by Nancy Allan
Leaning back, he reached into his breast pocket and produced a long, thin knife. Unsheathing it, he held it up. The blade glinted in the moonlight. “Before my career in Special Security, I was a meat cutter,” he informed her, as he examined the blade, stroking it. “and I enjoyed my work immensely.” With a single motion the knife sliced through the air and he slit her top from neckline to hem. “I was very good at what I did.”
He flicked the knife again, slicing her bra in half, exposing her breasts. “Ah, yes. My cuts are good, clean, very precise.” He opened his mouth and dropped down to suck her breast. He bit down hard. Amy screamed, a sound of raw terror filling the night. Tears of pain streamed from her eyes. She tried to push him off with her bound hands. He grabbed her wrists and flipped her arms over her head, pinning them there with one hand. With the other he drove the knife deep into the ground beside her cheek, then he grabbed her other breast, and twisted hard.
Amy writhed, her screams forming a conduit for the pain—an escape route for the agony he imposed on her. Deep inside, beneath the pain, she could feel the burning desire for revenge.
Panting, he released her wrists and reeled back onto his knees to unzip his jeans. He struggled to lower them, his eyes boring into hers, perspiration beading his forehead, his body emitting a nauseating stench. He threw his weight onto one knee and lifted the other in an attempt to drop the jeans down his thighs. Amy watched and waited. The second the pressure let up on her legs, she twisted free and scrambled, crab-like, across the ground. When she managed to get her legs underneath her, she ran.
He groped for the knife, yanked it out of the ground, and staggered after her. His jeans slipped to his knees, restricting his movement. He stumbled and went down. “Bitch. I’ll get you!”
Amy fled through the brush, running on adrenaline and raw fear, her feet flying under her. She dared not look back. She needed every precious moment of time and every ounce of energy to escape him.
The evening was silent except for the sound of her feet pounding the dry earth, her raspy breaths, and her thumping heart. For a while she thought she was free of him. Then, a cry broke through the darkness. “Whore, you can’t escape me. I’m coming!”
Hoping her numb feet wouldn't fail her, she ran down an embankment, tumbled a few feet, pushed herself upright with her bound hands, and continued downward. She could hear him above her now. Breathless and exhausted, she ducked beneath a rocky ridge and froze.
He stopped above her and called out. “I know you’re there.”
She held her breath. The silence was absolute. There was not a breath of wind. Somewhere below, a river flowed. But around her, nothing moved.
Not even him.
She heard his boots bite into the dirt as he paced back and forth on the trail above her. He stopped. The minutes ticked by. Then, suddenly, he was on the move. She could see his dark form cutting diagonally along the bank above her. He stopped again, turned, and then worked his way back to the top. When she thought he was beyond hearing range, she crept in the opposite direction, continuing downward, slowly and carefully, taking care not to make a sound. One snapping twig or rustling leaf would give her away. Placing each foot softly, one below the other, she descended in a crouch toward the river.
Growing colder, she became aware that she was exposed from the waist up. To zip her jacket she had to free her hands, so she put the frayed rope to her lips and tugged at the knots with her teeth until they loosened. The rope fell away and she zipped her jacket before continuing slowly down the bank. She could hear the river now and guessed she must be about thirty feet above it. There would be no cover down there, so she would have to move quickly. She traveled a few more feet and peered down. Below her, the river glistened platinum in the moon’s rays.
When the moon slipped behind the clouds, she darted around a large outcropping of boulders. The movement was too quick and her foot slipped between two rocks, dislodging one. It crashed downward. She froze, the sound deafening to her. He’ll hear it! She listened for his footsteps. Nothing. Where is he? She had to get out of there!
Amy bolted down the incline. If she could get to the riverbank, she could gain speed. Even if he spotted her, she was sure she could outrun him.
Suddenly the earth broke away from underneath her. A small landslide of mud, sand, and rock cascaded down the final fifteen feet, to the riverbank, taking Amy with it, depositing her at the bottom in a heap of mud and rocks. The moon broke clear of the cloud cover, swathing her in brilliant white light.
