After rolling Matt over a couple of times into the brush, he dragged a clump of dead branches from the undergrowth and tossed them on top before striding back over to Blair and hauling her to her feet. She tried to cry out again, but only succeeded in choking on the rag in her mouth.
"I'm sure you've got plenty of questions," he drawled, swinging the crowbar maliciously in front of him, as if to remind her not to step out of line. "We’ll have all the time we need to chat. Just remember, I don't need you alive. You're optional insurance. So if you turn out to be more trouble than you’re worth, I won’t think twice about disposing of you without as much as wasting a bullet. Understood?"
Blair nodded her head vigorously, blinking to clear her vision as rain lashed mercilessly against her face. She peered into the undergrowth hoping against hope that Matt was still alive but fearing the worst. Harvey gave her a shove forward and began marching her back up the mountain the way she’d come. With every step, Blair’s dread increased. Where was he taking her? And what did he mean by optional insurance? She ran her tongue nervously over her lips as a terrible thought struck her. Had he killed anyone else at the campground—all of them, perhaps? Maybe Reed hadn’t fully grasped her veiled warning about Harvey, or maybe he hadn’t believed her.
A short distance from the SOS, Harvey consulted a compass he drew from his pocket and then turned abruptly and began heading due east. A thousand thoughts collided in Blair's mind at once. No doubt he’d pulled the compass from the survival kit. He must have been in contact over the radio with SAR and arranged a rendezvous point. Was he planning to dispose of her as soon as he heard the chopper? Maybe she was only insurance in case someone happened upon them beforehand. Or did he plan on taking her on board with him?
Tears fell from her eyes, blending with the rain streaming down her face. Was her husband still alive, struggling to breathe beneath the brush? She hadn't seen the blow Harvey had landed with the crowbar, but Matt had dropped like a stone. Evidently, Harvey was convinced he’d killed him because he hadn't bothered to swing a second time.
After hiking for what Blair estimated to be the best part of an hour, they came to a large clearing. Harvey dragged her over to a small clump of trees on the perimeter and shoved her back down to the ground. He yanked the rag out of her mouth and held a blade to her throat. "Not that anyone's going to hear you, but if you as much as yelp, I'll make sure it's the last time you make a sound. Are we clear?"
She nodded, whimpering, "Why are you doing this, Harvey?"
He let out an amused snort, a cold sheen settling in his eyes that sent a shiver through her. "My name’s not Harvey. But I think you already know that, don't you?"
"I … wasn’t sure. I suspected as much." Blair swallowed down her fear, trying to steady her voice as she posed the question burning on her lips. "Did you kill him—Sandy’s husband?"
He exhaled a long-suffering sigh as he sat down on a stump opposite her. "I made a promise. And I always keep my promises."
Blair frowned at him. "Do you mean a promise to Sandy?"
"To myself," he corrected her sharply.
"I don’t follow." Blair gave a befuddled shake of her head. "Who are you, anyway?"
After studying her from beneath his brows for a long moment, he reached a hand inside his jacket. She tensed, terrified he was about to bring out the knife again, but instead he produced a folded sheet of paper. He opened it and held it in front of her. "Better read it quick before the ink starts to bleed."
Blair’s eyes darted across the page, her heart seizing in her chest when she recognized the black-and-white, clean-shaven face staring back at her.
FBI 10 Most Wanted Fugitive
Deroy Stephenson
Wanted for escape and unlawful flight to avoid prosecution - murder
A reward of up to $50,000 is being offered for the apprehension of Deroy Kenneth Stephenson, pictured above.
Deroy was serving multiple life sentences for the murders of his parents and sister when he allegedly killed a prison guard and escaped from the Metropolitan Correctional Center in Chicago in the early morning hours of January 19, 2020.
SHOULD BE CONSIDERED ARMED AND DANGEROUS WITH VIOLENT TENDENCIES, AND AN ESCAPE RISK
If you have any information concerning this person, please contact your local FBI office or the nearest American
Embassy or Consulate.
