“I’ll get a map of it up on my iPhone,” he muttered, taking the piece of paper.
Gabe’s gut told him that was where she went. Bay wanted to be alone. To think. To cry. She had no one to hold her or help her now. He felt so damned miserable he couldn’t even cry. “Did you find anything else missing? Anything she might have taken with her? That could give us a clue as to what she was thinking.”
“I don’t know.” Poppy rose to her feet. “Let’s go out to the shed. All of Floyd’s tent and hunting gear are stored in there.”
The door to the shed stood open as they approached it. He figured Bay had come and taken camping gear, maybe a sleeping bag, and grabbed some food from their refrigerator before she left.
Poppy peered in the door, turned the light switch on and looked around.
“You’re right, she took the tent, two sleeping bags, the Coleman stove, a fishing rod and Floyd’s tackle box.” Poppy stepped inside and walked over to an old, battered military trunk that her husband had gotten when he joined the Marine Corps. Lifting the lid, she whispered, “Oh, Lordy. Floyd’s KA-BAR knife is gone!” She whirled toward Gabe. “She wouldn’t cut herself, would she?” Poppy blanched, her voice quaking with terror.
“Bay isn’t someone who gives up. I don’t think she took it for that reason.” Gabe scowled. “Your husband had a Win-Mag .300 rifle. Where is it?” He wasn’t going into deep woodlands without a weapon. God only knew who or what was out there. Bay could have taken the knife for protection purposes, maybe to cut bait or gut fish she caught, not with the idea of slicing her wrists and bleeding out. She was too damn strong to do that.
“It’s in the house. Come on!” Poppy practically ran back to the main cabin. Inside, she led Gabe to the rifle on the wall. Gabe brought it down. It was a beautiful piece, well cared for, the stock a rich honey oak color. “Do you have his rifle cleaning kit? Any shells?”
“Yes, everything’s in that drawer.” She pointed to the cabinet below where the rifle was displayed.
Crouching down, Gabe found what he needed. There was a box of shells for the Win-Mag. He also found two .45 pistols in holsters and a cleaning kit for them, as well. He took the pistols along with the ammo. Feeling a little better, Gabe put everything in an old canvas duffel bag and hauled it out to the newer pickup, a dark green Ford F-100. Poppy followed him.
“What are you going to do?”
“Try and find her.”
“Lordy, Gabe, that’s thick backcountry. You can get lost easily. Turned around.”
He gave her a patient smile. “I won’t get lost, Poppy. If I could find my way around with a compass and map in the Hindu Kush mountains of Afghanistan, I won’t have any problems here with these hills.”
“Oh…of course. I forgot, the military taught you that kind of stuff.” She touched her brow, rattled by Bay’s disappearance.
“Can you pack me a sack of food, Poppy? I’m going to get my military gear from the other cabin, and I’ll meet you here at the truck.”
“Yes, yes I can!” she said before turning and hurrying back to her cabin.
Gabe felt better now, having a focus, a plan and, most important, an objective. Stony Bottom. Well, hell, that about summed it all up regarding their relationship, didn’t it? Bay was hitting rock bottom. Mouth pursed, he trotted back to change into his cammies and get out his military gear packed in a large duffel bag.
*
BAY SANK INTO the warmth of the two sleeping bags she’d combined in order to stay comfortable in her tent. She’d spent the morning hiking to her favorite spot not far from the bridge across the Greenbrier River. The sky was cloudy, a gunmetal gray, the wind cold from the north. She wasn’t sure if it was going to rain or snow.
Earlier, she’d called her mother, who was relieved to hear she was all right. Bay didn’t want to cause her mother any more stress than necessary. She kept the call short and told her she was safe. That she was going to be alone for at least two or three weeks. She didn’t ask about Gabe, feeling too guilty for running out on him after their argument.
