by Kieran York
“But why are we in danger?”
“Yancy was restless when I got the Blazer filled at Laird’s. When Orson mentioned that Yancy had his cycle out before the last snow, Yancy really got nervous. I even questioned him about it. He had to have read from my face that I doubted him.”
“You’ve never suspected Yancy before this?”
“As I mentioned, the obvious is difficult to detect. Hertha, as a rookie cop you learn to depend on your partner. Put your life on the line for that trust. You operate as a team. When there’s trouble, you’ve got to be able to count on your backup.”
Royce spotted the Blazer. “Yancy was hand-selected by my father. He was a good Marine. A team player. I thought I could count on him.”
Royce unlocked the rear door of the Blazer and began pitching in the tent and sleeping bags. She reached back and tucked the wading suspenders into her hip pocket. They’d been dangling from her pocket. She picked up her tackle box and murmured, “Let’s roll.”
Hertha turned to get into the Blazer.
“Not so fast! I been waitin’ all morning for you.”
Royce heard the familiar voice from the opposite side of the parking area. There was a warning shot from Yancy’s high-powered rifle. He walked slowly toward then, following behind the rifle that was aimed at them. “You aren’t gonna run off now?” he spat.
“What’s the problem?” Royce attempted to control her voice.
“You know good and well what the problem is. You just know way too much. Way too much for your own good,” he grunted.
“Yancy, you’re not going to get away with this,” Royce warned.
“Hell I won’t. Your snoopin’ just got too close for comfort.” Yancy’s face was stony. His glare steady.
“It won’t play,” Royce argued.
“Hell it won’t. The little squaw did it to save her brother. She killed you. I knew that you had proof that her brother killed Trish. When the vet found out about it, she killed you. She’s been kissin’ up to you to find out what you knew. But I saw it comin’ and rushed out here to save you. In the scuffle, I had to take out the squaw. I even brought an extra gun.”
“They’ll never believe you.”
“Timber City is plenty white,” Yancy muttered, scratching his beard. “Plenty white.”
“Timber City will amaze you.” Royce lifted her head in defiance. “My big question is why you killed Trish?”
“Had to. She was blackmailing me to get me to convince Luther to give her a divorce.”
“And Osborn might have recognized something that could have tied you to the scene of the crime.”
“Exactly. Had to kill him. Picked him up walkin’ down the alley. Told him I’d give him a ride. Didn’t wanna kill 'em. Had to. I never wanted to take anybody out. Had to.”
“You would have let your own brother take the rap. You were even pointing me in that direction. You stitched up Luther.”
“Let him take the fall. Hell, he was momma’s boy,” Yancy snorted. “God damned useless brat. Coddled by life. Luther was willin’ to go along with my alibi. Kept him from bein’ the suspect. Least he thought so. Well, now you know how it was. I sorta halfway liked you. Don’t wanna take you out. Have to now.”
“Yancy, it’s going to catch up with you. You can’t pull this one off.”
“Sure I can. I even warned you in front of old Laird. Told you to be careful.”
“I should have listened,” Royce murmured. Royce looked over at Hertha and then slowly down at Smoky. “Will you let Smoky go?”
“Yeah. Why waste the bullet,” Yancy bellowed.
As he did, Royce pointed toward the sheriff in an attempt to frighten the dog. “Attack Smoky, go...”
Smoky lunged toward Yancy, and as he lowered his rifle to shoot at the leaping pup, Royce threw the canvas tackle box. It struck him with a powerful blow. Yancy was knocked onto the ground and he quickly reached for the rifle.
“Follow me,” Royce shouted to Hertha. “Smoky,” she called.
The three bounded toward a path that would take them around the lake and toward the cabin. Royce heard gunshots behind them. Their only chance was to outrun and out-think the bullets. They were unarmed, and Yancy was a crack shot.
But, Royce reasoned, he was out of condition and that gave them a slight edge. The crackling of twigs and kicking of rocks as they ran were the only sounds made. Another shot passed them. It was too near, Royce thought as they attempted to elude death.