"Seen enough?" He laughed raucously as he scrunched up the soggy flyer and threw it in the dirt between them.
Blair stared at him, the horror of what she had read slowly taking root. "The flyer—that's what you were burning in the sink, wasn't it?"
He shrugged. "There were a bunch of them in the survival kit. Maybe the sheriffs thought the campground was full and we’d go around posting flyers on all the trailers like good citizens do." He laughed again and shook his head.
Blair scrunched her eyes shut, willing herself to remain calm. This was worse than anything she’d imagined. The man was a violent fugitive—one of the FBI’s 10 most wanted, no less. She had no doubt that Harvey—or Deroy, as he was really called—was going to kill her at some point. He couldn't let her live now that she’d seen his face. She’d watched enough crime shows to know that. She had only her own wits to rely on if she was going to get out of this situation alive. "Why are you doing this?" she asked quietly. "Why did you have to kill an innocent couple on a camping trip?"
A gleam of hatred lit up Deroy’s eyes. "There was nothing innocent about Sandy and Harvey. You’ve got that all wrong. They knew me since I was a kid, but they hung me out to dry. They lived next door to my folks. They're the ones who tipped off the police—told them they saw my car there the night of the murders. They even went to court and testified against me. Said my folks were always complaining about me hitting them up for money." Deroy paused, his lips curling into a cunning smile. "I swore I’d get my revenge on them. Like I said, a promise is a promise."
Blair’s stomach churned at the thought of Deroy making a murderous escape from prison in a bid to hunt down an elderly couple who’d helped secure his conviction. All they’d done was try to get justice for their slain neighbors. And look where it had got them. She took a quick, steadying breath, determined to keep Deroy talking and distracted as long as she could. Maybe she’d get a chance to bolt for freedom if she played her cards right. "How did you access their RV?"
He gave a scathing laugh. "They made that part easy. I followed them to a gas station. Sandy went into the store to buy something. I slipped inside the RV undetected when Harvey was gassing up. It’s amazing how little attention people pay to things around them."
Blair fell silent, contemplating the horror of Deroy’s twisted plan for revenge. "Was Harvey alive when you arrived at the campground?"
Deroy let out a snort and nodded slyly. "Just think, you could have saved him if you’d known. Threatening to kill him was the only way I could persuade Sandy to pretend to be my wife when we pulled in here. She actually believed I was going to let them live."
Blair’s throat clenched when she pictured the terror of Sandy’s ordeal. "Did she really have cancer?"
Deroy gave a sinister nod. "Didn't take much to finish her off. I flushed her medications down the toilet and doped her up with Vicodin."
Blair shuddered at the callous tone his voice had taken on. "What about Hazel and Rob? Did you kill them as well?"
Deroy scowled. "Hazel stuck her nose in where she shouldn’t have. She started putting two and two together—figured out I wasn’t Sandy’s husband. As for Rob, he was too observant for his own good. He recognized me. He couldn't place me at first, but I knew it was only a matter of time. I had to get rid of him before he shared his suspicions with the rest of you. I left the note in the camper van so you wouldn’t go looking for him."
"What did you do with Hazel's body?" Blair asked, a tremor in her voice. "Did you bury her in a shallow grave somewhere too? Her family deserves to know."
Deroy gave a mirthless lau
gh. "What makes you think you’ll be around to tell them?"
Blair swallowed down the bile rising up her throat. The threat was all too clear. She was expendable. Better to change the subject before he decided it was time to add to the body count. "I take it you've been in contact with SAR and this is where they're going to pick you up?"
Deroy laughed. "Not me, per se. As far as they know, they’re picking up Harvey Ross, the sole survivor of the mudslide."
Blair gritted her teeth. "So once you hear the chopper coming, you’ll kill me and dump me in the brush like you do everyone else."
Deroy seemed to consider this for a moment. "I’d love to dispose of you beforehand—it would make things a whole lot easier." He stood and squished the scrunched-up FBI flyer beneath his boot. "But I'm going to have the chopper fly me to an airstrip where a friend’s waiting to take me south of the border. And I’ll need a hostage to make that happen."