The tent breathed around her, night falling, the wind picking up. Emotionally, Bay felt numb. Outside, she could hear the nearby gurgle of the river, the sound soothing away her anxiety. Closing her eyes, she saw Gabe’s face hovering gently before her. A ragged sigh tore from her lips, and Bay felt tears well up in her eyes. She loved him, and she’d taken advantage of his good nature and kindness. She should have sent him back to the SEALs, back to his platoon a few weeks after she returned home. Bay didn’t know who felt more helpless: her or Gabe. There was a desolate look in his eyes, raw agony for her reflected in them. And she didn’t have the emotional strength to support him at all. That had torn her up.
“I’m a mess,” she muttered into the jacket that she’d rolled up to become her pillow. Bay refused to allow Gabe to continue being tortured by her PTSD symptoms. He deserved better than that. All he got out of this raw deal was to take care of an emotional invalid. That wasn’t what she wanted from him. Gabe had stood loyally by her, asking nothing for himself. He’d given her everything. And now she’d broken his trust. Her heart bled for him. She loved him so much. But he’d never know. Not now…
She heard the first splatters of rain on the canvas tent. She loved rain because it always soothed her, calmed her busy-bee mind. Soon, Bay drifted off to sleep.
*
GABE IGNORED HIS discomfort, the rain pelting down around his newly constructed hide on the thickly wooded hillside. He’d located Bay near midafternoon. He was relieved to see her and called Poppy immediately to let her know. It was then that Poppy had told him Bay had phoned minutes earlier so she wouldn’t worry. Bay hadn’t told her mother where she was, but that she was safe. Poppy could now rest and not worry. He promised to give her daily updates. Poppy had cried, grateful for his care and thoughtfulness.
Gabe had created a hide about a thousand yards from where she’d put up her tent on the other side of the bridge in a yellowed grass meadow located three hundred feet away from the bridge over the river. Gabe watched Bay through the Night Force scope, clearly able to see her face. Seeing the anguish in it. Damn, he hurt for her.
Twice, he’d almost gotten up and left his hide made of brush, branches and dried leaves sprinkled over it like roofing, and gone down to talk to her. But what would that have accomplished? Nothing. Instinctively, Gabe knew Bay had to have this time alone to think and figure things out. Her life was in shambles, just so many puzzle pieces lying around her. And God knew, he wanted to help her pick them up and help her put them back together. But Poppy’s words months earlier echoed in his memory, that he had to sometimes let her stumble, fall and pick herself up. This was one of those times.
He kept the Win-Mag pointed in the direction of the tent. He’d covered it with some light gray netting so the barrel wouldn’t shine and accidentally be seen by others. The scope gave him what he really wanted; clear access to the location around Bay’s tent. He’d noticed as he’d created his hide, there were plenty of hikers crossing the bridge to get to the main trail, people riding horses, tons of bicyclers along the trail, as well. Just before sundown he spotted six men, all but one Latino, carrying very heavy packs on their backs. The leader was a tall, powerfully built bald white man. They looked focused, as if they had an objective, hurrying across the bridge, oblivious to the beauty surrounding Stony Bottom. They didn’t stop, take photos or simply stand and breathe in the natural beauty around them. That made them stand out, and Gabe was suspicious.
Bay hadn’t exactly chosen a quiet spot, Gabe thought. But this was her childhood haunt. And he understood it probably gave her a sense of continuity and nurturing that she was so desperately seeking. His mouth pursed. Something he hadn’t been able to give her. Wincing inwardly, Gabe thought he would never stop loving her. If anything, he loved her more. Right now, Bay couldn’t even love herself.
He’d taken some blankets off the beds in the smaller cabin and made a comfortable, dry
nest inside his hide. It was a good six feet wide and ten feet in length. No one would find him on the slope of the woodlands-coated hill. The trail was down below him, and he seriously doubted anyone would wander up the hill toward him. He didn’t realize until he consulted Google, how popular the seventy-six-mile Greenbrier Trail was. He did now, watching the trail clear of hikers as night fell.
Gabe was thirsty. Water was the one thing he’d forgotten. His SEAL buddies would never allow him to live this one down. Water was a first-line gear. Even rookie BUD/S graduates wouldn’t ever forget to bring water. He had. Once he’d located Bay, he’d hiked down the trail after dark with his night vision goggles in place. Gabe had taken along his ruck, driven into a nearby small town and bought ten gallons of water and some more food and batteries for his radio and NVGs. Packing his supplies in, Gabe settled in for the long haul, whatever that meant. He kept watch until one in the morning, the rain softly falling around his hide. No one was walking the bridge and the trail at this hour. It was clear. Everything was quiet.