Gasping for breath, Royce grabbed Hertha’s hand. She looked down for Smoky. Instinctively, the dog was right behind them, scampering for safety. Smoky, thought Royce, was even housebroken easily in her attempt to stay out of harm’s way.
They were all in the way of impending harm. It was following closely behind them.
***
They had made their way through a maze of paths when they finally reached the mouth of a trail that led to the cabin. Royce slumped breathlessly against a naked-trunked fir. She pulled Hertha into the drape of her arms. Her words were choppy as she gasped for breath. “We’ve got to split up here. If not, we’ll lead him right back to the cabin, and he’ll kill us all. He’s well-armed and we have nothing. My service revolver is in the tackle box.”
“We can get to a phone.”
“No,” Royce vetoed. “We’ve got to split up. He’ll come after me. You go to the cabin. If we go together, he’ll pick us both off. There are too many clearings. We would be sitting ducks.” Royce dug into her pocket. “Here’s the button and the three shell casings. If I don’t make it back, Yancy will charge you with murder. Give the information to Nick. These casings,” Royce spoke as she tucked them into Hertha’s palm, “are probably from the gun that killed my father. Ask Laramie about masks. That’s what he calls the deception. His word for lies. Ask him where the bodies are buried. He’ll know I sent you. Have ballistics check these shells. It’s probably from the gun Yancy is using now. That gun and the one that’s stuck in Yancy’s belt are probably confiscated weapons.” Royce’s eyes scanned the horizon. “Laramie will have to corroborate your story.” Royce sucked deeply for air. “Now, go.”
“I don’t want to leave you.”
“It’s our only chance. Call dispatch and get Nick. Have an 'officer down’ dispatch released. That will bring every county deputy in the area. I’ll be at the Queen’s Star Mine. Inside. The terrain is difficult and might even be impossible for Yancy. Once I get there, I can wait it out in the shaft.”
Hertha’s lips pressed against Royce’s cheek. She whispered of her love into the deputy’s ear. Her eyes filled. “I don’t want last night to end. Please come back to me.”
“I’ll be back. Your embrace will bring me back. I’ll prove your theory that love will bring me back alive.” Royce gave a final smile. “I promise.” She squeezed Hertha to her and then released her slowly. “Now, use your best Ute instincts,” she directed with a tense smile. “Smoky knows the way back from here. Just keep saying 'home’ and 'Gran,’ and Smoky will led you there. Take care.”
“I’ll be waiting for you.”
Royce watched for a second as Hertha followed Smoky’s gallop down the trail toward the cabin. She had given Smoky a quick hug. The pup had turned once to look back at Royce but sensed the urgency in Royce’s command to run. She scampered toward safety.
Royce needed to create a diversion, she thought, as she heard a distant gunshot. She lifted a chunk of granite and pitched it against a boulder. She was relieved when she heard Yancy behind her. As she zig-zagged through the brush, she chastised herself for not seeing what had become obvious. A classic case, she impeached, of excluding a suspect. It only took one, she thought as she made a dive between two boulders. She would sprint until she made it to the rock-encrusted wall ahead. There she would scale her way over the peak and to the Queen’s Star Mine. It would offer a hiding place, if her timing was correct. If not, it would be her tomb. The expression 'shooting fish in a rain barrel’ came to mind.
At least Hertha and Smoky were safe for the time being. If Royce couldn’t escape, perhaps the evidence would be sufficient to clear Hertha of Yancy’s intended allegation. No one knowing the vet would believe her capable of murder, much less the murder of Royce. And Yancy was wrong, Royce allowed her thoughts to skirmish with her hopes. Timber City was not 'plenty white’ as Yancy accused. Ray had been befriended by Timber City and defended by those who knew him.
Knowing that she had at least been correct about Ray’s innocence made her feel a little less foolish. As she ran, Royce considered how she had failed to see the flares. She had trusted Yancy Sumner. If she would have read the clues earlier, she chastised, perhaps Osborn might have been saved. If she could have seen it, it might have saved those she loved from this.
