Blind Faith

by CJ Lyons

  "Say something, Sarah. Tell me how much you want it, how much you want me. Tell me the right thing and I'll let the girl go." He raised his free hand to smooth her hair back from her face and Sarah saw her opening.

  She kept her eyes locked on his, parted her lips, teasing him as she ran her tongue across them. His body tensed in anticipation. She held her breath as he leaned forward, angling his mouth to meet hers.

  Then she plunged the razor sharp antlers into his side, twisting them up, gutting him.

  His scream split the air.

  "Run, Julia," she shouted, keeping her grip on the antlers. The gun clattered to the floor as he tried to push her away. She didn't see where it landed, only had eyes for the sight of Julia racing to safety.

  Alan slumped, his weight wrenching the antlers from her grasp. "You—bitch—" The words emerged a harsh groan as he clutched his side.

  Sarah didn't wait. She ran to the door. She had to find Julia. And Sam.

  Just before the last tire left the ground, Sam twisted the wheel furiously and the truck spun sideways, flying into the air.

  "Sonofabitch!" Logan's gun went off, the bullet crashing through the windshield. The front passenger corner of the truck smashed into the trunk of a two hundred year old hemlock. The seat belt grabbed Sam so hard he thought it was about to cut him in two. His vision went white as the airbag exploded in his face, pushing him back.

  Logan blasted through the windshield as they came to an abrupt halt. His foot caught on the dash, torquing his body sideways and propelling him head first into the tree.

  The wheels of the truck hit the ground. It landed, resting at a thirty degree angle on its side. The tree stood in the middle of the engine compartment like an ungainly hood ornament with Logan pinned between two hundred years of wood and two thousand pounds of steel.

  The pounding in Sam's ears made him dizzy. Conking his head against the steering wheel after the air bag deflated didn't help any. He blinked hard. Blood was running into his eyes, but his vision was clear. Clear enough to see Logan's body twisted like a rag doll in unearthly directions that had literally torn the leg with the foot caught in the dash from his body.

  Sam swallowed hard against the wave of nausea accompanying that sight. Thank God Logan's slacks were still relatively intact, there was little blood on the surface. It was knowing what lay beneath that made his stomach heave.

  He turned his head away and took stock. His hands were wrapped around the steering wheel in a death grip. He focused on releasing them. When he opened his hands, his fingers stubbornly remained curled and pain rumbled through his wrists. The air was curiously still and quiet as if the forest held its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

  His chest hurt like he'd been kicked by a mule and he couldn't feel his right foot at all. Had it gone through the floorboard like he'd imagined? Maybe it was lying a hundred feet above them on the side of the road?

  Aw hell, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

  He wasn't sure how long he lay there, trying to remember how to breathe, but it was long enough for the last remnants of the setting sun to fade. Dim sparkles of moonlight filtered through the tree branches, just enough to convince him he really was still alive.

  Focus, Sam. Alan still has Sarah.

  That thought cleared his mind. He heaved his weight against the door. At first it wouldn't budge, then slowly with a groan of metal scraping against metal, it gave an inch. He slumped back, panting, sweat pouring from him. He still couldn't feel his right foot, but the pain cascading over the rest of his body more than made up for that.

  He took a deep breath and tried again. This time the door popped open. He fell sideways, almost all the way out of the truck. Until his foot caught.

  "Mother of God!" His yell tore through the night. No one seemed to care. As loud as his shout was, his foot was screaming louder. God, he'd rather cut it off than feel this. Bone scraped against bone, sending shockwaves through his body.

  Now he really was going to vomit. He caught the doorframe with his hands, hauled his weight back onto the seat, releasing the pressure from his trapped leg. But once woken, the pain wouldn't stop its clamoring. He wrapped his fingers around his calf trying in vain to stabilize the leg, to free it, or yank it totally off—anything to stop the pain.

  A searing light stabbed into his eyes. He held up his hands to block it.

  "Sam? Are you all right?"

