by Jennie Leigh
Bitter Wild
By Jennie Leigh
Bitter Wild
Copyright 2012 Jennie Leigh
Kindle Edition
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
His teeth were grinding. That was never a good sign. Special Agent Jack Hall paced the confines of the sheriff’s office because he couldn’t sit still for longer than couple of minutes at a time. The office wasn’t large. Jack was. It took him exactly two strides to cross the small space. He’d lost count of how many times he’d pivoted in the past forty-five minutes. His partner, Skip Reynolds, had long since stopped trying to tell him to settle down. Skip had worked with him long enough to know when to give him room. Jack glanced at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes, then stopped pacing and turned to glare at the man seated behind the desk.
“Where the hell is your guide?”
Sheriff Stan Pritchard shook his head as he instinctively defended his man. “Casey’ll be here.”
The sheriff’s words sounded confident, but the look in his eyes didn’t quite match up. He looked worried. He’d been looking worried ever since he’d picked up the phone and called the local mountain guide. Jack wasn’t the only one who had an uneasy feeling about the so-called expert tracker. The sheriff had acted like he didn’t want to make the call. He’d done it while Skip and Jack were out of his office, but Jack had watched through the windows that made up the walls of the small space. The sheriff had looked like he had to beg to get this guide to even come down to the station. That had been almost an hour ago and there was still no sign of the man the sheriff insisted was the best tracker and guide in the state. Jack walked over to the sheriff’s desk and leaned forward, flattening his palms against the top.
“When? Every second that passes, Russell Jester is putting more distance between us. If your guide doesn’t walk through the door in the next five minutes, you’re going to get on that phone and find us someone else.”
The sheriff shook his head. “There isn’t anyone else. There’s not a person alive who knows those hills better than Casey Nolan.”
“This is a mountain town. You’ve got to have some sort of organized rescue service, someone who goes after lost hikers and the like. Are you telling me that none of them are capable of leading us on this manhunt?”
“They’re capable, sure. But from what you’ve told me about this man you’re hunting, he’s no fool. He’s got all the gear he needs to survive out there for an extended time, if not indefinitely. He’s bound to know you’ll be coming after him. He’s also bound to figure the best way to avoid being caught is by getting off the beaten track, so to speak. Once he goes off the trail you’re going to need someone who can track him down. Rescue workers know the area well and they have been trained to look for signs that might lead them to a lost victim. With luck they can track down a person who’s wandered off and is smart enough to stay still to wait to be found. However, they are not trained to deal with someone who doesn’t want to be found and who would gladly shoot them if they got lucky enough to pick up his trail.”
“And Nolan is?”
“Formally, no. But Casey knows how to deal with trouble.” He paused for a moment, then pushed to his feet so that he could meet Jack’s gaze eye to eye. “You get anywhere near those woods without Casey and you’re asking to die. It’s that simple.”
Jack turned away from the sheriff and met his partner’s gaze. They’d been working together for almost a decade. They could read each other at least as well as most married couples. Skip held Jack’s gaze for a moment, then turned and walked out of the room. Jack followed, glancing back over his shoulder as the sheriff swung his office door closed with a bit of force. He turned around and shot Skip a frown.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
Skip nodded. “Yeah. Did you notice the looks on the faces of the locals when he asked the dispatcher to get Nolan on the phone?”
“I did. Would I be exaggerating if I described it as surprise?”
Skip frowned. “Hell, I’d call it shock.”
Jack turned to glare at the sheriff through the glass walls of his office. “You don’t think it’s some kind of power trip, do you?” He swung his gaze back to Skip. “You know, the local leos trying to make the federal agents sweat?”
Skip shook his head. “I don’t think so. Pritchard seems to be pretty straight up. I just get the feeling that there’s some history or something that no one is talking about.”
That’s exactly what Jack believed, too. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which by now had to be standing straight on end. At the moment his appearance was the last thing on his mind, though. He only had room for one thought and that was the nearly blinding need to track down and apprehend Russell Jester. He and Skip had been on his trail for just over a week. Technically, Jester had been on the run for three months, but he’d only become a federal target eight days earlier. That’s when his killing spree started.
It began when he and a friend held up a liquor store. They started by killing the owner. As fate would have it, a patrol car just happened to be passing by at the time. The two uniformed officers heard gunshots coming from the store and investigated. One of them was killed and the other seriously wounded in the shootout that ensued. Jester’s friend was wounded as well, though he and Jester managed to escape. From what they’d been able to piece together, it appeared that Jester had killed his own friend to keep him from slowing him down. His body was found in the car the pair had been driving when they fled the liquor store. Since then, Jester had killed seven others. The first body they found was that of a sixty-eight year old man who’d been beaten to death. He was in the back seat of his own car which Jester left at the scene of his next crime.