A large boot landed beside her and an ugly laugh sent terror through her heart. She leapt back. He grabbed at her, but she was faster this time. Twisting away from his grasp, she fled across the bank.
Quicker off the line than she thought he’d be, he caught up with her, threw his arms around her and lifted her off the ground. “Got you now, Bitch.”
Amy let fly with both arms and legs and gouged his eyes with her fingernails. As he dropped her, she drove her right knee into his groin. He howled like an animal and released her. Amy bolted across the bank.
He roared with rage and stumbled after her. Leaping into the air, arms wide, he tackled her, driving her to the ground. They rolled across the bank toward the river’s edge. Amy could see the water fast approaching. Good or bad? Good, she decided if she could break free of him when they hit the water. Bad if I can’t.
Suddenly, they were completely immersed in the icy, fast flowing river. The shock caused him to release her. His feet found the rocky bottom and he struggled upright, chest deep in water, choking.
Amy tried to swim away, but he grabbed her long hair and dragged her back. She broke the surface and saw his face in the moonlight, eyes wild, saliva and river water running from his mouth.
He’s going to kill me!
He lifted her out of the water, threw his head back, and shrieked in outrage. Then he pushed her into the river and held her there.
Amy was a strong swimmer and could hold her breath a long time, but she knew he wouldn’t let her re-surface. She kicked and fought his grasp. He pushed her deeper. Her lungs were bursting; she needed to breathe! I can’t hold on any longer. I can’t. She could see nothing, only blackness, then Jamie’s sweet face appeared. She tried to reach for him, but he was too far away. She tried again, but he disappeared. Suddenly, she was drifting. Jamie reappeared above her and she tried once again to touch him. She needed to feel him, to know he was okay. She swam toward him, breaking the surface of the water, her starving lungs inhaling air and the river. Gasping and choking, she drifted downstream. She looked around her and saw that she was free of her assailant. He was gone. But the river current had caught her, forcing her downstream.
The current flowed faster as it dropped toward the gorge. Above her was the highway overpass; ahead was the open sea. In a few minutes the incoming ocean would surge upstream and meet the out-flowing river in a head-on collision of forces. Many people had been caught in the powerful undertow and drowned. She had to get out. Now!
But the river hurtled her into the mid-stream. Choking, Amy kicked hard and pulled with long, strong strokes in the direction of the bank, hoping to find a back eddy. She gained about ten feet, but knew at the rate she was moving that she would never make it. Using every muscle in her body, working each one to its limit, drawing on all her body strength, she swam for shore. She had to get there before she was carried into the gorge. There, the constriction threw the river into a frenzy of standing waves, overfalls, and powerful undertows. She could never fight them. They would sweep her away like a piece of driftwood.
CHAPTER 25
The night was silent except for the odd footfall and crunch of leaves. Occasionally the moon threw white light across the landscape, but when it didn’t the team crept along, relying on their powerful searchlights. They moved systematically through the scrub, taking care not to destroy the subtle clues left behind. Whether it was a footprint in the soil, a hair caught on a branch, a leaf bent backward—each small clu
e created a trail for them to follow. Often they wasted many precious minutes on the wrong path and had to return to the last point and try another route.
Frustrated by their slow progress, Dallas unclipped his radio. “Where the hell is Search and Rescue?”
“ETA thirty minutes, Sheriff.”
“That’s what you said thirty minutes ago. Tell SAR that all they have to do is follow our yellow markers. When K-9 gets here, tell them we’ve got personal items from the vehicles so Max can pick up each scent. We need these guys here yesterday.” Dallas re-clipped the radio, stopped in his tracks, and looked around. “We haven’t seen anything for a good five minutes. We’re going the wrong way.”
A team member replied, “Maybe Sheriff, but we’re doing a heck of a lot better than we did following Matson. He had us going the other direction entirely. No wonder we didn’t find any trace of them.”
