by Sandra Brown
“Right. Yeah. Like he had the hots for Betsy Calhoun. Support stockings have always been a huge turn-on for him.”
“I’m not kidding.”
“Then if you’re not kidding, you’re crazy. That shrink in Atlanta should have booked you for a few extra sessions.”
“Something’s up with your kid.”
“He’s slipping it to his English teacher! That would make him a little fidgety, don’t you think?”
“Is that all?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Did he do something to Millicent?”
“How can you think that? You’ve known him since he was born.”
“I’ve known you longer.” Dutch’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me the truth, Wes. Is Scott our culprit?”
“I’m not even going to honor that with—”
“Are you protecting him?”
“No!”
“I know you, Wes.”
“You don’t know shit!”
“You’re covering for somebody.”
“I’m covering for me!”
Dutch staggered back a few steps and gaped at his oldest friend with disbelief. His mouth went dry.
Wes blew out a gust of air, stared toward the tree line at the right shoulder of the road, then brought his gaze back to Dutch. “I was fucking her, all right?”
“I know you, Wes. I gathered that much.”
“Yeah, well.” Wes gave him a shorthand account of his brief affair with Millicent, and the consequences of it. “Scott wouldn’t have anything to do with her after that, so my plan to end their romance worked like a charm. What I didn’t plan on was Millicent up and disappearing.
“I didn’t have anything to do with it. Scott didn’t have anything to do with it. But I gotta tell you, pal, that this investigation into her disappearance has made me nervous, because assholes like Begley are looking at her life under a microscope, searching for secrets.
“It would be damned inconvenient to my way of life if our threesome became a public scandal. And that’s not the end of it. I wouldn’t want the feds, her folks, or anybody else to discover that one of us—or maybe even some other guy, who knows?—had knocked her up.
“Doesn’t matter who it was, it was me she came to whining about it and claiming the kid was mine. I had the fattest checkbook, see. And the most to lose if I didn’t pay up. Scott doesn’t even know about the kid. Thank God, she lost it, on account of the anorexia, before she could carry out her threat to bring it all out in the open. Scott, me, her, the whole shebang.”
“Jesus.”
“Right. It would have been bad enough if word of this had got out last spring. But can you imagine how much shit would hit the fan if it came to light now? Even if I escaped Ernie Gunn’s wrath—and he’s damned handy with a firearm—Scott and I would surge to the top of the FBI’s list of suspects.
“We’d eventually be cleared, of course, but the damage would be done. It would ruin my marriage and my coaching career. No matter how many district championships my teams win, the school board would frown on me screwing a cheerleader.”
“Millicent wasn’t the first.”
“Probably not the last either. I’m man enough to admit to my weaknesses.” He frowned with distaste. “But this one got out of hand. Millicent was also Scott’s girlfriend, she got pregnant and miscarried, and she’s missing. Which spells disturbing any way you look at it. That’s why I’m anxious to get this Blue case resolved and put an end to all this nosy probing into poor little Millicent’s life.”
He paused to take a breath. “That’s it, Dutch. That’s my vested interest in this matter, beyond wanting to help out my oldest buddy and best friend. Feel better now?”
Dutch shook his head and gave a sardonic laugh. “I should have known it was something involving your dick.”
Wes spread his arms wide and flashed his most guileless grin. “What can I say?”
“I won’t fool you, Wes, you had me scared.”
He slapped Dutch on the shoulder. “Let’s go get this bastard.”
But when Dutch turned away to mount his snowmobile, Wes’s easygoing grin collapsed.
• • •
Lilly wanted to scream with frustration when her cell phone started to ring for the second time. It had been left on the end table, within sight but well out of reach. Tierney had made sure of that.
If Dutch had received her scanty message two nights ago, he would be frantic to reach her, knowing she’d spent all the time with Blue.
Or maybe it wasn’t Dutch calling at all.
Maybe her call to him hadn’t gone through and he’d never received her message. As she had said to Tierney last night, perhaps Dutch thought she’d been safe at home in Atlanta for the past two days. She had made it plain to him that their life together was over. If he had taken her at her word this time, he would no longer be concerning himself with her.
But when her cell phone began to ring for the third time, she prayed that it was Dutch, or someone, anyone, who would reach her before Tierney returned.
• • •
Tierney’s breathing was loud and labored. The vapor it formed in front of his face was sometimes dense enough to obscure his vision. His heart seemed to have inflated to fill his entire rib cage.
He had resolved to ignore the sprain in his ankle, but in this instance, mind-over-matter determination wasn’t working. The ankle had become weaker and more painful with every step. He could withstand the pain only because he was running for his life.
The minute his name had gone out over the airwaves, he became a target. Every man, woman, and child in Cleary would be out for his blood, and they wouldn’t hesitate to defy the authority of the FBI to get it. If Dutch Burton had received the message that Lilly was trapped with him, he would be at the forefront of this bloodthirsty band.
That was why Tierney had stayed off Mountain Laurel Road and was keeping to the woods. If an armed search-and-rescue party from Cleary was coming after Lilly—and Blue—the main road would be the route they’d take.
