by D. V. Berkom
"Didn't take long to realize life on the road wasn't for me, although it gave me plenty of time to think. I studied for my high school diploma, and went to college on a scholarship from the Nation. The police department recruited me in my second year."
"Did you learn that calming stuff from the shaman?"
Sam smiled. "Sort of. He liked to keep information close in order to control things, so I had to find out the rest of the steps from another spiritual teacher I met later. I also studied martial arts, which helped."
"I was watching you practice last night through the window. You're good."
"I've still got a long way to go." He smiled and shifted his weight to stretch out behind me. "Time to rest. I'm going to want more of you the next time we wake up."
I let out a contented sigh as he wrapped his arms around me. It wasn't long before we fell asleep.
##
"No-!" Sam lurched to a sitting position, reaching into the darkness to stop some unknown phantom. "Fifty-eight…"
I was instantly awake.
"What?"
Sam shook his head. "I-it's nothing. Go back to sleep." He slid off the bed and walked over to the window.
Like I could go back to sleep after that.
"Bad dream?"
Sam nodded. "Something like that."
"Want to tell me about it?"
"No."
I sighed and lay back on the bed, a familiar knot of fear forming in the pit of my stomach. Trust, Kate. An image of the fox tearing the hare apart on the trail slid unbidden into my mind.
Sleep took the rest of the night off.
***
The next thirty-six hours would have veered between nerve-racking and monotonous if it wasn't for getting to know Sam better. His calm demeanor and subtle sense of humor kept the mood light between us, and helped me ignore the twisted lump that had formed in my stomach. Making love like a pair of teenagers helped, too. Madge, the woman that worked the front desk, commented that we acted like a couple of honeymooners, hardly coming out of our rooms to eat. The comparison made me laugh. If she only knew.
Thursday night and Friday morning slid past in a blur and then it was time to head for the airport. My mood was bittersweet as I started to pack, using only a carry-on and my backpack. Part of me was relieved to be leaving with so little; I'd already donated all my sweaters, sweatshirts, jeans and coats to the local thrift store. Shorts and t-shirts would be all I'd need once I arrived in Hawaii.
The other part of me hated to say goodbye to Sam. We both knew I had to go, but it had been such an intense couple of days that it was hard to break free from each other. We promised we'd keep in touch, but we both knew how difficult a long distance relationship would be.
"Better go. Your flight leaves in a few hours." He buttoned the last button of his shirt over his bullet-proof vest. There hadn't been any contact from either of the two gunmen, and it looked like there wouldn't be any, but he followed protocol, nonetheless.
I'd begun to feel safer and more foolish, thinking that maybe the aftershave I smelled and the closed closet door were all figments of my imagination. I'd probably shut the door that morning without thinking. It was possible that the murder I'd seen at the trailhead had nothing to do with me. Maybe it had been a meth deal gone bad.
Sam grabbed my carry-on bag and I shrugged the laptop case strap over my shoulder. We checked the rooms one last time, and walked down the stairs to the parking lot. Sam's SUV was parked near the office. He opened the passenger door for me and threw my bag on the floor.
He slid in the driver's side and closed the door, starting the engine. Before he put the car into gear, he picked up the radio and called the office. Miller's assistant, Angela, answered.
"Hi Sam."
"Hey, Angela. I'm getting ready to transport Kate to the airport."
"Okay. I'll tell the chief if he ever calls in."
"How long has it been this time?"
Angela sighed. "Since yesterday. There's no answer when I try his cell. He's probably ice fishing again and lost track of time. I'll try calling Edna. She'll know how to get a hold of him."
"Tell him to call me when he gets in."
"Roger that. Have a good trip."
Sam replaced the hand set, frowning.
"What?" I asked.
Sam shrugged. "Nothing. It's just a little strange, is all. Joe doesn't usually get off track when we're working a case. He makes sure someone can contact him." Sam threw the truck in reverse and backed out of the parking space.
Madge grinned and waved at us through the window as we drove past.
