Tina didn’t have a chance. By the time she’d crossed the remaining distance to the half-demolished nearby building, she’d slowed considerably. Hunter never lagged for a moment. Tina glanced back, then ran faster, shooting through the open gate of a chain-link fence.
My heart pounded, and not only with the exertion of running after them. Tina ran dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, barely slowing as she swerved around short, thick bushes dotting the edge. I yelled a warning. Hunter threw on a heroic burst of speed and caught up. Grabbing her by the shoulder, he spun her around.
“Come here, you idiot!” he yelled. “You’re too close to the edge!”
But Tina struggled harder. She drew up her knee, aiming at his groin. With a reflex no man could forestall, he stepped back, tripping over a bush. She shoved him and he fell, one hand landing only inches from the cliff edge.
Still running at top speed to catch up, I yelled again. The soft ground near the cliff edge started to crumble beneath his weight. He threw out a hand and grabbed one of the short, sturdy bushes. I gasped and ran harder. Tina staggered backward toward the edge of the drop.
“Son of a bitch!” Hunter released the branch and lunged for her.
She screamed as they toppled over the edge together.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
My cry of terror melded with hers. Within seconds, I reached the cliff. I dropped to my knees, crawling as quickly as I dared toward the crumbling edge. “Hunter! My God! Hunter!”
“Get a rope!” he called, his voice strained.
I nearly fainted in relief. Scrambling closer, I peered over the side. Though the cliff face miraculously sloped enough to stop their fall, it plunged into a vertical drop a few feet lower.
Pressed hard against the side of the cliff, Hunter kept one arm around Tina. He dug his fingers into a boundary between the sedimentary layers, shoving his feet hard into the slope to reinforce his stand. Tina clung to him and twisted.
“Hold still!” he growled.
As if finally catching on to the danger, she did. He glanced up at me as he stamped hard into the ground to get hold.
I reached out, but he was a good eight feet beneath me. Clods of earth broke off beneath my hand and tumbled over the edge. Hunter shook the dirt off his head. “You can’t reach us!”
I pushed myself to my feet, legs trembling and fear cramping up my insides. “Okay, okay,” I chanted. “Rope. I need to get a rope.”
The heavy-set blond woman ran toward me. She screamed something, but I couldn’t have cared less what. “Get help!” I yelled as I ran toward the construction site. I prayed for good debris: a rope, some sheets or cloth, anything!
She stopped in her tracks. “I don’t—I don’t—what?”
If my arms had been long enough, I would have slapped the shit out of her. “Go get the driver! They can’t hold on! Run!”
She ran. I lunged through a doorway. Nothing but leaves and bits of roof littered the floor. No good! I turned back to the cliff. What do I do? My throat constricted, but I fought off the rising panic. You can do this. You have to find—my gaze lit on a partially fallen segment of chain-link fence. It was at least ten feet long! I ran to it and started to drag it toward the cliff. It pulled free, then caught hard, sending me stumbling to the ground. I yanked, but it wouldn’t give. Furious, I jumped up and tugged again, then realized it was still attached to the steel fence post by one remaining metal tie. Shit! Shit! Shit!
I dropped the fence and ran to the post. I grabbed the tie, twisting and pulling until my hands stung. Although weakened with rust, it wouldn’t break. Shouting in frustration, I tried to wrestle the post out of the ground, heaving with all my might. It wouldn’t budge either.
“What the hell are you doing?” Hunter yelled.
Helplessness tore at my heart. “There’s no rope!” I ran to the cliff edge, this time not bothering to kneel. Tina buried her face in Hunter’s chest and cried. Hunter fought to reposition his bloodied fingers into the cliff. His feet slipped a few more centimeters under their combined weight. He looked up at me.
In his eyes, I saw the mirror of my own realization. If he let her go, he could hold on. But the river lapped against rocks below at a drop equal to a ten-story fall. He’d live, but she’d die.
My eyes widened; his narrowed in determination. He tightened his grip. “Hurry up!”
Swallowing hard, I ran for the house. I knew there would be something there, but the distance seemed insurmountable. My breath burned in my chest. I ran harder.
