“I don’t think so,” Dalton said.
“What?” He wasn’t making any sense. “He shot me.”
“I know.”
I got my hands underneath me and pushed myself up.
“Easy now. You’re safe right where you are. Sit back.”
We were on the bank of a tiny stream that trickled down the hillside with a lazy gurgle. Pieces of Dalton’s shirt lay on the ground in torn, bloody hunks.
“I think I got it cleaned good. The bullet went right through. Brushed you really. You’re lucky.” He ripped a clean piece of the shirt and tied it around the wound for a bandage.
“Lucky? He shot me!”
Dalton grinned. “Welcome to the club.”
I looked down at the bloody bandage. “Damn that hurts.”
Dalton winked. “You need to rest. And don’t move that leg. I don’t have any way to suture it.”
He took my hand and dumped the trail mix into it. “Eat that.”
“No.” I protested. “It’s all we’ve got. You need some.”
“You eat it all,” he said. “I’m fine.” Then a pause. “You said you’d follow me. Right? I say you eat it.”
I did as he told me, crunching nuts between my teeth.
He dunked the baggie into the stream and brought it to my mouth. “Take a drink.”
“But is it safe?”
He shrugged. “We’ll worry about giardia later. You need to drink.”
I sipped the ice cold water and glanced around. “Where are we?”
“Out of sight,” he said. “For now.” He looked over his shoulder as he gathered the bloody rags and tossed them into the stream. “But we need to move. Too much blood scent here.”
“But you just said—”
“Bears. One gets your scent, he won’t look so cuddly.” He rinsed his hands in the stream, then turned to me. “I want to head uphill. We’ll have to see if you can make it. I might need to carry you.”
“Carry me? No,” I said, trying to get up. Fresh agony brought me back to my seat.
He reached down and swooped me up in his arms like I was a toddler.
“I’ll take my chances with a bear,” I said, half meaning it.
“You’ll change your mind when he bares his teeth.”
I might have been delirious, or in shock, but something was bothering Dalton more than concern about a bear. “What is it?” I said. “Something’s wrong. I can tell.”
“I need for you to listen to me is all. To trust me.” He pulled me close to his chest and headed up the hill. “We could die out here, you know.”
I nodded. I knew the trouble we were in. “I’m sorry, Dalton. I misread him. Honestly, I thought we could talk to him. I didn’t think he’d really try to kill me.”
Dalton grimaced. There it was again. Something he wasn’t telling me.
“Just hold on to me,” he said, and headed for higher ground.
“No, you tell me. What’s the matter?”
He pulled me a little tighter to his chest.
“Dammit, Dalton. I promise I’ll listen. I’ll follow. I’ll do as you say, from here on out. But don’t you dare keep me in the dark. What is it?”
He slowed, looked down at me. “The distance. With that weapon. He could have killed you. Easily.”
“What are you saying? That he’s not a killer? He’s just trying to warn us? Scare us? That’s a good thing, right?”
“I’m not sure.” He shook his head, pulled me back tight to his chest, and started walking again. “I’m not sure.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Overhead, an unkindness of ravens circled. An odd term for birds. A group of crows is called a murder. But ravens are even more sophisticated, more intuitively clever. An unkindness seemed appropriate right now, as they circled, seemingly uncaring of our plight.
Would they let us know if Rocky was on the move? Would they side with him? If he’s as good a tracker as he claimed, would he pop up and slit our throats before we even knew he was there? Perhaps the ravens would swoop in to pluck our eyes out while we were still warm.
Dalton found what he was looking for, a protected spot where we could hunker down and he could see in multiple directions. The sun had already moved to the west. It was late afternoon. I must have been out of it for longer than I thought.
He put me down on the moss, then sat, his back against a rock embankment, and gestured for me to snug up against him. “We need to stay warm,” he said, opening his jacket so I could lean against his bare chest.
