Far From Montana

by Penny Ash

  Alison smiled and hoped it looked convincing.

  “Well, then.” He reached over and pulled her across the seat, wrapping his arm tightly around her.

  She forced herself to lean against him and began to work her hand toward the knife between them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dell listened to Davis talking on his cell phone. It sounded like the FBI man was arranging for small planes and maybe helicopters to help with the search. Davis disconnected his call and looked over at Dell.

  “We have roadblocks on all the main roads in and out of the reservation, and there are agents stationed at the resorts,” he said. “Unfortunately, the air search won’t be able to start until dawn. It’s too remote and dangerous to try it at night. He’d hear engines.”

  “Wilson won’t go to a resort. He’ll find some old abandoned cabin or something to—to…” Dell couldn’t bring himself to finish.

  “I know,” Davis said.

  “How are you going to find them, then? Unless you got some sort of tracking device on his car or a little bird is telling you his plans.” Dell let his frustration show.

  “We don’t need to track him; he’ll come to us.” Davis smiled slightly, “He can’t help it—his ego and his need for attention won’t let him stay away.”

  “Attention? That’s what all this is about?” Dell asked, incredulous.

  “According to our profilers, Wilson is motivated by a strong need for attention and a hatred of the people who don’t give him that attention.” Davis studied his shoes as he told Dell exactly what kind of predator Wilson Long was.

  “That’s sick.” Dell shuddered.

  “Yes,” Davis said.

  * * * *

  Alison felt the handle of the knife under her fingertips and slowly teased it away from Wilson’s leg. She wrapped her hand around it, keeping her eyes on Wilson, watching for any hint he knew what she was doing. He kept up his chatter, trying to impress her with how he had followed them.

  “I know Dell thought I didn’t see you two at the Painted Desert,” he said, grinning. “And I probably wouldn’t have, but he drove right past the gift shop windows. Dell never was the smartest one in our little group.”

  She made a noncommittal sound. He ignored her and kept talking. Alison eased the knife up and prepared herself. She would stab him and grab the steering wheel. Somehow she would stop the car and run to one of the houses she’d seen.

  “I stood outside the window of your room in Albuquerque and listened. Dell made you moan. I’ll make you scream,” he said.

  Horrified, Alison stared at him. “You’re crazy,” she whispered.

  The grin slipped, and she saw through to the real Wilson. Her blood turned to ice in her veins.

  Her fingers closed around the handle of the knife, and she raised it. Seeing the lonely little blinking red traffic light at the crossroad ahead, she got ready to make her move.

  Wilson slowed to a stop and turned his head to look for oncoming traffic. Alison straightened up and thrust the knife toward Wilson. He yelled and swore, jerking away from her as he grabbed her hand and twisted it, forcing her to drop the knife. She yanked her hand away, and not waiting to see if she’d done any major damage, she scrambled out of the car and ran.

  She heard the sound of him running behind her and felt a burst of adrenalin shoot through her. The lights of the house she could see in the distance looked impossibly far away. Then his arms closed around her and he knocked her to the ground.

  Wilson pinned her down and straddled her. She struggled to throw him off of her, and he raised his hand and slapped her, the blow making her ears ring.

  “That wasn’t a very nice thing to do, little lady, not one little bit.” His voice was toneless as he dragged her to her feet and started to pull her back toward the car. When she resisted, he picked her up, slung her over his shoulder, and carried her back.

  At the car, he shoved her inside and reached under the seat. “I didn’t want to do this just yet, but you’ve forced me to change my plans.” He pulled out a small carry-all bag and unzipped it. He tied her hands and feet, then taped her mouth shut. He dodged when she tried to kick him.

  “Now, that’s not very friendly.” He shoved her back across the seat. She hit her head on the window and saw stars. In a daze, she heard Wilson laughing.

  * * * *

  Dell let the silence between him and Davis lengthen. There was something about the way the FBI agent acted that didn’t quite fit with someone who would use another person as bait for a serial killer.

  “Why are you doing this?” Dell asked finally.