“When it comes to Matson everything’s a wonder,” Dallas grumbled. “The real problem is that the entire SAR team and the K-9 unit went to Mt Hood for an exercise. Somebody’s supposed to stay behind in case of an emergency.”
Deputy Larson, who’d caught up with the team said, “When do we ever have an emergency, Sheriff?”
“Well what do you call this, a night hike?” Dallas barked in frustration and retraced his steps. The small footprints they were following belonged to Amy. The large imprints were made by a man’s heavy boots. Dallas fought down the bitter taste that rose to the back of his throat. Judging by the size and pressure of the boot prints, he guessed her pursuer to be well over six feet and probably a good two hundred and seventy-five pounds. Werner. The markings indicated both of them were on the run. Amy was running for her life from the killer. Her only hope would be to outrun Werner, then use the darkness and groundcover to hide.
Dallas feared he and his deputies were too far behind her and much too late. Flashing his light across the ground he battled an impulse to race after her. He caught sight of a clearing on his left and moved quickly to it. Each of the deputies turned their lights onto the ground in front of Dallas. “Lordlovin…”
“Looks like he caught up with her, Sheriff.” Larson commented.
Examining the impressions and markings left on the ground, Dallas could see there had been a struggle. He squatted down and shone his light over the area. No blood.
“Look over here, Sheriff.”
Dallas stood. Two small footprints were visible. Two larger ones had stepped on them. “She’s on the run again. Let’s go.”
With a dire sense of urgency Dallas pressed on, using as much speed as he dared without losing the trail. Again he fought the desire to run, knowing that if he did so he would lose her trail instantly in the darkness. The minutes ticked by with excruciating slowness as they followed the footprints to the ridge.
Dallas didn’t want to think about what had happened to Amy in the clearing. Instead, he concentrated on the fact that she had escaped the attacker and was once again on the run. His gut told him this man would kill her the second he caught her.
They had to catch up fast!
Larson interrupted his thoughts. “They went down the bank, Sheriff.”
Dallas shone the light over the rocks unable to see which way she went. The team moved with care trying to sight a clue as to the direction. Suddenly a howl—angry and feral—shattered the night.
Dallas stepped off the ridge, half-running, half-sliding down the embankment, sending rocks rolling ahead of him. A second howl split the air.
Drawing his gun, Dallas scrambled down the bank. A second later he saw movement in the river. A large man broke the surface, dragging an object up with him.
Amy!
Never slowing, Dallas leapt down onto a rocky ledge as the attacker shoved her underwater and held her there.
“Freeze!” Dallas shouted. “Stand up with your hands over your head. NOW!” He aimed the barrel of the gun at the man’s heart. “I said now!” He moved the gun a hair and fired a warning shot.
The man lurched sideways and disappeared into the river along with Amy.
Dallas catapulted off the ledge and raced down the grassy bank, his eyes on the slight figure drifting near the surface. She was almost midstream. He couldn’t swim fast enough to catch up to her. The only hope was to run along the riverbank and beat her downstream.
Racing against time and distance, his feet barely touching the ground, arms pumping, lungs bursting, he fought to out-run her. Her head came up and her arms started to move lethargically. Suddenly, she saw him and started swimming toward shore.
Dallas looked up. The gorge was only twenty feet away. No time left! He threw off his heavy gunbelt and boots and leapt from the bank into the cold river. The frigid water tore his breath away, but he was close to her. He grabbed her arm and started back to shore, but the current caught them. Suddenly they were flying downstream.
Into the rapids.
They were flung feet first into an overfall. It sucked them under and held them momentarily, then spit them out. They surfaced gasping for air. Amy had Dallas’s shirt in her fist, but the forces against them were so powerful, the shirt was yanked out of her hand.
They were separated! Dallas felt it instantly and reached to catch her. He missed and dove for her, his hand clenching her belt. The deadly pull of the undercurrent caught them both and dragged them beneath the boiling surface. They somersaulted and tumbled, all the while being pushed deeper and deeper.