This time it was a gas station. The clerk behind the counter was eighteen years old and on his way to college the following fall on a sports scholarship. Inside the store were the bodies of two more victims. A man in his late thirties and his six year old son. The man’s wife was missing along with their car. Jack and Skip found her stuffed into the trunk of the car, which Jester abandoned when it ran out of gas. He drove through the desert during the hottest part of the day. The woman’s fingers were raw from clawing at the lid of the trunk in her desperation for air. The preliminary report from the coroner said she’d been raped and had died from suffocation.
Jester got his last vehicle from a car dealership, of all places. He just walked right into the office and put half a dozen bullets into the salesman. It was a small used car lot and everyone else was out to lunch. Jester took the car he wanted and that’s the one he was still driving when he rolled into Decatur, Montana. He stopped at the first place he came to, the home of a fifty-six year old widow by the name of Millie Pratt. No one knew for sure what time he got to her place or when he left. What they did know was that this time he didn’t steal a car.
Russell Jester was a career criminal who’d been born and raised in the backwoods of North Carolina. He’d been a guest of the state most of his adult life. He started with petty theft and graduated to sexual assault
and attempted murder. He finished his sentence for the latter three months earlier. He walked out of the prison and disappeared into the mountains, though not before nearly beating to death the man whose testimony had gotten him convicted. There was a massive manhunt, but to no avail. Jester knew the mountains too well. No one could track him down and the fact that he had a lot of family and friends who were willing to help him didn’t make it any easier.
For whatever reason, a week ago he’d decided to come out of the hills. Maybe he was bored. Or maybe he just had a taste for violence and came to civilization to satisfy it. Whatever had brought him out of hiding didn’t really matter. What was important was that he had clearly crossed some sort of mental line. He knew if he was caught this time he’d never get out of prison. Moreover, two of the states he’d committed murders in had the death penalty. He didn’t have a prayer of escaping it. Basically, he had nothing to lose and he clearly intended to take as many people with him as he could.
Jack knew it wasn’t over. Jester was too violent. He’d developed a taste for killing and he wasn’t going to stop until someone forced him to. Jack had every intention of being that person. Millie Pratt had been spared any sexual assault, though that was little comfort considering the fact that she was dead. Jester tied her to a chair then put a bullet in her head. Sometime before or after that murder he raided the woman’s large store of equipment and supplies. Millie’s husband had been an avid outdoorsman. They had every piece of conceivable gear that could make a trek into the mountains successful. Tents, sleeping bags, portable stoves and easy to carry and prepare food. She also owned half a dozen horses, two of which Jester had disappeared with. As if that wasn’t enough of a worry, it turned out that Millie’s husband also had a fondness for firearms. He had an extensive collection, including the ammunition for each weapon. Jester must have felt like he’d hit the jackpot. Unfortunately, he had.
Jack felt a burning in his gut that had little to do with the fact that he hadn’t slept or put anything other than coffee into his stomach for the past forty-eight hours. The need to catch up to Russell Jester was like a living thing. It clawed at his insides, making him feel more desperate than he could ever remember feeling at any time in his life. They had to find him and stop him. Before he found his way out of the mountains and continued his killing spree. The problem was, they couldn’t go anywhere until the damned guide showed up. Where the hell was the man?
Jack had barely thought the question when the front door of the small police station opened. His gaze snapped to it instantly as he straightened in anticipation. Then he felt the breath still in his chest as his eyes lit on the person who stepped through the door. He sensed the stillness that settled over the room. Everyone came to a halt and stared at the newcomer. Beside him, Jack heard Skip release a low whistle. It didn’t even begin to express the things Jack was thinking and feeling.
He’d seen beautiful women before. He’d even bedded a few that could honestly be called gorgeous. But the woman he was staring at now had to be one of the most incredibly lovely women he’d ever seen. His gaze slid from the top of her head all the way down and then back up again. She had a thick mane of chestnut colored hair that fell well past her shoulders. She wore a dress that Jack would have called prim on anyone but her. It buttoned nearly to the neck and fell well past her knees. The skirt flared out over hips that swayed enticingly as she walked, seemingly straight toward Jack. He pulled his gaze off her body and focused on her face. The instant he did, he realized she was looking directly at him. Jack felt a shocking flash of awareness rip through him as their gazes locked. Her eyes were the oddest color. Too pale to be truly called brown, they were much closer to amber. They tilted slightly, adding an exotic flavor to her features. She had the kind of bone structure any model would be jealous of and skin as flawless as a newborn’s. Jack allowed himself a brief flash of fantasy in which he imagined what her mouth would taste like. He was still pondering that question when movement to the right of the woman caught his eye.