A makeshift alcove haphazardly filled with half-assembled vending machines beckoned to my left. Did I dare waste life-saving moments to search it? Did I dare pass it up?
Desperation roaring in my ears, I knew I had no choice. I veered into it.
A soda machine stood against the back of the three-walled building and near it was a large, silver commercial ice-maker. A squat, yellow canister took up the space between them, a charging-hose and release valve attached. As I pushed and pulled at the machines, I bumped my shin on the canister and stooped to look at it. The label warned of a Freon-type refrigerant: an extremely cold liquid used in ice-makers that vaporized at normal temperature.
Then it hit me. I could almost certainly fracture the worn metal tie on the fence with liquid nitrogen. Now, commercial refrigerants couldn’t bring things down to the seventy-seven-degree Kelvin temperature that nitrogen could, but it might just shatter a thin, time-stressed metal wire. I looked up at the house, swallowing hard. It seemed so far away. But I have to try!
Suddenly, the driver ran from the house, followed by the blond. I shouted for him to get a rope. With that as my backup plan, I grabbed the carry-bar on the twenty-pound canister, hose and all, and sprinted back to the fence, skidding to a stop beside it. The dangling mesh vibrated as I dropped the container to the ground with a thud. Arms trembling, lungs burning, I took the open end of the hose and broke off the stem designed to prevent the refrigerant from shooting out when the valve opened. “Hunter, I’m here!”
There was no sound.
Fear flew in icy waves up my arms. “Hunter! Hunter!”
“Hurry the fuck up!” came his strained reply.
A sigh of relief was all I wasted energy on. I ripped off my shirt and wrapped it around the now-mutilated end of the hose. Then I pulled off my camisole and wrapped it around my hand. If liquid refrigerant touched my bare skin, it would mean instant frostbite and the possible loss of my fingers or even my hand. I pushed the hose against the metal wire and stepped back as far as my reach would let me, making certain to put the wind to my back. If there was blowback onto my torso, protected now by only a lacy pink bra … no, I couldn’t think about that.
Gritting my teeth, I twisted open the valve on the top of the canister. I winced, nearly dropping the hose as it jerked to life. A fine mist of gas shot out onto the wire. It took only seconds—precious, endless seconds—but finally the hissing stopped. I threw the sputtering hose to the ground. Frost lay like white icing over the wire, but it didn’t look any different.
Screaming in fury, terrified that I’d cost Hunter his life, I grabbed a heavy rock from the ground and smashed it into the wire again and again, harder and harder each time. After three tremendous blows and a bloody, bruised hand, the wire finally split. An animal-like cry escaped me as I threw the rock aside and yanked the ten-foot mesh segment free.
“I’m coming!” I ran to the edge of the cliff, dragging the fence behind me.
I knelt and pushed the mesh over the edge. Hunter still held Tina, but a trench had formed beneath his feet, marking how far he’d slid. With his free hand, he fought for purchase on the cliff wall. I saw his strength ebbing as sweat traced a wavy course through the dirt on his face.
“I’m here, I’m here,” I said stupidly, sitting down on the fence to anchor it.
As the mesh reached them, Hunter shoved Tina onto it. “Grab it!” he yelled as she hesitated. “I swear I’ll drop your bony ass if you don’t
climb up that fence right, fucking, now!”
Tina wrapped sweat-soaked fingers around the interlocking wires and started to hoist herself up. As she did, the fence slid toward the cliff edge. She screamed and let go. In a flurry of movement, Hunter pushed her back up against the cliff, and I scrambled to the end of the fence. I grabbed it, dug my heels into the ground, and pulled back. “It’s all right,” I said, not at all certain that it was. “I’ve got it now. Come on up.”
The fence vibrated again. By the time Tina made to the top, my arms shook with fatigue. She rolled to the ground, gasping and spent. But I knew I couldn’t anchor the fence against Hunter’s weight alone. “Help me!” I said, tightening my grip. “You have to help me hold it.”
She turned to me, her eyes glazed. Then, focusing, she crawled over and grabbed the fence, digging her own heels in. “We’ve got it, Hunter! Climb up.”