From yesterday’s experience, he had known what to expect when he set out. But knowing how arduous it was going to be didn’t make it any less so. He had to move both speedily and carefully, and those two modes were irreconcilable. He feared another injury, but he feared a fire-breathing mob of sharpshooters even more.
Eventually he reached his first destination—the road on the mountain’s western face. Relieved that he’d made it this far, he leaned against a tree trunk and sucked in huge drafts of oxygen, even though the air was so cold it hurt to take it in. He drank from the small plastic bottle he’d filled with water before leaving the cabin.
He’d driven this road only once before. Knowing that it was rarely used because of its disrepair, and that it would be virtually impassable now because of the accumulation of ice and snow, he figured it highly unlikely that anyone would be on it today.
Another advantage was that it didn’t intersect with Main Street, as the other road did. When he reached the end of this road at the foot of the mountain, he would be several miles from the center of town and less likely to be spotted before he could get someplace where he could think about what to do next.
He removed his cell phone from his coat pocket. Although it registered that he had service, his battery was dead. It had run down during the two days he’d left the phone on. He couldn’t make a call. But since service had been restored, others could. That was to his disadvantage.
Time to move.
He stepped out from the cover of the trees and onto the road. The going was rough, but nothing compared with the difficulty of trekking through the woods. He ducked his head against the fierce wind that cut through his inadequate clothing. The glare was so intense he had to squint his eyes nearly shut in order to see at all. He concentrated on nothing except placing one foot in front of the other. He could favor neither his left nor his right side because both hurt equally.
He tried not to think about Lil
ly.
Doing so made him second-guess his decision to leave her behind.
He’d had no choice, really. He couldn’t have brought her along.
Goddammit, why had she ventured into the shed and looked inside that box? She—
He stopped in his tracks and paused to listen, hoping that his ears were deceiving him. Over the loud soughing of his own breath and the howl of the wind, he picked up another sound. An approaching motorized vehicle. A snowmobile? No, not just one. Two at least. Growing louder, coming closer.
No, not closer. Here!
CHAPTER
31
THE ROTORS CREATED A CYCLONE OF SNOW and ice pellets. Out of it materialized a man dressed in a black Nomex tactical suit and boots that looked like they meant business. Grit and Determination could have been his middle names. He marched toward Begley and Wise, who were standing on the Fighting Cougars’ sideline at the thirty-yard line.
“Good morning, sir,” he said to Begley, shouting over the helicopter’s noise.
“Collier,” Begley said, shaking hands with him.
Hoot knew Collier by reputation. He was a respected agent who’d undergone hostage rescue and tactical training at Quantico last year. It was rumored he’d applied for the Critical Incident Response Group. Only the best and baddest of the badasses got selected for the elite CIRG.
“Do you know Agent Wise?”
“Only by sight.”
Hoot’s hand was clasped by one wearing a black leather rappelling glove with the fingers cut out to facilitate trigger pulling. It was the closest Hoot had ever come to such an article of clothing.
“Special Agent Wise has maps and topographical charts of the peak,” Begley told him.
“Thanks, sir. We’ve brought our own, too.”
“How many onboard?”
“Two men from my team plus the pilot. He’s one of ours.”
The Bell helicopter belonged to the Charlotte PD. They’d used it before, and Begley liked it. It was fast, maneuverable, safe. He knew it was a seven-place chopper, counting the pilot. He did the math. If they picked up Lilly Martin and Tierney, there wouldn’t be enough space for everyone on the return trip. Somebody would be left for later pickup. But it would be such a short trip, he didn’t see a problem with that.
Collier said, “I understand the mission is to pick up a female civilian and one hostile?”
“We don’t know that he’s a hostile. Right now this is a rescue mission only. We’ll see what happens when we get there.”
“We?”
“Hoot and I are going.”
“No need, sir. We can communicate—”
“Negative,” Begley said even before he’d finished. “We’re going.”
Everyone in the bureau knew you didn’t argue with an SAC, who would assume jurisdiction and command, requisition helicopters and recruit assistance from other agencies, and do whatever was necessary to complete a mission successfully and safely, answering only to headquarters if it failed.
Collier looked at their overcoats and dress loafers. “We didn’t bring any extra gear.”
“We’ll go as we are.”
“It’s freezing, sir.”
“And we’re wasting time.” Begley fixed him with a nutcracker, and Collier, for all his badassness, caved.
“Right, sir, but be aware. These wind currents are tricky. It’s gonna be a bumpy ride.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Sidestepping Collier, Begley strode toward the helicopter. Hoot and Collier followed at a trot. Collier glanced over at Hoot, sizing him up and obviously finding him lacking. “I didn’t know you’d had any training.”
“For what?”
“This kind of mission.”
“I haven’t.”
Hoot could lip-read the profanity that slipped past Collier’s frown. Having an untrained man at his back was the quickest way for a SWAT officer to die in the performance of his duty. “None?”
Hoot shook his head.
“Then stay out of our way, and don’t fuck up.”
“I don’t plan to.”
“You scared?”
“Shitless,” Hoot shouted as he ducked under the whirling blades. “Of Begley.”
• • •
Wes stopped again. Dutch, riding close on his tail, almost rear-ended him. “What the hell, Wes?”
