by Harper Allen
Lizbet stared at her, her blue eyes no longer vacant and clouded. She shook her head, the red hair swinging with the movement.
"Lizbet, we have to go," Julia urged. "Come on, I'll carry you." She bent to take the child into her arms once more.
"The bad man put something under that car, Auntie Julia." Julia froze, and Lizbet spoke again, her tone stubbornly serious. "I don't want to get in it. He wanted to hurt you."
She looked up at Julia, her small arms folded across her chest, and her grubby pink sneakers toed into the dirt. Beneath the stubbornness lurked fear.
"He—he put something underneath that car, pumpkin?" Her voice was so clear and so sweet, Julia thought wonderingly. It sounded like little bells—and it had rug out in time to save both their lives.
"He went right under. He was lying on his back on the grass, and then he came out and he was smiling. We shouldn't go in that car, Auntie Julia."
"You're right, we shouldn't. And we're not going to." She took the tiny hand in hers. "But we're going to trick the bad man, honey, so he thinks we did get in that car."
"Then will he let Uncle Cord go?" Lizbet sounded worried, and Julia's heart turned over.
"I don't think so. I think I'm going to have to come back for Uncle Cord, sweetie. Let's run into the woods a little, okay?"
Donner would be wondering why he hadn't heard an explosion yet, she realized, looking over her shoulder as she and Lizbet ran along the path that led to the Whitefields' house. She'd gone back and forth along that path so many times in the past that she'd probably worn it a few inches lower all by herself, she thought. Even now she could hear the sound of the Whitefield twins coming faintly from beyond the trees.
"This is far enough, honey." They were still in sight of the Lexus, and Julia pointed the remote at the car, hoping that she was still within its range. "Plug your ears, pumpkin."
She pressed the button, and the car started immediately. She could hear it from where they stood, the well-tuned engine ticking over like a Swiss watch—
A shocking whump! came from the Lexus, and instantly it was obscured from sight as a giant fireball enveloped it, reaching up to the lower branches of the pine she'd parked under. It was followed by a second, even louder explosion—the gas tank had just blown, Julia thought, stunned—and a fusillade of tiny sparks showered down from the sappy boughs of the pine. It reminded her of the crackle and pop of juniper branches on a bonfire, or—
A sound unlike anything she'd ever heard in her life came from the direction of the house—a hoarse cry so visceral it sounded like someone's soul was being torn from their body. Julia's grip on Lizbet tightened. Her blood felt like it had turned to ice in her veins.
Cord, she thought in anguish. He would have heard the explosion. He thought she was dead—he thought they were both dead!
And there was nothing she could do about it until she got Lizbet to safety, she told herself tightly. She was going to have to let him—and Donner—think they were dead for a little while longer.
"It smells like Christmas," Lizbet said softly, her blue eyes fixed on the sparks still floating up from the pine tree.
She obviously hadn't heard Cord call out, Julia thought thankfully, and holding Lizbet close, her heart suddenly filled with so much love for the fragile-looking little girl in her dirty sneakers and her torn T-shirt that she felt it would burst. Fragile she might seem, she thought, but she'd been bequeathed tough and sturdy genes. Lizbet was going to be all right—in fact, more than all right. She was going to be a handful one of these days. Julia could hardly wait.
But Donner might come along at any moment to check on his handiwork, she realized, her stomach clenching again, and her only weapon was a piece of twisted and melting metal somewhere in the inferno that had once been her father's Lexus. He'd never intended to let either of them go, and Willard Stewart had been right—he was keeping as close to the script of his psychotic plan as possible.
Diane Travis hadn't been killed in the crash, she'd been killed in the explosion that followed.
