“The…Falls,” she whispered, her voice weak. “Noah—please, hurry.”
Carrie rocked back on her heels, torn. Then she punched in 911 once again and relayed the situation to the dispatcher. “I’ve got to go after the boy. I can’t wait.”
“Ma’am, you need to stay there. Help is on its way.”
“The wounded woman is Linda Bates. She’s outside, on the north side of the house. I did what I could, but she’s hurt badly and I think she was left for dead. You need to get here fast.”
She recited the directions once again for good measure. Then disconnected the call. “Linda, the ambulance will be here very soon. Tell me where I should go to find Noah.”
The woman coughed weakly. “Stay…on this road. A mile. Signs—the Falls. Hurry. H-he said…j-just like your mother…”
“Who said? Linda—who am I looking for? Who took Noah?”
“D-didn’t see his face.” Her face was so soft now that Carrie had to lean close. “Mask. S-said Noah saw too much. Had to take…care. Of details.”
Sickened, Carrie stood and stepped back, then briefly closed her eyes. Please, God, this woman really, really needs Your help. Please protect her…and bring help soon. And please, help me find Noah before it’s too late.
Linda had seemed terrified because Carrie had called 911, and now Dante’s words slammed back into her thoughts as she drove away. Don’t trust anyone. Not even the ones you know.
She’d had no choice but to make the emergency call. Linda might not have much of a chance, but she’d surely die without immediate attention. But making that call had also alerted the entire area of the attack. Most of the locals owned scanners and eavesdropped on police and fire calls, day and night.
And it wasn’t only the good guys who listened in.
Linda had been sure of it. She’d been willing to risk her own life to avoid letting her attacker know she’d been found and that emergency help was on its way.
Had she been trying to give Carrie more time to find Noah before his abductor started to panic? Was it already too late?
With just a faint wash of moonlight overhead, the forest loomed over the rutted track leading north from Linda’s house, creating a nearly impenetrable menacing darkness that the headlights barely touched.
Leaning over the steering wheel to peer out into the night, Carrie crept forward, her foot barely on the accelerator. Here and there, pairs of eyes glowed at her through the trees, then disappeared. Please, Lord—help me, she whispered. And please let me get there in time.
She glanced at the odometer, marking the tenths of a mile slowly rolling past, then straining to see any signs for the falls. Up here, there might only be a small wooden sign overgrown by brush.
A patch of white flickered in the beam of her headlight, then disappeared. She stopped and angled the flashlight at it. Granite Falls, 1/2 Mile.
The road was barely wide enough for two cars to pass, but she pulled over as far as she could, the underbrush scraping at the side of the SUV.
Fear clogged her throat as she grabbed her backpack and climbed out, defenseless. Alone. The darkness fell like a heavy blanket in front of her now that the Tahoe’s headlights were no longer leading the way.
She took one tentative step forward. Then another, until she picked out a narrow path toward the falls with her flashlight.
Move, an inner voice whispered. Hurry.
She edged forward, prickly wild raspberry vines tearing at her ankles; her feet bumping up against unseen rocks strewn in the path. Biting her lower lip, she picked up a faster pace, swinging her flashlight wide to avoid the larger boulders and downed trees. How far had she gone now? A quarter mile? A third?
What if Noah and his captor were off to the side somewhere, down another path, and she missed them completely?
The fact that she had no weapon hit her a moment later.
If somebody was on the verge of harming Noah, how could she possibly stop him?
Logan drove slowly through town, searching for Carrie’s car. She had to be here somewhere, trying to talk that student and his mother into coming forward.
But now Logan had been up and down every single street and avenue twice—not a time-intensive feat in Granite Falls—without a sign of her. Could she have doubled back, and then gone home?
An ambulance screamed through town, heading up into the hills. Another hurt climber maybe…or some three-hundredpound old fogey with high blood pressure on vacation.
Still, an uneasy premonition worked its way through his midsection.
He’d asked Carrie to check with the mother of the anonymous student who had drawn the picture. But she’d hedged her reply, answering obliquely to maintain the privacy of the student. Now he realized why. She’d had to sidestep with her answer, because the child didn’t have a mother any longer.
Noah.
The answer made perfect sense. If the killer had forced Sheryl up to the falls and then pushed her to her death, her son could have followed, frightened for her.
A nightmare, from beginning to end.
And now an ambulance was wailing up into the mountains in that general direction.
Logan thought for a second, then did a U-turn in the middle of the street and pulled to a stop in front of the Daisy Diner’s drive-up window and peered inside. “Hey, Marge. Do you have your scanner on?”
She bustled up to the window. “Sure enough. What’s up?”
“That ambulance. Where’s it heading?”
“One of those cabins just south of Granite Falls.” She pursed her lips, thinking. “The Colwell place, I believe.”
If the killer had discovered that he’d had a witness, then Noah’s life was in danger…if it wasn’t already too late. And now there was a very good chance that Carrie was up in the woods somewhere—maybe in danger, too.
He floored the accelerator, his tires squealing as he took the corner back onto Main Street and rocketed toward the road leading to Granite Falls.
