by D P Lyle
“Eight minutes,” Harper said.
“What’s it going to be?” Cain asked.
Dixon shook his head. “Not going to happen.”
“So, go ahead,” Harper said. “It’s the plan after all. Tyler’s plan. And he’s the band leader.”
“Actually, the plan is to give you a chance,” Dixon said. “Let you run while we hunt you down.”
“Your sense of fair play is heartwarming,” Harper said. “Bet your parents are thrilled with the way you turned out.”
Dixon dug the toe of his boot into her ribs. “You’re making this so easy.” He stood, looked down at them. “This is going to be fun.” He climbed the stairs. Not all the way. Just to the top rung. Still able to turn his head and see them. Raindrops tapped against the bill of his cap.
“Here’s the way I see it,” Cain said. “They’ll release us. Probably all three of us at the same time.”
“And if they don’t? If they do it one at a time?”
“Then we’re in trouble.”
“So you don’t have a plan B?”
“You and I’ll be fine. Either they’ll never find us, or we can take them one by one.”
“Your confidence isn’t very comforting.”
“You’ve been in dicier situations.”
Harper gave him a wry smile. “Remind me when that was.”
“It’s Chelsie that’ll need help. She’s not cut out for this.”
“What’s plan A then?”
The whine of the engine dropped, the ride smoothed. A sharp turn to port. The engine idled, then reversed, and soon the stern hull crunched against land.
Dixon came back down the stairs. “It’s showtime.”
CHAPTER 64
“Martin,” Laura Cutler said with a nod.
Martin Stenson stood at his open doorway, his confusion obvious. His gaze moved back and forth between Cutler and Rankin. “Chief, Jimmy, what brings you out on a night like this?”
“We need to talk,” Cutler said.
“About what?”
“Maybe inside,” Cutler said.
Stenson stepped back. Cutler and Rankin entered the cavernous foyer.
“What’s going on?” Stenson asked.
“Maybe we should sit.”
Stenson hesitated, his confusion deepening. “Okay.”
Cutler and Rankin shed their jackets, hanging them on the coat rack adjacent to the door. Stenson led them into his den. Stuffed heads covered the walls. Deer, boar, Bighorn sheep. A bearskin hung over a wooden rack just left of a massive river-rock fireplace. They sat in deep leather chairs around an oak coffee table.
“Where’s Tyler?” Cutler asked, getting right to it.
“Home, I suspect. Unless he’s out somewhere.”
“He’s out,” Cutler said. “And he screwed up big time.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
Cutler laid it out. What they had seen in Tyler’s barn. That Cain and Harper had been there, Cain’s car abandoned, the pair now unaccounted for.
“I don’t understand,” Stenson said.
“Did you know that Tyler once worked at a tattoo parlor?” Cutler asked. “While he was at Princeton?”
“No. Why would he? He didn’t need a job.”
“I don’t know why. All I know is that he has a bunch of tattooing equipment in his barn. And a cage that’s equipped as a prison. Now he’s off somewhere with Ted Norris.”
“We saw them leaving his place,” Rankin said. “In his SUV.”
Deep lines creased Stenson’s face. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying it looks like Tyler could be the guy we’re looking for.” She sighed. “The one that hunted those women.”
Stenson shook his head. “No. That’s not possible. Not Tyler. He’d never.”
“Then he can tell us that,” Cutler said. “But right now we need to find him.”
“I’ll call him,” Stenson said.
“We tried,” Rankin said. “He’s not answering.”
“He will if it’s me.”
Cutler shrugged, waved a hand saying go ahead.
Stenson called, listened for a minute, then said, “Tyler, when you get this contact me immediately.” He disconnected the call and laid his phone on the table.
“Any idea where he’d go?” Cutler asked. “He and Norris?”
“If they were trying to whack a couple of folks?” Rankin added.
“Aren’t you jumping to conclusions?” Stenson said.
“Are we?” Cutler asked. “I’m open to another explanation of the facts.”
