by Tony Hayden
Mike sat on the bed again. Everything he had suspected was correct. His gut instincts were right. Jordan Barnes took his daughter. “Give me the rest, Harry.”
“Okay,” Harry continued. “At 3:26pm, the truck moved west on Ranch Springs Road for six miles then turned north onto County Road 37. The truck continued north for about three miles and stopped for almost three hours.”
Mike pounded the table again. “He took Sara to that filthy trailer. I am going to cut his fucking heart out.”
“Mike,” Harry said calmly. “You need to stow that anger away for later. Right now, your daughter needs you to be cool and collected.”
“I know, I know,” Mike said. “You’re right. You said the truck was at the trailer for three hours; where did he go after that?”
“This is where your map becomes necessary. Are you ready?”
“Yes, yes, dammit, I’m ready.”
“Okay, find Highway 14, just south of Ranch Springs, and follow it west to a little town named Rustic.”
Mike followed the highway with his finger and stopped on the small town. “Got it,” he said.
“Now, south of Rustic about ten miles, you will find a jeep trail named Flowers Road.”
Mike searched for the trail. He found it in a dark green patch which indicated a densely forested area. “Okay. Flowers Road. I see it.”
“At 7:16pm, the truck traveled seven miles east on that jeep trail at a rate of five to ten miles per hour. It must be a terrible road. Then, the truck stopped for two hours before returning to Ranch Springs at 12:34am the next morning.”
Mike stood and tapped his finger on the map. “My map shows a quartz quarry at that location. Is that what you are seeing?”
“That’s what my map says also,” Harry agreed. “Now, I arrive in Denver at 7:00am and I can meet you in Rustic around ten.”
Mike shook his head. “This will all be over by then, Harry.”
“Mike,” Harry said quietly. “Don’t lose hope. Your daughter may very well still be alive. I would be there sooner, but I have a very important package to deliver to my niece, Carol.”
Mike smiled briefly. “Yes, she told me you were bringing Taylor home from Phoenix.”
Harry paused for a long moment. “Taylor and his father are coming home with me.”
Mike stood still, then shook his head. “Taylor’s father?” he asked.
Harry laughed. “Yes, Mike. I found Jim Iverson alive in a Mexican prison and I’m bringing him home to Carol.”
Mike couldn’t respond.
“Miracles can happen, Mike. Don’t give up hope.”
Mike banged on Brian and Trina’s bedroom door. “I need to borrow your Jeep,” he said quickly after Brian opened the door. “I know where my daughter is and I need a four wheel drive vehicle to get there.”
Brian was confused, shaken from a sound sleep. Trina Lang appeared behind her husband with a set of keys. “Take it, Mr. Haller. I just filled the tank with gas.”
Mike took the keys and sprinted for the front door. Trina Lang hollered after him, “Do you need us to call the sheriff?”
Mike yelled back before leaving the house, “No! Don’t call a single soul. Please.”
Mike hurried to the Jeep Wrangler and climbed in. He could be at the quarry by first light if he hurried.
thirty-five
Sara moved slowly along the deer trail toward the sound of a small brook. She was sure this was the same creek she had followed four days earlier toward the cabin. If she traveled upstream this time, then she would be moving away from the men who were looking for her. Trouble was, the cabin and the men were now between her and the route she had planned to follow out of these mountains. Since the tow truck driver had mentioned reading the note she had left for the cabin’s owner, that plan was now impractical.
The horizon to her left was beginning to show signs of daylight which confirmed that she was heading in the direction she intended. South would eventually lead her to the trail from the quarry where she was raped, and beyond that, to the road that brought her to this damn place. Sara wasn’t completely sure how she felt about following that road out of these mountains. It left her vulnerable; open to discovery by the three men who were looking for her.
Sara stopped for a moment. She had heard a distant voice behind her. Someone had hollered. A call to muster. Discovery.
She moved a little faster now. Her body shook from cold and weakness brought on by the loss of blood from her reopened knife wound. Her thin blouse was now in tatters and thirst threatened to close her throat, but she dare not stop to make repairs or drink from the stream. Judging by the sounds she had just heard, the men were only minutes behind her.
