Timberline Trail

by Lockner, Loren

  Jon flung the lovely photos atop the cot as he struggled for control. “What if I told you I had some information that could disrupt your whole life? I’ve been stewing in here for the past fifteen minutes debating whether or not to tell you. And, because I care for you, I’m not going to spill any of that information until I’m positive it’s true. You’ve been hurt enough.”

  “How convenient!”

  “Do you think I enjoy withholding information from you? That I somehow got a thrill out of the expression on your face when your boyfriend related the real reason I’d tracked you down? I know you have difficulty trusting me, but I’m not going to shatter your life until I’m sure about my facts.”

  “So that’s it then. We were a great couple until a few things got in the way; like murder and greed and your inability to tell the truth to someone who really cared about you!”

  “Think what you like,” Jon hissed. “But I’m not going to make any more stupid mistakes so don’t expect any revelations from me. We’ll leave that to your boyfriend Paul!”

  “At least he cared enough to try and help me out!”

  “Yeah, I’m sure it was the goodness of his heart that propelled him into your forgiving arms!”

  Tia was so angry she didn’t bother to contradict his ludicrous notion. “Just gas up the remaining snowmobile! I’m not going to wait around here for the police. I’m heading back to Timberline myself!”

  “I used all my spare gas for Paul’s snowmobile and the other has barely enough to make it to your cabin, if that.”

  “Then I’ll walk if I have to!”

  Jon’s teeth clenched as he watched the woman of his dreams storm out of the green canvas tent. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and soothe away her justifiable fears, but caution forced him to allow her furious boots to stomp away. Jon only hoped the information he now withheld and suspected was true would not crush that last remaining kernel of trust she held for others; information that might very well cause her to turn her back on family and friends forever.

  There was no way the snowmobile had enough gas to carry the both of them all the way to Timberline, but Jon managed to convince Tia that at least they had a chance. After a futile attempt to rouse someone on Tory’s walkie-talkie, he took the short cut through the forest and managed to shear off at least two traveling miles. The trip back to her cabin passed like a blur before Tia’s reddened eyes. Jon drove swiftly but deftly through the slushy melting snow, the swish of the ice under the smooth blades of the snowmobile’s front skis evidencing their rapid progress. Their twisty path through the forest remained fairly silent, only punctuated by the cry of a startled marten leaping across the path, his blue-black fur shining in the afternoon light. Jon pointed at the weasel-like animal and Tia gripped his arms to indicate she’d seen the animal.

  The snowmobile stuttered and jerked as Jon battled the small vehicle up the rise overlooking Tia’s log cabin. It gave a dignified gasp and promptly died, not two hundred feet from where Jon had planned to park it anyway.

  “Well that’s it then,” he said grimly. “Now what?”

  “We steal one of their 4x4’s,” Tia returned shortly.

  Jon frowned. This woman was going to be the death of him with her stubborn and defiant nature. Why did she have to remind him so much of himself?

  Tia and Jon heaved and pushed, pushing the empty snowmobile under some snow-bedecked pine trees. The first thing Tia noticed was the lack of smoke spiraling from either one of her fireplaces. She touched the sleeve of Jon’s blue parka and pointed.

  He nodded grimly. “Our birds are preparing to fly.”

  “Do you see a drivable vehicle?”

  “Not from here. We’ll probably have to move closer.”

  “No kidding!”

  "Be quiet. I’m thinking," grumbled Jon, as he sat sideways upon the seat of the snowmobile, his eyes studying the small cabin. "The Jeep’s out right?"

  "For sure," said Tia. “At least three of its tires are blown out. You can see how it leans awkwardly to the side. Over there’s the Canadian’s blue Nissan Pathfinder. I think the other must belong to Mr. X."

  Near the beautiful floor-to-ceiling front windows of the cabin, a gray Toyota Land Cruiser sat parked, sides muddy and streaked from the rough terrain and melting snow.

  "Think they might have left the keys in either of the ignitions?"

  "Now that would be coup," said Tia, moving further away from Jon. He smelled enticingly like wood smoke and savory chili.

