by D. K. Hood
Jenna sighed. “Dammit! I figured one of our two suspects would have made a move by now.”
“The killer will make a move sooner or later. Maybe he made us, and if so this guy is even smarter than we’ve given him credit for.” Kane sounded calm as usual. “Webber, what’s your position?”
Nothing.
Jenna frowned. Even over the noise of the falls, Webber should hear the com in his ear. “Webber, this is Alton. Do you copy?”
A terrible rush of unease drifted over her. “I’ll head for Emily now. Emily, do you copy? Turn around and come back. I’ll meet you on the trail.” Jenna dashed out of her hiding place and hurtled down the mountain.
“I’m okay. There’s nobody here and the old bridge is a few yards away. I’ll be heading down the cut-through track in a few moments.”
Jenna hit her mic. “Webber’s not answering, something might have happened. Wait where you are until you hear from me, Em.”
Forty-Seven
He adjusted the earpiece and slapped the com pack taken from Webber to his belt then smiled into the shadows. He’d moved through the forest like a ghost, not making a sound. Of course, he’d made the sheriff and her deputy. It was hard to miss a man of Deputy Kane’s size running up a trail. Where the sheriff was, Kane was never far behind. They’d taken different paths and he’d had a momentary pang of regret for spoiling their attempts to catch the leader of Team Rapist, but he had his own plans for the spoiled, rich quarterback. He looked down at Webber’s body. The noise from the rapids had made it easy to creep up behind him and engage the chokehold. The man was stronger than he’d anticipated but not as strong as him, and soon Webber’s knees had buckled and he’d succumbed.
He dragged Webber’s body deeper into the forest and then kicked leaves over the double tracks his heels had dug into the forest floor. He’d had no idea he was working for the cops and grimaced. How had he allowed him to slip under his radar? As he moved to the end of the cut-through track, the sheriff’s voice came in his ear, ordering Emily to turn back, but he could see her not ten yards from Lyons, who was leaning against a wooden post to the old bridge as if waiting for her. He pressed his mic and hoped he sounded like Webber. “I’m at the cut-through. I couldn’t come back before; Lyons was close by.”
“Roger that.” The sheriff sounded relieved. “I’ll keep out of sight and let it play out. Emily, head to the old bridge then cut through.”
He grinned. He’d fooled her.
“Roger that.” Emily’s voice came through his earpiece. “On my way.”
He moved through the trees, and as Emily ran by, he stepped out, snagged her by the arm, and covered her mouth in one slick move. Holding her hard against him, he pulled the com pack from her waist and tossed it into the rapids then pulled the pistol from the small of his back and pressed the muzzle to her temple. “Don’t move a muscle or your brains will mess up my shirt.” He could feel her heart pounding against him and her breathing was rapid. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way, Emily.”
Forty-Eight
At first, anger at herself raged through Emily. How could she have run straight into danger? The trail ahead had appeared clear. Where had he come from? Fear followed with the terrible knowledge she couldn’t fight her way out of this problem. The wide-gloved hand pressed so hard against her mouth, her teeth ached. She could smell leather and gunpowder. The way the man held her, with his solid strength behind her, told her that if she moved, he’d break her neck. Terror slammed into her as the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against her temple. She froze and listened to the instructions.
“I’m not here for you, Emily. I’m here for Seth Lyons.” The man pressed the steel harder against her skin. “I’ll let go but if you scream or try to run, I’ll shoot you. Understand? I have a suppressor on my weapon, the sheriff won’t hear a thing, and Webber is down. Now this is what I want you to do.” He kept the gun against her head. “Walk down to Lyons. Keep your hands where I can see them. I’ll be in the bushes with my weapon aimed at your head. I won’t miss. All I want you to do is distract him for a few moments so I can get close and then I’ll let you go. Act natural. Got it?”
Trembling, she nodded slightly and the hand on her mouth released a little. She’d lost her com, and with her hands pinned to her sides, she wouldn’t be able to alert anyone by using her tracker ring. She had no other choice but to comply, but her mind was working overtime. Webber was down. The thought he might be lying dead close by made her stomach roil. She would do what her dad had taught her: cooperate first and then the moment he was distracted, she’d try to escape. “Yes, I understand.”