The fence lunged forward. We both gasped and pulled. My hands stung as metal dug into them. Suddenly, dirt flew up beside me as the driver fell to his knees and wrapped his fingers through the mesh. Within a second, the blond dropped beside him, all of us anchoring the fence as it quivered and jerked with Hunter’s every movement. Finally, he heaved himself over the edge and fell, exhausted, onto the ground beside me.
I collapsed onto my back, breath heaving out of my lungs. My fingers landed on a rough tangle of fiber, and I couldn’t help but smile at the rope, lying where the driver dropped it. “Oh, sure, now you show up,” I said to it.
Hunter lay two feet away, on his stomach, eyes closed. Long deep breaths eased his overworked lungs. Without his traditional grimace to mar his features, I could appreciate the strong set of his jaw, broad brow, and rugged angularity of his cheeks. I reached out and brushed a sweat-soaked strand from his forehead. “You okay?” I said softly.
His eyes opened and, for a moment, a light, weary smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Then, as if jarred by some memory, his face morphed back into its mask of disdain. He brushed my hand aside and pushed off with his arms, rising to his knees. “Took you long enough. What the hell were you doing, taking a tea break?”
Tina stirred and made a movement as if to crawl away. Hunter grabbed one of her ankles. “Try it, and I’ll toss your ass back over the edge.”
I chuckled. “Such a gentleman.”
He made a grumbling noise and stood, then pulled Tina to her feet, making a point not to let go of her arm. He sneered my way. “Are you going to lie there all day?”
“You’re welcome,” I replied.
“For what?”
“For saving your life, you jerk.”
He started to lead Tina away. “Get over it,” he called over his shoulder. “I have.”
“Hey, Hunter!” I said, still flat on my back.
He turned. “What?”
I flipped him the finger.
“There is simply no need for such rudeness,” he said and walked away.
A shadow fell over me. “Mademoiselle? Miss?” The driver’s uniform was filthy and sweat dripped from his nose. His eyes held a mix of relief and amusement. “You are well?”
I let him help me to my feet. “Yes, I are well. About as well as I can be around that man.” We watched Hunter stride away, a captured Tina trotting beside him, Melissa in their wake. From the confident set of his shoulders and the steadiness of his gait, you couldn’t have guessed he’d just cheated death. “He is a horse’s ass. But, you must admit, he’s a brave horse’s ass.”
The driver scooped up his hat and held out his arm. I took it, and we set off for the house. “Mais oui,” he said. “A bucketful of mais oui.”
By the time we returned to the main house, Tina had wisely, if dejectedly, abandoned the idea of trying to flee. Hunter’s unrelenting grip on her elbow doubtless helped with that decision. She nixed Melissa’s offer to fetch the men from the construction site and sent her off.
With a curt command from Hunter and a reassuring smile from me, the driver left us as well, but not before offering me his suit coat, inasmuch as my shirt and camisole were freshly frosted with Freon somewhere out by the fence. In contrast, Hunter’s idea of cover was to keep watch on my cleavage. Though my breasts don’t have that porn-star, silicon-balloon look guys seem to go for, the twins fill a C-cup quite respectfully, if I do say so myself. And in a pink, lacy bra specifically designed to push the kids together, I didn’t feel I had anything to apologize for. Nor did it bother me when the driver’s coat left a nice view of the valley from which Hunter had to repeatedly drag his attention. With the oversized sleeves pushed high up my arm, I thought I completely pulled off the “Annie Hall Does Dallas” look.
Tina led us to her bedroom in the partially completed second floor of the house.
She had taken what would eventually be one of the better suites in the resort: a large two-room, single-bath affair, high-domed windows dominating a small sitting room, its walls painted pearlescent white. An overstuffed chair claimed the corner, bisected by slanted rays of morning light. Tina sat in the chair, clasping her hands tightly on her lap. She’d traded her plum dress for a crimson sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers, all now dirt-caked from her nearly fatal fall. Her hair hung loose at her shoulders, the red having been bleached to light brown, like sandy soil left fallow over the winter. Her eyes, though still bright green, stretched wide with anxiety.
“End of the line, Tina,” I said. “You’d better come clean. Why did you try to kill Jake?”