  "Can you keep me covered?" Jon handed her the rifle.

  She nodded solemnly and pointed the ugly eye straight at the cabin.

  "Tia... you know...” he began, suddenly unsure of what to say; only recognizing he had to say something.

  Tia interrupted hastily. “You’d better get a move on if we have any hopes of getting back to Timberline tonight.”

  I’ll be right back," he said heavily, beginning his steep slosh through the melting snow.

  Within minutes he hugged the side of the Nissan Pathfinder, peering through its frosty window as he used his sleeve to brush away the clinging snow. Jon gave a negative shake, indicating the keys were not in the ignition. The powerful truck was loaded with suitcases and supplies as well as additional gasoline cans. Obviously the trio planned a quick getaway and didn’t want to use any of the petrol stations along the main highway. Snow tires covered with heavy chains indicated the 4x4’s preparation for the rough terrain and snowy conditions.

  Jon turned his attention to the gray Land Cruiser equipped with enormous snow tires parked twenty feet away from the Nissan. Unfortunately the 4x4 sat directly in front of the cabin’s huge arched windows. If any one of the men inside the cabin glanced out the window they’d no doubt spy Jon as he dashed toward the heavy vehicle. From where Tia now waited with her hunting rifle poised, she observed Jon take a deep fortifying breath before breaking from the cover provided by the Pathfinder. He kept low to the ground like a startled varmint as he sprinted to the side of the driver’s door, ducking his head to remain invisible above the vehicle.

  No shouts or gunfire issued from the house after Jon’s mad dash so he used his gloved hand to wipe the driver's side of the window clean. He gave a jerky thumbs up as Tia’s heart leaped.

  "Bingo," Tia whispered. Now if only Jon could open the door without alerting the three men. He didn't waste any time, lifting the silver latch to enable the door to swing outward about a foot. He beckoned her to join him.

  “Get inside the car,” she mouthed and he nodded, easing through the half-open door and remaining low so no one from the house could glimpse him. Tia straightened her shoulders and tightened her grasp on the rifle before slowly sliding down the slippery hill.

  Tia edged around the last lodge pole pine and mentally measured the distance to Jon’s black Jeep, where it tilted crazily upon its blown out tires. She bolted across the clearing and ducked behind the Cherokee before dashing to the Toyota. A loud shout in French boomed across the clearing. She didn’t wait to translate, running in full view of the cabin’s occupants to the 4x4’s side.

  The outdoor vehicle suddenly burst into life as Tia leaped and scrambled through the back door, sprawling onto the rear seat as the car jerked away from the picturesque windows, wheels spinning aimlessly in the wet snow before finally making purchase. Jon swung widely away from the cabin as the entry door to the house burst open; Tia desperately trying to slam shut the gapping car door as Steve’s brown eyes widened before he lifted up some sort of handgun and a bullet roared across the windshield, barely missing the car.

  “Drive!” screamed Tia needlessly at Jon, who’d already floored the accelerator. The snow churned and tossed muddy cold bits onto the three men who now pursued them on foot. A gruff voice shouted a command and Tia ventured a look out the rear of the vehicle, witnessing the French-Canadian, Mike Puchalet, slap a large rifle to his shoulder. Tia shouted warning and Jon instinctively ducked as he fired, the back window
of the Land Cruiser bursting into a thousand glassy pieces which rained down upon Tia’s hunched back.

  Jon battled with the heavy truck upon the slippery surface, the snow tires struggling for traction upon the icy top layer of the melting snow. Tia ventured another look and heard the report and zing of the bullet smashing into the snow near their tires. The erratic veering of the vehicle was probably what saved them, Mike Puchalet having trouble obtaining an honest bead on the lurching Toyota.

  “Take out the tires!” screamed a familiar voice, and Tia jerked in shock, peering frantically over the back seat though the shattered back windshield, disbelieving of whose twisted face shouted orders at his underlings.

  She cursed loudly and eloquently and pounded Jon upon the back. “Drive or we’re dead!”