FIVE
It had snowed the night before, and everything looked fresh. A dusky orange sun hung midway over the horizon, threatening to disappear in the afternoon twilight. Traffic was light. By the time we reached the half-way mark to Anchorage, there was no one left on the road to keep us company.
I always marveled at how in-your-face, extreme Alaska wilderness existed in relation to the man-made attempts to tame this rough country. The huge ruts in the road indicated deep winter freezes followed by great thaws, and made driving akin to riding a mini roller coaster. Less than a quarter mile off road and you were knee-deep into raw nature. Most Alaskans I'd met wouldn't go hiking without a firearm.
Not that it would do you much good against a grizzly, unless you were packing large.
"Are you ever going to tell me what your bad dream entailed?" I asked. "I mean, seems to me after the last few days I'm entitled."
"Why is that?"
"I told you my deepest secrets, and you told me some pretty intense stuff, so why not? It might even help to talk about it."
Sam's expression hardened. "It was nothing. Forget it."
I was about to argue when Angela's voice came over the radio.
"Three-thirty-four, come in."
Sam picked up the mic. "Three-thirty-four. What's up, Angela?"
"Sam, I just got off the phone with Edna. She hasn't heard from Joe, either. She thought he was working the murder and forgot to call her. I'm worried."
Sam opened his mouth to respond when the sound of a revving engine interrupted him. As I turned to look, a black truck broadsided us, shoving our SUV toward the ditch. Slammed against the passenger door, the groan of crumpling metal and rupture of bullets smashing through glass drowned out my screams. Pain radiated across and down my shoulder.
Sam hit the brakes and turned into the other vehicle, slowing the slide, forcing both trucks perpendicular to the road. The stench of burning rubber filled the cab as the screeching sound of locked brakes screamed in protest. I braced myself against the door and engraved my feet on the dash.
Sam floored the accelerator and at the same time yanked the steering wheel to the right, breaking the two trucks apart for an instant. We edged ahead of the other vehicle and gained a few yards.
The other truck recovered and came at us, this time from behind. My head snapped against the headrest on impact. Sam struggled to keep the SUV on the road, but they rammed us again, knocking the truck onto the shoulder. Bullets shattered the rear windows.
"Get down!" Sam grabbed the back of my head and forced me over as we headed for the ditch and he fought to keep from rolling.
We hurtled through brush, flattening saplings before we smashed against something and lurched to a stop. Sam reached across me, yanked my seatbelt open and yelled, "Out. Now!"
I wrenched the door open and fell onto the snow. More glass shattered as rounds strafed the truck. Sam launched himself across the console computer and out the door, rolling to the side as bullets tore through metal. My pack fell out with him. He shoved me toward the rear wheel well, hard, and took a position behind the front passenger wheel using the engine block for cover. There'd be a bruise where he'd pushed me.
If I made it through alive.
"Three-thirty-four, shots fired. Get me backup. We're at mile marker fifty-eight on Chiknuk Road," Sam yelled into his portable's mic as he returned fire.
/>
Panicked, I ransacked my bag, searching for my nine. I'd left it in the bottom zipper compartment, still loaded, intending to give it to Sam as a gift. I pulled it out and crouched beside the back bumper. Slowly, I peered around the side of the truck to get a good look at who we were up against.
At first, I saw one man next to the front of the black pickup, but knew he couldn't be the only shooter. Movement to my left confirmed my suspicions. The second gunman crouched near the back bumper. They were the killers that I saw on the trailhead. The one in front popped up from behind the hood and started shooting. Sam returned fire. The guy's head snapped backward from the bullet's impact. He wavered for a moment, then fell to the ground. Sam dropped his spent magazine and reloaded.
The other gunman disappeared behind the truck. I could see his feet moving under the chassis and took aim, firing just before he reached the front wheel.
The loud grunt and clatter of the gun on asphalt told me I'd found my mark. Sam flashed a thumb's up.
"Three-thirty-four, two males down, one Hispanic, one white. Driving a black, late model Dodge pickup," Sam radioed. He turned to me. "Stay here. I'm going for his gun. Cover me, in case there's more."