  Sarah. It was Sarah. Sam didn't try to fight the tears of joy that overwhelmed him. He cleared his throat, wiped a hand over his face and caught his breath as she maneuvered through the brush to his side of the truck. Her flashlight bobbed through the darkness, flashing on Logan—or what remained of him—then on Sam, then over his head and back again.

  "Are you okay?" he asked as she joined him.

  "I'm fine. Julia's in the car, waiting. I stole Logan's car," she said with a trace of pride in her voice. Then a shadow covered her face.

  "And Alan?"

  She leaned across him to examine the situation more closely. "Hold this," she handed him the flashlight. She leaned forward, her fingers gently probing his leg. "I think maybe I killed him."

  Her tone was flat and he didn't ask any questions. She wiggled something and he bit his lip against a shriek of pain. She turned her head to look up at him. "Your foot is wedged under the gas pedal. It's bleeding, probably broken. I can slide it out if I can twist it to one side—but it's gonna hurt."

  He sucked in his breath. "Do it."

  CHAPTER 53

  Sarah craned her head to look up at her husband. The bright light of the flashlight etched his face into crevices of pain. And she was about to cause him more.

  She realized for the first time that her anger was gone. Sam had made mistakes. Many of them. But he was a different man now and everything he'd done in the past two years had been done in the hopes of keeping her and Josh safe. She hadn't totally forgiven him—she might never—but she was beginning to understand.

  Reaching a hand out, she took his and gave it a strong squeeze. "I love you, Music Man."

  His eyes widened as he looked down at her in surprise. She took that opportunity to wrench his leg out in one quick, firm movement.

  His scream echoed through the small space. The color drained from his face and his hand gripped hers so tight she couldn't feel it. Then he released her and slumped back. "You've got some bedside manner there."

  "It worked, didn't it?" She turned back to examine his ankle. It was already swollen, purple and scraped raw, oozing blood from several areas. But it was in one piece. "Let's get you out of here."

  Together they maneuvered him out of the truck. Sam couldn't put any pressure on his leg, so he leaned on her.

  "Wait," she said, handing him the flashlight. She reached back into the truck and grabbed his guitar case, hauling it over the seat and then slinging it over her free arm.

  In response, he grabbed her waist, pulling her close and planted a wide-open kiss on her mouth.

  "C'mon. Julia is waiting." She guided him down the mountain to where she'd parked the car. The truck had flown off the topside of a switchback and landed close to the straightaway on the downhill side, saving them the need to climb back up the mountain.

  Julia was waiting, hiding in some bushes off the edge of the road. She leapt out to help Sarah wrangle Sam the rest of the way to the car.

  Sarah lowered the guitar, ready to toss it into the back, when the glitter of headlights on a curve above them came into view. "Julia, can you drive?"

  "No ma'am."

  "All right, get into the back," she ordered, trying to ignore the knot of fear in her throat. "Sam, take the wheel."

  Sam tensed beside her, craned his head to stare up at the lights. "No. It's me he wants."

  "Listen to me. You can drive. Get Julia out of here." She firmly pushed him down into the drivers' seat. "I'll take care of Alan."

  "How?" Sam asked as he maneuvered his injured leg to the side and
slid into place behind the wheel.

  Sarah propped the guitar case against the side of the car and unsnapped the small pouch attached to its lid. "With a little help from the dark and the woods." She pulled out a package of wire guitar strings. "And these. Now go. If this works, I'll meet you down at the Rockslide."

  "No. I'm not leaving you again. I'll wait for you."

  The lights above them were moving slowly but steadily in their direction. As if the man behind the wheel was having a hard time maneuvering the car. She hoped he'd have a harder time walking.

  Sam snagged her waistband, pulling her forward into the car for a quick kiss. "Did you mean what you said?"

  "I'll always love you, you're the father of my son," she said. "That doesn't mean I always like you. Or that I've totally forgiven you. Yet."

  She slammed the door shut before he could wrench any more confessions from her. "Keep your lights off so he doesn't see you. Now go!"