Holding her arms out a little from her sides, she walked around the next bend and Lyons emerged from the bushes surrounding the old bridge. The banner hanging at the entrance with “Danger” written in red had frayed and dropped to the rotten wooden slats. Long strands of canvas flapped about in the wind, slapping the ground. Beyond, the decaying structure stretched out in ruins across the fast-flowing rapids over fifty feet below. As she moved closer to Lyons, the wind carried the spray to her face. She wanted to wipe the water from her eyes, but if she moved her hands, he might shoot her.
“Hi Emily.” Lyons gave her a slow smile. “I figured I’d wait for you so we could get to know each other better.”
Get something between you and the target. Emily heard her dad’s words filtering into her mind. Heart jackhammering, she moved closer to the entrance to the old bridge and leaned against one of the many pine trees lining the edge of the surging river. Her movement turned Lyons around, placing him between her and the gunman. The bushes opposite moved slightly and a man with the brim of a ball cap pulled down to shade his face moved toward them, but she couldn’t see a weapon in his hand. Are you the killer? She swallowed the panic in her throat and looked at Lyons’ smiling face. “I said I’d see you at the party. I like my space.”
“You’re a tease.” Lyons took a step closer. “Come here, I won’t bite.”
Adrenalin pumped through Emily, blind panic melted away, and her path became clear. She took a step to one side. Her only option was to run. “There’s a man behind you with a gun.”
“A what?” Lyons spun around and glared at the man. “What the hell do you want?” He walked toward the man and pushed him hard in the chest.
“That’s the last mistake you’ll ever make.” The other man lashed out, hitting Lyons in the face.
Emily pressed her emergency tracker ring and then turned to leap over the danger sign. She ran onto the rickety old suspension bridge. It swayed in protest and underfoot the rotten treads creaked as the bridge shuddered. Wind lashed at her and icy spray whipped up from the rapids, drenching her in seconds. She slipped and then made the mistake of looking down to the treacherous rocks and swirling water below. Unable to move, she hunched down, clinging to the railing, and then sucked in a few deep breaths to calm her shattered nerves. The noise from the rapids thundered in her ears and she doubted her dad would be able to hear any communication from her tracker, but she’d try. “Dad, if you can hear me, I’m stuck on the old suspension bridge. I’ve lost my com. Lyons and another guy got into a fight. I think the guy has a gun.” She gritted her teeth. “I’m scared but I’m going to try and get to the other side and away from them.”
Petrified, she moved in slow motion and looked ahead to the other side of the ravine. It seemed to be so far away, and many of the slats on the bridge had fallen into the river long ago. She wrapped one arm around the blackened railing and stood. The bridge moaned in protest and swung dangerously to one side. She had to make it across and moved on, step by step, testing each slat before she went to the next. Behind her the sounds of the fight came through the rush of water, and she turned to see Lyons taking a beating from the stranger.
As she turned back, the suspension bridge swayed dangerously and her palms slipped on the soaked moss and slime-covered handrail. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would burst through her chest but
she shuffled along, picking her way over the missing slats. The closer she came to the middle, the more the wind buffeted her as if it was trying to rip her from the bridge and toss her into the river. It was so cold, she couldn’t feel her fingers anymore and her knees shook with each step.
The next moment an almighty ripping sound split the air and wood splinters shot past her then rushed away in the wind. The bridge jolted her to her knees and, losing her grip, she slipped in an uncontrollable slide toward a gaping hole. She grabbed at air as the supports for the handrails rushed by and then came another ripping sound. The bridge moved again, tumbling her from one side to the other. As she slammed into a support rail, she managed to loop one arm around the icy metal and came to a shoulder-wrenching halt inches from the hole and certain death.