“Here!” Jordan yelled. “I found something.”
Hunter Barnes and Pop stepped from the trees to where Jordan was holding a strip of white cotton.
“Isn’t this from the girl’s shirt?” he asked Gary Popineau.
Pop took the cloth from Jordan and turned it in his fingers. “It is covered in fresh blood, so logic would dictate that it belongs to the girl.”
Sheriff Barnes took the cloth. “It looks like she is losing a fair amount of blood. She can’t be moving very fast, but if she reaches the vehicles before we do, then all bets are off.”
“Yes,” Pop replied. “It would be best if we were to find her quickly and deliver her to God’s loving arms before the sun rises.”
Barnes stared at Pop and shook his head. “You can cut the bullshit, Gary. Your piety has no credibility in my company.”
The two men stared at each other for an extended time.
“Fine,” Popineau finally broke the silence. “If we don’t find the little whore before she stumbles across some wayward hunter with a Good Samaritan complex, then all three of us are in for a world of trouble.”
Jordan finally spoke up. “It looks like she is headed for Pendergrass Creek. If she’s smart, then she will be at the quarry in a couple of hours.”
“She’s smart,” Sheriff Barnes replied. “She has outsmarted you two dumbasses every step of the way. I’m going to cut across White Rock Mountain and get to the quarry before she does. The two of you need to keep following her. If we work this right, we will have her in the ground before breakfast.”
thirty-six
Mike stopped just long enough to throw the Jeep into four wheel drive. Flowers Road was no road at all. It was a steep, well rutted dirt track snaking along a heavily forested mountain side. The Jeep rocked and bounced hard, threatening to overturn. Mike slowed to a manageable speed and the evergreens slipped by, one by one.
Haller wasn’t quite sure what he expected to find at the quarry. The fact that Sheriff Barnes and his step-son, Jordan, were somewhere in these mountains, coupled with the disturbing dream Mike had suffered through, gave him a sense of urgency that threatened to end his life in a mass of wreckage at the bottom of some steep ravine.
His headlights threw a cast of shadows among the timber that could be easily interpreted as some grand stampede of the hunter and the hunted in a desperate struggle for life. The Jeep bounced again, lifting Mike from his seat, removing his foot from the pedal, and bringing everything to a sudden jarring halt.
“Dammit!” he yelled. Mike started the Jeep again, straightened the wheel, and brought the four wheel drive back to its snaillike crawl up the steepening mountain.
Just as daylight was breaking, two vehicles came into view, parked in a small meadow near the base of a mountain. Mike immediately recognized one as a Ford Explorer belonging to the Red Feather County Sheriff’s Department. “Barnes!” Mike thought to himself. The other vehicle was an old Bronco that had seen better days. Mike pulled in behind the sheriff’s vehicle, effectively blocking any escape. He silenced the engine, then sat listening to the creaks and groans of the settling Jeep. He knew the sheriff would be armed; maybe even Jordan, though he highly doubted it.
Mike looked around the Jeep for any type of weapon. Nothing caught his inter
est so he opened the glove box and felt relief when he spotted a hard case for a small handgun. Stenciled across the top was the name, Trina Lang. He quickly unzipped the case and pulled out a chrome plated Smith & Wesson Model 30. “Trina Lang,” he said out loud, “I could kiss you.” He opened the cylinder and found it loaded with six rounds of .32 long ammunition. Flipping the cylinder shut, Mike stepped from the Jeep and tucked the pistol into the small of his back.
thirty-seven
Sara stumbled along the trail as fast as she could. She had debated with herself the pros and cons of leaving the trail and striking out through the forest. The deer trail offered a quicker pace, but she was easily followed by the men trying to catch her. She finally admitted to herself that the only possible chance she had of surviving was to run into a backpacker or maybe a forest ranger. The deer trail increased the likelihood of that, if only by a tiny amount.
