by Jeff Carson
Finally, he edged his way closer to the top, and as the rocks thinned out he could see down the ridgeline. There was no cover beyond the final outcropping in front of him, and there’d be none on the rounded ridge above.
He ducked down behind a boulder and put the scope to his eye.
The signature was still there, much closer now, and when he clicked over to full zoom the shape of his ambusher sharpened.
His stomach twisted.
For a long few seconds, he stared through the glass, wanting the image to miraculously change, but his would-be sniper turned sideways, and the outline of a cow was unmistakable.
With heart pounding, he sat and aimed down at the valley floor, switching back and forth between the different settings on the scope. Still no movement or other heat signatures.
Perhaps somebody was down there, lying invisible under a thermal blanket after all.
His watch read 10:29.
Maybe he’d caught them in the act of setting up for him and nobody was there yet, which would’ve been beyond amateur.
Keeping the M4 raised and his finger on the trigger, he rose and walked to the top of the ridge.
A southern wind gusted on the peak, wicking the heat from his body, then settled into a steady breeze.
The landscape on the other side was more gradual and forgiving than the terrain he’d just climbed out of. A smooth hill descended and then flattened out where the shack beckoned.
Behind the structure was another ridge, much lower than where he was now, and beyond that were waves of moonlit mountains and Ashland’s pool of twinkling lights on the valley floor.
Keeping low, he raised the rifle and gazed through the scope again. Zooming in, he focused on the small building and saw three different heat signatures glowing through the wood façade. Two appeared to be standing and one was horizontal.
Rachette had been lying down on a bed of straw in the first picture. And now that they’d severed his pinkie, it stood to reason he’d be lying down. Which meant he was still alive. That was good. He took a breath of relief. Very good.
He did the math: Cormack Barker, Greg Barker, Cormack’s two brothers, and Ethan Womack. Add Rachette, and he was looking for six heat signatures and saw only three.
Not good.
Dialing back the zoom, he saw another blob of red near the shack, then another, then a dozen more. Cattle were roaming free, which explained the cow up here on the ridge.
He swept the scope back up the ridgeline towards the animal. It stood motionless, chewing away.
There was no vegetation on the ridge whatsoever, so what was it gnawing on all the way up here? And for nearly an hour while Wolf had climbed the mountain?
Wolf tensed and got to his feet, sensing that something was very wrong.
“Freeze, please,” a voice said behind him.
CHAPTER 40
Patterson rounded the corner and the headlights disappeared behind the pine trees.
She pictured the man holding his gun in one hand, the steering wheel in the other, foot slammed all the way to the floor, the engine roaring as he looked out a perfectly functioning windshield. She visualized the murderous rage flowing through his body after witnessing her drive over his brother.
The next turn to the right was sharper than she’d anticipated. Leaning her head out the window while cranking the wheel towards a road disappearing around the front of her car was tricky, but she feathered the brakes and negotiated the turn until the road straightened again.
Stealing a glance to the left, she saw tree tops silhouetted against the moon. The slope down to the base of the trees looked steep and rocky.
What was her brilliant plan here? The man was going to catch up in seconds, point a gun, and pick her off as she leaned out the window. She had no weapons, and no chance of outrunning him.
He was out for blood. He’d already shot up her car.
She clenched her teeth and ignored the icy fingers of fear running up and down her back. Yeah, well … she was out for blood too.
She needed a plan, and she needed it now. This instant.
Pulling the car to the right side of the road, she ducked inside the window, gripped the wheel with both hands, and jammed the brakes, cranking the wheel toward the drop-off.
The tires scraped, and she clenched her eyes and gritted her teeth, hoping she’d stay on flat land until she stopped.
After a long skid, the vehicle came to a stop and rocked back and forth.
She put it in park and pulled the door handle, forgetting she’d have to unlock it first.
“Shit.”
She pressed the button and stepped out.
Light grew brighter on the trees as the truck’s engine rose in volume.
She got back in and shifted into drive. Then, without hesitating, she dove out of the open door.
On her knees, she watched as her car lurched forward and dipped over the side of the road. She wondered if the underside would catch, but it continued without resistance, and then, just like that, her forty-eight-thousand-dollar baby was gone.
Two separate noises competed for her attention: first, the sound of her car smashing into the trees below. Second, the truck’s engine lowering in pitch, about to round the corner and paint her with high beams.
She sprung to the uphill side of the road and skidded onto her ass as she realized she’d chosen the wrong spot for her maneuver. Looming above her was a steep incline.
The truck skidded around the corner.
She dove into the drainage depression on the side of the road, splashing into a puddle.
“Dah!” The cold was excruciating, but she dared not move because the truck was now out of sight. If she couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see her.
For now. Until he got closer.
She lay still and prayed. The water seeped into her meager office clothing, cradling her breasts like icy hands, and she thought about Chandler Mustaine reeling his mistress in through his front door.
“Come on, come on … see it. See it.”
The engine’s roar approached fast, grew almost deafening, and then the headlights passed and a cold breeze swirled over her.
Then he jammed the brakes and skidded to a halt.