“Who?”
Hunter stepped forward. “I’m not playing this game, girlie. You tried to kill him, and you offed your boyfriend too. Not to mention some harmless old man.”
Her gaze darted between us. She seemed genuinely perplexed. “What are you talking about? Has something happened to Tav?”
“Like you don’t know,” Hunter snarled. “Your little playmate drowned, and you tried to kill our girl here. I don’t much like that. You talk now, and I might be able to help you out. But you keep playing this dumb-sister routine—”
She jumped to her feet, and Hunter pushed her back down. Tears welled in her eyes. “Tav’s dead? Oh my God. Oh my God! No! No!” She put her head in her hands.
I turned to Hunter. “I think she’s serious. She didn’t know.”
“Angel, I’ve seen this a thousand times. Men who’ve gutted their grandmothers, moms who’ve drowned their kids, all sobbing their hearts out. But not because they didn’t do it; because they got caught.” Hands on hips, he glowered down at Tina. “Keep it up. I like the show.”
Aghast, I said, “For God’s sake, Hunter, don’t be such a jerk.”
Tina peered up at him. “I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only left because Tav told me to. He was afraid, said he’d made some deal that went bad. But he never said with who or what the deal was.” She grabbed my arm, clearly desperate.
I pulled back almost without thinking, unwilling to be drawn into her emotional well.
“I didn’t do anything.” She looked at Hunter, “You’ve got to believe me!”
I expected a nasty retort from Hunter, but instead, with complete calm, he said, “I do.”
Tina blinked and stared into his eyes. Her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you,” she said.
I turned my head, peering intently at him, just as nonplussed as she seemed to be by his sudden change. “You do?” I said to him.
“Sure.” He looked at her. “Tell me more.” He half turned my way. “Pay attention, Angel, I’m trying to teach something,” he murmured sotto voce.
I sat back, realizing I was watching a master class in manipulation. First, he intimidated her into begging for acceptance. And then he gave it to her, or at least made her think he would, if she kept talking. It’s one layer after another with this man. I began to understand why he was so successful. He knew how to get what he wanted out of people, including, to be honest, me.
Tina seemed to shrink in on herself, casting her gaze about the room as if looking for shelter. “I
don’t know what to do.” She looked at me. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I lost my brother last month. Now I’ve lost Tav.” The words deteriorated into sobs.
Chris is dead? I froze as a deep, anomalous sadness filled me up. But, wait, why should I care? He was nothing more than an image on a screen. Some random kid laughing, playing, and teasing with his crew, like a million others. Yes, there’d been those amazing eyes, surreal and compelling. But, it wasn’t only that. He’d been so full of life, both he and Adalida. And they had been loved, by people I loved. Now they were both dead. Why? Had it been suicide? Or murder? I felt my jaw tighten and eyes harden. Video ghosts or not, Chris had mattered. And Adalida had mattered. And I’d see to it that whoever was doing all this was damn sure going to know that.
Hunter walked away, gesturing to me to comfort her. I frowned at him but sat down beside her, putting my arm around her shoulder. She turned into me. Unfortunately, she chose my still-sore shoulder to weep upon. I gritted my teeth and patted her back. “It’s going to be okay.” When her sobs subsided, I ventured a new question. “Tina, part of the reason we came was to see your brother. Are you saying he’s dead?”
She dabbed her nose with the ratty ball of tissues, nodding mutely.
Hunter reappeared with more tissue. “What brother? Have you been holding out on me?”
“No. Well, yes. But only so you wouldn’t dump me before we got here.” Before he could retort, I held up a hand. “Give me a second.” I turned back to Tina. “How did Chris die?”
Sadness filled her eyes. “Really, it was just a matter of time. He tried to commit suicide with his girlfriend. But he didn’t take as much poison, so he ended up in a coma. He’s been hanging on for years, a vegetable.”
Hunter’s expression shifted from perplexed to comprehension. “Wait a minute. Are you talking about Chris Crowel? Is she—” Hunter turned on Tina. “Are you Christina Crowel?”
“It’s DuChampes now. I married my second cousin, George, but he ran out on me.”
The Last Best Lie Page 22