Revenge (A Travis Mays Novel)

by Mark Young

  Travis nodded and climbed in the car. Frank fired up the engine and drove out onto Highway 12, heading west. They did not speak.

  He knew what was on both their minds. Somewhere out there in the darkness a killer held Jessie hostage. Would he kill her before she could be saved?

  Travis felt the coldness of night seep into his soul. The moon no longer offered up its light, hidden behind dark clouds rolling up the valley. A nauseating chill shook him. All this — Tommy, Lafata, Wyatt, and the others — dead because he’d failed to do the right thing years ago. He should have told them to take a flying leap back then. Back when he had an opportunity to do the right thing.

  Guilt paralyzed him. He’d lost the woman he loved because he’d been a coward, because deep down he wanted the case to happen. He wanted to make things work out the way he wanted. Ego and pressure clouded his judgment, stood in the way of what he knew was right.

  Now this killer held Jessie and expected him … to what? Admit his guilt? Cut his wrists in remorse? He wanted to pay the price if it meant Jessie might go free. What was the price? A life for a life?

  Bringing Jessie back safely might save whatever he had left inside. He’d do the right thing this time even if it cost everything.

  “Don’t beat up on yourself, Travis.” Frank glanced over for a moment before turning his attention to the road. “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “You can’t know, Frank. You’re not the person who could have stopped all this.”

  “We all make mistakes. Some carry more consequences than others.”

  “If anything happens to Jessie —”

  “— stop that kind of thinking. It won’t do Jessie any good.” Frank sternly looked his way. “Guilt and anger has a way of eating away at your soul. You need to let it go, Travis. Trust me, I know.”

  Travis looked at Frank, wondering what kind of guilt Jessie’s father hid behind that stern look.

  Frank continued. “It took me years to understand that evil and bad things happened. You have to have a belief in something more than yourself. That God has a plan in all this. All I can do is trust in Him … whatever happens.”

  Travis looked away. “With all due respect, Frank. God has nothing to do with any of this. A man has to make his own way in the world. I learned that early. We pay for our own sins — one way or the other. There is no forgiveness.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  Travis looked back. “That’s just the way life is, Frank. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  Travis looked away. Forgiveness is not something he really understood. One cannot undo what has already been done. There are always consequences. And now, Jessie and Frank are suffering the consequences of his sins. How fair and just is that?

  Frank reached the pull-off near Travis’ cabin. As Frank locked the car, Travis listened to Sam barking across the river. The dog must have heard them drive up. He knew Sam would be waiting at the edge of the river, impatiently waiting for his master’s return. A dog’s love seemed unconditional. Simple. If only life could be lived that way.

  Travis crossed first, sending the chair back to Frank. He felt Sam’s tail slapping his leg as they waited. Frank finally crossed over and Travis led them up the hill.

  Frank broke the silence. “I’ve got that movie, you know … Man On Fire.”

  Travis glanced back. “Saw it once. Didn’t think all that blood and gore would be your style.”

  “I liked the movie because of the main character, John Creasy. Remember he’s an ex-CIA, ex-assassin, who hit bottom.”

  “You mean he lost his way in life?” Travis said, hearing the soothing ripple of water down the Clearwater as they neared the cabin. “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Good way to put it. Lost his way.”

  “So you’re saying that’s Scarsbourgh?” He glanced at Frank.

  “Yeah. In some twisted ways, he’s looking for redemption like the rest of us. He talks about your sins, Travis, but in the movie Creasy struggles with his own. His own evil. By saving that little girl Creasy tries to atone for past sins by saving this innocent one.”

  “That doesn’t quite add up here, does it? I mean, his sister’s dead. No salvation there. He can’t save her by killing me and the others. So what’s he after?”

  “Maybe to rid himself of guilt. Sort of like you, Travis. He wasn’t able to protect Michelle. And whatever he did for the government, whatever evil they forced him to commit, he feels by exacting justice for his sister he is able make amends for his own sins.”