  “It’s my job,” Davis said shortly.

  “No, there’s more to it than that. Why help me now when you were using us to draw Wilson out of hiding?”

  Davis sighed heavily and looked out the window. “For the record, this whole set up was not my idea. It was Anderson’s, and Wilson was never supposed to get this close to you,” he said, his voice quiet. “Matthews was supposed to arrest him when he made his move.”

  “Matthews. When I see him again, I’m going to kick his ass into next year.” Dell tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

  “I’d rather you didn’t.” Davis gave him a hard look.

  “Uh huh, I’m sure. But that still doesn’t answer my question. Why help me now?” Dell sped up and pulled around a slow-moving car.

  “Call it sympathy.” Davis chewed on a hangnail.

  Dell kept his eyes on the road. He had a sinking feeling he knew what Davis was going to say before he asked. “Who was she, your daughter?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  “My wife.” Davis’s voice was flat and unemotional. “He took her from the parking lot of the grocery store.”

  * * * *

  Alison watched Wilson go inside to check into the small, run-down motel. She shivered and tried to work her hands loose. The rope he’d used to tie her hands and feet dug into her skin and cut off the circulation.

  He came back with an old, worn key and reached over, brushing her hair back from her face. She flinched and tried to pull away. Wilson laughed and wrapped his hand in her hair, jerking her toward him.

  “Don’t make me angry, little lady. I want this to last a long time.” He leaned closer.

  Alison held her breath, trying not to gag in disgust when he ran his tongue over her lips. The clear packing tape he had over her mouth kept her from screaming as he kissed her. He let go of her and drove around to the room he’d taken for the night.

  He carried her inside and dropped her on the bed, and she blinked away tears when her head smacked the headboard. She watched him turn the TV on and go back out to the car. When he came back inside with the knife, she shut her eyes and turned her head away.

  She felt him climb onto the bed and thought about Dell, wondering where he was. She hoped he would find her, but she was afraid he would be too late. She felt Wilson’s breath against her ear and shuddered. A cold knot of fear sat like a lump of lead in her stomach.

  “Scream all you want. No one will come,” he whispered as he slowly peeled the tape away from her mouth. “Try to kick me again or try and hit me, and I’ll just kill you right now. And that would make me sad since I wouldn’t get to do all the wonderful things I have planned.”

  He cut the rope binding her and moved to the side of the bed between her and the door. She rubbed her wrists and ankles and moved as far from him as she could.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dell sat in the motel room and flipped through the channels on the muted TV. He listened in as Davis sat at the little table by the window, talking to his people on his satellite phone. Dell picked up the room phone and punched the button for an outside line, then dialed Jefferson’s number.

  “Jeff, you heard anything on Wilson?” he asked when his friend answered.

  “Dell, yeah, man, I just heard from Dolly’s cousin, Lee. Wilson checked into the old roach motel Lee’s stepbrother runs. Got a woman with him,” Jefferson
said.

  “Yeah, my woman, and I want her back before he kills her. Give me directions…”

  “Won’t do no good, man,” Jefferson cut him off, his voice flat.

  “Why not?” He stared at the show on the TV, but nothing registered.

  “Can’t get up there, not without giving Wilson plenty of warning. Sound from the road echoes up the wash. That’s why the kids use the place to fool around,” Jefferson said.

  “Okay, then, you got a number for that place?” Dell grabbed a pencil and paper out of the nightstand and got ready to write.

  “Sure, don’t know if all the rooms got phones, though.” Jefferson gave him the number. “Good luck, man,” he said and hung up.

  Dell looked at Davis for a few seconds, debating whether to tell him or not. He looked at the number again, then back at Davis.

  “Davis, what do your profilers say Wilson will do if he’s being chased?” Dell fluttered the paper with the phone number on it in the air.

  “Chased?” Davis asked, looking interested.

  “Chased, harassed, pushed.” Dell smiled.

  “Well, he’s always in control in these situations…” Davis said thoughtfully.

