Double Blind

by D P Lyle

  Furious, Sam slammed the phone into its cradle but missed and it tumbled to the floor. She snatched it up and settled it in place.

  After changing clothes and snapping her gun into place on the back of her belt, she drove straight to Burt’s, hoping to stop the hunt before it even started. Carmelita opened the door and let Sam in. “Mr. Eagan’s not here,” she said.

  “How long ago did he leave?” Sam asked.

  “Half an hour,” Niki said, walking into the entry foyer. She wore a black silk robe, mid-thigh length.

  Sam frowned. “Who went with him?”

  “Hollis and Chief Wade. And that ugly cop. Eloy.”

  “And Murph?”

  “The dog guy?” Niki asked.

  Sam nodded.

  “Yeah. He had different ones this time. Not the old looking cute ones. These looked mean.”

  Apprehension wound its fingers around Sam’s gut. “What type of dogs?”

  “I don’t know. I hate dogs.”

  “Did they take trucks or horses?”

  “Horses, I think,” Niki said.

  Sam turned toward the door, but Niki grabbed her arm. “I need to talk to you.” She cast a nervous glance at Carmelita, who excused herself and headed toward the kitchen.

  “I’m in a hurry,” Sam said.

  Niki’s blue eyes moistened. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “About what?”

  “I’m afraid. For Hollis.”

  “It may be a little late for that,” Sam said.

  “No,” Niki said. “It’s not. Hollis isn’t like Burt.”

  “Seems that way to me.”

  Tears welled in Niki’s eyes, intensifying their blueness, and streaked across her perfect cheekbones. She glanced at the door Carmelita had left through, and then back at Sam. “I over heard them talking this morning. I didn’t understand all of it, but...remember...I told you Burt was ruthless?”

  “Yes.”

  “What I didn’t tell you was that he had tried to kill someone.”

  “Who? When?”

  “I don’t know who, but it was a couple of months ago.” Niki sniffed back tears. “Hollis told me. He said Burt and two other guys hunted some man down and killed him. Up in the mountains somewhere.”

  “What do you mean hunted down?”

  “Hollis said they turned him lose in the forest and hunted him.”

  “What?”

  “I got the feeling that maybe the person is still alive. At least Hollis believes he is. And that he’s up in the mountains. Burt plans to track down Billy and this other guy. If they can find them. Hollis tried to talk him out of it, but Burt convinced him that they had to or they would both be in some kind of trouble.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “I tried to talk Hollis out of going with them, but he got angry with me. Told me this was none of my business.” Her lower lip trembled. “He never shouts at me.”

  “Damn it,” Sam said. “I knew it.”

  “Knew what?”

  “I don’t have time to explain. I’ve got to get up there and stop them before they make things worse.”

  “Don’t let anything happen to Hollis. He’s not like Burt.”

  “I’ll do what I can, but my first priority is protecting Billy.” Sam pulled open the door and then turned back to Niki. “If the State Patrol happen to show up here, tell them everything. Understand?”

  “But…”

  “But, nothing. The only thing that will help Hollis is a big dose of the truth.”

  *

  Since Burt and his hunting party couldn’t have known where Billy had gone, Sam guessed they would return to where they had captured him before, near the Old Watkin’s Mine, and search from there. That’s what she would do anyway. People in trouble tend to return to familiar territory.

  She drove across the rolling terrain of Casa Grande to the area where they had entered the trees before and parked. She slipped on her jacket and headed up the slope.

  The blue sky rapidly disappeared as another mass of black clouds slid over the peaks, led by a chilling breeze. Several hundred feet above the valley floor, the forest thickened, adding to the murkiness. Breathing heavily, legs aching, she pushed forward, over large rocks, through thick brush, and up gravel-strewn slopes. Despite the cold, sweat frosted her face and trickled down her neck.

  She stopped suddenly. Something felt wrong. An uneasy sensation danced over her flesh, pebbling it, pulling the fine hairs on her arms to attention. She cocked her head and listened, but the forest seemed deathly silent. She looked behind her, right, left, ahead up the slope.