  “Sound like psycho-babble to me, Frank. This guy’s a nut job and he likes to kill. And he wants to kill me.”

  “Bear with me for a moment. In one part of the movie, Creasy delivers the child to a private Catholic school where he meets a nun. She asks Creasy if he sees the hand of God in what he does.”

  “So Scarsbourgh thinks God wants him to kill?”

  “No. Listen. The sister starts to quote a part of Romans … Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

  Travis straightened. “That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Creasy interrupts the nun and finishes quoting the verse, quoting her verse and chapter. And then he tells her, ‘I’m the sheep that got lost.’ You see? Scarsbourgh might be trying to find his way back by earning his redemption, by killing those who do evil.”

  “Hey, I’m not a religious guy, Frank, but even I know Christ didn’t teach killing was a good thing. Or did I miss that Sunday school lesson?”

  Frank shook his head. “No, Christ taught the only way to salvation, to redemption, is to recognize we can’t redeem ourselves of the evil inside us for the sins we’ve committed. That we must ask God’s forgiveness.”

  “If that’s true, Scarsbourgh missed the boat. He’s trying to save his own soul. Earn his ticket to the Promised Land by sending everyone responsible to hell.”

  Frank started up the steps. “Yeah, a lot of people think that way.” He glanced at Travis as he passed. “And then there are those living with their guilt and think there is no salvation.”

  Travis trailed behind. He knew Frank was talking about him. Frank was wrong. The only salvation he wanted right now was to get Jessie back safe and sound. He knew there was no salvation for people like him and Scarsbourgh. Only guilt and retribution. In a way, he and Scarsbourgh might be rowing the same boat. That thought made Travis squirm.

  Chapter 59

  Clearwater River, Idaho

  Travis saw a tape recorder on the table when he flicked on the cabin light. Next to it laid a map. “Frank. He’s already been here.”

  He pressed the play button and heard Scarsbourgh’s voice:

  “Hello, professor. By now, you know I have Jessie. By the way, your sidekick there? Hi, Frank. Now, back to business. On the map I’ve made a notation. There is a mileage marker at that exact location I want you to be at tomorrow morning. Early. I’ve taken the liberty of noting the mileage printed on the marker so there’s no confusions about where you need to be. As you see, the marker is along the Lochsa River upstream from Jessie’s cabin. At first light, you’re to go to that spot, then to the edge of the river below that marker. You will find I’ve left a few presents and instructions on the next leg of this journey. Do exactly as I tell you and Jessie just might stay alive. Failure to comply … well, you know the rest.”

  It sounded like the message ended except for a low rasping noise on the tape. The killer’s voice returned:

  “Travis. I want you to say goodbye to Frank. Once you get to the marker, I expect you to be alone. Any sign of cops — helicopters, planes, unmarked cars, strangers in the area — and I’ll end Jessie’s life. Don’t insult my intelligence by carrying a tracking device, a transmitter, or any of the surveillance goodies. Been there, done that. I’ll know if you’re clean. Ciao!”

  The recording stopped.

  Frank leaned on the table. “He’ll be able to kill you at any time. We need to figure out a way to cover your bac
k.”

  Travis laid the recorder on the table. “You know that will be impossible, Frank. He’s an expert. Knows all the tricks. We can’t take that risk.”

  “And I can’t send you out to be slaughtered.”

  “You don’t have to send me,” he said, “It’s my call.”

  Frank started for the door. “We’ve got to tell Steele —”

  “Stop and think, Frank. You tell Steele, and he’ll have to put people on this. He can’t accept liability of sending me out unprotected. The county would be all over his butt if something happened.”

  Frank sank down in a chair. “I can’t just sit here and watch you —”

  “I have to do this alone. You have to let me do this … for Jessie’s sake.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got almost five hours until daybreak. I’m going to try to get a little shut-eye. I suggest you do the same.”

  Frank looked incredulous. “You’re going to sleep?”

  He shrugged. “In combat, you eat when you can and sleep when you can. Because when the fighting starts, it goes until you or the other guys are dead. Besides, there’s not much else we can do right now.”

