer showers had kept the straw and dung moist, intensifying the horrid smell.
Tires squealed and blaring headlights hit her. She dropped to all fours beside Lucy as a carload of noisy men drove into the parking lot. From the sound of the group, they were already half drunk. They climbed out of the car and stumbled into the club without looking in her direction.
Once they were inside the club, she ventured forward, Lucy at her heels. The shed door was held shut by a wood lever. She eased it back and pulled on the door. The rusted hinges creaked loudly enough to be heard over the chorus of crickets tuning up in the bushes. She looked over her shoulder to make certain no one had come out of the club.
Inching the door open, she peered into the dank darkness. Yuck! The smell was even worse inside the windowless shed. She clicked on the flashlight, and a faint glow barely illuminated her feet. Great! The battery was going fast.
She stepped inside and her shoe hit something squishy. “Watch out for bear poop, Lucy,” she whispered.
The amber glow deepened the shadows in the small area that had once been divided into two rooms. All that remained was a half wall, which was off to one side, and a larger area where the bear had been chained. There was moldy straw and bear poop everywhere, but no sign of Zach.
The light went off, leaving her in foul-smelling darkness. Lucy whined and licked her hand. Claire shook the flashlight. It came on again, but wasn’t much more than a warm glow like a single match.
She carefully stepped to one side to take a look at what was behind the low wall. A mountainous heap of straw and dung was piled up against the far wall. It was probably remnants of an attempt to clean the bear’s pen.
“So much for my idea,” she told Lucy. “I guess I’ll have to check out Bam’s place.”
The dog wasn’t paying attention to Claire, the retriever was looking at the straw pile, her tail wagging.
Claire tiptoed around bear dung toward the heap of straw, mindful of rats, Lucy lived to maraud through the fields striking terror into the hearts of rabbits and squirrels. There could easily be some field animal hiding in the heap, attracting Lucy’s attention.
As they approached, Lucy wagged her tail furiously. Claire stopped beside the enormous heap of moldering straw and dung. She pulled back her skirt and prodded the mound with the toe of her shoe and detected something … solid. She reached one hand into the straw and felt—warmth.
“Zach? Is that you?”
Holding the flashlight between her teeth, she used both hands to pull away the clumps of straw. Lucy helped, digging into the heap with her front paws. At last they uncovered enough to see Zach curled into the fetal position, his wrists bound by a length of heavy chain that hung down to his knees.
“Damn Stegner! Damn him all the way to hell. It’s a miracle Zach didn’t suffocate.”
She could just imagine how miserable Zach had been. He hated being tied up. And helpless.
His eyes were closed, and a huge purple bruise marred his cheek. Dried blood was caked on his upper lip just above the duct tape that would have kept him from speaking—had he been conscious. Miracle of miracles! He was still breathing.
Too clearl
y, she imagined his gut-wrenching pain as the bikers ganged up on him beating him mercilessly. Then she felt the hopelessness and frustration of being shackled with heavy chain and buried under a mountain of debris.
“Thank you, God, for keeping him alive.”
Claire hooked the flashlight, now emitting wobbling light, in Lucy’s collar. Then she clicked her fingers, giving the dog the command to sit so what light there was would shine on Zach.
She dropped to her knees beside him. “Darling, can you hear me?”
He groaned, slowly opening one bloodshot eye, then the other, but she could tell nothing he saw was in focus. She ripped off the duct tape and tossed it over her shoulder. Zach’s head lolled to one side, and he spit into the straw. Out came a stream of saliva and blood. Then part of a tooth.
“Oh, my God. What have they done to you?”
He said something, but his words were so garbled by pain that they sounded like “tight wire.” He must mean the chain binding his wrists, she thought. His hands were cinched together, palm to palm as if he were praying. Chain with links as thick as her thumb shackled his hands together, secured by a padlock. At least his legs were free, but one seemed to be bent at an odd angle as if it were broken.
Common sense said to get out of here and find help. There was a payphone at the back of the club near the rest room, she remembered.