32
Deroy bent over, reached out a gloved hand and scooped up a handful of dirt. "If I’m taking you with me, we’d better get you ready for the show."
Before Blair had fully grasped what was happening, Deroy was smearing dirt all over her clothing, face, and even through her hair.
"Stop! What are you doing?" She tried to wriggle away, but Deroy only tightened his grip on her. With her hands restrained behind her back, there was little she could do to resist.
"Don't make this more difficult," he growled, "Or I might decide to leave you behind after all. And by now, you know what that looks like."
Blair took a shallow breath, lifting her face so her gaze was locked on his. There was nothing in his expression that made her doubt he would make good on his threat. Resigning herself to going along with whatever insidious plan he had to board the rescue chopper, she closed her eyes until he was done daubing her with mud.
"Much better," he announced with satisfaction, sitting back down on the stump. "Now that you look the part, we can work on your story. I had a lot of time in the slammer to get good at this, so I’m going to tell you what to say and you’re going to repeat it back to me. Got it?"
Blair gave a reluctant nod of agreement, the foul stench of the ash-infused mud in her nostrils reminding her that Matt was still lying in the dirt along the trail—possibly in his grave—even as she was fighting for her life. What would he do if he were here now? His words swirled around inside her head.
If it’s a game of last man standing, I intend to win.
He would want her to fight—to do battle to the very end and never give up. She had to rise above her fear, keep a clear head, and be ready for any opportunity that came her way to escape.
"Okay, listen carefully," Deroy began, self-consciously smoothing a hand over his beard, which Blair now realized was part of his fugitive disguise. "I came across you wandering around here in the early hours of the morning. You and your husband were sleeping in your tent when the mudslide came through and swept you both away. You survived and you’ve been searching for him ever since." He curled his lip at her. "Inspiring! A second survivor. The media will eat this up. They might even want to make a movie about you."
Seething inwardly, Blair glowered at him. "You’re never going to get away with this. Someone will recognize you. They know you’re in the area if they’re distributing flyers. You were probably spotted on CCTV at the gas station."
"I'm not going back to prison—I can tell you that much," Deroy said with a venomous edge. "I’ve got nothing to lose if this goes south, but a young woman like you has everything to lose. If you want to live, you’d better play your part and play it well. If you try to signal anything about me to the chopper crew, I'll take you out, and then they all get to die too—courtesy of you. Now, let's go over your cover story again."
After making Blair repeat it back to him multiple times until he was satisfied she’d nailed it enough to sound convincing, Deroy got to his feet and began pacing impatiently, glancing at his watch from time to time.
Another half hour or so went by before Blair heard the distinctive sound of the chopper’s blades once again—only this time, instead of hope, it drove a stake of fear into her heart.
Deroy squared his jaw and pulled out his knife.
Blair tensed, wondering for a moment if he’d changed his mind about taking her on board as a hostage and decided to dispose of her on the spot instead. But then he suddenly grabbed her by the elbow and yanked her to her feet. He cut the zip tie around her wrists before pressing the blade to her neck. "Remember, no funny business, or bullets will fly and we both die."
Blair gave a jittery nod, watching with trepidation as he pocketed the knife and drew out Matt’s gun. She gritted her teeth at the sight of it—a symbol of betrayal of trust. She hadn’t wanted Matt to bring it in the first place, and the irony was that it was now at Deroy’s disposal—they had unwittingly gifted the killer an ace.
The chopper came into view over the tops of the trees and hovered over the clearing, red taillight flashing through the lashing rain. It was a small four-seater, a volunteer rescue chopper, by all appearances. Blair sucked in a breath as it began its descent, pitching to and fro in the wind. Miraculously, it set down without incident and, a moment later, a youngish-looking EMT stuck his head out the door and motioned them over.
"Looks like the pilot’s not going to turn off the engine," Deroy said. "Can’t say I blame him for not wanting to hang around in these conditions. Let’s go."
Blair winced as he grabbed her and pulled her body tight to his, marching her in front of him like a human shield with the gun pressed to her side.