Gabe spotted a small band of whitetail deer as they emerged from the wooded slopes of the hill right behind Bay’s tent. They were spooked by the tent and walked warily around it, heading for the river to drink. There was something peaceful about rain falling and watching the deer drink and then go back into the meadow and start munching on the yellowed grass.
Gabe dozed off at the Win-Mag. His head fell forward, and it immediately jerked him awake. Automatically, he scanned with the scope, making sure Bay was safe down there across the river. Glancing at his Oyster Rolex on his wrist, it was 0130. He crossed his arms on the dirt embankment and laid his head down next to the rifle, closing his eyes. Very shortly, Gabe fell into an exhausted sleep.
*
GABE WAS AWAKE long before Bay emerged from her tent. The air was crisp, hanging in the forty-degree Fahrenheit range. Low, foglike clouds hung above the smooth surface of the river. He watched with his binoculars, sitting in front of his hide after having a cup of hot instant coffee.
Gabe saw as she stretched fitfully, dressed in a pair of baggy gray sweatpants and a heavy red sweater and a green nylon jacket. She looked rested, and he heaved a sigh of relief. The sky was clear, dawn lightening the shadowed meadow area.
She crawled back into the tent and carried out a small Coleman stove. She proceeded to make herself a hefty breakfast of three eggs and a lot of bacon. His girl had her appetite back, and that made him feel good.
*
BAY FELT EYES on her. She looked up across the river toward the wooded hill. Usually, she’d have trusted her feelings of being watched. Now…well, she couldn’t trust herself at all. She went to the bank of the river, crouched down and washed her plate and flatware, scrubbing them with sand to cleanse them. The sun was up, the rays shooting across to the crown of the hill in front of her. The peace was exquisite, and she felt her spirit respond to the pristine surroundings.
*
GABE HISSED A curse, quickly jerking the binos away from his eyes. Snipers knew if they watched their target too long through a scope, the targets would become peripherally aware they were being watched. And stalked. He tensed when Bay stood up, frowned and looked up in his direction. Gabe waited, slowing his breath, feeling himself become part of the thick vegetation surrounding the hide. At a thousand yards, he couldn’t pick up her facial expression without the scope or binos. Still, it warned him that Bay’s all-terrain radar was working just fine. He couldn’t afford to get caught watching her for too long again.
As Bay moved back to her Coleman stove, to fold it up and set it inside her tent, Gabe moved quietly back into his hide. He leaned his belly against the wall of dirt, his right hand near the trigger of the Win-Mag, his left arm folded across and in front of him.
He spotted movement from behind the meadow on a smaller trail. Scowling, he zeroed in with his Night Force scope on ten men walking very hurriedly toward the bridge. They, too, had heavy packs on their backs. And they all had that same determined look on their faces as the other group had the night before. Who the hell were these dudes?
This time, Gabe looked more closely. The leader was a tall white guy, with a shaved head and a perpetual scowl on his meaty face. Moving the scope downward across his torso, Gabe spotted the tip of a pistol muzzle an inch below the heavy coat he wore.
Moving farther down, he studied his pants. Yes, there was probably a knife or a small pistol on the outside left leg, hidden within the folds of his cammo pants.
He tensed as the leader looked into the meadow, halted and intently studied Bay’s small tent. Then, they moved on. The hair on the back of Gabe’s neck stood up. It was a warning. Dammit. All the men were wearing camouflage Army gear.
Was this some kind of Army gig? A forced march to get them in shape? Gabe had no idea, but he put it on his list of things to do today. He grabbed his computer, a modernized wheel book snipers always carried on them, and took a page for the commandos, as he referred to them. He marked down last night’s group and how many were in it, as well as intel on this latest group. Something was going on. But what?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AFTER THE SECOND WEEK, Gabe moved his hide. Those Army dudes, or whoever they were, stepped up their activity by running through the meadow twice a day where Bay had her tent located. They were smart, doing it at dawn and late dusk, when she was asleep or inside her tent for the night.