I nodded and took his position. Gun drawn, Sam started up the embankment. Too late, I saw a flash of red, followed by several pops. Sam grabbed his side and staggered as he returned fire. Alarmed, I searched for the source of the shots.
Sam stumbled the last few feet to the SUV and collapsed against the tire.
"Is it bad?"
He pulled his hand away. Blood soaked his shirt, just under his vest.
"Did you get a look at who shot you?" I reached into my pack and pulled out a t-shirt, wadding it into a ball. Sam took it from me and pressed it against the wound.
"Female. Redhead." Sam's breath came in short gasps.
Spots swam before my eyes. A redheaded female? My stomach felt as though it dropped to my ankles.
"Tall?"
Sam nodded.
"Sam, remember the woman I was talking to outside your room at the motel?" Our eyes met. He nodded, slowly.
"Kate, Give it up, honey." Red's Southern drawl sliced through the air. "You're only prolonging the inevitable. The sooner you die, the sooner he can get to the hospital. I've got no quarrel with him. In fact," her low chuckle drifted the distance between the two trucks, "if he doesn't die right there, I'd surely like to give him the old college try myself."
Sam's breathing sounded ragged. The blood had soaked through the t-shirt and was spreading. He keyed the mic, but I could tell he was losing strength, fast.
"Three-thirty-four. Officer down-"He drew in a shallow breath.
I leaned closer. "Sam's hit bad. The shooter's a white female, red hair, and still alive. Not sure about the other two." I risked a look around the bumper at the first man Sam shot. He lay on the ground. "I think one's dead."
"Roger." There was a brief pause, then Angela's voice crackled over the radio. "Medic ETA is twenty minutes. Backup in fifteen. Hang in there, Sam."
Gunfire erupted from both sides. The second gunman was mobile and they'd split up. Sam propped himself on one elbow and aimed toward the front of the vehicle. I scrambled to the rear, gun drawn.
"I really don't want to have to kill you both," Red called, "but I will. Give it up, Kate." She sounded annoyed. "We've got plenty of time before anyone shows up, and old Mario here is up and running. That makes it a rather unfair advantage, being that your lovely deputy's been shot."
I turned to Sam. His complexion had turned a pasty white. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead. Damn it, he was not going to die. Not because of me. They wanted me dead, not Sam.
I scanned the terrain, looking for the nearest route with some kind of cover. It looked like there was a faint animal trail through the trees to my left. Except for a short section at the end, most of the path would be hidden from view by the SUV. I chanced a quick look at Sam. He glared at me and shook his head. I put my finger to my lips.
And then I ran.
SIX
I plowed through the foot-deep snow in a crouch. As soon as I broke cover, gunfire erupted behind me. The bullets hit the snowy ground with a thud and a slight hiss. I pushed on, zigzagging through salmonberry and hemlock saplings, before making cover in the woods. Red's shouts followed me in, but then grew faint.
I continued running, my focus on clearing whatever got in my way, whether jumping over old nurse logs or dodging devil's club. I kept an eye out for some place to hide, but short of digging a snow cave there wasn't a lot to choose from.
The lack of direct sunlight created confusing shadows, and I slowed to keep from stumbling, but also to remember the terrain. Even with the waning light, my tracks would be easy enough to follow. I needed to obscure my footprints.
Further in, I spotted a downed hemlock and headed the other direction, toward a deep ravine filled with snow covered bunchberry and red alder. A dead tree branch allowed me to scrape a path further down the ravine, making it look like I'd continued into the brush. Then I retraced my steps to the hemlock. I skirted its circumference and climbed onto the dead tree from the back.
The trunk was wide enough for me to comfortably walk along its length a few yards. About two-thirds to the end, I climbed back down. Then I picked up a cedar bough resting on the ground and dragged it behind me, stopping every few feet to obliterate my footprints. It might not fool anybody during daylight, but it would slow them down for now. I just hoped it would be enough.
For cover, I ducked under the branches of a good sized cedar.
It didn't take long before I was no longer alone. What at first glance appeared to be deep shadow soon became a moving, amorphous shape lacking features. The shape drew nearer, coalescing into Red's tall silhouette, gun drawn, slowly following my trail.
