Rant of Ravens

by Goff, Christine

  “You really are clever.” He smiled, but the forced warmth never reached his cold, blue eyes. “The birds were never for sale, but Bursau had guessed it was me in the photographs.”

  Rachel thought back to his comments on the Nettleman Bill. She had construed them as negative, when in fact he’d been advocating a harsher reaction to Mike Johnson’s encroachment on Rocky Mountain National Park and Aunt Miriam’s land. She heard his words in her head. “The only thing that’ll stop him is someone hitting him hard in the pocketbook, like Miriam shutting down access so he’s forced to find an alternate route.”

  From what she’d read about PETE activists, they believed in zeroing in on the most vulnerable point of a wilderness-destroying project. In this case, access. Without Miriam’s permission to cross Bird Haven land, Mike Johnson would lack the access he needed to obtain the BLM land permit.

  “Figure it out?” he asked.

  Rachel shrugged, resting her hand on Aunt Miriam’s shoulder. “I figure you set up a meeting with Donald Bursau to purchase the disks. His mistake was trusting you, which is why he erased all traces of the photographs off his hard drive.”

  “He planned on trading the disks for cash. Too bad I couldn’t take the risk of him talking.”

  “So you killed him. Did you do the same to the person who took the original photographs?”

  “The dirtbag was only supposed take photographs of Forest and William.”

  “Instead, he shot pictures of you, too. Was he blackmailing you as well?”

  “What do you think?” Charles tapped the butt of the gun against the mantel. “I couldn’t afford to keep paying him. Who would have guessed that copies of the photos would end up at Birds of a Feather magazine? Apparently the dirtbag’s kid was moving, found them in a box in his garage, and called Bursau. He paid the guy a hundred bucks. That’s all. Just a hundred bucks for those photos.”

  Rachel felt Miriam tense, and she squeezed her aunt’s shoulder. “What are you going to do with us?”

  Charles straightened up. “I liked my original idea.” he said, waggling the gun, “ But you must realize that the plan has changed.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Strategically Charles’s new plan was brilliant, and he didn’t resist the opportunity to brag. He and his goons had found Cecilia on the road and, convinced they’d been sent to help by Lark or one of the others, she’d told them everything. Charles assured her the sheriff had taken Forest into custody, and that Dorothy, Lark, and Eric were being held for questioning at Black Canyon Creek Ranch.

  “Where is Cecilia now?” Rachel demanded.

  “She and your cell phone are being held back at the truck.”

  “And what, may I ask, were your plans for me?” Miriam asked, her voice quavering.

  “I was hoping you and I could work something out,” he said, running a finger down the side of her face. “But I guess not, huh?” A tear slipped down beside her nose, and he turned away. “The park is big. And it’s so darned easy to get disoriented when you’re hiking in the backcountry. You know, even in June, people die from hypothermia when they’re not wearing proper clothing.”

  Rachel swallowed. The sun was dropping, and the chill in the room attested to the truth in his statement. She considered trying to take Charles out with what she’d learned in self-defense class, but even if she succeeded, there were two more outside to contend with. She could never take Igor. And then there was the gun to consider.

  No, she had to buy them more time, and hope that Cecilia had been able to use the cell phone before she’d been caught. “What about the photographs?”

  “What about them? I destroyed all the disks.”

  “Except the one I have. It contains pictures of you stealing the briefcase.”

  Charles moved toward her, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. “You’ve seen that photograph?”

  “Better. I have a copy of it.”

  “Where?” His hand clamped around her arm, and Rachel winced.

  “At Bird Haven.”

  He let go of her arm and cursed. “Lark told me you got only documents off that disk.”

  Lark? That’s right, he’d visited her the day after the accident on Lumpy Ridge. She must have told him about finding the disk and retrieving the files. Rachel remembered telling her the photos couldn’t be accessed. “No wonder you thought you were safe.”

  Charles backhanded her, then jerked open the front door. “Larry, get in here.”

  Igor stepped into the room. “What’s up?”