  The Taurus slid past her, lights off, engine purring as Sam eased it down the road. She wanted to race after them, jump in, tell him to just drive as fast as he could.

  Instead she tore open the package of wire guitar strings and found the longest length. She coiled it around her palm. The bite of metal against her flesh took her mind off Sam and Josh as she considered her plan. She had to finish this, now, tonight.

  No more running, no more hiding. She couldn't let Alan off this mountain alive.

  The glare of headlights impaled her. She feinted, running along the road as the car behind her sped up, aiming for her. She turned to look over her shoulder, saw Alan, hunched over the wheel of his Volvo, his face filled with hate.

  Good. He was focused on her. Not Sam or Julia.

  She could smell the fumes, felt the rumble of the engine hurtling towards her. At the last possible moment, she leapt off the road and into the shrubs. The car braked and fish tailed, spinning sideways to land with two wheels off the road fifty feet away from her.

  Alan opened his door, staggered out. He'd removed his jacket. His white shirt was drenched in blood, but she'd obviously not wounded him as seriously as she'd hoped. Damn silk suit. The extra layers of fabric blunted her blow. His tie was missing as well and his hair stuck out from his head as if he'd turned into a wild man.

  "Sarah!" He called into the night, brandishing the gun. "Come out, Sarah! I won't hurt you if you give me what I want."

  His voice was cajoling, but the gleam in his eyes was murderous. Her fingers tightened on the guitar string. She'd finally found something more important to Alan Easton than money.

  Killing her.

  She broke from cover, rustling through the bushes with enough noise to wake the dead. Sorry, Colonel, she thought as she continued to break a trail that a blind grandmother could follow. Or a city-slicker lawyer.

  She knew exactly where she needed to go. Snakebelly. Was it really only two nights ago that she'd camped on this ledge, dreaming of Indian princesses and Sam? Alan's footsteps broke through the night, following her trail.

  She quickened her pace until she reached the spot where she'd anchored her climbing rope. Good, it was still there. She drew the rope through her fingers until she had a good length coiled and ready to go. Then, spinning the length of wire before her, she wrapped one end of wire around a sapling at ground level and kept hold of the other end. She crouched down in the shadow of a boulder and waited.

  "Sarah! Don't make this harder than it has to be. Come out now like a good girl. You know I'll find you. Or if not you, I'll find Julia." He stepped into the small clearing. "Now you've nowhere to go." He swept his hand with the gun from one side to the other, squinting in the moonlight as he scanned the shadows. There was only one hiding place large enough. He aimed the gun directly at her.

  "Come out Sarah. It's over." He stepped forward, now only five paces from the ledge.

  He took another step, raised the gun. And fired.

  Sarah jumped at the crack of noise that shattered the night. The bullet struck the rock above her, splintering her with shards of granite.

  "Now, Sarah!" He commanded, his tone one of victory as he took another step closer to her.

  She stood, keeping her hand behind her. He leered at her, the gun centered on her chest. "That's a good girl."

  He took one last step. Now he stood before her, almost touching her. His breath came in gasps, his chest heaved with adrenalin and exertion. "Now I know why people hunt. The thrill of the chase. It's exhilarating."

  The whites of his eyes gleamed in the moonlight. Sarah stood still, waiting for her opening. The abyss waited less than a foot away from them both.

  He prodded at her with the gun. "You've been a bad girl," he whispered. "You're going to pay for what you've done."

  Sarah forced herself to meet his gaze. "Like hell I will."

  His slap rocked her back against the edge of the boulder. She grabbed his belt and pivoted her weight against him, yanking the wire tight with her other hand. At first he allowed her to use his weight to get up. Then he reached for her as he realized that she was leveraging him over the edge. His foot caught in the wire, his hand with the gun jumped up, slamming against her jaw.

  The wire sliced into her palm, but she refused to release it. She rammed her body against his, pushing him over the edge. He stutter-stepped, still trying to catch his balance. For one frozen moment her face was a mere inch away from his. His mouth was open wide but no sound came. Just a rush of breath as he reached out for her.