Unable to bear her thirst any longer, Sara stopped and slowly dropped to her knees beside the creek. Placing all her weight on her right hand, she bent and gulped mouthfuls of water until she choked a bit. She sat back on her haunches, coughing and heaving to catch her breath. A sharp pain shot through her back, and Sara sprawled into the stream.
“Kick her again, Pop!” Jordan screamed then laughed hysterically. “We got her! We got the little bitch!”
“Shut up and pull her out of there,” Pop replied.
Jordan grabbed a fist full of Sara’s hair and pulled her out of the water.
Sara screamed and fought wildly to break free of the tow truck driver’s grasp. She felt her hair being ripped by its roots as he tried to stand her up. Sara was kicked again from behind and her body swung like a pendulum, finally coming to rest on her knees at Jordan’s side.
“Sara?” Pop asked deviously. “Is that your name, sweetie?”
Sara failed to answer. Instead, she screamed again and clawed at Jordan’s hand with her broken fingernails.
“Your daddy is all in a fuss looking for you, sweetheart.” Pop bent down to look Sara in the eyes. “But we know that he is never going to find you, now don’t we?”
Sara wanted to spit in the man’s face but her mouth was dry as cotton. All she could muster was, “Fuck you!” She took a breath. “You are the devil,” she yelled through a raspy throat.
Pop laughed quietly. “The Devil wants your soul, Sara, but I have prayed to God to accept you into his arms. He is waiting for you, sweetie.”
Sara broke down and cried loudly. “You know nothing of God,” she cried. “God will never allow you to stand.”
Jordan pulled Sara to her feet. “What are we going to do with her, Pop?”
Gary Popineau stepped around the two and brought his fingers to his chin. “Well,” he said, “she’s already been deflowered so I don’t have much interest in having her again.” He stood for a moment. “But,” he continued, “if you would like to be alone with her for a moment and have your way with her, I will walk up the trail a bit and wait.”
Jordan smiled and looked embarrassed. “Awe geeze, Pop, I’ve got a girlfriend and all.” He let go of Sara’s hair and held her tightly by the shoulder. “I don’t want to do nothing like that. Let’s just kill her and get back to town.”
Pop stared at Jordan and shook his head. “You are a simple son of a gun, Jordan.” He started walking down the trail toward the quarry. “Bring her along. We will need to find a place away from the river to hide her body.”
Sara’s mind was racing. As hard as she tried she could not see a way out of this situation. Her body was too broken. Her energy was gone. She was going to die at the hands of these two men and no one would ever know what happened to her. She was scared, but all she could think of was the sorrow her mother and father would feel. Her heart broke for them.
The men led her along the trail to the small meadow where Sara had encountered the mountain lion.
“This will do just fine,” the fat one said.
Sara was repulsed by this man. Her outrage grew and all she could think about was removing his genitals with her bare hands. She wanted to tear his eyes from his sockets. The sun had risen now and she could see her attackers clearly. Pop had removed a large hunting knife from his boot. Light glinted off the freshly sharpened edge.
“Are you going to do this, Jordan?” the fat one asked. “Or am I going to have to show you how?”
The driver turned Sara to face him and held her by both shoulders. He smiled sweetly. “By this time tomorrow, your pretty face is going to be filled with maggots.”
The rage in Sara boiled and she kicked Jordan in the groin with all the force she could amass. He growled loudly, hunched over and fell to the ground, gasping for air that would not fill his lungs.
As Sara turned to deliver the same to the man called Pop, his fist caught her square in the forehead and light instantly turned to darkness.
“Good Lord, son, she really tuned your ukulele,” Pop said as he bent to help Jordan to his feet. Jordan wouldn’t respond. His face was bright red and he couldn’t stand straight. Pop held him up for a bit, then eased him back to the ground. “Well,” he said after a moment. “I don’t see you being much use for the next hour.”
Pop scratched his head then flopped Sara’s broken arm about with his foot. “She’s out cold for awhile.” He looked to Jordan, then back to Sara, then back to Jordan. “I’m going to go to the Bronco and get the tools we’ll need to cut this girl up and bury her parts.” He looked to Sara again. “I kind of want her awake for that part. She will be happy to run into the Lord’s arms after you and I have finished with her.”