Yeah, you keep saying that… “But you won’t be able—”
“Just do it, McVie. You’re at risk of hypothermia. No arguing.”
I scooted between his legs and leaned against him and he wrapped his arms and coat around us both.
The coat didn’t quite cover me. “Closer,” he said.
I shifted on my thigh, sending sharp spines of pain into my hip. I panted, trying to endure it.
“Easy now,” he whispered.
Leaning against his chest, finally able to relax, I could feel the tension in him. He was scanning the hills, watching, waiting.
“So before, when you said he could have killed me, but he didn’t, you meant that he chose to shoot me in the leg when he had a clear chest shot. You think he missed on purpose.” It was a half question, half statement.
Dalton nodded. “I do.”
“That’s good news then. He doesn’t want to kill us.”
“Not sure.”
“You said that but—”
“Listen,” he said, carefully shifting to get a better view over my shoulder. “Let’s focus on what we know for sure. That he knows he hit you. We need to use it to our advantage.”
“Okay. How?” I swallowed. My mouth was dry and my head felt like an orange that had been juiced. “I admit. I’m not thinking as clearly as usual.”
“It’s all right,” he said, nearly a whisper. “You can count on me.”
“I know.” I leaned my head back, relaxing into him.
“The longer he’s in there, with the food, all the weapons, and we’re out here with nothing, the more advantage he gains. By shooting you, he thinks he’s shortened that timeframe.”
I was nodding, as though I were following, but really my head was banging like the bass at a Metallica concert.
“We need to go on the offensive right away.”
“Offensive?” I sat up and spun around and looked at him. My vision blurred for a moment then refocused.
“How’s your leg feel?”
“Like I got attacked by a meat grinder.”
“Right,” he said, his mind somewhere else.
“Dalton, you’ve got a plan already. I can see it in your eyes. What are you up to?”
His eyes met mine. Focused. Serious. Dalton the SEAL. “We need the satellite phone or a weapon or both. He’s not coming out of that camp, but he’s got to sleep some time. When he does, I’ll slip through the electric fence and—”
“Wait,” I said. “Why don’t we get to the plane and call on the radio for help?”
“I thought of that.” He frowned. “Remember how he wanted the plane in sight of camp?”
I nodded, following his train of thought. “He’s got a long-range rifle. We try to get to the plane and he’s got us. That and I suspect he’s disabled the radio anyway.”
“Really, why would—” Damn. I closed my eyes. Damn! “You think he already suspected us when I didn’t shoot the bear.”
“I’m not sure.” He turned to face me. “I don’t see how he could have gotten to the plane and back in time to catch us—”
“Yeah, I know. What were we thinking?”
He winced, turned away. “We can talk about that later. Right now we need to—”
“You think he disabled the radio when he anchored the plane then?” That seemed a stretch. “But that would mean—no, it had to be the kiss that gave us away.”
“Anything’s possible. I’m not sure what to think
.”
“But you’re saying that the odds are, if you took the risk to try to swim out to the plane, in the dark, slowly so as not to be seen, if you actually made it without being hypothermic or getting shot, you’d find the radio disconnected.”
He gave me a nod, satisfied I was following his logic. “That’s what I would do. My gut tells me he didn’t pull his weapon on a whim. He planned this. I’m not sure for how long, but when he left camp for the phone, he had something in mind.”
“You think he planned to confront us? Get us to talk?”
“I don’t know,” he snapped. He stared down at the ground. “Like I said, what I do know is you’re injured. The longer we let this go, without food, shelter, first-aid, the more vulnerable we’ll be. Assuming the plane radio is disabled, that leaves only one option, infiltrating his camp. Tonight.”
I nodded in agreement. He was right. We had no other choice.
“I want you to stay right here until I get back.”
“Oh no,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re not going without me. Besides, your plan will never work. Look at you. You can’t fit between the fence wires. It’s got to be me. I’m small enough and flexible enough.”