  “We have a problem. I need you to keep an eye on Miriam.” Charles grabbed a high-powered flashlight. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

  Rachel flashed a reassuring smile in her aunt’s direction before Charles dragged her out the door. He shoved her roughly down the steps. She fell, tearing the knee out of her pants and reopening the puncture cuts on her leg caused by the cactus spines. “Ouch.”

  “Shut up.” He jammed the gun in her back, and pushed her ahead of him down the path.

  Night locked in the forest. She heard the occasional rustle of a nocturnal creature, and for the first time actually wished for a mountain lion. Any distraction would be welcome.

  Branches tore at her clothes. Her boot slipped up and down, raising a blister on her heel. “Can we rest for a minute?”

  “No.” He shoved her, his hand square in the middle of her back, knocking the wind from her lungs. She coughed and stumbled. He shoved her again.

  “How many copies of the picture did you make?”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t toy with me,” he said, his breath hot against her neck. “Who besides Miriam did you tell about the pictures? Have you shown them to anyone else?”

  “No,” she lied.

  At the truck, he opened the rear passenger-side door, checked to see that the child protection latch had been flipped, then shoved her down onto the backseat. Cecilia lay curled on the floor. Duct tape sealed her mouth, and her hands were bound behind her back.

  “Are you okay?”

  Cecilia nodded.

  “Did you make—”

  “Shut up!”

  Cecilia shook her head. Now that she knew help was not an option, Rachel’s mind raced, skimming over ways to escape. She considered choking him while he drove, but that would only result in another car accident. Better to take her chances at Bird Haven.

  She could see him in the rearview mirror. He glanced up every so often, but he shared his attention with the road. That might make it possible for her to free Cecilia’s hands. Rachel pulled at the tape binding Cecilia’s hands.

  Cecilia gasped.

  “What are you doing back there? Sit up.”

  Rachel leaned back against the seat.

  The truck jounced over ruts and tree branches as Charles sped down the road toward Bird Haven. Rachel managed to bend down again, and pull the car keys from Cecilia’s pocket. Stretching with her arm, she kept her face centered in the rearview mirror and sawed at the tape. It snagged, frayed, then finally snapped in two. Rachel signaled to Cecilia to lie still, then whispered a silent prayer that Eric would be there when they reached the house.

  Both Bird Haven and the Raptor House lay dark. So much for a God. Charles killed the lights and coasted to a stop near the front door. Jumping out, he yanked open the rear door. “Get out.”

  Rachel slipped the keys into Cecilia’s cupped hands and pushed herself across the seat, blocking his view of the older woman. “Can’t we talk about this, Charles? I know you don’t like me, but I can’t believe you really want to hurt Aunt Miriam or Cecilia.”

  “I’ll do what I have to for the cause.”

  “Spoken like a true fanatic.”

  “Get the picture.” He jerked her away from the truck, slammed the door, and pushed her up the front steps.

  “I don’t have the keys,” she said. “I left them back in my car.” She hoped he wouldn’t realize Cecilia had them, hoped he believed her lie.

  Charles
produced his own set. “Not to worry. Miriam trusts me.”

  “Her mistake.” Now her only chance lay in getting away before Charles got his hands on the photographs, which meant she’d have to make a break for it soon. Aunt Miriam would be safe if Rachel was at large. She’d become a bargaining chip.

  Rachel needed a way to distract Charles.

  The lock tumbler clicked.

  Perky! Day or night, the parakeet never failed to dive-bomb her as she entered the house. Let’s hope he’s enough of a distraction. She readied herself to run. Charles had left the truck keys in the ignition. If she could get back outside and into the truck, she could go for help.

  Rachel reached for the light switch, but Charles clubbed her hand away with the butt of his gun. “No lights.”

  He produced a flashlight from his pocket. The beam flickered across her tennis racket, still leaning against the wall. A weapon! Now all she needed was Perky. Where the heck was he when you wanted him?

  “Which room?”

  “The study.”

  “Move it.” He prodded her in the side with the barrel of the gun. She guided herself along the wall. Edging closer and closer to the tennis racket, she waited for Perky to attack. Had something happened to him?