Zach shoved at her with his hands, mumbling something that definitely sounded like “wire.” His eyes had a glazed, frantic look and his chest was hunched forward as if it hurt to draw even the smallest amount of air into his lungs.
“Don’t try to talk, darling. I’m going to get help.”
Zach shook his head and heaved himself into a sitting position, his eyes narrowing with pain. “St-stegner … wire—”
She leaned over and gently kissed his cheek, taking great care not to hurt him anymore. “Hush, now. I love you. I’ll get help.”
“N-o-o-o …” he moaned. “Stegner. Stegner.”
“He’s trying to say I put a trip wire on the shed. So’z I’d know when you’d come, bitch!”
Claire froze, instantly recognizing the voice behind her as Bam Stegner’s. The hard muzzle of a gun prodded the back of her head. Lucy growled low in her throat and reared up on her haunches. The flashlight dropped from her collar and rolled into the straw.
Zach stared past Claire for a second, then he moaned, doubling up and clutching his gut. He collapsed to one side, eyes closed, his face a mask of pain.
“Zach,” she cried, reaching for him.
Stegner shoved the gun between her shoulder blades. “Touch him and you’re dead.”
She slowly turned her head and gazed up at Bam. His naked belly, peppered with coarse black hair, was close to her nose. As usual he was wearing a vest; this one was black suede studded with silver conchos. Like the barrel of the gun in his hand, the silver conchos gleamed even in the dim light.
“If I don’t get Zach to a hospital, he’s going to die.”
The grin that spread across his thin lips to jowls like saddlebags would have made the devil proud. “That’s the idea. Let the fucker die.”
“I can get your bear back. I know where he is,” she said, making it up as she went. “It’s a fair trade. Zach for the bear.”
“I don’t give a shit about that bear. Smell this place. Look at all this crap” He kicked aside a lump of brown straw.
“I don’t understand why—”
“The asshole sheriff beat the shit out of me and left me on the res for the injuns to haul into some half-assed clinic. Nobody does that to Bam Stegner and gets away with it. I knew Coulter had the hots for you. I tried to horn in on his action by offering to help when you were in jail. ’Course, you’re a stuck-up bitch. It didn’t work. So now I’ve got you both.”
Claire told herself to remain calm. Panicking would get her nowhere. “You won’t get away with this. Special Agent Yeager is smart as a whip. He’ll—”
“Have to find a body. Make that two bodies.” Bam chuckled, a sound straight from hell that jiggled his belly, sending it quivering across his skull and crossbones belt buckle. “Vanessa Trent has big tits, but no brain. She left clues all over the place. I got me a four-wheel drive. I’m takin’ you so far back into Kit’s land that no one will ever find your bodies.”
Kit’s land. Kit Carson the famous Indian fighter and scout had loved Taos, settling here and marrying a local woman. The dense national forest had been named for him, and many parts of it had never been completely mapped. Even if it had been, it was a protected area where few people went.
“You’re sick,” she said before she could stop herself.
Bam grinned as if he’d just received a supreme compliment. Then he grabbed a fistful of her hair and twisted her head around.
Lucy growled, baring her fangs, then snarling so viciously it was impossible for Claire to believe this was the same dog who could be cowed by a strutting tomcat. It must be the gun. The man who had abused Lucy had used a similar weapon. The dog associated handguns with the kind of pain that had left her with only three good legs.
Bam let go of Claire and cocked the gun. “Get that mutt away from me, or she’s dead meat.”
“Lucy, sit,” she said, struggling not to sound as hysterical as she felt.
The dog sat, but her eyes never left Bam. He nudged Zach’s head with the silver-capped tip of his boot. Zach didn’t move; she wasn’t positive he was still breathing. Bam swung back his leg, getting ready to kick him squarely in the liver.
Claire launched herself against Bam as his leg shot forward. She yelled, “Lu-cy! Help me!”
