Blind Run

by Patricia Lewin

  Spotting where Danny had entered the trees was easy enough. For all his bravado and smarts, he wasn’t very good at hiding his trail. Not, Ethan guessed, that the kid was even trying. He was an angry and frightened boy, a child, and he was heading for the safety of a man he believed was his father.

  It was the most basic of instincts to return home, to seek the familiar, family, and friends. Sooner or later even the most experienced fugitives made that mistake. Even Anna. She’d come back to the desert, to their team’s emergency rendezvous point, knowing if anyone was left alive she’d find them there. She’d been right, she’d found Ethan, but she’d found Ramirez as well.

  Likewise, Danny would head for Mulligan, but the place the boy thought of as home didn’t exist. That in itself wasn’t a serious problem. Mulligan would be merely an unpleasant surprise for Danny, as long as nothing or no one else was waiting for him in Champaign.

  Ethan continued along Danny’s path.

  Bent and broken branches, small footprints in soft mud—it was as simple to read as any road map. They were moving fast, running most likely, heading away from the park road and deeper into the woods. Danny was smart and had studied the maps. He knew the highway curved around the park, and if he went far enough in the right direction, he’d eventually find it.

  Ethan couldn’t fault the boy’s basic strategy. If he could reach the highway, someone would pick them up. What Danny probably didn’t realize was that most adults, after offering a ride to kids too young to be on their own, would head straight for the cops. Then Danny’s search for their father would be over. The authorities would send them straight back to that island off the Washington coast, a place Ethan had begun to have more and more misgivings about.

  As for a driver who’d pick up a couple of strays and not head for the nearest police station, it wasn’t a scenario Ethan liked to dwell on. The world was full of kooks, but Danny was a smart kid and resourceful as hell, he’d—

  Ethan stopped.

  Next to Danny and Callie’s small muddy footprints was a third set of tracks.

  SYDNEY SPED down the dirt road.

  The car bumped and jerked, finding every rut and hole in an attempt to yank the steering wheel from her grasp. She held on, trees whipping past, their low-hanging branches slapping at the roof.

  She couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid.

  She never should have let Danny go off on his own. The time between his finding out about Mulligan and when he’d decided the adults in his life were lying again had been critical. She should have talked to him, convinced him she was telling the truth, and reassured him she would help him and his sister. Instead, she and Ethan had spent those precious moments theorizing about James Cooley and sperm banks.

  She hit a pothole and let up on the gas. But only for a moment. Just long enough to get the vehicle under control.

  What had she been thinking? She and Ethan couldn’t solve these children’s problems on their own. They had no right even to try. If they’d called the authorities yesterday, none of this would have happened. Danny and Callie would be safe with people who knew how to care for them instead of alone in the woods or on an interstate, hitching a ride.

  Just the thought terrified her. Anything could happen to children alone. Didn’t she and Ethan, of all people, know that?

  She scanned the woods, hoping to spot a couple of small figures scrambling through the underbrush. Instead, she almost missed a sharp turn in the road, and at the last minute swerved to avoid driving into a ditch.

  Focus, she told herself. Just get to the highway and watch for Danny and Callie there. Let Ethan cover the woods. He knew what he was doing, and chances were, he’d catch up to them first anyway. If not, well, then they’d head to Champaign. Danny had proved his resourcefulness more than once. He’d find a way to get to Mulligan, and when he did, she and Ethan would be waiting.

  The ranger station passed in a blur. And as she hit the paved road, she pressed a little harder on the accelerator. Until she spotted the stone entrance gate.

  At first she didn’t pay any attention to the car turning into the park, or even the second one behind it. It wasn’t until she noticed the blue-and-white color scheme as the vehicle spun across her path, that she let up on the gas pedal and slammed on the brakes.

  The Explorer screeched to a halt.

  The other car pulled up alongside her, and men jumped out of both. Police officers. Guns aimed at her.

  Confused, she reached for the door handle.