“I saw something. Up ahead. Dodging into the trees.”
Dutch scanned the forest. “Are you sure?”
“Through there.” Wes pointed.
“A deer maybe?”
“Not unless it was a two-legged one. It was a man, Dutch. I’m sure of it. Just as I rounded the bend, I saw him disappear into the trees. Left of that boulder. Do you think it’s Tierney?”
“Show me the spot.”
They guided the snowmobiles toward the boulder. It had a frozen waterfall coming over the top of it. “I was right,” Wes said, pointing.
The footprints in the deep snow followed the road as far as the next switchback before disappearing around the bend. Here, they veered sharply into the woods, as though whoever had made the tracks had heard their approach and immediately sought cover in the trees.
“It’s got to be Tierney,” Wes said, his breath gusting with excitement. “Who else could it be?”
Dutch was prone to agree. Simultaneously they cut the engines and climbed off the snowmobiles. They began removing their rifles from the soft-sided gun cases they’d been carrying on their backs. Although he’d checked his weapon thoroughly before they left, Dutch checked it again. It was loaded. Ready. Wes was going about the same procedure, executing it like the skilled hunter he was. Dutch also checked his nine-millimeter pistol and chambered a bullet.
There was no doubt in his mind now that Tierney was their culprit. Wes had explained his personal interest in Millicent’s disappearance case. Dutch really had never believed Scott capable of committing a felony. He suspected the boy, despite his brawn, was too gutless and insecure to pull off any crime, much less five kidnaps. All the same, Wes’s explanation had relieved Dutch of any apprehension. Tierney was their man.
If not, why had he run into the woods just now? He’d been marooned for two days. His resources would have been limited, and he was supposedly injured. Shouldn’t he be running toward them, flagging them down, glad to see them, grateful that help had at last arrived? Why would he be avoiding rescue unless rescue also signified capture?
Dutch was ready. He turned on the transmitter of the two-way radio. “Have yours handy in case we lose each other in there.”
Wes patted down his pockets, then looked at Dutch with consternation.
“What?”
“I think I left the thing.”
“You’re kidding.”
Wes took off his gloves and slapped his bare hands against all his pockets. “I must’ve set it down, either at Ritt’s house or in the garage. I remember trying out the volume dial right after you gave it to me. After that—”
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”
Wes went first, stepping off the road and scrambling up the steep embankment. Using the ice-covered boulder for support, he turned to give Dutch a hand up. Tierney’s trail was clearly marked in the deep snow. Wes said, “He’s not even trying to hide his tracks.”
“He couldn’t if he wanted to.” Dutch looked at Wes and, for the first time in days, smiled. “Are we lucky, or what?”
• • •
They had the advantage of being fresh. Tierney was aware of this and redoubled his efforts to keep well ahead of them. He’d left the cabin over two hours ago. Except for that one brief rest, he’d been hiking in the worst possible conditions and was battling profound fatigue.
He hadn’t paused to identify the two men on the snowmobiles before dashing into the forest. He’d guessed who they were, and he’d been correct. They’d called out to him periodically, and he recognized their voices. Dutch Burton and Wes Hamer. Both of them were strong and athletic. He was also reasonably sure
that in the last forty-eight hours neither had been struck by a car, suffered a brain concussion and a gash on the head, or sprained an ankle.
Probably neither had made love most of last night, either.
Strength-wise, they definitely had the advantage over him. But they certainly didn’t outsmart him. In fact, they weren’t very bright at all. Good trackers would have kept their yaps shut, so as not to alert him to their position or distance from him. Despite their boasting of hunting skills, they had a lot to learn about stalking prey. Maybe they thought human prey responded differently to noise than animal prey.
But make no mistake. Tierney, he thought to himself, you are prey.
Any doubt of that had been dispelled by Wes’s taunting catcalls and Dutch’s dire threats, which echoed eerily through the snow-cushioned forest. Just as he had feared, they wanted Blue, dead or alive. He strongly suspected they favored the former, particularly Dutch Burton, who had shouted more than a few obscene allegations regarding him and Lilly.
Dutch wore a badge, but Tierney knew that wouldn’t prevent him from blowing his heart out if given the chance. In addition to being a law enforcement officer, sworn to uphold the law and protect an individual’s civil rights, Dutch was a husband scorned whose ex-wife had spent two nights in isolation with another man. If he got Tierney in the crosshairs of his scope, he would pull the trigger and exult at doing so.
They sensed that he was weakening, and that served to spur them on. He didn’t stop to look back, but he could tell they were gaining on him. Sounds of their passage through the forest came ever closer. They had it easier than he did. He had to forge the trail. All they had to do was follow it.
He considered taking cover and making a stand against them. He had the pistol, and it was still loaded, missing only the bullet that Lilly had fired at him. However, its respectable range was nothing compared with that of a rifle. And there were two of them. One could keep him under cover while the other sneaked around and flanked him.
He was also afraid that, if he stopped, he would never be able to get up again. His stamina was depleted. He’d thought it had been exhausted yesterday when he went after Lilly’s medication, but today he truly was on the verge of collapse. Only sheer willpower kept him on his feet.