Amy slipped from his grasp again. Dallas felt his lungs bursting. He knew if they didn’t surface soon, they’d drown.
His shoulder struck a boulder and Amy flew into him. He grabbed her as a strong upsurge of water catapulted them toward the surface. A second later they broke through next to a snag of logs and tree branches. Coughing, choking, Dallas knew this was their last chance.
He grabbed hold of a thick log and pushed Amy up over it. Exhausted, choking, their lungs full of river water; they clutched it, their strength gone. Dallas knew they had to keep going. “Work your way toward shore,” he shouted over the roar of water.
With painful slowness they dragged themselves along the half submerged trees, the current pulling at their legs, trying to suck them back into the main stream.
Overwhelmed by cold and exhaustion, Amy slipped under water. Dallas caught her and pulled her back up, prodding her. “Come on, Amy, you can do it,” he gasped. “Do it for Jamie!”
Deputy Larson appeared on the shore, followed by the rest of the team. They waded into the river and dragged Amy and Dallas the last few feet to shore.
Amy collapsed onto the ground. Dallas took the survival pack and a warm jacket from Larson. “Here,” Dallas told her, stripping off some of her wet clothes. “Put this on before you get hypothermic.” He pulled her to her feet.
Amy collapsed against him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. She could barely stand. “Forget hypothermia,” she said through chattering teeth. “I need a hug.”
The hike back to the road seemed to take forever. A dry jacket helped, but wet jeans and the chilly night air prevented them from warming up. Dallas was cold to the bone. He couldn’t see Amy’s face in the dark, but he could feel her shaking as he half carried her slowly up the path.
Not far from the river, Max bounded toward them, followed by his handler, Greg. “We gave up on the markers, Sheriff, and followed the racket. Could hear you guys a mile away,” Greg told them. “SAR is right behind us.”
“I’m real glad you could make it,” Dallas said sarcastically.
“Ah, come on, Sheriff, you know we go to Mt. Hood every year. It was just bad luck that we were needed here. It’s never happened before.” He looked at Amy. “You find both of them?”
Dallas shook his head. “The perp either swam away or got washed out to sea. Personally, I hope it’s the latter. My guys are checking the riverbank. They’ve got his sweater, so Max can use that scent to pick up the trail, if there is one. Keep me posted. I’ll be at the hospital.”
“You should be checked over anyway. The Jeep’s totaled. You could have head or internal injuries.”
“I jumped before the Jeep hit. Landed in the bog. I’ll be okay, Dallas, really. The worst part is the cold.”
“I agree with that. Keep walking,” Dallas told her. “Search & Rescue aren’t far away. They’ll have dry clothes and hot packs.”
CHAPTER 26
Less than an hour later, Dallas pulled off the 101 at the Coastal Pacific Resort and Spa and stopped outside the office. The truck heater was blasting and even though Amy had changed out of her wet clothes into a pair of drawstring pants, T-shirt, and fleece shirt provided by the Search and Rescue team, Dallas could see that she wasn’t able to get warm.
“What are we doing here?” she asked.
“We’ve got to warm up. I’ll be right back.” The cold, wet jeans clung to him. Desk clerk Ira Florence found them fascinating. “Fly fishing, were we, Sheriff?”
“River rafting, Ira. In the dark. Sans raft. Give me one of those rooms with a spa.”
“Sure thing, Sheriff. Just scrawl your damp Henry on the bottom line and the honeymoon suite’s all yours.” She slid the registration form and a key across the counter.
Dallas pushed the key back to her, “I don’t want the damned honeymoon suite, Ira, just give me a room with one of those big, hot baths.”
“Spa. We don’t call them baths anymore.” Ira glanced at the woman sitting in the sheriff’s truck. “Here, take it, Sheriff. No extra charge.” She held out the key. “Nobody deserves it more ‘n you.”