  He grabbed a blanket, slipped out of his boots, and stretched out on the couch. He set the alarm on his watch and closed his eyes. Sam came over and rested his head on Sam’s leg. Travis patted the dog. “How did he get in here, Sam? I thought you were guarding the place?” Sam gave him a look as if the dog was trying to understand. Travis rolled over and he heard Sam’s nails clicking across the floor as the dog made his way outside. Tiredness struck him hard. Listening to the dog was the last thing Travis remembered.

  An owl’s hoot woke Travis from a shallow sleep. Darkness filled the cabin. He saw Frank’s dark form stretched out on the bed. He switched off his wrist alarm so that it would not wake the other man. He rose quietly, grabbing his boots, tiptoeing to the door.

  “Good luck.” Frank raised his head from the bed.

  “See you later,” he said, slipping into his boots and grabbing his jacket, hanging on a peg near the door. “Take care of Sam.”

  Five minutes later, he piled into his truck and started his trek eastbound on Highway 12 as the first hint of dawn lightened the sky. He timed it about right. Dawn was in full bloom just as he reached the marker noted on Scarsbourgh’s map. Steam mystically blanketed the river below while morning crept across the sky, adding some clarity to an otherwise confusing day. He could see for miles in this light.

  So could the killer.

  He climbed out of the truck, quickly scanning a full circle. A million places to hide if you knew how. He worked his way down the steep bank toward the river. A grove of birch and firs graced the riverbank near him.

  As he drew closer to the river, he saw the dark-green bow of a kayak resting on the bank. Inside the craft, he saw another tape recorder and a bag of clothing. He picked up the recorder, pressing the play button.

  “Good morning, Travis. I trust you’re alone. Remember, you never know when I’ll be watching. Take off everything you have on — including the watch — and toss it into the river. I want to see you with only what you came into this world with — skin. Turn 360 degrees and then put on the clothes I’ve provided. Once dressed … Bon Voyage. If you’ve followed my instructions to the letter, at some point today — somewhere along the river — I’ll appear and motion you over. Follow my orders and I might let Jessie live. Disobey and you both die.” Abruptly, the tape ended.

  Gritting his teeth, Travis slowly began to disrobe in the chilly morning air.

  Chapter 60

  Lochsa River, Idaho

  Scarsbourgh must be watching. Travis tried to figure how the killer might be monitoring. Not a sign of civilization out here. Not even another fisherman or rafter. Only a few cars passed on Highway 12 since he shoved off into the river. Anyone spotting him in the kayak wouldn’t think twice about his actions. Just another whitewater rafter heading downstream.

  If Jessie wasn’t sitting somewhere waiting to die, she’d get a good laugh right now watching him navigate this river. He’d already rolled once and gotten a good shock of cold water.

  Several times he glanced at his wrist to check the time and realized his watch was at the bottom of the river. He kept scanning the banks hoping to see a glimpse of Scarsbourgh. He’d seen two fisherman. As he swept by them, they’d glanced his way. One guy waved. The other scowled.

  He neared the Grim Reaper and hoped he’d stay afloat this time, Jessie’s warnings still clear in his mind. Start to the right, move to the middle, then back to the right “unless you want to get slapped silly by that boulder on the left bank.” He smiled as he recalled her laughter after they hit this part of the river. She seemed to know he’d capsize.

  This time he’d make it through.

  He picked up steam, slanting to the right and then shooting toward the middle, narrowly missing the boulder he struck last time. He lunged toward the middle and then paddled to the right once more, shooting past the last boulder before entering calmer water.

  The rookie triumphed. As he paddled away from the rapids, he discovered his breathing was jagged and short. He realized he had been more tense than he thought. His triumph made him feel a little better. He might have enjoyed this little victory if Jessie’s safety was not at stake. He kept paddling, never slowing down.