I waited for the other gunman to show; apparently he hadn't come along for the ride. I hadn't heard gunshots. My stomach twisted. Was Sam dead? Had the loss of blood been too much? Or did one of them sneak up behind him and finish the job with their bare hands? Sam wouldn't be able to fight anyone off- not in his weakened condition. I should have stayed by his side.
The thought paralyzed me.
A twig snapped.
She walked within a yard of me and approached the ravine, dropping to a crouch to inspect the trail I'd left. I stepped from beneath the cedar and slipped up behind her. Her head and back snapped upright, aware of my presence. I stopped, knowing I'd have to shoot her, wondering if there was some way out of it.
"Drop your gun."
She relaxed her shoulders and shook her head as she tossed her gun to the side, her laughter barely audible.
I stiffened. That was too easy.
"Your boy's dead, Kate. Died alone." She made a tsking sound. "That makes three dead, all because of you, sweetheart. That make you feel special?"
I closed my eyes as pain and despair threatened to engulf me. Sam was dead. I hadn't done anything to help him. Then what she said registered.
Three?
"What do you mean, three?" Dread burned its way into my gut. Who else?
"Well," she said, as she slowly rose to her feet and pivoted to face me, "first Lester, then Joe, and now Sam."
Lester must have been the man I saw murdered at the trailhead, but I had no idea who Joe was.
Red smiled, her white teeth clearly visible in the rapidly waning daylight. "Aw, honey, you look confused. Maybe I can clarify things. You see, Les was the private investigator I hired to find you. My guys hit him on the trailhead. I certainly didn't mean for you to see that happen. If you hadn't, we could've been done with this little ordeal days ago." She sighed and stretched her neck from side to side.
How the hell did she know I'd seen the hit on the trail? She was playing for time. I wondered if the other gunman was trying to find his way back here. Probably would take him a while, since he was wounded. I moved to one side and turned slightly so I could get a better look in the direction of the
highway. Red did the same, matching me.
"Who's Joe?" I aimed the gun at her head. She flinched, recovered.
"Chief Miller, of course."
I must have looked as shocked as I felt, because she grinned, a calculating gleam in her eye.
"He was a hard one to break, I must say. Good thing Mario had some training in enhanced interrogation techniques." She paused, a look of distaste on her face. "I had to leave. It got pretty messy. That ol' boy had some cajones, let me tell you. Even Mario mentioned it." She watched me closely, reminding me of the fox I'd seen on the trail. Then she reached inside her coat.
Fuck it.
I shot her. Twice.
Once in the shoulder, once in the foot. I wasn't about to play rabbit.
She dropped to the ground, her screams echoing through the still forest. I stood quietly and watched her rock back and forth, hunched over, gripping her shoulder with her good hand.
"Twice?" she growled, tears streaming down her face. "You had to shoot me twice?"
"You're lucky I didn't know Lester." I held out my hand. "Give me the gun- butt first."
Red shook her head, incoherent from the pain. Swatting her hand away, I reached inside her coat, found what I was looking for and stepped back, her second gun in my hand. It should have bothered me that I felt no emotion after shooting someone. A numbing mindlessness had taken over.
I slid her second gun into my waistband, picked her other one up off the ground, and started to walk away.
"You can't just leave me here-" Her voice held a note of panic.
"Don't worry. I'll let them know where to find you. It's the least I can do," I replied, trying to smile, not quite able to pull it off.
My feet felt as though encased in cement as I made my way back to the road. About half way there, the sound of a helicopter beat time through the forest, echoing off the nearby mountain. Had it only been twenty minutes since I ran? It seemed like a year.
I reached the edge of the forest and stopped, taking in the chaotic scene: sirens, lights, the thwap of helicopter blades, uniformed personnel everywhere. Medics had already lifted Sam's body onto a stretcher, and had yet to pull the sheet over his face. I wanted, needed to see him once more. The force of the emotion rising in my throat threatened to overwhelm me, but I stopped myself before the tears came.