The cold was unbearable now, and she flexed every muscle in her body to counteract it. But she dared not move.
The night lit up as the truck’s reverse lights came on. The tires crackled and the engine growled.
She stared at the ripples in the pond, every fiber of her being wanting to turn around and look, but she kept still, watching the light grow around her. She felt the weight of the truck vibrating the ground, heard the brakes squeak, then the lights shut off and the truck stopped right next to her.
With the headlights behind her now, and the red taillights to her front, she was theoretically in the dark, so she dared to peek over the edge of the depression.
The truck had a high clearance, and underneath it she could see layers of shadowed mountains and the lights of Ashland in the distance.
Legs climbed down out of the driver’s-side door and stood for a moment. They turned around, as if about to crawl back inside. Or maybe he was about to duck down and say, “Gotcha!”. But the truck’s spotlight beam swept down over the edge toward her car.
This was not her plan all along. She needed to wake up!
There. A rock larger than her fist, with one side smooth and the other a jagged point, sat at the edge of the puddle. With gritted teeth, she picked it up and crawled underneath the truck.
She probably made noise, but the gurgling engine inches above her head smothered all sound.
And then it shut off.
She froze as the night went dead quiet, save for the engine’s ticking.
The man bent down and picked up a rock, and she saw his oily black pistol in his other hand. He stood straight and launched it through the air.
A metallic clank pierced the silence.
She was perched in a pushup position, every muscle flexed. The pain o
f exertion, along with the cold, became almost unbearable, but she blocked it out, slowed her breathing, and continued to wait while the guy threw another rock.
Clank.
He turned around and climbed up into the cab. The suspension squeaked as his weight shifted inside. She heard a moan, and then another.
“You’re all right,” the man said. “Be quiet, pansy.”
The driver talked to an unconscious man with multiple fractures and probable internal bleeding that would kill him in the next hour. Pansy.
The moaning continued and light sprayed from the driver’s-side door.
If he started the truck, she’d have to roll into the center to avoid the oversized wheels, though with one check in the rearview mirror she’d be exposed as he drove away. Mentally, she rehearsed rolling as hard as she could over the edge once she was clear of the wheels.
But there was no way this guy was going to just leave. He had to be sure of this annoying woman’s demise, didn’t he?
Patterson’s muscles trembled, water dripped, her jaw shivered, but still she dared not move. What if there was a pebble placed perfectly next to her toe, just waiting to scrape off another rock and make just enough noise for the guy to bend down and see her? And shoot her point-blank.
The truck rocked and legs appeared again. When the man stepped down she collapsed to her knees, unable to bear the pain anymore.
Holding her breath, she wondered why he appeared to be hesitating. Maybe he had heard something.
She decided that if he bent down again, she would attack with every fiber of her being.
Tommy’s smiling face flashed across her mind and she steeled herself for action.
Another moan came and the man stepped aside and slammed the door. There was a click and a puddle of light bathed the ground next to her.
She tensed, and then she noticed the water streaming off her, inching its way toward the man’s shoes.
Then a shrill digital ring pierced the silence, and a lightning bolt passed through her body as she thought of her phone. But it was inside the car down in the trees.
“Hey,” the man said. “Yeah, I’ve got her … I’ll bring her up in a few minutes … when I get there.”
The man stepped over the edge.
Immediately he slipped on his ass and skidded down out of sight.
“Goddammit!”
He slapped his flashlight hand on the edge of the road and pulled himself upright, putting his face at eye-level with hers.
Then he saw her.
She scurried out from under the truck, found her feet, and dove off the edge of the road over his head.
The gun went off, and then again. Heat stung the side of her face but the bullets had missed her.
Flipping over him, she grabbed the coat fabric on his shoulder with her left hand, pulled herself in, and bludgeoned the top of his head with the rock as hard as she could. It thudded onto his skull.
Retaining her hold, she landed. Her momentum and the blow to his head brought him off his feet and down the hill with her. She let go and tried to control herself, but ended up rolling down the decline, tangling limbs with him.
Her body flipped backwards again, then again, and she stopped with a violence that pushed a bark from her lungs.
For agonizing seconds, pain filled her torso while swirling red light filled her vision.
The daze lifted and she realized she’d smacked against the back of her car.
The man’s fall had been just as horrific, but he was moving.
She tried to suck in air and couldn’t. The edges of her vision went dark. The sound of a million tinkling bells filled her ears and her entire body tingled. Like a dying fish, she convulsed, her chest heaving up and down.
All the while, the man was getting to his feet. He was almost there. His face was covered in blood, streaming onto bared teeth.
Then cool air poured into her lungs. She took a breath, and then another. The feeling trickled back into her hands. And then her feet.
“You … bitch …” He clamped a huge hand on her neck and then reinforced it with the other.
At least he’d lost the gun, she thought, as he choked the life out of her.
She lifted her left arm and draped it across both of his, then twisted to her right. But he was heavy and strong, and with her back against the car she had little leverage.
But he was dumb, too, and he drew his face close to hers and smiled. So she dug both thumbs into his eyes and pushed, then plucked them both from his skull.