  Then, she saw him. Almost.

  In the gloom, a thick form slid through the shadows, absorbing, then releasing them in its wake.

  “Billy?” she said. “Billy? Is that you?”

  The hulk stopped, above her, hidden behind the trunk and thick branches of a tall spruce.

  “Billy.”

  The shadow moved higher, and then stopped again.

  The breeze swelled and pushed an odor toward her, feral, fierce, animalistic. Recognition was immediate. This was the person that ran over her, that killed Lloyd Varney, that smashed open the lab door.

  Her senses ramped up and she pulled her gun, her heart thumping against her chest. She moved to her left.

  At first, she saw only an amorphous blotch. Then, the outline of a head, shoulders. Continuing to her left and slightly up the slope, she stepped over a fallen tree trunk. Now, only 100 feet separated them.

  Unable to capture a clear view of the creature, she averted her gaze slightly, a trick she had learned from her father during the hours they had shared stargazing. He had called it "indirect vision." That area just off center where vision is sharpest.

  The creature peered around the tree trunk. She could make out a face, covered with hair, but few details. And now, she could hear its coarse raspy breathing.

  It moved away, up the slope, but stopped and turned toward her. Two more steps, another pause, and then it continued up the slope.

  It wanted her to follow. She didn’t know who or what this thing was or where it wanted to lead her, but she sensed it meant her no harm. If that were its agenda, it would already have attacked her.

  She moved toward it as it continued higher, picking up pace.

  She rushed ahead. Even though she could no longer see it, she could hear it pushing through the trees.

  She found herself running to keep up. The sound of the creature’s movements grew fainter as the gap between them stretched wider until she could no longer hear it.

  She stopped and listened. Nothing. Only the whisper of the wind broke the silence. Her breath came in deep gasps and sweat slicked her face.

  She scanned the trees, searching for movement, but saw none. As if it had vanished. Just like in the alley the night Lloyd was murdered. What the hell was it?. It seemed human, yet not. And why had it led her here?

  Unzipping her jacket, she welcomed the cool breeze against her sweat-dampened shirt. The first sprinkles of the coming storm peppered the trees above her.

  After a few minutes, cooled and replenished with oxygen, she zipped her jacket and continued to the east, hugging the tree line, keeping a wary eye on the thick forest for movement. The rain fell harder.

  Above her, the Old Watkin’s Mine came into view, but Wade and his erstwhile posse were nowhere to be seen. Had they already captured Billy? Or killed him?

  Suddenly, a gunshot echoed through the trees. From the east, not far away. She hurried toward the sound, slowing when she heard voices. Careful not to betray her presence, she crept through a veil of spruce branches until she saw them.

  The five men stood at the base of a slope, looking up. Murph clutched the leashes of two muscular Pit Bulls. Eloy raised his rifle and fired. The bullet twanged off the rocks.

  Sam moved closer and squatted behind several large rocks that were piled beneath the drooping branches of a towering spruce tree. Now, she could see them more clearly, but they would
not be able to see her in the shadows.

  Two more rifle shots from Eloy and Burt.

  Looking higher, she saw Billy crouched behind a boulder..

  Another shot, a ping, and a puff from the top of the rock. Billy flinched and settled lower, out of sight.

  She peered between the branches at the situation before her. Five men, two dogs, and an overabundance of insanity. Not pretty.

  Making a decision, she pulled her .357 and took a deep calming breath. Sinking more deeply into the shadows, she fired a shot upward, through a gap in the foliage.

  Startled, they turned toward her. Burt and Wade dropped to a knee and waved their rifles before them, obviously searching for whoever had fired the shot. Eloy stumbled to his left and hid behind Wade. Hollis froze. Murph struggled to restrain the two Pit Bulls, which growled and snarled in her direction. Their legs and shoulders rippled with muscles and their square jaws hung open, revealing long conical fangs.