Gary Popineau started down the trail. “I’ll only be about an hour. I’ll send your daddy home so you and I can do this in peace.” He stopped and looked back at Jordan. “If she wakes up,” he said, pointing at Sara, “go ahead and bash her head in with that rock there.”
Jordan looked at the rock, then looked at Sara with fury in his eyes.
thirty-eight
Mike Haller moved slowly up the trail toward the quarry. Sounds of the forest seemed to rise in a cacophony, urging him forward. He broke through the trees into a flattened area, timber bulldozed and bare earth pushed aside to expose any riches that might lay hidden underneath. Mike was drawn to a small mattress pushed aside a shallow excavation. He prepared himself for the discovery of his daughter’s remains and exhaled loudly when he realized the grave was empty, except for a muddy sandal. Sara’s sandal.
Mike lifted the shoe and held it to his chest as his heart pounded. He grasped that he was standing amidst a crime scene that in all probability would consummate his worst nightmare; Sara was dead. He surveyed the quarry and listened carefully for any sounds of the two men he knew were near. Nothing. The forest had grown silent.
Mike adjusted the handgun tucked into his jeans and started for a trail on the eastern edge of the quarry.
“It is unfortunate, Deputy Haller, that you would find yourself at this location.” Sheriff Barnes stepped from the tree-line not ten yards away. “I thought I was pretty clear when I ordered you to leave my county.”
Mike inched forward and circled Barnes a bit to better silhouette him against the treeless quarry. “Where is she, Barnes?” he asked. “Give Sara to me now and let’s put an end to this.”
Barnes chuckled and unsnapped his holster. “Oh, this ends today. There is no doubt about that. This whole God forsaken mess ends here, today.”
Mike stopped. Less than twenty feet separated him and the man he wanted to murder. Judging from the bulk beneath his shirt, the sheriff was wearing an armored vest. This left only one shot for Mike to take.
“What is that you are holding, Mr. Haller?”
Mike switched Sara’s muddy sandal to his left hand and held it up for Barnes to see. “My daughter’s shoe,” he said. “I wouldn’t think that you would be so careless as to leave evidence at a crime scene.”
Sheriff Barnes chuckled again and shook his head. “That’s why I am here, Mike, to clean up
. You should at least find comfort in that you and your daughter will share your final resting place.” Barnes removed his pistol and motioned to Mike. “Toss that shoe here.”
Mike threw the sandal to Barnes, and in one fluid motion retrieved the pistol from the small of his back and shot Sheriff Hunter Barnes through the forehead. The .32 caliber round made a small hole just above Barnes’s left eye and exited behind his right ear, taking much of the sheriff’s brain with it.
Mike stood with Trina’s pistol still aimed at the sheriff’s dead body. “I told you that if we tangled again, one of us would be going home in a body bag.”
Mike moved up the trail, pistol in hand, listening carefully for any sound of Jordan Barnes. At one point, he heard a twig snap deep in the trees to his right. He knelt to the ground and watched intently. When no movement or sound repeated, he moved on. He wasn’t sure what pulled him in the direction he was going. Something tightened in his stomach. Once again, he was unsure whether he was in the right place or not. Hesitance threatened to prevent him from moving forward. Was this his gut instinct telling him to pursue a different path? Or was this a subconscious impetus trying to protect him from what he might find?
He moved again, up the trail. Silent. Vigilant. Painfully aware of every creak of a tree branch, every flutter of a Nuthatch wing, and there! He saw it. Movement in a small clearing just thirty yards ahead. And then he heard it. A blood curdling scream from Sara.
thirty-nine
Sara woke with a blinding headache. She lay face down among the pine needles and wild strawberries. Nothing would focus for her and the realization of her predicament quickly flooded her senses. She sat up and pulled her left arm to her chest and cradled it. The tow truck driver stood over her with a cantaloupe sized rock in his hands. She knew this was it. She had lost her will to fight. She had no strength left to resist. Sara watched as Jordan raised the rock above his head, and with her last bit of tenacity, she screamed.