  “Hands in the air,” one of the officers hollered.

  Sydney froze.

  “Right now, Dr. Decker.”

  They knew her name. Slowly, Sydney raised her hands. “What’s going on here? How do you—”

  An officer jerked open her door, while the other kept his gun trained on her like she was some kind of dangerous criminal or something. “Okay, take it slow, Doc. No sudden movements. Get out of the vehicle.”

  For a second she just stared at him, Ethan’s warnings racing through her head. Someone must have recognized him. Or her. He was suspected of murdering two police officers, and they would come after him with a vengeance. But she didn’t have time to explain his innocence now. “I’m alone, and I need your help.”

  “Just get out of the car, ma’am.”

  “No, you don’t understand—”

  The officer with the gun flicked his wrist, reminding her of the weapon in his hand. As if she could forget. “Now.”

  “Okay.” She climbed out, but didn’t even try to keep the impatience out of her voice. “Look, we don’t have time for this. I need your help to find a couple of missing children.”

  “You’re under arrest.”

  SOMEONE WAS FOLLOWING THEM.

  Danny caught Callie’s arm and pulled her behind a bush. “Did you hear that?” he whispered, knowing his sister’s ears were better than his.

  She nodded, her eyes wide. “But it’s stopped now.”

  They waited another couple of moments, the sudden silence creeping up Danny’s spine. Someone was back there, out of sight but watching them.

  “Maybe it’s Ethan or Sydney,” Callie said.

  “They wouldn’t have stopped. Let’s go,” he said, afraid to move but more afraid to stay. Sooner or later, whoever was out there would come for them. “The road can’t be far.”

  Callie didn’t need prodding.

  As soon as they started, the sense of someone or some thing behind them returned. They half walked, half ran on the uneven ground. At one point Callie stumbled, and Danny caught her.

  “Don’t look back,” he said.

  Together, they broke into a loping run.

  Not looking was easier said than done, Danny soon realized. Maybe it wasn’t a man at all. It could be a bear. Or something worse. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw movement, but it was gone so quickly he didn’t know whether he’d really seen it or his imagination was playing tricks on him.

  He picked up the pace, and Callie stayed with him.

  She was a pretty brave kid, for a girl. Any other seven-year-old would be bellyaching about going too fast. Not Callie. Not his little sister.

  Around them, the woods closed in, growing denser and harder to navigate. Plus, whoever or whatever was following them was no longer moving quietly. Danny could hear it even as he ran, something heavy pushing its way through the underbrush.

  They should have headed for the park road instead of cutting through the woods to the highway. At least then they could have made a dash for the ranger station or circled back to the cabin for help. Now it was too late. If they turned back, whatever was behind them would grab them for sure. So he kept on, helping Callie when she needed it and watching for a break in the trees.

  Suddenly he slipped, his feet going out from beneath him on a muddy slope. He grabbed at a nearby bush, barely avoiding sliding into the creek. Callie grabbed his hand and helped him up.

  “This is it,” he said. “We’re almost t
here.” On the map the creek and highway had been almost on top of each other, a blue ribbon and narrow black line, crisscrossing each other for the length of the park, until the ribbon became a lake. “The road is just a little way past the creek.”

  Getting across was the problem. It wasn’t very deep, he could see the bottom, but it was running fast and cold. He looked up and down the bank for the shallowest point to cross. Suddenly, a commotion disturbed the silent woods behind them. Danny turned as a blur struck the standing figure of a man and sent him to the ground.

  Ethan?

  Danny wasn’t sticking around to find out. “Come on. We’ve got to do it.”

  He took Callie’s hand and started down the slippery bank, wading into the icy water and splashing across. Then a quick run through the last of the trees, and they burst onto a grassy embankment leading up to the highway. Neither of them stopped until they reached the edge of the asphalt.

  Callie, breathing hard, watched the woods. “They’re back there.”

  Danny couldn’t see anything but looked for somewhere to hide. Nothing. They were in the open, on a two-lane country highway. Other than a black truck parked on the curve of the road, the highway was empty.