  “Who’s there?” Burt shouted.

  “Me,” Sam turned her head and shouted, directing her voice up and away so they couldn’t pinpoint her location among the trees.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Burt asked.

  “Trying to keep you from making a mistake,” she said.

  “No. You’re interfering with a police operation,” Wade said.

  “Is that what this is?” Sam said. “Looks like a lynch party to me. And those don’t look like tracking dogs.”

  “Oh, they can hunt all right,” Murph said.

  “You keep a good hold on them, Murph, or I’ll shoot both of them.”

  Once the shocked look on Murph’s face subsided, he mumbled something to the dogs. They immediately stopped pulling against the leashes and sat, flanking him, head and ears erect. Their eyes seemed to bore right through the tree branches and lock on her.

  “I’d say you’re a little outnumbered,” Burt said.

  “Maybe. But I’ve got a line on the center of your chest and I’m pretty good with this .357.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  “Want to bet your life on it?” Sam said.

  “Come on out, so we can talk,” Burt said.

  “I don’t think so. First, you toss the hardware and then we’ll talk.”

  Wade stepped forward. “Not much to talk about. We’re trying to catch a murderer. Either help or get out of the way.”

  “Either put the guns down or I’ll let Billy run and shoot the first person that tries to stop him.”

  Burt whispered something to Wade and then said,” OK. We’ll put them down and then you come out. Agreed?”

  “Sure.”

  Wade started to protest, but Burt grabbed his arm. The men laid their rifles on the ground.

  “Everybody relax,” Sam said. “Except you, Wade. You collect the guns and empty them.”

  He did as she instructed and then said. “Now what?”

  “Wrap them in your jacket and then come down the slope toward the trees. And nothing funny. Understand?”

  Wade looked at Burt, who nodded. Wade bundled the rifles and walked toward her.

  When he reached the trees, she said, “Drop them right there.”

  He laid them on the ground.

  “Now, get back up the hill.”

  She waited for him to rejoin the others and then said to Murph: “Tie those dogs to that tree to your left. And tie them tightly.”

  Murph secured the leashes to the trunk of a large spruce. The dogs remained at attention, head and ears erect.

  “Billy, you OK?” she shouted.

  “Yeah.”

  “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Wade stepped toward her. “You can’t just walk out of here with a murderer. Billy’s under arrest and he’s got to go back and answer for his crimes.”

  “He will. Just not with you. The State Patrol is on the way. Billy’ll surrender to them.” She looked up the slope. “Billy, let’s go.”

  “No. I’m close to finding that thing I lost.”

  “I think you better come with me,” Sam said.

  “You go round up the state boys,” Billy said. “I’ll take care things on this end. And after I do, I’ll come in.”

  “Then, get out of here,” Sam said. “I’ll make sure you get a head start.”

  As they say, I’ll be in touch.” Billy came from behind the rock, crossed an open area, and disappeared into the forest

  “Now, let’s all calm down,” Sam said. “Have a seat and let’s give Billy a little running room.”

  “You’re making a big mistake,” Wade said.

  “It won’t be my first. Now, sit down and shut the fuck up.”

  After 15 minutes, she pushed her way through the spruce branches and out into the open. She gathered the bundled rifles beneath one arm. “I’ll leave these at the bottom of the hill.”

  Burt glared at her. “It’s a long way home from here.”

  “It’s not that far.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Where are your horses?” she asked.

  Burt smiled. “You know, right this minute I can’t remember where we left them. Can you?” he said to Wade.

  “I don’t recall,” he said.

  Sam shook her head. “You guys are just too much. All this for two thousand acres of dirt.”

  “You’ve been listening to Billy’s lies,” Burt said.

  “I know an honest man when I meet one. I was raised by one. Billy’s honest if nothing else. That’s more than I can say for you.” She turned, slipped back into the trees, and started down the slope.

  “You won’t make it,” Burt said.

  Sam shook her head. “What are you going to do? Shoot me?” she said over her shoulder.