Bam lurched sideways, grabbing the air with one hand, attempting to aim his gun with the other. Lucy sprang, snarling like a pit bull, and Bam lunged sideways away from them. He tottered on one leg, then toppled into a heap of straw and bear dung with a meaty blunk like a fallen rhino.
Lucy pounced, sinking fangs into his arm as Claire grabbed for the gun. It had already been cocked, so it went off with an ear-splitting boom. Lucy yelped with fright and leaped aside. The gun flew into the air and landed out of reach, but closer to Bam than Claire.
On all fours, Bam scrambled after the weapon. Claire jumped on his back, thankful for his bare skin as she clawed him. She sank her teeth into the nape of his neck, kicking him with all her might while she dug in her nails. Lucy charged again, drawing blood this time.
“Motherfuckers!” Bam howled and rolled across the floor taking Claire with him. A second later, he had her facedown in the straw, his knee in her back. Lucy attacked, snarling and biting with unimaginable viciousness.
With a string of curses, Bam let go, kicking at Lucy. Claire vaulted to her feet and ran flat out for all she was worth toward the door. She heard him behind her, then his fists slammed into her back. He shoved her forward off her feet. Her hands hit the earthen floor first, next came her knees. The air whooshed from her lungs as she belly-flopped.
Stunned, she battled mind-numbing panic. What would happen to Zach if she didn’t get help? She couldn’t let him down. Not now. Not after all he’d done.
“Fuckin’ dog!”
Her head cleared just enough to realize Bam was fighting off Lucy. Claire rolled over and sank her teeth into his bare belly with a death grip while she slammed her knee into his crotch.
“Ayiiih!” he screeched. Clutching himself, he scrambled sideways, mincing along like a fat crab.
Too late, Claire saw he’d found the gun. Breathing like an asmatic, he heaved himself across it. A tendril of fear formed in her chest unfurling upward, ending in a silent scream of desperation. Even if she could get out of here and find help, Zach would be dead by the time she returned.
Lucy trotted over to her just as Bam recovered from the blow to his crotch. He eased up to a sitting position, the gun in one hand, the other across his fly. He leveled it at her, taking aim … cocking … laughing.
Suddenly, the flashlight went out, leaving them in total darknes
s. Claire rolled to one side, taking Lucy with her, then quickly moved backward. If he fired the gun, they would not be where he’d last seen them. He shot and with the deadly bullet came a blinding flash of light. Claire surged to her feet and jumped the short wall dividing this smaller space from the main part of the shed.
Zing! Zing! Two more shots split the rank air. She was on her tummy now, sliding through straw and dung, heading for the door. “I’m over here,” she screamed, desperate to draw him away from Zach. It worked, Bam fired the gun, spraying the shed with bullets.
Click! Click! The heavenly sound of an empty bullet chamber. Unexpectedly, the flashlight came on. Claire jumped up, set to run for help. She saw Zach was standing, his hands raised high above his head, the heavy chain dangling.
Bam turned. “What the fu—”
Clink-clink! Whack! Whack! Zach whammed the chain into Bam’s head once … twice. The force of the blows split Bam’s skull, and blood spurted from the wound.
“A-a-a-h-h …” Bam keeled over, his eyeballs rolling backward, and slammed face first into bear dung.
Claire charged across the shed. “Zach, are you all right?”
“Remind me never to cross you.” He managed a lopsided smile. “You fought like a hell cat. Both of you.” He leaned down, his hands still bound together, and gave Lucy a pat.
Claire threw her arms around him. “I couldn’t let him kill you. I love you with all my heart.” She gently kissed his cheek, afraid she might hurt him. “It’s a good thing you regained consciousness when you did. No telling what Bam might have done next.”
The blue eyes she loved so much had a spark of amusement despite his obvious pain. “I wasn’t unconscious. I was faking it. I didn’t know what else to do. I was desperate. I hoped you’d distract him enough for me to use the chain. When he got the gun again, I turned off the flashlight. Then I just waited until he was out of bullets.”
“You’re clever, so clever. I thought you—”