  “What if we take control away from him?” Dell asked.

  “It depends on what you mean by taking control away from him,” Davis answered.

  “I know where he is,” Dell said.

  Davis raised his eyebrows.

  “Friend of mine, a guy who grew up with me and Wilson and all, married a Mescalero girl and moved down here,” Dell answered Davis’s unspoken question. “Jefferson is a busybody. If anything is going on within a hundred miles of him, he knows about it, and he owes me since his wife Dolly was my girl to start with,” he added with a grim smile.

  “We tried rushing a place where he was with a victim once. He was gone and the girl was dead. It wasn’t something I’d want to see twice.” The warning note in Davis’s voice chilled Dell’s blood.

  “Then we flush him out and catch him in the open.” Dell grinned and picked up the phone. Davis returned his grin.

  He dialed the motel number. The desk clerk was more than happy to put him through to the room Wilson had rented. Wilson answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, Wilson. When are you going to stop playing games and face me?” Dell said.

  “Dell. Don’t push me. I’ll leave your little lady in pieces all over the res,” Wilson said in a cold voice.

  Dell lowered his voice to a smooth, silky, threatening tone. “I know where you are, Wilson. I’m right outside your little roach motel room right now.”

  Dell heard Wilson moving around and smiled, giving a thumbs-up to Davis.

  “You’re not out there,” Wilson said. Dell heard a note of uncertainty in the killer’s voice.

  “You just went to the window and looked. It’s dark; I can see you clearly, but you can’t see me,” Dell said.

  “If you come anywhere near me, I’ll kill her.” Wilson’s voice was tinged with hysteria.

  “No you won’t,” Dell replied calmly.

  “What makes you so sure I won’t?”

  “You won’t because you need to defile her first, and you can’t get it up yet, can you?” Dell said, his voice low and soft. “Your limp, little dick isn’t even twitching yet, is it?”

  “No,” Wilson said in a strangled voice. “No, you don’t know anything—you can’t know anything.”

  “Can’t I?” Dell said quietly. “How can you be sure? I know you, Wilson Long. I’ve known you all your miserable, unhappy life. I even know your mother and your sisters.”

  “You’re lying,” Wilson whispered into the phone.

  “Maybe,” Dell said cheerfully. “But then again, maybe not.” He hung up the phone and looked at Davis.

  “How did he take it?” Davis asked.

  “He’s worried, real worried. I’ll never forgive myself if this backfires and gets Alison hurt.” Dell ran his hands through his hair.

  * * * *

  Alison heard Wilson say Dell’s name and listened to Wilson’s side of the conversation. She watched as Wilson became more and more agitated. He finally slammed the phone down and began pacing the room. She kept still and waited. Knowing Dell was out there somewhere looking for her calmed her.

  Obviously distraught, Wilson ignored her, wandering around and around the room, murmuring to himself. Alison waited and edged toward the door every time he turned his back on her.

  The phone rang again, and Wilson started violently, then froze, staring at it. Alison kept her eyes on him as she carefully picked up the receiver.

  “Hello?” she said quietly.

  “Alison, are you okay?” Dell’s calm, deep velvet voice sent a warm rush of relief through her.

  “Yes.” She barely managed to keep from breaking down into tears and begging him to hurry and come get her.

  “Stay calm for me and give the phone to Wilson, baby,” Dell instructed. She held the receiver out toward her captor.

  Wilson stepped toward her and slapped the phone out of her hand. She gasped and yelped when he grabbed her arm and yanked her up off the bed. He pulled her to the door and shoved her out in front of him.

  * * * *

  Dell’s heart lurched painfully when Alison answered the phone. Weak kneed relief washed through him when she told him she was all right. He heard the commotion as Wilson bolted and motioned to Davis. Listening closely, he heard the sound of the engine roaring to life and then fading into the distance. He hung the phone up and jumped to his feet.

  “This is it, he’s running.” He snatched up his hat and headed toward the door.

  “All right, take it easy. This is the only way out of the area. He has to go past us, but it will take him awhile to get here,” Davis said.