His eyebrows went up. Was that a hint of a blush? “Your leg isn’t—”
“I’ll be fine. Just”—I fiddled with my bandage—“tighten this thing up.”
“You’re not fine. You can’t even walk.”
“I can and I will. Besides, you said use it to our advantage, right? He won’t suspect this. Maybe you should even let yourself be seen sneaking toward camp, keep his focus on you in case he’s awake.”
“It’s too risky,” Dalton said.
“Or what? It’s not like we’ve got a lot of choices.”
“We do have a choice. You stay here where you’ll be safe. I’ll wait until I’m sure he’s asleep.”
“Really? And what if something happens to you? Then what?” I whipped my hand into the air, blocking his rebuttal. “We work together. We’re partners, right? That’s how we get out of this. My strengths and yours. That’s it.”
He set his jaw. “You’re wounded.”
“I’m fine. You said it yourself, merely a flesh wound.”
He stared at me a moment, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. He was weighing the options. “You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you?”
I gave him a grin.
“Fine. We’ll do it just before dawn. But you need to show me you can walk on that leg before we go.”
“Fine,” I said and leaned back into his chest. “So what’s the plan?”
“I’ll approach the camp directly, on this line.” He held his hand up, slicing through the air in the direction of the camp. “You’ll circle around and approach from the backside. That’s where you’ll breach the perimeter. If it appears that he is alerted to your presence in any way, I’ll create a distraction, rustle some alder branches or break some twigs, yell to him if I have to. If that happens, you run downhill, toward the lake and the cover of the pines, then at daybreak, circle back to rendezvous with me.”
It was a good plan. Except for the running part. If I could actually walk on this leg, it would be a hobble. But I would make it work. I had to.
“Got it. Rustle, then rendezvous. But if not, once I’m inside the fence—”
“Once you’re inside the fence, get to the plastic storage box. That’s where the weapons and phone should be. Don’t rush it.”
I turned to look up at him. Our faces were inches apart. “One tip-toe at a time.”
He grinned, that half-grin, the one that makes my tummy tingle and suddenly I wanted him to kiss me again.
“What is it?” he asked, his grin disappearing.
“What’s what? Nothing.” My eyes lingered on his lips. Stop it.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, of course. I just…yes. Go on.”
His eyes held mine a moment, but then his expression changed back to the serious SEAL. “If he hears you, duck behind the box. That way he can’t be sure whether you have a weapon in your hand yet, which will buy you time. If that happens, or even if I see the slightest twitch, I’ll clear the fence and—”
“I won’t let it come to that.”
He nodded, but I could tell, he wasn’t convinced. “Once you’ve got something, weapon or phone, either one, get out of there. Don’t get greedy.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we get in, get out, unnoticed, unharmed.”
“Right,” I said. Unharmed.
“What we’re planning is risky. It could go south in an instant.” He flashed a look of concern. “Are you sure you can get through the wires with that leg injury?”
I thought a moment. No. “Yes. I’m sure.”
“Then all we do now is wait.”
I leaned back against him and we sat in silence for awhile, listening to the sounds of the forest.
“Dalton?”
“Yeah?”
“You think I should have shot the bear.”
Dalton pulled away from me, turned do we were face to face. “What? I didn’t say that.”
“But you did. You warned me about it.”
He thought for a long moment before he answered. “I think you need to do what you think is right. Maybe shooting one bear to catch a poacher would save many bears. Maybe not. Maybe not shooting it made Rocky suspicious of us. Maybe not. Maybe it made no difference at all.” His gaze shifted to the distance, the direction of Rocky. “The bear died regardless.” He turned back to look at me, more intense now. “An unfortunate casualty.”
“Is that what they teach you?”
He cocked his head to the side, confusion on his face. “What?”
“In SEAL school. In Afghanistan. Casualties are unfortunate, but an acceptable outcome of war. Is that the lesson I’m supposed to learn?”
“I don’t know,” he said, guarded.