Sobbing in terror, she looked over one shoulder and found the cause of the problem. The man did have a weapon. A knife glinted in the sunlight as he urged Lyons onto the bridge. Blood streamed from Lyons’ nose and he moved without care as if on a suicide mission. She raised her voice as loud as possible. “Stop running! The bridge will collapse.”
Letting out a wail of terror, Lyons ignored her, jumped over the missing slats, and headed toward her. Emily clung tight to the shuddering bridge. The wood beneath her feet bucked and creaked. The idiot would kill them. She stared through the clouds of mist behind Lyons. The man had vanished. She raised her voice in the hope Lyons would hear her. “It’s okay. No one is chasing you.”
He didn’t so much as acknowledge her presence and kept on coming, his expression wild. Blood dripped off his soaked face in a ghoulish crimson spray around him. Decayed wooden slats fell away, floating like confetti in the wind before tumbling into the rushing water below. She held up one hand to him. “Stop!”
The suspension bridge whined and she gaped in horror as the strands of woven, rusty metal in the cable supporting one side of the bridge appeared to stretch. Wires screeched and snapped as the cable unraveled before her eyes. She stared, frozen in terror, before her instinct to survive took over. She wrapped both legs around a wooden post and tightened her grip on the slippery railing as a loud twang like the snapping of an almighty guitar string cut through the roar of the rapids. She ducked just in time as the metal cable snapped and sliced through the air a foot above her head like a whip.
An almighty moan like the felling of a great tree shuddered through the bridge and then one side of it fell away. A cry came through the wind and, trembling, she looked down. Seth Lyons was hanging by one arm to the broken side of the bridge and trying desperately to pull himself to safety. Arms and legs aching, Emily pressed her head close to her tracker ring. “Help!”
Forty-Nine
When Wolfe’s voice came through Jenna’s earpiece, she glanced all around, worried someone might be close by. “Copy. Wolfe, what’s happened?”
“Emily’s in trouble. She’s on the old suspension bridge and the last communication I received from her was, ‘Help.’ She’s lost her com pack, and with the noise of the rapids, it’s difficult to hear her. I’m heading up the mountain and bringing a rope. Rowley is still in position.”
Jenna slid from her hiding place and ran down the mountain. “I’m on my way.”
“Me too.” She could hear Kane’s heavy breathing as he ran. “I’m almost at the cut-through.”
Jenna pressed her mic. “Roger that. Webber, head to Emily’s position.”
No response. What the hell had happened to him now? She ran down the straightaway, leaping over gnarled tree roots and avoiding the rocks. As she rounded the bend, she caught sight of a man standing at the entrance to the old bridge. She slowed, placed one hand on the weapon in her shoulder holster, and walked toward him. He was in his mid to late twenties with short, fair hair and could be a college student, but not one who’d come under her scrutiny. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to figure out how to save them.” He pointed to Emily and Lyons dangling on the broken bridge. “I’d have called 911 but my phone is in my truck.”
“Stand back, I’m the sheriff.” Jenna moved closer to the edge and took in the situation. “Help is on its way.”
“That guy dropped these.” He offered Jenna a pile of flash drives.
Jenna pushed them into her jacket pocket. “Thanks, now stand to one side.”
“Sure.” The man turned away and headed down the trail.
The next moment, Kane came thundering through the cut-through track and skidded to a halt. “I found Webber crawling out the forest. Someone knocked him out, but he’ll be okay. I told him to rest awhile and then head this way. Where’s Emily?” He moved to the edge of the ravine and peered at the bridge. “Jesus.”
Jenna turned to him. “We’ll have to talk Em into making her way back, but I’m not sure how we can assist Lyons until Wolfe gets here with a rope.” She frowned. “I’ll call the fire department.” She made the call then walked to the edge of the ravine and cupped her hands. “We’re coming, hold on.”
There was no time to waste, and without hesitation, Jenna stripped off her jacket and then removed her shoulder holster and handed it to Kane. “Give me your belt. I’m going to bring her in.” She looped Kane’s belt through her own. “I’ll attach Em to me and then she won’t be so scared.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Kane’s mouth turned down as he handed her his belt. He pulled out a small pair of binoculars and scanned the area. “Give it a few more minutes. She has herself in a good position and Wolfe will be here soon.” He turned his attention to Lyons. “It will be impossible to save them both at the same time.”