  “I know, but I want to be ready when he does.” Dell headed out the door toward his truck.

  * * * *

  Dell sipped at the coffee Davis had bought earlier. They had found a secluded spot in the parking lot of a small business and waited. To get back to his comfort zone of the main highways, Wilson would have to leave the cover of the heavily forested mountains and pass by them.

  “All right, we want to get him to stop somewhere in the open where we can get Alison away from him,” Davis said.

  Dell nodded and kept his eyes on the rearview mirror. The sky was light, but the trees kept the road in heavy shadow. He could just make out the lights of an oncoming vehicle. Shifting in his seat, he got ready to start the truck in case it was Wilson.

  The lights drew closer, and Dell could make out a logging truck. He sat back with a heavy sigh.

  “Relax, Dell, he’ll get here.” Davis offered him a breakfast burrito.

  “No thanks, not hungry,” Dell said, tapping the steering wheel nervously.

  Another truck passed them along with two cars before Dell finally saw lights coming that he was sure had to be Wilson. The vehicle drew closer, and he could make out the silhouette of two people. The shape of the car got clearer, and Dell recognized the El Camino.

  “This is it.” He started the truck while Davis tossed the trash. Dell watched the black car pass by and narrowly missed another car as he sped out of the parking lot.

  Flooring the old red truck, he tried to catch up to Wilson. The black El Camino kept just far enough ahead that he couldn’t see what was going on. Inside, he seethed, the thoughts rushing through his head. He would kill Wilson if he got the chance, should have gone north instead of south, should have just stayed in the little town outside Santa Fe and made love to Alison every day until they couldn’t see straight.

  He glanced over at Davis when he heard paper tearing. The FBI man was opening the box with the gun Dell had bought from Jefferson in it.

  “Nice piece. You any good with it?” Davis asked, examining the Glock 9mm pistol.

  “Passable,” Dell answered, not about to admit he was a crack shot to a federal officer.

  “Why don’t I believe tha
t?” Davis looked at Dell. “I’m not going to ask where you got it—I don’t want to know. I am going to ask that you let me do the shooting. It makes the reports easier to fill out.”

  “Fine, you go for Wilson. All I really want is Alison safely away from him.” Dell nodded.

  “But, just in case…” Davis snapped the clip home and handed the pistol to Dell.

  “Right.” Dell laid the weapon on the dash where he could reach it easily.

  “Don’t push too hard,” Davis warned Dell as he gained on the El Camino. “Let’s let him get out of these mountains onto flat ground first.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Alison noticed the truck in the passenger side-view mirror first in the growing light of the morning. She looked over at Wilson and got a better grip on the door handle. If he slowed enough, she would jump and hope for the best.

  Sweat beaded on Wilson’s forehead and upper lip, and his fancy embroidered cowboy shirt was soaked. Alison’s heart threatened to pound out of her chest, and she flinched with every blind curve he took too fast. He slammed on the brakes and laid on the horn when they came up on a slower moving logging truck. Alison took the opportunity to unlock the passenger door, praying Wilson wouldn’t hear it.

  “No,” Wilson choked out in a strangled voice.

  An icy wave of fear washed over her, but she saw him looking in the mirror and realized he’d seen Dell’s truck behind them.

  “He won’t win, he won’t get you back in one piece,” he said, shooting her a hate-filled glare.

  He jerked the wheel over and accelerated, passing the slow truck. Horns blared at them as Wilson forced a couple of oncoming cars off the road onto the narrow shoulder.

  Alison risked a look back and saw Dell follow them around the logger. She saw the road narrowing and the dark maw of a tunnel. The shoulder ran out, leaving a sheer wall of rock on Wilson’s side and a steep drop of a hundred feet or more on her side.

  The darkness of the short tunnel blanked Alison’s vision for a few seconds, and she blinked desperately, trying to focus on the light ahead. Wilson was forced to slow again for another truck. He swore, unable to pass this one, blocked by another logging truck and a line of cars heading up the mountain.