Stenson stared at her, saying nothing. His shoulders sagged.
“So, any ideas?” Cutler asked.
He shook his head. “Hank Dixon might know. He and Ted are tight.” He reached for his phone. “I can call him.”
“Maybe not,” Cutler said. “We’ll drop by his place and surprise him. Maybe that’s where Tyler and Norris were headed.”
Stenson leaned forward and massaged his temples, staring at the floor, his pain palpable. He looked up. “You don’t really think Tyler did any of this, do you?”
“I don’t know.” She stood. “That’s why I need to talk with him.”
Stenson stood, a bit unsteady. He walked them to the door.
Cutler hesitated in the open doorway and turned toward Stenson. She laid a hand on his arm. “Look, we don’t know for sure. All we want to do is find him, talk to him, and see if he can make sense out of this.”
Stenson nodded.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d call me if you hear from him,” Cutler said.
“I will.”
CHAPTER 65
They did indeed release the three of them together.
Not before Tyler explained the “rules of the game,” as he called them.
Cain and Harper, Chelsie between them, stood on a rocky shoreline; a thick, pine forest waited behind them. They faced the three hunters, each gripping a crossbow. The nearest land Cain could see was a good eight-hundred yards away. Not a viable option since the bad guys had a boat. Not that that would be Cain’s choice anyway. Better to get them into the trees. Where he and Harper had an advantage. Of sorts.
The rain now hard, the wind gusting. Felt like a real storm was coming in. Good cover. For both sight and sound.
“You’ll get a ten minute start,” Tyler said. “Then we’ll come. If you get away, you win. If you don’t, we do. Simple. Straightforward. Any questions?”
“You can’t be serious,” Chelsie said. “You’re going to hunt us?”
Tyler smiled. “We are.”
“And we’re just supposed to run?” She set her jaw. “I won’t do it.”
Tyler took a single step forward. “You will. Or we’ll shoot you right here.”
A sob escaped Chelsie’s throat. “When did you lose your fucking mind?”
Another step forward. “We can either go for a clean kill, or one that’s more painful.” He smiled. “If I were you, I wouldn’t press your point any further.”
Cain laid a hand on Chelsie’s arm. She flinched.
Cain caught Dixon’s eye. Raised an eyebrow.
Dixon smiled. “I’m feeling particularly lucky tonight. I think I’m going to win the entire hundred K.”
“Like the Old West,” Harper said. “We have a price on our heads.”
Tyler gave her a nod. “That’s the perfect way of putting it.”
Harper stared at him. “So do you.”
Tyler raised his arm, pushed up the sleeve of his jacket, and fingered his watch. “Your ten minutes starts…now.”
Cain and Harper each grabbed one of Chelsie’s arms and dragged her into the trees.
“Where are we going?” Chelsie asked.
“Follow Harper,” Cain said. “I’m right behind you.”
“We’re going to open some distance,” Harper said. “So keep up.”
They were off. Harper led the way through the trees, over bumps and piles of limestone. Cain
flashed on Cindy Grant. Running for her life. Barefoot. At least Tyler had left them clothed and shoed. Another strategic error on his part.
They covered several hundred yards before Harper stopped in a small clearing.
“Why are we stopping?” Chelsie asked.
“Just do exactly as we say,” Cain said. “First thing is, we’re going to hide you. Then we’ll handle these guys.”
“They have bows,” Chelsie said.
“And they’re full-on amateurs,” Harper said.
“And you’re not?”
“Not even close,” Harper said.
“I don’t understand.”
Cain grabbed her arm and led her into the trees. He found a slight depression in the ground. He nodded toward it. “Lay down.”
“What? It’s wet and smelly.”
Cain gripped her upper arm. “We don’t have time to explain everything. If you want to get out of this, lay down. Right there. We’ll cover you with leaves. Don’t move, don’t make a sound. We’ll come back for you.”
“You’re going to leave me here?”
Harper stepped near her. “Chelsie? Look at me. We can’t maneuver and keep an eye on you. You need to be off the radar. Out of sight.”