Sheila shot, Paul stabbed, I was to die in an explosion, and Cord—
The fourth and final member of Donner's family, and according to most accounts the most blindly devoted to his evil father figure, had been Rickie Dee Morris. And Rickie Dee had chosen a madman's death for himself. He'd driven his vehicle off the top of the parking garage. That was the death Donner had planned for Cord, Julia thought—which meant that she had more than enough time to get help, because there wasn't a building high enough for Donner's purposes within thirty miles. He was going to have to drive Cord to the location, and surely Lopez could set up road-blocks in time—
"There's Uncle Cord and the bad man," whispered Lizbet, her eyes wide.
Shrinking into the undergrowth around them and pulling the child close, Julia squinted past the still-burning Lexus to the house and saw with horror that Cord was attempting to run toward the blaze, Donner catching up to him easily. Even as she watched, the other man viciously swung something that looked at this distance to be the lever of a tire jack down on the base of Cord's skull.
Cord fell heavily to the ground, the aluminum crutches flashing in the sunlight as they fell with him. As efficiently as if he really was changing a tire, Donner tossed his makeshift weapon into the open trunk of the car that he must have just parked there, then bent to the body in the driveway.
"Auntie Julia, look at the bird!" Lizbet was tugging at her sleeve, but Julia didn't take her eyes from the terrible tableau she was witnessing.
"Not now, pumpkin," she murmured through dry lips. It was all she could do not to burst from cover and run, screaming imprecations at the soulless being she now knew Gary Donner to be. She bit down on her lower lip so hard she broke the skin, but she didn't even notice the taste of blood in her mouth. She watched helplessly as the man she loved was dragged like a carcass across the gravel and hoisted into the front passenger seat of the waiting vehicle by a surprisingly strong Donner.
"It's looking at us, Auntie Julia. It wants us to follow it," Lizbet said at her side, and once again Julia shushed her.
"Just a minute, sweetie. I want to see where the car goes." If he turned right at the end of the driveway he would be bound for the freeway, and if left, he would be traveling through several small towns and hamlets before he got to a city of any size. He was already halfway to the road, and in a minute she would have the knowledge that might save Cord's life. Julia kept her eyes fixed on the intersection of the driveway and the road.
Nothing appeared. She could still hear the car, though the sound of its engine was getting fainter, and the dust cloud that had risen from the driveway was already beginning to settle, but of the vehicle itself there was no sign. Throwing caution aside, she rose to her feet and squinted disbelievingly through the obscuring foliage that blocked her view.
Before the driveway ended, there was a rutted track that meandered through the property and then skirted the lake. She could just make out the glint of sun on metal disappearing in that direction
Had he taken a wrong turn? She dismissed the thought immediately, her mind racing. Gary Donner didn't make foolish mistakes. If he'd turned onto the lake track he'd done so for a reason, but what that reason was she couldn't imagine. The track petered out eventually into a dead end. In fact, it stopped at the top of the cliff overlooking the lake that the locals called—
"Dear God—he's heading for Maiden's Leap!" she breathed, her blood turning to ice. "He's going to send the car off the cliff!"
"He's trying to tell us something. Look!"
Her eyes still wide with honor, she turned distractedly to Lizbet, but as her gaze moved past the child she froze.
"That's the biggest bird I've ever seen in my life," the little girl said in awe. "What kind is he, Auntie Julia?"
"A—a golden eagle," Julia said in a hoarse whisper. "I've never seen one this far east, and I've never seen one so huge."
The massive bird was perched on a nearby f
allen tree, his talons gripping the bark securely. He had to be almost four feet long from the tip of that curved beak to the end of his tail, she thought incredulously, and then caught her breath as the bird rose and spread his wings as if he was stretching his muscles to ready himself for flight. The brown feathers shone like mahogany in the sun, and his wingspan was well over eight feet. The bird inclined his head at them, the golden wash over his neck that gave him his name catching the light and seeming to create a glow around him.
I felt sure that I really had become that eagle…
"Cord?" Her voice was so faint she wasn't even sure that she'd spoken aloud, but the golden head swiveled in her direction, and the golden eyes held hers. She was close enough to see the tiny speck of green in the right iris, like the reflection of a perfect summer's day.
"No, it can't be," she breathed, her hand to her throat.