  At the last possible moment, Rachel saw the flash of white. Charles raised his arms and batted at the bird. “What the…”

  Rachel groped for the tennis racket. Her hand found the grip in the dark. She swung, clipping the side of Charles’s head.

  “Why, you little…” He whirled and fired. She felt a sharp pain, then realized Perky had plucked out some of her hair. Rachel swung the racket again. This time the frame connected with Charles’s head. He cursed, and fired again. “You’ll pay for this!”

  He wrenched the racket from her grip and leaned heavily against the door. She turned, stumbled in the dark, and dashed toward the living room. Ducking into the hallway, she slid into the shadow of the sitting room doorway and froze. She heard him bump against a wall.

  “Where’d you go?” She heard him stop at the junction of the two hallways. “Straight or right, Perky?”

  Straight, straight.

  Perky whizzed past her head.

  Traitor!

  “When I find you, you’re going to die.” He moved past the doorway. Hadn’t he seen the bird? She waited. It sounded like he had stopped again. Maybe he was waiting for her to give away her hiding place.

  She held her ground. Finally he moved past, his footsteps clattering on the stone floor of the bar.

  Rachel pressed herself flat against the wall, drew two deep breaths, then backtracked down the hall toward the entrance.

  “There you are.” He pounded up behind her, and she sprinted toward the door. Only six more feet. The tennis racket lay on the floor, and she kicked it toward him.

  “Ow!”

  Good, she must have caught his shin. She wrenched open the front door, slamming it shut behind her and bounding down the stairs to the truck. Sliding onto the driver’s seat, she yanked the door shut and threw the locks.

  The keys. Where were the keys? They no longer dangled from the ignition.

  “Looking for these?”

  Rachel jumped at the sound of Cecilia’s voice in the back seat. The woman sat up, clanking the keys together like wind chimes on a breezy day.

  “You scared me.” Rachel snatched the keys, testing each in the ignition until one fit.

  Charles’s fist slammed into the glass beside her face, causing it to fracture into splinters. He drew a bead on the window with the gun. Rachel stared. Her heart hammered. Then she cranked the starter and threw the truck into reverse. A shot ricocheted off the hood of the cab as she peeled out of the driveway. Charles chased them on foot for a short way, then limped to a stop.

  “Try the phone, Cecilia.”

  The cell phone connection was bad, but Cecilia managed to convince the dispatcher it was an emergency.

  “The sheriff’s out on a call,” Cecilia said. “He’s up at Black Canyon Creek Ranch.”

  “Great.” Rachel made a hard left onto the ranch road and sped past the burned-out hulk of her rental car. Fishtailing up the road, she caught air off the washboard. Whipping into the parking lot, she laid on the horn. The sheriff and Mike Johnson were on the porch, talking with Dorothy and Lark.

  “Hey, what’s with all the commotion?” Johnson demanded, when Rachel jumped out of the truck. “I have dinner guests inside who—”

  “Charles Pendergast is the man you’re looking for, Sheriff. He just tried to kill me. He’s holding Aunt Miriam in a cabin in the park. He’s headed back up there now.”

  “Whoa, slow down there.” Sheriff Garcia ambled over. “That’s a mighty big accusation.”

  “It’s true, Vic.” Cecilia rose from the back seat. “He tied me up.”

  “What? Are you okay?” Dorothy charged down the steps and yanked open the passenger-side door, helping Cecilia to the ground.

  Garcia stroked his mustache. “Mike caught these two ladies jamming potatoes into the exhaust pipes of the cars in his parking lot. They tell me it was your idea, Rachel. Some crazy notion that Mike and the sheikh were headed out to do some trafficking in wild birds.”

  “We thought Forest had arranged it. I don’t know where he is, but—”

  “He’s inside, talking with my deputy.”

  “We were wrong, Sheriff. It wasn’t Forest.” Rachel rubbed her temples. “I mean, he was involved in the original sale, the one Bursau was planning to write about. But he wasn’t involved in Aunt Miriam’s disappearance.”

  “You say Charles kidnapped her?”

  “Not exactly.” Rachel tried to stay calm. Time was wasting. “Charles convinced her that she had to get the birds away and out of danger.”

  “I told you,” Lark said.