He screamed, his agony matching his brother’s, and stumbled backwards.
She spear-handed him in the throat, feeling her fingertips break through the larynx under his sandpaper skin, and his scream turned to gurgling.
He became rabid, punching out as fast and as hard as he could. She ducked to the side and his knuckles connected with the Acura like a hydraulic hammer.
She rolled out of danger, got to her feet, and roundhoused him in the side of the head. And then she stomp-kicked him until he went still.
CHAPTER 41
“I said freeze!”
Wolf wanted to roll, to shoot, but the voice was still without form, the exact location hidden in the rocks behind him.
“Drop the rifle on the ground. Do it or I’ll just shoot you here and you’ll never see your buddy again.”
Wolf dropped the M4.
Footsteps crunched toward him from behind.
“Drop your Glock, too.”
He yanked out his paddle holster and threw it aside.
The footsteps got closer.
“Take off the backpack.”
He turned around and shrugged it off his shoulders. “Hi, Greg.”
“Toss it.”
Wolf threw the bag, at the same time debating whether to rush him.
Barker kept his rifle aimed at Wolf and sidestepped the flying backpack, letting it skitter to the ground behind him.
With his rifle leveled at Wolf’s chest, he toed the M4. “See? I knew it. I told my dad and uncles you’d figure it out and come early. I knew you’d have a thermal cam scope and would see my heifer up on the mountain and think it was us. And I knew you’d pick this very spot to climb up. I’m a top-notch detective, Wolf. Always have been.”
“Back in the day you were hired by MacLean as a political favor. You never earned your spot. And you're a shit detective, Greg. And everyone knows it and that’s why you’re unemployed.”
“But now I have a gun trained on your ass.” Rage amplified his voice. “And nobody else knows about that. I bet you didn’t realize I knew about Black Diamond, did you?”
Wolf ignored the question and wondered where the other two people were.
“Like I said, Wolf, I’m a brilliant fucking detective. It took me all of three weeks to figure out who Lucretia Smith’s source was.”
He smiled, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight.
“Man, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. I’ve watched you, you know. Thought about picking you off with a single shot to the head more than once. Had you in my crosshairs a few times. No, I bet you didn’t know that, ’cause you’re a shit detective.
“Wanna know what else I’ve seen? Your girlfriend’s naked body.” Barker nodded, clearly enjoying the anger darkening Wolf’s expression. “Seen her more than a dozen times, I’d say. I’ve seen you give it to her, too. Pretty good, pretty good. Not nearly as hard as I’ll give it to her. Don’t worry, she and Ella will be safe and sound when you’re dead and gone. I’ll make sure of that.”
“Not if I blow your head off first,” Wolf said through clenched teeth.
Barker ignored him. “Didn’t want to bring the midget, huh? I don’t blame you. She’s annoying as shit.”
Wolf shrugged. “She stayed home.”
Barker smiled, the expression coming too quickly for Wolf’s comfort, and then laughed. It sent a shiver up Wolf’s spine.
“She showed up at the ranch a few minutes ago.” Barker held u
p his phone. “My dad and uncle are on their way up with her now, so she’ll be joining us shortly. We were watching. Saw you leave her in Rocky Points. And, in case you’re wondering, I had a plan for that just in case. But you know Patterson—never could just keep her nose out of things. So she came straight to us.”
Wolf studied Barker’s face. “Bullshit.”
He rolled his eyes. “She showed up at the ranch gates. My dad and uncle have her now. You can believe it or not. It doesn’t matter to me.”
Wolf knew he was telling the truth.
“You know, I’m feeling good about this. Finally, after two years, here we are, and I’m satisfied. They say revenge is best served cold, but I personally like it piping hot. Well done. Charred black.” He flicked his muzzle down the hill toward the shack. “Let’s head down and I’ll show you what I mean.”
Wolf hesitated. Maybe Patterson was here, but she wasn’t as hardheaded as Wolf. With any luck, Patterson had figured out the Barkers’ involvement and told everyone, and the cavalry was coming. If so, then why had she come alone to the ranch? Where were the flashing lights? He decided he needed to draw out the process as much as possible, just in case.
Barker raised his rifle, aimed carefully, and shot.
Wolf felt the concussion of the bullet ripping the air next to his head.
A high-pitched squeal came from the cow on the ridgeline.
He turned in time to see a dark shape fall into the steep side of the bowl, then tumble over rocks and off a cliff.
Barker waited for the sound of the rolling livestock to stop and laughed. “Jesus, I had that thing tethered to a chain. Snapped it right off.” His face darkened. “Unless you want to follow her down, it’s time to move. I’ll give you five seconds.”
CHAPTER 42
“And how did you and Ethan Womack hook up?” Wolf asked.
The reply was nothing more than the sound of Barker’s crunching footsteps. Every attempt to get the man to speak had been met by silence on the walk down. Barker was holding his hand close.
They were down the hill now and near enough to the shack that light pouring from the entrance lit their way. The structure was old, built by a previous generation of men and neglected since.