  Steve and Mike followed, shooting at the rapidly disappearing truck, a few bullets slamming into the metal of the 4x4 as the pair aimed for the huge snow tires. The third man, who Tia had recognized, stopped running and stood peering after the careening Land Cruiser. His long green sweater, which hung halfway to his knees, billowed in the breeze produced by the retreating vehicle.

  He swore softly to himself and shook his balding head. Unbeknownst to the Land Cruiser’s occupants, incriminating boxes of files lay shoved under a blanket in the storage space behind the back seat.

  “Damn you Tia,” he muttered under his breath. “Come on!” he shouted to the two running men. “We’re not going to catch them on foot! Load the Pathfinder; they can’t get far on this road without chains!”

  He dug into his pocket for keys as Steve and Mike halted their futile chase and whirled to obey their employer, who glared at them with cold gray eyes.

  “We can’t let them get away since there’s a good chance she recognized me and I’ve lost any chance of anonymity. Grab the other rifles from the hunting case and retrieve the extra ammunition. We’ve got to catch them before they make it back to Timberline! And this time, don’t shoot at just the tires. Take out the girl and the photographer or the games up!”

  Chapter 11

  Jon skidded onto the road above Tia’s gravel driveway, tires spinning and churning in the slushy snow. “We’ve got to head back toward Timberline! We’re too vulnerable here!”

  “I know, I know! Hopefully Tory or Paul’s reinforcements are on their way.” Her voice sounded strangely bitter.

  Tia continued swearing under her breath and it was so unlike her that Jon stiffened in concern. Jon drove silently, his precise handling of the 4x4 indicating his expertise at driving in unfavorable conditions. A now-silent Tia crawled up into the front seat and brushed the glass away, the wind tearing at her hair from the blown-out rear window. Thank God it had warmed up a bit.

  Tia sat numb, the logic surrounding everything that had happened finally making sense. So much was at stake here; she just hadn’t realized it. Even the three men back at the cabin couldn’t understand all the intricacies surrounding the past few months and right now, to protect herself, she couldn’t tell anyone, not even the grieving Jon who’d suffered a loss as severe as her own.

  The road became so bad Tia had to hang on to the straps positioned above the 4x4’s doors in an effort to prevent her body from slamming into the car door. Jon drove as quickly as possible, trying to place as much time and distance as possible between them and their pursuers, who mercifully hadn’t yet appeared behind their struggling vehicle. Unfortunately, the Land Cruiser left deep grooves in the melting snow, which would not only indicate their chosen path but also make it easier for the Pathfinder, which wouldn’t have to break trail.

  The Land Cruiser’s large snow tires handled the relatively flat road well but Tia had no idea what conditions they’d encounter on their way to Timberline. A sudden thought occurred to her.

  “How much gas do we have left Jon?”

  “Less than a quarter of a tank I’m afraid. Their Pathfinder had two extra five gallon cans stored in the back. They probably just hadn’t gotten around to loading up this vehicle. I can only hope we’ll make it to Timberline on the fuel we have. From the condition of the car and its low fuel I believe whoever’s been driving this Land Cruiser has been out and around a great deal.”

  Yes, thought Tia, as she leaned back against the seat and clutched the strap. Whoever had been driving this Land Cruiser had probably been in the vicinity for days, watching and waiting for his opportunity to kill her.

  “Jon,” said Tia suddenly. “My friend Roy mentioned something about a group of professionally dressed men arriving in Timberline just before the storm and suggested they might be police or insurance investigators or something.” Tia had to shout over the noise of the road and braced herself again as Jon took a particularly bad corner.

  “That’s correct,” agreed Jon. “I saw them myself; there must have been four or five men wearing expensive outdoor gear. One appeared to be a Japanese businessman, dressed in a business suit even out here. The others were more casual, but there was something about them that smelled suspicious. I didn’t hang around long enough to make their acquaintance since I rather suspected they might somehow be connected to all this. Why don’t you check the dash and see if this car has some registration.”

  Tia obediently opened the drawer, finding a large manila packet of papers stashed inside. Tia unwound the red string looped about the small cardboard circle and pulled out a wad of papers. The 4x4 bounced again and Tia crashed against the dash, grumbling as she rubbed her painful shoulder.