A bough lashed her face as she sprinted. She wiped the dripping blood from her cheek. The wound continued bleeding. She felt the tickle as blood threaded down her face. She felt that trail of blood but couldn’t feel the sting.
Chapter 24
Royce fought exhaustion’s kick. Scaling the rugged rocky curtain was rapidly sapping her strength. The jagged steepness provided her with cover. Each time a bullet whizzed by, splattering chunks of granite, Royce bunched her body into a stony cubbyhole. Her pounding heart had not stopped its drumroll since a hoary marmot scampered across her path. That had sent a shockwave through her system. As the high altitude took its toll, her ascent slowed. But the rarefied air and steep climb had also slowed Yancy.
Royce’s mind clotted with memories. She drew phrases from those she loved in order to prime her courage. She knew that once she entered the mine’s pocket of death, she was trapped. She would need that courage. Gran had told her that storms don’t last forever. Anyone can outlast a storm. Gwen, with her ribbon of galleys, lectured on careful evaluation. Molly preached that her love would be there, win or lose. Grady always said that if you know your way back, you can go anywhere. Smoky expected Royce to survive. The irony would be that Smoky had nearly been killed by Yancy’s poison, yet she had provided the clue that triggered a solution and she had also created the diversion that allowed their escape. Royce owed survival to Smoky.
Valeria had chided, cajoled, and encouraged Royce to grow up and be totally independent. Royce was now functioning alone. She would face the ultimate test of being independent. It was mandatory, for there was no backup. Royce then thought of Hertha. Hertha’s eyes had told Royce that love would bring her back. Each thought was a souvenir of love. Each memory was a heart-sent lifeline.
Royce continued to grasp at hope. She thought of the tiny purple saxifrage. Rooted in the cleft of rocks, the small wildflowers clung tenaciously to life. Could she expect less of herself?
Royce answered that question as she approached the Queen’s Star Mine. She climbed hurriedly, scattering mine tailings. Stones rolled like marbles down the hill of rocks. When Royce heard a bullet whistling by, she realized that Yancy was not as far behind as she had hoped. He had also made the steep climb. Glancing back over her shoulder, she realized her best hope would be to enter the mine’s dark womb. Yancy couldn’t see to shoot there, and it would take him much longer to find her. She was buying time. They were each buying their own survival.
Royce pulled back the rotted boards that sealed the mine’s adit. She shuddered at the dark. She lowered her body into the tomb-like entry. As a child, disobeying her family, she had explored this mine. But she had used ropes and flashlights, and friends had been with her. She was glad now that she’d been disobedient. At least she knew the general layout of the mine.
With sobering resolve, Royce began her journey. She had an eerie thought of dying the way her brother had died—in a darkened enclosure. Royce openly confronted the thoughts that she had subconsciously contemplated. Had she taken his air, space, and nourishment? Had she robbed her twin of life? Would forfeiting her life now be compensatory punishment? Ending the sublime mystery called life in a dark, dank cavern of death, would that be retribution?
She gasped for another breath of the thin air. She knew what she would want if the situation were reversed. She would want her brother to live and for him to avenge their father’s murder.
Her body ached and her lungs felt constricted. Royce took a crosscut, carefully feeling her way along the stone walls. There was a small drift where miners had once followed after veins of gold. She had hoped to find it and fortunately had. Chances were slight that Yancy would fall down a winze or be unable to find her. It was only a matter of time until he would search her out. He had also played in abandoned mines as a child.
She would need to create a diversion if she wanted any possibility of fighting Yancy off. She could feel the rotted timber bracing. It had loosened with time. She knew she must act quickly, for Yancy was pulling another board from the entrance.
Royce kicked the lower part of the post. She heard the crumbling roof creak. It could bury them both, she thought. But if she was going to be killed, it would be better to take Yancy with her. At least Hertha would be spared.
Royce pulled at the splintery post again. And again the sagging upper timbers groaned. It would work, she thought. She wished she had worn a belt.