He wanted to prove his innocence.
He wanted to see justice served, and a killer taken off the streets.
But right now, all he could think about was the pretty little teacher who had captured his heart, even if he didn’t deserve her. And for the first time in years, he started to pray.
TWENTY
Carrie moved forward, her heart racing and her palms damp. A jagged wall of rock rose high overhead, blocking the wisp of moonlight. Coupled with the dense trees all around, she might as well have been in a deep cave as she blindly felt her way along the narrow path.
Please, Lord, please help me find this child in time.
The wall of rock ended and the path curved. And now the sound of rushing water filtered through trees, growing louder and louder as she pushed on through the tangle of overgrown branches crowding the trail.
A branch snapped forward, slicing her cheek. A few yards back, she’d fallen against a sharp outcropping of rock that sliced through her jeans and lacerated her leg, and now the fabric was pasted against her calf with warm, coppery blood, shifting and scraping at the wound with every step.
But none of it mattered.
A few yards ahead the trees thinned and the moonlight washed a small clearing with silver. Beyond, the forest and rock fell away.
The roar of the waterfall was deafening now. Ahead, glittering in the faint light, a wide mountain stream narrowed at the very lip of the falls by massive granite walls on either side, boiling wildly over the edge. A fine, wet mist hung in the air, glistening on the surrounding rocks and trees, and turned the gritty soil at her feet to mud. Somewhere far, far below, the water thundered into a turbulent pool.
She stopped at the edge of the clearing. Tried to listen for cries for help, anything, but the deafening sound of the falls obliterated everything else. As her eyes adjusted, she carefully scanned the clearing, her heart sinking. There was no sign of Noah. No sign of his abductor. She sank back into the dark shadows and leaned against the rough, wet rock, her he
art breaking.
She was too late.
He cursed the car he’d borrowed.
His own bad luck.
The fact that he’d ever been so incredibly careless on that fateful day nearly two years ago.
Since then, his life had been one disaster after another, thanks to an ignorant judge and a jury of idiots who hadn’t taken believable evidence as fact. But all that was going to change.
And the next time he decided to fool around, he’d go into the next county. Find some low-down, backwoods tavern where no one knew his face. Where a girl might be down on her luck. Grateful. And know how to keep her mouth shut.
Though if she turned out as mouthy as the last one, she’d be breathing her last—and he’d handle it far better than he had with Sheryl Colwell. Grizzly country offered nature’s own handy disposal system, but he hadn’t gone far enough into the wilderness with her. She’d been found too soon.
Live and learn.
The boy cowering against a jumble of boulders fidgeted against the duct tape that held his hands behind his back, his eyes wide and terrified above the bands of tape that covered his mouth.
Too bad.
Raising his arm to backhand the kid again, he thought better of it at the last moment. Dragging an unconscious boy would be more work.
“C’mon, kid. Hurry up.” He grabbed the boy’s elbow and shoved him ahead on the slippery path, cursing when the kid slipped and fell with a muffled cry. Once again, he hauled Noah to his feet and pushed him on.
If the car hadn’t bogged down on the muddy road up here, they would have been done with this an hour ago. Instead, he’d had to ditch it, camouflage it in the brush, and then he’d had to push on by foot.
With luck, he’d be able to get the vehicle turned and headed back down to the main highway, then run it through a car wash so no one would ever wonder about where it had been. Not that anyone would ever think to question him.
He smiled to himself. It helped being important. Being someone that everyone admired…and trusted.
Soon, he would be rid of the final witness who could identify him. There would be a certain, satisfying poetic justice in how it was done. A perfect circle of events, and then he would be completely free of the past.
If scavengers didn’t consume everything but the bones, there’d still be no way anyone could tie him to the death.
It would look like an accident by some poor, foolish boy.
Or maybe, like the grief-stricken kid had chosen to take his own life by ending it all right where his mother had died. Perfect.
And as with the deaths of Sheryl and the fool cowboy who had overheard a little too much, there would be pieces of handy evidence left to shape the investigation. It was only a matter of time before Logan Bradley was collared and brought to justice.
He laughed, enjoying the irony of how well things had come together. In a few weeks, it would all be over.
And no one would ever think to look any further for the killer than Logan Bradley.
Carrie’s eyes burned with tears as she turned to head back down the trail toward her SUV. Poor Noah. He’d lost so much. Suffered so much. And then no one had rescued him in time.
From far ahead on the trail came the sound of a twig snapping. Then another, coming closer. She held her breath, listening, her heartbeat tripping over itself. There were grizzlies everywhere, outnumbering the local human residents three to one. The browns were an even larger version of the grizzlies, and neither would be impressed with her half-used can of bear spray.
But she had matches.
She slipped off her backpack and pawed through the contents until she found the box of matches and the bear spray, then she shouldered the backpack once more and searched for kindling.
Everything up here was wet with mist.
She spun around, surveying the options. The path seemed to end here. She had to go back, toward the sounds—at least until she could find something to burn. She hurried down the path, around the bend, and through the thick underbrush as silently as she could, praying every step of the way.