  She toppled over the edge with him, the wire finally slipping from her grasp.

  CHAPTER 54

  Together Sarah and Alan hurtled through the darkness. Her stomach lurched with the feeling of free fall. Then, after an agonizing moment, her rope yanked her to a stop.

  Alan plummeted past her, his screams fading into the darkness long after his body vanished from her sight.

  Sarah hung at the end of her rope for a long moment before she could catch her breath. Then she rocked her weight forward, nudging the rock face, until she found purchase for her feet. She placed her weight back against the rope and climbed out.

  It was awkward driving with one leg stretched out beside the other, using his left foot. Every time he jostled his right foot a fresh explosion of pain would crash over him. But the worst part was when he lost sight of Sarah in the rearview mirror. It was as if he'd lost part of himself.

  Daddy? He imagined Josh's voice if he returned without Sarah. Why couldn't Mommy stay with us? Didn't she want to come home?

  Okay, he was wrong. Now he really knew what pain was—the thought of shattering his son's heart.

  Sam couldn't really blame Josh if he never forgave him. Just as he couldn't blame Sarah. He'd made a complete mess of things.

  But if Sarah came back, they could start over. No Korsakov, no Alan—just her and Josh and Sam. A family. Again.

  "You okay back there, Julia?" he asked, more to try to distract himself from his morbid fears of Sarah's death than anything.

  "Y-yes sir." Her voice was muffled by tears.

  "We're going to get out of this. All right?" Then he remembered that he still had her cell phone. He pulled it from his pocket and handed it to her over the back seat. "Why don't you call your parents, let them know you're all right?"

  She took the phone. He slowed the car as they approached a hairpin turn, dared to turn the lights on. Not much farther.

  "Can't. The battery's dead," Julia said leaning over the back seat, her voice more normal now.

  "It's all right. We're almost there."

  Sarah made it back to the Volvo and started down the mountain. Her hands could barely grip the steering wheel, they were so torn up from holding the wire and the rope. But other than that, she was pretty much in one piece.

  She rolled her shoulders, daring to relax for the first time in days. Sam was safe, Josh was safe, they were going to make it—

  A woman's form jumped out from the shadows. Sarah stomped on the brakes, the car spinning o
ut on the dirt road. She felt the brake pedal pump against her foot as she wrestled the steering wheel, trying to keep the car from plummeting over the side of the mountain.

  The car came to a stop mere inches away from the woman. She didn't seem to notice, was already sprinting to the driver's side, pounding on the door with one hand.

  It was Caitlyn. The car rocked with the force of her blows. She looked like a madwoman, her hair wet, shoved in all directions, clothing soaked and clinging to her. Her face was white in the moonlight, one eye almost swollen shut, blood smeared over her cheek and forehead.

  "Let me in! Federal Agent!"

  Sarah rolled down her window. "Caitlyn, it's me. What happened?"

  Caitlyn fell against the car, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. "Hal Waverly. He tried to kill me."

  "Hal?"

  "We've got to get to town. He's got bombs. He's planning to blow up the dam!"

  CHAPTER 55

  Sam pulled up to the curb in front of the Rockslide. Julia hopped out, obviously anxious to be free of today's adventures. He debated sitting here, waiting for Sarah, rather than leaving the car. His foot hurt so much he'd almost bitten his tongue in half to keep from crying out.

  The dome light came on when Julia opened the door. He was surprised by the puddle of blood his leg sat in. Every time he moved, more blood squished out from beneath his sock.

  "Sam, I think you need Doc Hedeger," Julia said, leaning in to peer at him and his leg. "I'll go get him."

  "Help me inside the café first," Sam said. "The Colonel can help me wrap it up, stop the bleeding until the doc gets here."

  She nodded and sprinted around to his side of the car, letting him lean his weight against her as he slid out. As soon as his leg left the seat and swung to the ground, pain catapulted through him. His stomach reeled and he felt like he was going to black out. He leaned heavily against Julia, thankful for her youthful strength, as she half-dragged him to the café door.