She could hear the excited shouts of the Whitefield twins just beyond the woods, and then Mary's voice, calling for Frank. They would have heard the explosion and seen the smoke. They would be coming to investigate—out here in the country neighbors looked out for each other. Lizbet would be safe with them.
The eagle rose in the small clearing and circled gracefully around their heads. He swooped down, landing only a few feet away from Lizbet.
"Does he want us to follow him?" the little girl said, her upturned face full of unafraid wonder. The eagle made an awkward little hop, bridging the gap between them, but even as Julia gasped and reached for Lizbet the child reached out and touched the bowed golden head. The bird made a soft skirling cry deep in his throat, and then turned and half-flew, half-hopped a few feet away from them.
Julia could hear the voices coming closer now, and she made up her mind. "I think he wants you to follow him, pumpkin. He's going to take you to Mary and Frank—can you hear them? The eagle is just here to make sure you're not afraid."
"I'm not afraid, Auntie Julia." Lizbet took a few steps forward, and as she approached the eagle hopped ahead, and then stopped as if he was waiting for her. "But aren't you coming with us?"
"I'll be with you later, sweetie. Let Mary and Frank know what happened, and tell them I've gone to find Uncle Cord, okay?"
But already Lizbet was running toward the massive bird, and as Julia watched she saw it fly farther into the woods and then land again.
Lizbet would be safe. Within seconds she would be with the Whitefields. Julia hesitated one last time and then turned toward the house.
She didn't have her gun anymore, she thought frantically, giving the Lexus a wide berth as she raced past it. She needed a weapon, but where was she going to find one? Her father had never been a hunter, and Cord's father had come back from Vietnam with an aversion to guns of any kind. She'd only once ever seen Jackson Hunter kill anything, and that had been out of necessity. A rabid dog had wandered onto the property and he'd gotten his old crossbow from the garden shed and—
Even as the memory flashed through her mind she was veering across the lawn to the once snug little building where Jackson Hunter had stored his tools and his garden equipment. She hadn't been in there for years, but she remembered where the crossbow had been kept—high in the beams of the shed, where curious children couldn't reach it.
He could have taken it with him, she thought despairingly, or it could have been rusted beyond use after all this time, or she wouldn't be able to operate the thing—
She shut off the train of thought coldly. She had a brief window of time in which to find a weapon—any weapon—cut across country and get to the cliff before Donner could finalize his terrible plan. He would have to stay to the track, which meant that she had at least ten more minutes before he reached Maiden's Leap, but by cutting through the woods at the other side of the house her journey could be made in less than half that time.
The shed was locked. She stared at the wooden door in disbelief, and then she turned and ran back a few paces. Digging the balls of her feet into the springy turf, she charged at the door, her shoulder slightly lowered and her arms crossed tightly at her chest, and just as she reached it she turned sideways, slamming into it with all the force she could muster.
The rusty lock burst from its screws and the door swung open, but she let her momentum carry her to the back of the shed. Her gaze lit on the sturdy workbench by the wall, and she hurried toward it, mentally judging the distance between it and the rafters. It would do, she thought rapidly, clambering up onto it. If the crossbow was there at all she should be able to see it.
Standing upright on the rock maple workbench, she rose to her tiptoes and peered into the gloomy recesses of the rafters that Cord's dad had covered with plywood. This was where he'd stored light, bulky items that he seldom used, like plastic sheeting and wire peony cages. Her reaching fingers scrabbled at a flat package wrapped with an oilcloth and felt the unmistakable shape of a crossbow stock.
"Thank you, God," Julia whispered, relief flooding through her. She jumped down from the workbench, her precious parcel in her hands, and unwrapped it quickly on the lawn outside. It had been protected from the damp, at least, she thought, running a finger along the clean steel of the curved bow and narrowing her gaze on the woven steel of the string. She flipped back one last fold of the oilcloth and grabbed the bolt that in crossbows took the place of an arrow.