Remembering the wading suspenders in her back pocket, Royce planned her attack. All she needed to do would be to wrap them around the post and when Yancy entered, she would yank the suspenders and it would collapse the timber brace. She would charge him and attempt to wrestle the gun away. If she were lucky, the tumbling wood and stone might even club him.
She pressed the end of the suspenders between the rock wall and the rotted timber support. Diligently, she tried and failed at getting the suspenders pushed through the small crack. Looking down at her wrist, she realized she could use the silver bracelet. She twisted the edges back flat and then secured the end of the suspenders through the silver wire band. Directing the flattened bracelet through the crack, she pulled the suspenders’ tip through the narrow slit. She untied her bracelet and clamped it back onto her wrist.
Royce gave a sigh of relief. Quickly she tied the suspenders. Moving as far back and to the side as she could, she crouched down and held the suspenders’ end in her fist.
“Come on out,” Yancy bellowed. “You know I got you.” His voice was nearing her. He’d entered the mine.
“I’ll come out on one condition. Tell me what Trish had on you.
“Yeah. I’ll tell you. Hell, this confession will only be heard by you. Why not. You got a right to know.”
“It has to do with my father.”
“Yeah. But you gotta understand, I idolized Grady. Wouldn’t have wanted him hurt. You gotta know how it went down. See, Luther was runnin’ drugs. I was standing guard. Grady comes up on a deal one night. I didn’t know he was tryin’ to infiltrate. I don’t know what the dealers are up to. I shoot before I even know who it is.”
“One shot didn’t do it. You went to him, near enough to recognize him and fired two more times.”
“Had to. He’d seen me. I couldn’t face him again after that.” Royce surmised that Grady had found out about the meeting place, realized that it was on abandoned property that his father had purchased, and looked up the law regarding that.
“Yancy, my father was on to you. He knew. And he suspected you, or he would have informed you. Had you back him up. Yancy, he would have busted you. You shot him down in cold blood. Like the coward you are, you shot my father without even giving him a chance. But he was on to you, Yancy. Remember that. He would have nailed you.” There was a moment’s silence. Royce hadn’t wanted to talk so long, but the tradeoff was that her message had rattled Yancy. She wanted him as confounded as possible. “Where does Trish figure in?”
“She found out about the killing. Luther spilled it once when we had a falling out. Damn hothead. Well, Trish was okay with it until she gives up drugs. Then she starts in about leavin’ Luther. Tells me if I don’t get Luther to divorce her, she’s gonna spill her guts.”
�
�And after you killed my father, you made an anonymous call. Your tip to the officials linked my father to drugs. Your idol Grady.”
“Yeah. Tried to get the CBI on another track. I never once took drugs. Just didn’t see 'em runnin’ and offered a little protection. I got compensated for that.”
“Yancy, you want to hear about your compensation?” Royce was angry and she wanted him angry too. She also wanted to prolong the conversation. “Yancy, you think that Jade might be your child. And she probably is. Your compensation has come home. Jade is now doing the drugs that you didn’t see. That you gave free passage.”
There was a moment’s pause before Yancy’s incredulous voice boomed, “You know that for certain?”
“I know that for certain.”
“Come on out now,” he shouted.
She realized from his voice that he had stayed near the entrance. Expecting her to give herself up. “Yancy, I’m not going to make this easy for you.”
“You said you’d come out if I confessed.”
“I lied.”
Now he was coming for her.
Glancing up, she could see the faint pattern of the timber brace as it teetered. She heard Yancy’s boots as the soles crunched bits of rock. As soon as she heard Yancy beneath the brace, she pulled. The rotted post snapped. The upper beam unloaded a hundred pounds of rock and dust as it dropped and struck Yancy. He grunted as he fell. Royce darted toward him and her foot stepped on his hand. She struggled and then retrieved the rifle. He was flat on his stomach, his legs covered with crumbled rock and timber. He tried to press his body into a kneeling position.
“Don’t move,” Royce ordered. She reached behind him and into his back pocket. Pulling the handcuffs, she then cuffed his hands behind his back. She took the gun from his waistband and stuck it into hers. She kicked the rocks and debris that covered his legs.
“My head ...”