“And if they kill you? What am I supposed to do?”
Harper grasped the sides of her face, got close. “Do what we say. Get down and stay down. We’re going to set up an ambush.”
“They have weapons. We have nothing.”
Cain knelt, twisted the heel of one boot and then the other, removing the two knives secreted inside. He handed one to Chelsie, the other to Harper. “Now we do too.”
“I’m scared,” Chelsie said.
“Good,” Harper said. “Lay down. Now.”
Chelsie did. Cain and Harper scooped wet leaves and pine needles over her. To Chelsie’s credit, she finally got it, let them do their work. They covered her entire body, leaving only her face exposed. Cain broke off a well-needled pine branch.
“Close your eyes and relax,” Cain said. She did and he placed the final piece of her camouflage over her face. “Can you breathe okay?”
“I guess. But it tickles.”
“Whatever you do, don’t move,” Harper said. “No matter what happens.”
“I won’t.”
“We’ll be back soon.”
“Let’s go,” Cain said.
The plan was simple. Cain circled left, Harper right. Backtracking and flanking the trio. No doubt the three of them would split up. It was a competition after all, so each was left solo, and vulnerable.
The rain beat against the tree canopy, thunder rumbled overhead. Cain wound his way through the pines, careful to step on the wet needles. He moved laterally until he could make out water between the trees, then backtracked toward the hunters. Flanking their most likely path. A hundred yards father and he veered inland, an encircling move. He stopped, listened. Nothing. Another fifty yards, another halt. He repeated this until he finally heard footsteps. Heading his way. He settled behind a pair of twisted trees, peered between their trunks. He removed one of the “T-Pokers” from his belt buckle, fisting its handle, the blade protruding between his index and middle finger. He waited.
Hank Dixon came through the trees, angled just to Cain’s right. He clutched his bow in one hand, the other pushing aside branches. His head swiveled. On the hunt. Unaware of Cain. He moved forward, gaze aimed down, carefully stepping over the uneven terrain, scattered with limestone and undergrowth. He passed within ten feet of where Cain crouched.
Cain sprang. He slammed his left elbow into the back of Dixon’s head. Air whooshed from his lungs and he tumbled forward, face down. The bow slipped from his grasp. Cain was on him.
Cain used his own weight to press Dixon’s body against the ground. He felt the firmness of the gun Dixon had stuffed beneath his belt in the small of his back. So much for a fair hunt. He guessed crossbows weren’t enough of an advantage for these guys.
Cain grabbed a handful of Dixon’s hair, pulled his head back, and pressed the knife’s point into the soft recess of his neck. Just over the carotid artery.
“Not a sound,” Cain said.
Dixon, initially stunned, now began to resist. Tried to twist free. The blade punctured his skin. He froze.
“Are you feeling lucky now?” Cain asked.
“Please,” Dixon said.
“Please what?”
“Let me go. I’ll help you find Tyler and Ted.”
“I think Harper and I can handle that.”
“I’ll tell the truth. I promise. Everything. The whole story.”
“You mean like how you guys purchased and hunted young women? That story?”
“It was Tyler. He bought them.”
“I know. But you and Norris joined the hunt. And placed bets on it.”
“I’m sorry. I really am. I’ll surrender to the police. Whatever you want.”
“Too late for that,” Cain said.
“No, please.”
“Tell me,” Cain said. “Are Norris and Tyler carrying guns, too? Or is it just you that’s breaking your so-called rules?”
Dixon hesitated.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Please. I’ll do whatever you want.”
In a perfect world, taking Dixon in, letting him spill his guts, would be a viable option. But leaving him here, able to re-enter the fray, yell, whatever, was an unacceptable risk. And, of course, there was that whole karma thing.
“I wish I had time to chat,” Cain said, “but I don’t.”
The blade sliced through Dixon’s carotid. Blood gushed and spurted. Dixon bucked, Cain held tight. Twisted the blade, yanked it free.