The loud creaking from the bridge was all Jenna needed to make up her mind. She looked up at Kane. “I made Wolfe a promise to watch out for her and I never break my word.” She took a deep breath and stepped out over the abyss.
“Then promise me you’ll take it slow and easy. Get Emily then we’ll try for Lyons. Don’t risk all your lives by trying to save them alone.” Kane’s face filled with anguish. “Promise me, Jenna.”
“Okay, okay, you have my word.” Clinging to the slippery handrail, she shuffled her feet along the metal bar attached to the dangling slats of the bridge. The rusty, wet, blackened bar did nothing to relieve her fear of heights, but she’d trained in worse conditions. She smothered her worry and moved on, taking precise, even steps. The wind pulled at her clothes as if trying to make her fall, and blasts of freezing, wet wind cut through her clothes. She kept her gaze fixed on Emily but the girl hadn’t moved and was staring at the rushing water as if paralyzed with fear. “Emily, I’m coming.”
She shouted to Emily to stand up and start moving toward her but the wind carried her words away. The bridge groaned and shuddered with each perilous step and Jenna had to fight against waves of rising panic. The memory of seeing Owen Jones’s recent fall into the rapids rushed over her without warning. The gut-clenching horror of seeing him falling into the icy water, colliding with boulders, and fighting to survive was so real. She gasped for air, her brain insisting she was going to die. Her knees wobbled and her grip lessened on the railing. In her earpiece, Kane’s voice broke through the hallucination.
“Jenna. Jenna, listen to my voice. Just hold on. Open your eyes. You’re almost there. Look, Emily has spotted you. Don’t reply, just keep going one step at a time. Come on, Jenna, you can do it.”
She turned her head to look at him, gathered her wits, and then nodded. Hands numb from the constant freezing blasts of water, she moved on. With Kane’s encouragement in her ear, she could face her fear and focus with absolute clarity. A third of the way across, she heard whimpering and looked down. Lyons dangled below her, his eyes desolate with fear. He was soaked through from the pounding rapids rushing by below, his face a bloody mess, and he was out of her reach. Right now, she had no way of saving him, and his life depended on how long he could cling to the rotting wood. All she could do was offer him encouragement. “Hang on. Help is on the way.”
Jenna worked u
p a rhythm—step, slide, step—as she moved down the slope to the middle of the bridge. Ahead, Emily had finally heard her yelling and was watching her. She could see the girl’s pale face, wide blue eyes, and soaked blonde hair. Wolfe’s petrified daughter would need a lot of encouragement to stand up and move. As she reached the center of the rapids, the squall became fierce as if she’d stepped into a wind tunnel. Her heart rate picked up to a dizzying speed. The swaying of the bridge was bad enough but seeing slats of wood rip away and tumble into the fast-flowing water terrified her. She looked at Emily, and the worry on Wolfe’s face flashed across her mind and bolstered her resolve. He was family and she refused to let him lose another loved one.
Ten more steps had her at Emily’s side. “Slowly hook one arm over the handrail and push yourself up.” She looped one arm in demonstration and then gripped Emily under one arm. “I have you.”
Jenna heaved a sigh of relief when Emily obeyed without a word. “Okay, now I’m going to loop Kane’s belt through yours, so we’re joined together.” The idea was more a comfort move because the belts wouldn’t take the weight if one of them fell. “Okay, we’re going to head back now. Your dad is waiting for you. Keep your hands and feet in contact all the time. Move one hand, then slide one foot along, then move the other hand, and so on.”
“It’s been moving.” Emily’s lips had turned blue with the cold. “Like jolting every few minutes. It did that just before it broke.”
Anxiety gripped Jenna’s stomach but she tried to make light of the dangerous situation. “I figure it’s the rotten wood breaking away but this side of the bridge is okay.” She took the first few steps, glad when Emily moved with her. “We’ll be off here in no time.”