She'd never used one, but she'd seen them in action, and crossbow accuracy relied on the same set of skills as archery—a steady hand, keen sight and an ability to correctly judge the flight of the projectile. The weapon could be likened to an ordinary archer's bow mounted on the stock of a gun, Julia thought—except that it took a whole lot more strength to pull back a woven steel string. This one would probably weigh out at about a hundred and fifty pounds of pull before she could slip it over the metal pin that held it in readiness for the trigger to be released.
There was a pair of old leather gloves folded up with the oilcloth, and she took them, too, knowing that they might make the difference between success and failure. Strapping the crossbow onto her back and jamming the bolt and the gloves under the leather strap where it crossed her chest, she took a deep breath, but just as she was about to start running, she hesitated.
Growing by the entrance to the shed were the tall, slender stalks and deep blue lupin-like flowers of the plant Jackson Hunter had always called monkshood. For the space of a heartbeat Julia stared at them, her brows drawn together and a nebulous plan forming in her mind.
A minute later she was on the run, skimming lightly over the low hedge that marked the boundary of the lawn and pounding up the hill that led to the small woods before the cliffs.
She'd started running this spring with King, after too long a period of sedentary laziness, and now she was glad she had. The hill was blazingly hot under the late afternoon sun, and by the time she reached the shade of the trees her clothes were soaked with sweat. She plunged into the relative gloom of the woods and promptly tripped over a half-hidden tree root.
You're not going to make it. He's probably at the cliff already, and here you are lying with your face in a pile of old leaves. You've lost him—admit it.
"Or freakin' die tryin'," Julia grunted fiercely, getting painfully to her knees. "If Tascoe could give everything he had, then I can, too."
She set off at the same pace as before, the crossbow banging heavily on her spine with every step and her gaze alert for any more of nature's booby traps. When she felt the ground begin to rise beneath her feet, she knew she was on the last leg of her life-or-death race. The woods covered the final steep hill that eventually turned into the open area at the cliffs.
Her breath was coming in labored rasps, and every muscle in her legs felt as if it was screaming, but even as she wondered how much longer she could go on without collapsing she saw the dappled sunlight ahead that marked the edge of the woods and the grassy clearing of Maiden's Leap, and she put on one last spurt of speed, finally staggering to a halt behind one of the last trees.
; Her eyes were stinging with sweat, and she leaned against the tree gasping, wiping the back of her hand across her face. Her vision cleared, and all of a sudden the knife-like pain under her ribs had nothing to do with exertion.
Donner's car was about twenty feet away from the edge of the cliff. Its motor was racing, although the driver's side door was open, and she could see the metal glint of one of Cord's crutches jammed diagonally under the steering wheel. Its tip had to be somehow secured against the gas pedal, she thought, the blood draining from her face. She could just make out a still-unconscious Cord slumped in the passenger seat—but where was Donner? And why hadn't the car shot off the cliff already?
The answer to both those frantic questions was immediately apparent. On the far side of the car Gary Donner stood up. In his hands he held a length of tree limb, and from the way he was pulling on it, his face contorted with the effort, it was obvious he was using it as a lever to pry something away from in front of the rear tire.
Fumbling with the leather strap across her chest, Julia darted another quick look at the clearing. Now that she knew what to look for she could see it—a boulder jammed in front of the rear tire on the side of the car facing her. Donner was prying at its twin, and when he'd rolled it out of the way he'd start work on this one. He was using a tree limb instead of taking the risk of pushing the rock out with a foot because as soon as the second boulder rolled out of the way, there would be nothing to stop the car from shooting forward across the short strip of grass and then off Maiden's Leap into thin air.
But watching Gary Donner get run over by his own car wasn't what she was worried about. Watching the man she loved plunge to his death in the lake far below was.
"And that's why I'm here, Donner—to stop you before you can do it," Julia said in an undertone, pulling on the leather gloves and unclipping the carrying strap from the crossbow. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Donner's head jerk up, as if he'd heard her almost inaudible words, and she froze in fear.