He blinked in surprise as a dog trotted to the woman’s side. It was huge. So large that as it moved in close she slid her hand over its big head without even leaning toward it at all. It wasn’t just the size of the animal that shocked Jack, though. It was the fact that unless he was imagining it, the dog was actually a wolf. As if sensing Jack’s gaze, the animal looked up at him. Jack felt an odd little tingle run along his spine as he realized the dog’s eyes were almost exactly the same color as the woman’s. It held his gaze for a long moment, seeming to dare him to move, then it turned away and Jack released the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. His heart was beating too fast. The animal hadn’t looked at him like a domesticated dog. It had seemed to be sizing him up the way a wild animal took measure of a potential threat or meal. Jack didn’t particularly like the idea of being either one. He was still staring at the dog when movement on the other side of the woman drew his attention. Jack lifted his gaze and stared at the man who reached out to cup the woman’s elbow as she turned the corner and headed for the sheriff’s office. Instantly, Jack’s brain kicked back into gear, and he realized that this must be the guide they had been waiting for.
The man wore boots and a pair of clean but well-worn jeans. There was a knife strapped to the leather belt around his waist. His long-sleeved chambray shirt did little to disguise his muscular build and he had brown hair peeking out beneath the Stetson he wore on his head. The physical features suggested he was at least physically fit and accustomed to working outside, judging by the deep tan he bore. What caught and held Jack’s attention, though, was the expression on the man’s face. It didn’t take much to interpret it as fury. The small group reached the office door and the man opened it, waited for the woman and dog to enter the office before following them, then slammed the door so hard that Jack half expected the glass in it to shatter. His question was shouted loud enough to echo through the small station.
“Have you lost your damn mind?”
The sheriff was on his feet before they even reached his office, and now Jack found himself trying to decipher the expression on the man’s face. Was that regret? As he watched, the woman reached out and laid her hand on the cowboy’s arm. His gaze dropped to her face and the pair stared at each other for a moment before the woman turned to face the sheriff.
“You know how things stand, Stan, so why did you call?”
The sheriff came around the desk before answering.
“I didn’t have any other choice. This is a hell of a mess and I couldn’t think of anyone better suited to handle it.”
The woman shook her head. Jack frowned and wished someone had explained what the problem was. Clearly, there was something wrong. Was the woman against her boyfriend working? Jack couldn’t imagine why she would be, but then maybe the sheriff had explained enough of the situation to make her scared he might get hurt trying to track down a killer like Russell Jester. Jack couldn’t say he’d blame her for being scared, but if the man was everything the sheriff said he was, then they simply couldn’t take no for an answer. The man spoke up, glaring at the sheriff as he did.
“I can’t believe you have the audacity to ask this. You have no right.”
This time Jack had no trouble recognizing the emotion on the sheriff’s face. He shot an angry glare at the man. “The hell I don’t! I’ve had a good, long look at exactly what this man is capable of. Do you want to know how many he’s killed so far? Ten. Ten lives snatched away in the blink of an eye just because he had the power to do it. He blew Millie’s brains out all over her kitchen for God’s sake! I thought that might be enough to make you want to help.”
The man’s hands clenched as he took a step toward the sheriff. If the woman hadn’t caught him by the arm and held him back, Jack suspected that the shouting match would have turned physical. The woman locked her gaze on the sheriff. Her voice held censure and something more as she spoke.
“That’s not fair, Stan.”
The
sheriff held her gaze for a moment, then looked away, suggesting that she might be right. No one spoke for a while, then the sheriff glanced through the window and met Jack’s gaze. He turned to the woman once more.
“He’s a stone cold killer who likes the taste of blood. He’s not going to stop until someone stops him. The feds asked for my help, and I couldn’t very well say no. Under the circumstances I knew they needed the best. That’s why I called.”
Neither the woman, nor the man said anything in response. The sheriff’s gaze met Jack’s once more, then Jack looked at the woman as she turned around. She stared at him for a long moment, then strode to the office door and pulled it open.
“You’re the federal agent?”
Jack nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She stepped back out of the doorway. “Come inside.”
It wasn’t a request. Jack didn’t figure it would be prudent to argue the point, though, so he obeyed. As he passed her, he caught the scent of lilac and couldn’t seem to help taking a deep breath. He stopped once he was inside the office and turned to look at her over his shoulder. That’s when he noticed that Skip had followed him. His partner met his gaze and gave an almost imperceptible shrug. He didn’t have any better grasp of the situation than Jack did. The woman started to shut the door, then stopped as she realized that everyone in the station was staring at her. The sheriff had half a dozen deputies. All of them had been called in that morning when Jack and Skip arrived. In addition to them, there were four other federal agents who were part of the task force tracking Jester. There was also a civilian dispatcher who worked the radio and answered the phone. The moment the man and woman had walked through the door everyone had gone silent and still. Now, the woman stepped into the open doorway and stared them down.
“I’m sure you’ve all got things you ought to be doing. Why don’t you get to it?”