Gabe used his camera with its long-range lens, continuing to take photos of every man’s face and gear. He had a bad feeling about them. This morning, the men quietly moved through the foggy meadow, heading for the Greenbrier River bridge. He was within a hundred feet behind Bay’s tent. His new hide took advantage of a fifty-ton boulder surrounded on all sides by trees and brush. No one, not even Bay, would ever know he was there. And that was the way Gabe wanted it for now.
Although he had the Win-Mag set up, it was much easier and less cumbersome to use his binos as he lay against the wall of dirt and rock. As always, Gabe felt the hair on his neck rise just before he’d get eyes on the group of men coming around the hill and heading toward the bridge. Sure enough, through the ground fog creeping silently across the meadow, he saw the bald leader once more.
Usually he led a group every three or four days. This time, six men walking like overburdened pack mules trudged wearily behind him. And always, Baldy would stop, glare toward the tent in the meadow, work his mouth and then move toward the bridge. Gabe could see the distrust and worry in his eyes. Maybe Baldy was concerned as to why the tent was always there. Thinking it was a spy watching his movements.
Gabe typed the intel in his wheel book computer after the group had crossed the bridge and were down on the Greenbrier Trail, heading north.
For a moment, he simply enjoyed the cold forty-degree temperature, the fingers of opaque fog stealing in slow, graceful twists and turns across the area. Gabe longed to be in that tent, holding Bay. Kissing her, loving her. God knew, he had a lot of time to fantasize about their stalled relationship as he watched her sitting outside her tent to paint or sketch. He often wondered what she was drawing. What beauty did Bay see that touched her heart?
He set the binos aside and made his breakfast of hot coffee thanks to a chemical pack that heated the water. He’d put a couple of slices of turkey between two pieces of bread and slowly chewed on it, his gaze always moving, noting and watching the surrounding area as the day grew lighter.
Suddenly, he heard Bay scream. It was that wild, scared scream he’d heard so many times before at the cabin. Dropping the sandwich, Gabe bolted out of the hide, his heart lurching in his chest. And then, he skidded to a halt fifty feet down the hill. What the hell was he doing? Breathing hard, Gabe paused, torn. He stared hard at the tent, and from this distance, he could hear Bay sobbing like a frightened child. Gabe’s eyes grew dark, and he wanted to run that short distance and go to her. Hold her. Bile rose in his throat as he continued to listen to her sobs until they lessened and eventually sto
pped.
Angrily, he turned on his heel and climbed quietly up the hill to the promontory of the massive rock. His heart was tormented. He grieved for Bay. Slipping back inside his hide was the last thing he wanted to do right now. As he slid into his observation position, Gabe rubbed his bristly growth of beard beneath his fingers. Every cell in his body screamed he should protect Bay. Hold her against the torture he knew she was reexperiencing. Closing his eyes, Gabe forced himself to slow his breathing, to get ahold of himself, even though adrenaline was racing through his bloodstream, pushing him to act.
From his other position on the opposite side of the river, he wouldn’t have heard her screams because he’d been too far away. Now, with his new hide directly behind her tent, a quarter of the way up a hill, he could. Gabe’s mind twisted in devastation. Did Bay have nightmares every night? Or not? She had at first when coming home, but eventually, it reduced to one or two a week. Dammit!
His heart convulsed in agony. He loved her so damn much he could barely tolerate the pain ripping through him. Yet, Gabe knew if he’d go running down there to announce his presence, he couldn’t predict what Bay’s reaction would be. His heart was utterly vulnerable where Bay was concerned.
Gabe pulled out of his misery as he heard the tent open up. Bay emerged. She had on a pair of dark red flannel trousers, her red cable-knit sweater on and her green jacket. He saw the back of her head, her hair tangled and uncombed. She headed through the swirling mists toward the riverbank. Swallowing hard, his throat tight with emotion, all Gabe could do was watch and hurt for her. And for himself.
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