  Callie seemed to read his mind. “The driver won’t help us.”

  Danny didn’t know what to do next. He tried to think what Anna would say, but his mind went blank. Then a car topped the horizon, coming in their direction. Danny took Callie’s hand, heading across the road to flag it down, and then froze as the black truck started toward them.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A MAN’s TRACKS.

  Ethan guessed they were a size ten. Fresh. And heading deeper into the park in Danny and Callie’s wake.

  He didn’t like this. The extra set of tracks was no coincidence. Whoever was after those kids had to have extensive resources. He reassessed the precautions he’d taken on the drive from Texas and came to the same conclusion he had earlier. No one had followed them from Dallas. So someone had known they’d head for Mulligan and had followed Sydney back from Champaign.

  The question was who?

  Ramirez? No, this wasn’t his style. This was someone else’s game, and it had to be connected to the Haven. Anna had told him there was a line she wouldn’t cross. When he’d found her body, he’d assumed that line had something to do with Ramirez. He’d been wrong. Anna had been helping Danny and Callie run away, and now whoever was behind that place had caught up to them.

  Instead of the Glock, Ethan pulled out his knife: a Buck folder with a three-and-a-quarter-inch blade and a one-arm bandit opener. His older brother Doug had given it to Ethan for his sixteenth birthday. A coward’s weapon, their father would have said. But he’d never been a military brat in a small southern town, where boys regularly carried more than knives and liked to use them on the more scrupulous.

  “Don’t let anyone know you have it,” Doug had said. “And only use it as a last resort.”

  Doug had taken a lethal bullet in Iraq a few years later, and the knife had become more than a weapon. It had become his legacy to Ethan. He’d carried it ever since, through his years in the service and as an Agency officer. It had saved his life more than once because, like now, sometimes a gun was just too loud and clumsy.

  Snapping it open, he held it low and crept forward, avoiding the mud and using the foliage to shield his movements.

  He heard them first, a startled yelp, muffled but distinct, then he saw them, poised at the edge of the fast running stream. Danny had slipped, and Callie was helping him up, both seemingly unaware of the stranger skulking behind them.

  Ethan flipped the knife, thumb and forefinger catching the blade, then launched it at the other man. It found its mark, burrowing into the man’s back just below his right shoulder. He grunted and arched forward, staggered, but managed to keep his feet, and started to turn. He was too slow. Ethan was on him, grabbing the man’s shooting arm and sending his gun skittering across the forest floor, snapping an elbow into his chin. The man went down, howling as the knife struck earth, then rolled onto his stomach.

  Ethan snagged his collar, lifting the half-unconscious man to see his face. A trickle of blood dripped from his mouth. “The only reason you’re alive, you son of a bitch, is because I need answers.” He gave the man a shake, extracting a groan. “Who are you working for? And why the hell are you following those kids?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Ethan gripped the knife handle, and the man keened. “What was that?” Ethan said, and glanced toward the creek for Danny and Callie.

  They were gone. “What the . . .” He’d expected his appearance on the scene to stop them, or slow them down at the very least. Except he’d forgotten: they were running from him. “Goddamn it.”

  He yanked his knife from the man’s back, wiped off the blood, and dropped it into his pocket. Then he drew the Glock and brought it down on the back of the man’s head. “Stick around, we’re not done yet.”

  Leaving the unconscious man, Ethan raced across the leaf-slick ground, slowing only for the stream’s muddy seams and moss-covered rocks. On the other side, he picked up speed through the last patch of trees and hit the highway just as a green junker pulled away from the curb. Danny and Callie were in the front seat.

  Danny was looking out the back window, then caught Ethan’s eye as the car passed. The boy was scared. Ethan spun and saw a jacked-up black Ford truck bearing down on them. He put it together in an instant. The driver must have been waiting for the man in the woods.