  “But now that he didn’t get the picture—”

  “What picture?” Garcia asked.

  “The one on the disk that Lark and I recovered the day we went climbing up on Twin Owl. There were actually three.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because you would have confiscated the disk, and I wanted to see what was on it.”

  “Where’s the disk now?”

  “Udall has it.” She told him about the deal she’d struck. “But I copied the files onto a disk that’s in my laptop computer in Aunt Miriam’s car. It’s up near the cabin.”

  “What do the pictures show?” Johnson asked.

  “Forest, my uncle William and Sheikh Al-Fassi exchanging birds for money. And one shows the hands of the man who took the money that turned up missing, hands belonging to Charles Pendergast. He hired someone to take pictures of the exchange so he could blackmail Forest and Uncle William. Ironic, isn’t it? He was caught by his own snare.”

  Sheriff Garcia bounded down the steps two at a time, then broke into a run toward his patrol car. “Mike, call dispatch and have them send some backup. Rachel, you come with me. You’re going to have to show me where to go.”

  Jumping in the cruiser, she directed him back past Bird Haven and up the jeep road. They saw no sign of Charles, but Rachel knew he was in the woods somewhere. “I hope your backup gets here fast.”

  “Why didn’t you call me right away?”

  “Eric and I tried. He stayed at Bird Haven, waiting for your call. I stormed out and went to Lark’s.”

  Garcia steered through a deep rut. The oil pan on the patrol car scraped. “Do you know where Eric is now?”

  “No.” Her mind raced through the possibilities. He might have gone looking for Forest, Charles, Harry, or the sheriff. Or he might have grown tired of waiting and headed up to the cabin alone. She hadn’t seen him when she’d come down with Charles.

  “Okay, this is as far as I can go in this thing,” Garcia said, wheeling the patrol car into the clearing. “Where’s Miriam’s car?”

  “A little way farther, but Cecilia has the keys. Or they’re in the back of Charles’s truck somewhere.
”

  “This is what you’re going to do,” Garcia said. “You’re going to stay put until the backup arrives. Do you hear me?”

  “I can’t.” She nearly hyperventilated at the thought of Charles trekking up from below and her sitting in the patrol car like bait. “Charles is back there. I know it.”

  Garcia narrowed his eyes. “You’re probably right. Maybe you’re safer with me. Let’s go, but you stay behind me and out of trouble.”

  They followed the beam of his flashlight along the path to the cabin. When they drew within fifty yards, Garcia switched off the light and signaled her to follow him. He drew his gun from his holster, pointing with it to the back steps. “I’m going to go in through here. You keep your eyes open. Hoot like an owl if you see anyone—anyone—approaching. You understand?”

  Rachel nodded.

  The sheriff crept to the back door, and Rachel hunkered down in the grass, jumping at every crack and pop, keeping her eyes open. Garcia eased open the screen door and slid inside. There came a sound from behind Rachel. She whirled around.

  “Hoo, hoo,” she uttered, then a hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Boo.” Charles kneed her in the back, forcing her to stand, then pointed his gun at her head. “What do you say we go join the party?”

  Rachel kicked at the grass as he pushed her forward, forcing her up the stairs. Suddenly there was a streak of movement from their right, and someone sideswiped them, knocking them both to the ground. Rachel rolled away and scrambled to her feet.

  Spotlighted in the light from the window, Eric perched astride Charles, roping his hands behind his back. Harry leaned against the railing, dangling the gun from his index finger. “Ride ‘em, cowboy.”

  Once Charles was secured, the three of them sidled in the back door, prepared to help Sheriff Garcia. No help was necessary. Frankenstein had offered him no resistance, and Igor had been asleep in the chair.

  Two hours from the time Rachel bashed Charles with the tennis racket, Miriam and the birds were home. The sheriff had taken Charles, his accomplices, Forest, and Rachel’s computer into custody. Rachel wondered if she’d ever see it again. Mike Johnson had dropped the charges against Dorothy and Lark, and the birdwatchers had gathered at Bird Haven. All except for the Hendersons and Gertie, whom no one had called. Kirk Udall had shown up on his own.