  Further downstream, he recognized the bank where he and Jessie saw the dead elk. No more birds. The carcass probably picked clean by now. He glanced around him and realized that Tommy’s body had been left almost directly to the south, on the mountain crest towering above him. What if he’d acquiesced that day? What if he’d agreed to search for Tommy instead of weeks later? Would that have changed the outcome? What if … ?

  He thrust the paddle into the water. He might never know for sure. He knew one thing — Scarsbourgh wanted him dead. At some point. After what? After he saw everyone he cared for destroyed?

  The sun worked its way higher in the sky. He guessed it to be early afternoon, maybe later.

  Where was this guy? He hoped Jessie was still breathing.

  This operation cost Scarsbourgh some serious dinero. He flicked from one camera site to another. Mini-cams, each linked to a satellite-connected computer, had been strategically placed along the river. Each mini-cam and computer powered with enough battery life to last this operation. He’d watched Travis tossing his clothes and contents of his pockets into the river before climbing into the kayak.

  Good boy.

  He’d enjoyed watching Travis struggle on the river. Any discomfort suffered by this scumbag pleased Scarsbourgh. By nightfall, Travis would reach the point on the river where they’d meet face-to-face. Unless, of course, he failed to follow orders. If so, slight change of plans. Kill Jessie as retribution, and then take Travis out from a distance.

  He wanted to watch Travis die up close. The first option allowed him to watch Travis suffer slowly, painfully. The alternative would end his life quickly. Mission accomplished either way.

  Scarsbourgh preferred to take it slow. To savor every moment.

  A scuffling sound caught his attention. He rose from the table, leaving the laptop open. He walked into the bedroom of the cabin. Jessie lay across the bed, handcuffed.

  “How we doing this morning, Princess?” He beamed at her, enjoying the sight.

  Jessie’s eyes glinted with anger.

  “Oh, the silent treatment.” He laughed, walking towards her. “I’ve been watching your boyfriend trying to navigate the Lochsa. You’re a pretty good teacher, Princess. Only rolled a couple times this morning. But the day isn’t over yet.”

  He started toward the next room. “Relax. If everything goes well, you and he will be reunited by nightfall. You’ll be able to tell him goodbye before he meets his untimely death. And if you’re a really good girl, I’ll let you watch.”

  He laughed at the fear in her eyes. “Get some rest. It’s going to be a long day.”

  Steele tiredly walked toward
his car. It’d taken all night to finish the crime scene at Jessie’s cabin. Not that there was a lot of evidence to gather. One of his deputies, a guy who doubled as a tracker during hunting season, spotted boot prints approaching the cabin from higher up. The same boots lead away from the cabin, only more weight pressed down on the boots.

  The killer must have carried Jessie on his shoulders.

  The tracker ascended until he reached the Lolo Trail, where he saw evidence the killer had two horses tied up. After that, only the horses left a trail, working their way west. They’d brought dogs to track the scent, but Scarsbourgh must have sprinkled a chemical agent across his path. Whatever it was, one whiff and the dogs howled in pain. Search over. The horse tracks were soon lost in brush, stream beds, and forest.

  He couldn’t seem to get in touch with Frank White Eagle.

  Tried the cell phone several times, but no one answered. He ordered deputies to spread out east and west on Highway 12 looking for any suspicious vehicles. One deputy traveling east called in a truck registered to Travis Mays.

  Travis disappeared.

  Frank disappeared.

  Steele got on the phone. People were disappearing on him — Scarsbourgh, Jessie, Frank, and Travis — and he was getting tired of being the last to know anything. It was time he put some eyes and ears up in the sky.

  Time for a full-court press.

  Chapter 61

  Lochsa River, Idaho

  Travis winced as he heard the whoosh of helicopter rotors sweeping up a ravine. He furiously dug into the water with his paddle, rushing toward a grove of trees, branches hung over the river like a protective umbrella.

  As soon as the bow hit the bank, Travis sprang out and dragged the kayak deeper into the tree line. Just as he pulled the craft out of sight, through the branches he saw the metallic bird working its way upriver. The aircraft zigzagged a path back and forth like a giant pendulum, swinging first to one side of the valley and then the other.