  Ethan stepped into the road, taking a double-handed shooter’s stance as the Ford charged toward him. He aimed for the driver’s head, blocking out everything but the dark mass behind the windshield, counting down. Five, four, three . . .

  The truck screeched to a halt, but idled, as if deciding whether to attempt the run.

  “Come on, you bastard,” Ethan said. “Let’s play chicken.”

  The driver revved his engine, and Ethan’s finger itched against the trigger.

  Suddenly, a siren rent the air.

  It came from behind him, racing toward them on the two-lane highway. The truck’s driver rammed his engine in reverse, spinning around by the side of the road, and sped off in the other direction. Ethan reached the tree line just as a county cruiser streaked by, tires squealed as it took the curve that led to the park entrance.

  He went cold inside. Sydney?

  THROUGH THE BACK WINDOW, Danny saw Ethan dart into the road between them and the black truck. Feet planted wide, he took aim at the truck as it hurtled toward him.

  Guilt tightened Danny’s chest. He’d never seen anything like it, except maybe in the movies. Ethan was risking his life for him and Callie as they ran away.

  Their car went over a hill, and he lost sight of both truck and man. He turned back around, feeling sick to his stomach. Callie took his hand, and he squeezed hers reassuringly. She knew how close they’d come. If it hadn’t been for her, they’d still be back on that road, or inside that truck on their way back to Haven Island. When he’d frozen at the sight of the truck, she’d snapped him out of it, urging him to flag down the car.

  “You kids in trouble?” asked the old man behind the wheel.

  Danny forced a smile. “No, sir. We just need a ride.”

  The man was nice enough, but really old and skinny. Deep lines carved up his face, and his hair was yellowish white and greasy looking. “Don’t think I’ve seen you two around,” he said. “You live in Riverbend?”

  “No, sir. We’re from Champaign.”

  “Nice town that, with the university and all.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You sure are a long way from home.” He gave them a long sideways glance. “How did you say you happen to be all the way down here on your own?”

  Danny made up a story. “We were with a group from our school, and they accidently left without us.”

  The man kept on with the questions, and with each new one, Danny came up with anoth
er on-the-spot answer. He was spinning tales so fast, he figured it would only be a matter of time before the old guy caught on and took them to the nearest police station. Fortunately Danny saw their chance to escape at the first stoplight in town.

  “Hey, Callie, look,” he said. “There’s Dad.” He pointed across the street to a man standing next to a red minivan. “See, over there, in the gas station?”

  “Oh, yeah. He must be looking for us.” She didn’t sound very convincing, but at least she hadn’t totally blown it.

  “We’ll get out here, mister.” Danny already had the door half open. “That’s our father.”

  “Well, hold on there a minute, son,” the old man said. “I’ll drive ya across the street. I wouldn’t mind having a word or two with your dad.”

  “That’s not necessary, sir.” Danny pulled Callie from the car. “Thanks for the ride.” He slammed the door, and with a tight grip on Callie, waved and hollered as he ran toward the gas station.

  Danny was afraid the old man would follow them. The light had turned green, and he sat in the middle of the intersection, as if trying to make up his mind. Then a horn blasted behind him, and he moved on.

  From now on, Danny thought, he needed to be more careful.

  No way he’d risk asking another adult for a ride. They were all too nosy, asking questions about stuff that wasn’t any of their business. So unless he and Callie wanted a quick trip to the local police station, he’d have to find some other way to get to Champaign.

  A bus lumbered past, and he thought about finding the station. He had a few dollars but no idea what bus fare cost. If he tried to buy a couple of tickets and didn’t have enough money, he’d look pretty dumb. Then he’d have more adults asking questions.

  He thought about calling his father, but knew he didn’t dare. Sydney’s warning about showing up on Timothy Mulligan’s doorstep had made sense, though Danny hadn’t wanted to admit it. A phone call would be worse. What were the chances he’d drop everything and drive fifty miles to pick up a couple of kids claiming to be his children? Besides, who knew what lies Sydney had told him?