Her legs felt like spaghetti, but she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, terrified he would put a bullet in her if she stopped walking for even one minute. Her life briefly flashed before her, but she refused to dwell on the memories, the significant milestones, the faces she held most dear. Time was running out. She needed to stay in the moment. She had to try and make some kind of move between here and the helicopter. She had no doubt that Deroy was deadly serious about not going back to prison. If there was any kind of shoot-out, or trouble in the air, they were all destined to die unless she did something to stop this nightmare unfolding.
Every nerve in her body felt as though it were on fire as she concentrated fully on her abductor. He would have to act more casual as they neared the helicopter or it would look suspicious. The minute she felt his grip slackening she would dive to the ground and tackle him. If she could throw him off balance, she had a fighting chance of getting away from him and running to the helicopter, zigzagging like Matt had taught her to make it more difficult for Deroy to get a straight shot at her. Surely the pilot would have a gun on board for protection, if she could only make it to the chopper.
Time seemed to stand still as she mustered her courage, adrenaline building up inside as Deroy pushed her toward the rotating blades. The EMT peeked through the door again to check on their progress and, for half a heartbeat, Deroy’s death grip slackened.
Seizing her opportunity, Blair hurled herself to the ground smashing into his legs with all the ferocity she could muster. As Deroy toppled backward, she scrambled to her feet bracing herself for a counter-attack. Seconds later, a crack like thunder rang out over the clearing.
33
Blair stood glued to the spot, waiting for the searing pain of the bullet to hit—a pain that never materialized. Her gaze fell on Deroy, lying motionless in the mud, limbs splayed at an odd angle. A gasp escaped her lips when she realized she wasn’t the one who’d been shot, and Deroy wasn’t the shooter.
She spun around and peered at a figure approaching through the rain, hoping and praying it was Matt, that somehow he’d survived the attack and come for her, that he hadn’t taken his last breath beneath the brush after all as another hapless victim of Deroy’s twisted campaign of revenge. Her hopes were dashed a moment later when Reed strode into view clutching his rifle.
"Are you all right?" he asked tersely, scanning he
r for injuries before turning his attention to Deroy crumpled in the mud at their feet. Reed took a knee and felt for a pulse. "He's gone," he confirmed, rising with a stiff grimace on his face. “That was a gutsy move you made. You gave me a clean shot.”
"You listened to my warning. I wasn’t sure you would," Blair said, her voice faltering. "Thank you for believing me. You saved my life."
Reed threw her a sideways look, his expression softening. "I had to trust someone was telling me the truth. My gut told me you were a straight shooter."
Blair tweaked a wan smile that morphed into a sob.
"Are you sure you’re all right?" Reed pressed, taking a hesitant step toward her. "You’re covered in mud. Are you injured?"
"I’m fine." She wrapped her arms around herself in a bid to stop shaking. "I think he killed Matt."
"Matt’s alive," Reed assured her. "I saw him myself. Sam’s with him now. We heard him crying out for help and followed the drag marks off the trail. He said Harvey got ahold of his gun and took you hostage. Sam and I would have been here sooner but we didn't realize Harvey had left his RV. We were keeping an eye on the door but he snuck out the back window."
"His real name’s Deroy Stephenson," Blair said. "He’s an escaped fugitive. He was serving multiple life sentences for murder."
Reed gritted his teeth and motioned toward the chopper. "Here they come. Put your hands in the air. They’ll need to identify us."
Tentatively, Blair raised her hands and watched as the pilot approached them, gun drawn, the EMT following a few steps behind with his bag. A welcome sight as far as she was concerned. It was over. They were safe now. They were finally going to get out of here. Alive.
34
Matt was evacuated out on the first flight and taken to the nearest hospital where doctors confirmed he’d suffered a severe concussion but fortunately no skull fracture as they’d feared. Blair broke down at the news, sobbing with relief that Matt had dodged death, not only in a desert halfway around the world, but also back on home soil where she’d mistakenly believed he would be safe.
You Will Never Leave: A psychological suspense thriller Page 21