Took only a couple of minutes for Dixon to fall limp. Done.
Cain wiped blood from his hand on a wad of damp pine needles. He stood. Now to find Norris and Tyler. And Harper. She had no idea that both men were armed with something more lethal than a crossbow.
CHAPTER 66
Ted Norris. Harper heard him well before she could see him. Winding through the pines that were less dense here. He lumbered down the slope toward where she had secreted herself behind a limestone outcropping. He wasn’t overly concerned with stealth. She’d seen it before. The arrogance of the hunter when he believed he had all the advantages over his prey. Led to mistakes. Unnecessary exposure to ambush or counter-attack. She couldn’t imagine him being a very good deer hunter, let alone humans.
Lightning flickered overhead, strobing off the trees and Norris’ face. He recoiled from the flash.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he said.
Thunder rumbled through. Loud and sudden. Almost strong enough to vibrate the cool, damp rocks she pressed her cheek against.
He was now only fifty feet up the slope. He spun, looking in every direction. Not sure which way to go now. Then he casually unzipped his fly and took a leak.
Harper waited. Which way would he go? Hopefully, toward her. She didn’t want to track him anymore. She wanted to end this. She pulled the rock she fisted against her chest. Come on.
Norris zipped up, propped his crossbow over one shoulder, and shuffled down the slope. Its steepness caused him to step almost sideways as he descended. Loose rocks tumbled ahead of him. Unsure of his footing, his attention focused on each step.
When he reached her, she leapt toward him, slamming the rock against his face. He staggered, but didn’t go down. The blood that erupted from his eyebrow looked black in the darkness. He raised his arm in reflex, self-defense, but it didn’t help. She punched him in his larynx. He dropped the bow, bent over, and clutched at his throat, gagging and wheezing.
Harper tossed the rock aside and snatched up the crossbow. She stepped a few feet away, removed one of the four bolts that protruded from the holder beneath the right limb, and fitted it into position. She levered back the string and leveled it at the center of his chest.
“Hello,” Harper said.
He could finally breathe a
nd straighten up, unsteady on his feet, pain and confusion on his face. “What the fuck?”
“Isn’t like hunting deer, is it? They tend not to fight back.” She froze his gaze with her own. “Neither do scared and naked young women.”
He actually sneered at her. Amazing. “So, what are you going to do? Kill me?”
“I’d like to. I really would. Fact is, you’re lucky you ran into me instead of Cain. He wouldn’t hesitate.”
“So what? You think you can simply march me out of here? Little old you?”
“No. But I can do this.”
She shot him in the thigh.
He recoiled, moaned. “What the hell?” He clutched at the bolt, blood seeping between his fingers.
“I can shoot you in the throat if you’d rather.” She settled another bolt into position.
“You’re one crazy bitch.”
“I’m flattered. I truly am.”
His hand disappeared behind his back. It reappeared with a Glock, its muzzle swinging up toward her. She shot him. In the throat.
He staggered. The gun thudded against the ground. His chest heaved, each wheezing breath a red spray. He listed left, fell. His gaze found her, eyes wide. His pupils dilated into two unseeing black pools.
She picked up the Glock, stuffed it into her belt, and, holding the crossbow in her left hand, climbed the slope. She didn’t get far before she sensed movement. To her right. A form stepped from the trees. Cain.
He walked to where she stood. She pointed down to where the late Ted Norris lay.
“Two down, one to go,” Cain said.
“Which one?” Harper asked.
“Dixon.”
She nodded. “He have a gun?”
“He did.”
She patted the Glock. “Norris, too. So we have to assume Tyler is similarly armed.”
“Be surprised if he wasn’t.”
CHAPTER 67
“You don’t really believe any of that, do you?” Rankin asked. “That Tyler might not be the guy?”
They were in Rankin’s car headed back toward town, toward Hank Dixon’s place.
“No, I don’t,” Cutler said. “There’s just too much that points his way.” She shook her head. “He had a fucking cage, for Christ’s sake.”