“Is that what it means to be part of the team? To be a wildlife agent? I have to be a soldier? Why? Why does it have to be that way? Why do I have to compromise my values? Why can’t I do it my way? Who makes the rules anyway? Who? Stan Martin? Maybe I don’t want this job anyway. The hell with it.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do. If it means what you’re telling me. To save animals from harm, I have to become a killer myself. That’s what you’ve been saying, right?”
“There’s a difference,” he said. “Sometimes it’s justified.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s what people tell themselves. It’s never justified. There’s always another way.”
“Not always. Unless you’ve been there, in that situation”—his voice changed, defensive—“you don’t know.”
“Sure. It’s always about naive little Poppy. I don’t play along. I don’t follow the rules. All because I can’t possibly know.”
His expression turned dark and his eyes locked on me. “You don’t know.” There was pain in those eyes, the pain of regret.
Suddenly I realized I’d gone too far. I could see it clearly. “I’m sorry.”
He narrowed his eyes at me then turned his face away from me.
“Was it in Afghanistan? Tell me what happened.”
“We’re not going to discuss my time in Afghanistan.” He still wouldn’t look at me.
“Okay,” I said. “But you told me we’re partners, that you needed to be able to trust me, to know what I’d do. Well, I don’t know about you. I don’t know what you’ve done, what you’re capable of. Where would you draw the line? What do you feel about—”
His head snapped back toward me. “What do you want me to say?” His stare held me in its grip. “I’m not you.” He paused. “I’m a SEAL. Always will be.”
I nodded. In a whisper, I said, “Kill or be killed.”
The sky in the east was still dark, no hint of dawn. It was time. Now or never. My hands shook. Would my
leg hold out?
As Dalton and I crept toward the camp, moving in an awkward crouch, I gripped my thigh, keeping pressure on the wound. It seemed to help with the pain, but I couldn’t let Dalton see. He’d turn us back around. No way was I letting him take the risk alone. All this was my fault. And if he got shot, then where would we be?
This was my responsibility. I got us into this mess. I had to get us out.
Problem was, I wasn’t sure how I was going to pull it off. The plan relied on Rocky being asleep. But he would have figured out this was our only option. He’d be waiting for us. But what else could we do?
With no cover but the dark of night, we pushed through the wet grass toward the glowing embers of the campfire. My heart beat a rhythm in my ear, the tempo increasing the closer we got.
Just get the phone. Or one gun. That’s all I had to do. Get in, get out. Unnoticed, unharmed.
Rocky slouched in the chair, a long gun lying across his lap. Without binoculars, we couldn’t be sure his eyes were closed, but, like Dalton said, everyone has to sleep sometime. Once you sit down, sleep will come, whether you want it to or not. You could fall asleep standing up if you were tired enough.
Sitting in a chair, in the dark, in front of the warm fire, would put Rocky out at some point. At this hour, the odds were with us.
Once Dalton hunkered down in place, I crept around to my entry spot. My best approach was from behind Rocky. He might be a trained woodsman, even military, but he didn’t have eyes in the back of his head.
My leg was beyond numb from all the walking, but it was still working, though I had to place my feet carefully, taking my time. One bad step, even a tiny stumble, might give me away.
The electrified wires surrounded the camp, four of them strung about ten to twelve inches apart. The lowest was about eight inches off the ground—too low to get under. I had to slip between that one and the next higher one, which meant I’d have to straddle it, putting my weight on my wounded leg. I drew in a breath. I could do it.
One last look at Rocky. He hadn’t moved. He was asleep. He had to be.
I knelt in the cold, dewy grass and kicked my wounded leg back, swung it over, between the bottom two wires, kept my body long, then reached with my right arm and placed it on the ground inside. No problem. Easy yoga. I was straddling the wire. So far so good.
Poppy McVie Mysteries: Books 1-3 (The Poppy McVie Box Set Series) Page 47