The pinecones and twigs underfoot crunched. She spun around, gathering some up, and broke small, dead branches from the nearby pine trees.
She brushed against a steep rock wall rising at her left shoulder, and peered upward.
A bear could scramble up it as well as she could, but…was that a small cave way up there? Would it be enough protection, if she crawled inside and started a fire at its mouth?
The sounds were coming closer.
She shoved the bear spray in her inner jacket pocket and stuffed the kindling into her backpack, then turned and scrambled up the rock, feeling in the dark for handholds and outcroppings for her feet. The first ledge was just eight feet off the ground. The second looked to be about twenty feet higher. She poised for the next ascent.
And then she heard a voice.
A familiar voice.
Her first, illogical thought was that he’d come to help.
Her second slammed into her with the force of a fist to her stomach. This was no guardian, coming to her aid. His harsh voice was more distinct now. Growling orders, demanding that someone move faster, faster.
Dante had been right.
It wasn’t safe to trust the ones you ought to…at least where Deputy Vance Munson was concerned.
But she suddenly knew, with a wild leap of hope and relief in her heart, that he had Noah. There was still time.
And, by the grace of God, she’d inadvertently placed herself in the only position where she’d have any advantage over a tall, powerful man. Thank You, Lord.
“Move it, kid…or I’m going to knock your teeth in. Got it?”
Noah came into view, stumbling and whimpering, a small, hunched gray figure in the darkness, his jerky, panicked movements telegraphing his sheer terror. Five feet behind, his captor followed.
Carrie froze and held her breath.
Waited.
Waited.
Now.
Snaking out her hand, she blasted the bear spray in front of the man’s face, her arm just far enough away.
Choking, gasping, he swung wildly with his arms, clawing at his face as a litany of curses erupted from his mouth.
The gun in his hand clattered to the rocky ground as he staggered several feet and then dropped to his knees, struggling to breathe, his eyes streaming with tears.
Noah stared at her, his eyes wide with fear as she dropped to the ground and hurried to him. “It’s me—Ms. Randall,” she said. “And we’ve got to run, honey.”
She glanced back at the groaning man writhing on the ground. “Let’s put a little distance between us, then I’ll cut the tape, okay?” Noah nodded.
She started down the trail behind him, then looked back at the gun at the base of the cliff. If she left it, they’d still be in danger, even if Munson couldn’t catch up. She had no choice.
“Keep going, honey…don’t stop, no matter what. I’ll be right behind you.”
He wavered, frightened, until she gave him a gentle push. “Hurry!”
She doubled back. Munson stumbled to his feet, wheezing, still choking on the bear-strength Mace. He fell again, then blindly clawed at a nearby branch to haul himself back up, his eyes still streaming tears.
Giving him a wide berth, she flew toward the gun, glanced back at him, then scooped up the weapon and spun around to race for the path.
But he was on her, one burly arm clamped around her throat, while the other wrenched the gun out of her hand. She fought back a cough at the peppery odor clinging to his flesh.
“Every officer carries a backup, sweetheart.” His hot, fetid breath exhaled next to her ear on a low, satisfied laugh that ended in a spasm of coughing. “Now, we’re going to follow that kid, and you’re going to call him back. Understand? Or the first bullet is going through your shoulder, and the second will be through your heart. Don’t think you’re protecting him, because you can’t. Either way, that boy is going to die.�
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TWENTY-ONE
Every step forward was painful with her left arm wrenched high behind her back. Munson pushed her on, tightening his grip when she slipped and stumbled on the slippery path.
“Call Noah’s name now. I’ll bet he didn’t go far. He’s probably waiting close by, afraid to go on.”
She felt the hard, cold barrel of his revolver jam into her right shoulder.
“Do it.” His voice vibrated with anger.
She knew he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot. And once she was down, he’d probably just put the gun to her head…though she already knew that the end of her life was just a matter of time. “You won’t leave any witnesses. So what does it matter?”
“Maybe you’re wrong.” He gave her arm a painful wrench. “Maybe you’ll walk away from this, free as a bird. Now call him.”
But if she didn’t, Noah still had a chance.
Ahead, to the side of the path, she caught a slight shake of branches. She took a deep breath. “Bear!” she screamed. “Over there!”
Vance’s grip loosened instinctively as he fumbled to bring his gun up. She sagged, dropping her full weight onto his hand to break his grip, then she spun and rammed a knee into his groin with every ounce of strength she possessed.
He doubled over with a cry of pain.
She bolted down the path, not daring to look back, praying that Noah had kept running…and ran into a solid wall of muscle standing in the path.
A scream rose to her lips.
“Carrie—it’s me. Logan.”
She drew in a sharp breath as her vision cleared and she saw the rifle in his hand. “W-we’ve got to find Noah. It’s Munson. He’ll be here any second, and—”
Another figure appeared in the darkness, then another, their silver badges glimmering briefly in the moonlight as they pushed on up the path.
Logan set his rifle aside and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. “It’s okay. Another officer has Noah, and those two will take care of Munson. His days of freedom are definitely over.”
Murder at Granite Falls Page 18