  As she entered the trees, she heard Burt’s words behind her.

  “Turn the dogs loose.”

  Chapter 46

  Turn the dogs loose!

  The words struck Sam harder than a perfect left hook. She looked over her shoulder, but she was too deep into the trees to see the men. Or the dogs. But, she heard the two Pit Bulls snarling, fighting against their restraints. They seemed to sense the coming chase.

  She dropped the rifles and ran. Faster than she ever had. Down, stumbling in a near free fall, her feet churning to keep her from sprawling on her face. The tree branches clutched at her clothing, stung her face, and tore at her hands as she attempted to push them from her path.

  Even over her own strident breathing, her pounding footsteps, and the slapping of the branches, she heard them coming. Their claws clicked over the rocks and their guttural growls reverberated through the trees.

  She leaped over a three-foot high rock. Landing awkwardly, she lost her balance, her momentum throwing her forward. She broke her fall with her outstretched hands and cartwheeled into a tree trunk. A sharp pain knifed through her back.

  Fear and a rush of adrenaline pushed her upright. She surged forward once again, but had lost valuable ground to her pursuers. Before she had run another 30 yards, the first of the dogs hurtled over the rock, negotiating it with ease.

  She would never be able to outrun them. She reached beneath her jacket and snatched her gun from its holster. Another 20 yards and she whirled around leveling the weapon, squeezing off two rounds. Tree bark exploded near the first dog. It immediately veered to her right, its mate to the left.

  She directed the gun at one and then the other, searching for a clear shot. But the animals darted behind trees, rocks, working to flank her.

  These dogs were trained for this.

  Fear expanded in her chest. She shoved her gun into her jacket pocket and lurched forward, straight down the slope, hoping gravity would be the ally she desperately needed. The dogs crashed through the brush behind her, closer, now trailing by only thirty feet.

  She swerved to her right. Ahead, a 20-foot high escarpment towered above her, a pile of rocks welded together by dirt and years of erosion. Hugging its face, a gnarled spruce tree extended high above its table
like top.

  Without breaking stride, Sam hurled herself upward, welcoming the embrace of the tree’s branches. She grabbed one branch, and then another, her feet searching for a hold.

  The first dog, showing no hesitation, flew after her. It’s jaws clamped onto the heel of her boot, pulling her downward. The branch in her right hand snapped. She slipped, falling toward the snarling animals. She clutched another branch and with strength she didn’t know she possessed, yanked herself upward. She slammed her other foot into the dog’s muzzle.

  It ignored her attack. Even though it hung by the fangs buried in her boot heel, its grip tightened and it began shaking its head violently, attempting to rip her from the tree. The other dog circled to her left and sprang upward, jaws snapping.

  Again, she slammed the heel of her boot against its snout. The dog’s teeth lost their grip on her boot and the beast tumbled to the ground. It immediately jumped up and renewed the attack. Now both dogs leaped and snarled, fangs bared.

  Sam climbed higher. Some branches cracked; others held. Two steps upward; one slide back. When she neared the top of the rock formation, she worked herself around to the other side of the tree’s trunk.

  She wedged her boot against the base of the thickest branch she could see and, without hesitation, leaped across the gap between the tree and the rock, landing hard, flat on the top of the rocky escarpment. Her gun dug into her belly and her teeth cracked together.

  She scrambled to her feet, pulled her .357, and looked around. She was on a ledge, 20 feet wide and extending 50 feet back to the slope. That meant three sides offered her protection, while the other allowed an escape route. She looked down at the dogs.

  They weren’t there.

  Where did they go? She heard them rustling through the brush to her left. At first, she couldn’t see them, then they came into view. They scurried up the slope, coming around behind her, effectively cutting off her escape route.

  She quickly evaluated her options. None looked inviting. She could either jump, climb back down the tree, or stand and fight. Only the latter made sense. She had tried to outrun them and that hadn’t worked. She knelt, her Smith and Wesson leveled in the direction from which the attack would come.