  “Sorry,” mumbled Jon.

  As Tia’s gray eyes rapidly scanned the papers, her eyes flew open. Clutched in her suddenly sweaty hands was a copy of her father’s last will and testament, dated March third this past spring. She perused the tiny print and frowned.

  Paul had been right on target; the entire allotment of shares had been left to her without any explanation as to why her brother and uncle had been written out. Of course now she understood the ramifications of the glaring omission and felt her throat tighten with fear. Struggling to maintain a normal voice, she said fairly calmly, “It’s my father’s will. Paul was correct after all. My brother and uncle are no longer beneficiaries.”

  Jon absorbed this piece of information as he shifted downward. Tia was in bigger trouble than he’d previously thought. As they reached the grade leading to the main road, Tia pointed over the dashboard.

  “We’re only about a quarter of a mile off the main road but it’s quite a steep grade. Do you believe the Land Cruiser can handle this incline without chains?”

  “We’re going to find out!” cried Jon, gunning the engine.

  Tia peered behind her. No blue Nissan appeared either in the rearview mirror or out of the muddy rear window, but her instinct suggested their pursuers were not far behind.

  The Land Cruiser slid backward at a particularly slushy point, crept forward again and then stopped, wheels spinning helplessly.

  “Damn,” murmured Jon under his breath and gunned the engine again. Unfortunately his action only managed to dig the tires in deeper. “I’ll get out and put a shoulder to the truck while you give it some juice,” he said resignedly.

  Jon left the engine idling and slogging behind the Toyota, centered himself so that the muddy snow from the wheels wouldn’t splash on him and placed his shoulder against the gray Cruiser. Tia pressed the accelerator gingerly as Jon pushed with all his might. The 4x4 jerked and rocked in the groove its own tires had constructed, before spinning its wheels aimlessly again.

  “One more time,” called Jon, and this time Tia floored the pedal, forcing the truck to lurch and bounce over the small ridge the wheels had ground into the snow. Within a few seconds, she’d left Jon twenty feet behind in the soft knee-deep snow. He waved a hand and trotted heavily to the car, his face, parka, and ski pants dotted with mud splatters. Tia quickly regained her seat as Jon settled in and put the Toyota into gear.

  “I can only hope that’s the most trouble we have,” he said, as the 4x4 continued its slow ascent u
p the steep grade.

  When they finally reached the top of the crest, the main ribbon of Highway 7 spread before them. It was evident logging trucks had passed through after the storm as deep ruts gouged the quickly melting snow.

  Jon studied the long straight highway. “The only problem is there’s nothing to shield us for at least three miles. As soon as we turn onto the main road they’ll spot us for sure.”

  “Wait a minute, I know a place we can turn off,” said Tia, suddenly inspired. “If we head down this road, in less than a quarter of a mile there’s an old logging road. If we follow the ruts maybe we can make it to the track before the Nissan spots us. Several different tracks branch off through the forest so we might have a chance to lose them. The road runs parallel with the main highway before meandering through different logging routes. It eventually loops back to the main logging road at three different places, finally intersecting the main highway seven miles down. It’s our best chance to lose them.”

  Jon thought hard, his fingers tapping the steering wheel as the 4x4 idled.

  “While it sounds like a good idea, what if Paul or Tory come back with the police and totally miss us.” Jon rolled down his window and listened intently. “Isn’t that the sound of a motor?” he asked.

  “Let’s not wait to find out!” ordered Tia, and Jon revved the engine before pulling out onto the slushy main road. The Land Cruiser picked up speed, zooming down the long flat stretch of highway toward the logging turnoff.

  Even though the snow was fairly deep, the going seemed easier as the car slid and swerved in the wide ruts on the narrow two-lane highway. But would they reach the junction of the logging road before the blue Nissan Pathfinder pulled in behind them?

  “So far, so good,” said Jon, checking the rearview mirror as he pressed his foot even harder on the accelerator.

  Up ahead, less than an eighth of a mile away, the junction of the logging road loomed, its red signal flag blowing in the stiff breeze.