by Gerri Hill
And then some.
So he pushed on, making a trail where there was none as he made his way above St. Elmo.
Chapter Forty-Six
Jake walked as fast as she dared, pleased that her leg was not protesting the pace. The short hikes she and Nicole took around the cabin were leisurely at best. Even on the occasions they hiked to the hot springs, they didn’t push. But now, she pushed, letting Cheyenne run in front of her.
After getting the story from the women—a story she tried to decipher as all eight insisted on talking at once—she made a quick call to Captain Morris, letting him know she’d found their party, albeit short his detective and the Michaels woman. Then she packed all eight of the women into her Land Cruiser and sent them down the pass to Tin Cup. And despite Morris’s plea to keep this quiet, that the FBI didn’t even know she was on the scene, she’d also placed a call to the sheriff in Nathrop as well as to Chad Beckett in Gunnison. Both were en route.
And she would beat both of them to St. Elmo.
But from what she’d gathered from their story, this Jaime Hutchinson seemed capable enough. She’d gotten the group this far with only two casualties, one of whom needed medical attention. As she walked, she studied the treetops, judging the wind speed. She shook her head. The swirling wind was too gusty to chance a helicopter.
They were on their own.
“I can’t believe you came back. What were you thinking?”
Sara took a sip of water, then handed Megan the bottle. Yes, what was she thinking? She closed her eyes for a second, again remembering Jaime’s touch, her kisses. Yes, that was what she’d been thinking.
“I was worried about you. Both of you. And as I suspected, Jaime stashed you somewhere with plans to play cowboy with this guy.”
“Yeah. And left me with a shotgun.” She touched Sara’s arm. “Do you know how to use one of these?”
Sara shrugged. “I’ve been skeet shooting before. Whether I could point it at a person and pull the trigger is another matter.” As Megan’s eyes widened, Sara smiled and gently squeezed her hand. “But don’t worry. We’re not going to need it. Jaime won’t let him get to us.” Then she touched Megan’s forehead. “You don’t feel quite as warm. Maybe those antibiotics have helped some.”
“I don’t know. To be honest with you, I’m so numb I’m not sure how I feel.”
Sara nodded. She didn’t know what to say so she remained quiet. Megan had already heard all of their consoling words. What she needed was a doctor. So she turned out the small flashlight Jaime had left with them and leaned back against the wall next to Megan.
And waited.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Jaime was hiding in the forest, out of sight of the main trail but after an hour without movement or sound, she grew anxious and very worried. She scanned once more with her binoculars and again saw nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, it was too quiet. But she could attribute a lot of that to the gusty winds that had been blowing all morning. Even the normal chatter of the birds was missing.
She shook her head. Something wasn’t right. She could feel it in her gut. She frowned, looking down the trail then back toward town. The street was still deserted. Then she looked farther, past the street, her eyes following the old road out of town, the road the girls had taken that morning. Her eyes widened.
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered.
He’s coming in from the back side.
Jake came to a sudden stop when she saw movement through the trees. She touched Cheyenne’s head, silently telling the dog to keep quiet. She waited then saw him. A tall man carrying a burgundy backpack—he looked like an ordinary hiker. So she stood still, watching as he lowered the binoculars he’d been looking through. He turned suddenly, as if sensing her presence.
“Well, hey there,” he called. “You startled me. Haven’t seen any other hikers in days.” He motioned with his binoculars. “Thought I saw a bear.”
Jake nodded, her body still tense, wary.
“You alone?” Jake asked.
“Yeah. You?”
Jake nodded. “Just a day hike.” She released her hand, allowing Cheyenne to move away. The low growl in the dog’s throat told Jake everything she needed to know.
The man moved again, taking a step closer, their eyes fixed on each other.
“You been to St. Elmo before?” he asked.
Jake nodded. “Many times.”
“Many people out and about this time of year?”
Jake shook her head. “No, not really.”
She felt a chill as a smile slowly formed on his face and his eyes turned cold.
“That’s what I was hoping.”
She felt her adrenaline surge when he pulled a rifle out from behind his back. Without thinking, she dove headfirst to the side of the trail, sliding down quickly behind the fallen boulders. She ducked her head as the first shot rang out.
“Cheyenne!”
She saw only a flash as Cheyenne ran behind her. “Good girl,” she murmured. She pulled the dog closer against the rocks. “Now stay put.” She ducked her head again when a second shot was fired.
“Come on out now, little girl. Got no place to run to.”
With her weapon drawn, she scooted down lower, trying to get an angle on him. He was walking closer. She didn’t have a good shot but she wanted him aware that she had a gun. Between the limbs of the spruce tree she fired, her shot landing near enough to his feet to kick up rocks. It was his turn to take cover and she fired once more as he took refuge behind his own rock pile. They were maybe fifty feet apart. Too close for comfort but far enough away for Jake to feel somewhat safe. She tucked her head against her chest as the dirt kicked up behind her from another round.
Safe? Who was she kidding?
Jaime stopped dead in her tracks as the unmistakable sound of a rifle shot rang through the forest.
Sara.
She ran back into town, still trying to keep to the trees when a second round was heard, instinct making her duck her head. She stumbled, nearly falling, then righted herself. But she stopped again when more shots were heard.
“What the fuck?”
Not a rifle, but a handgun this time. A big one. She ran on, finally reaching the back side of the large cabin they’d stayed in. She leaned against the side, gasping to catch her breath. But her head jerked up when another rifle shot was heard, followed by two large caliber rounds from a handgun. She shoved off the wall, moving more slowly now as Sara and Megan’s cabin came into view. It looked undisturbed.
But she had no time to savor the relief she felt. Gunfire erupted again.
“Sara, no! You can’t go out there.”
Sara paced, waving the shotgun wildly as more gunfire was heard.
“She’s going to need help.”
“Not from you. You don’t even know how to use that thing.”
“He’s got her cornered somewhere, I just know it.”
“Sara, please. You can’t leave me here.”
Sara closed her eyes, nodding. “I know, Megan. I’m just so scared.” She jumped as another shot rang out. “I’m scared for Jaime and I’m scared for us.”
She moved back to the cot, the shotgun clutched tightly in her hand, wondering if she could possibly use it if it came down to that. Then she remembered Sandra.
Yeah. I could pull the trigger.
“Put the gun down, you bastard,” Jake yelled. She heard him laugh and she did the same. “Yeah, right. Maybe he’ll surrender,” she whispered out loud. His answer was another shot fired into the tree above her. She closed her eyes, telling herself she needed to be careful. Nicole would kill her.
“How long we going to do this, lady? I’ve got a whole box of shells here.”
And she believed him. Unfortunately, she only had one extra clip for her own weapon. But she wouldn’t have to hold him off forever. If this Detective Hutchinson didn’t come, then she had no doubt the sheriff from Nathrop would be here soon. She glanced at her wa
tch. Over an hour since she’d called him. He had been out near Buena Vista, but still, he should be here any minute. No, she didn’t have to hold him off long. So she peeked around the tree again, firing blindly to where he was hiding.
Jaime was near the edge of town now and she kept hidden. The shots were close, but the sound was distorted by the mountains. She wasn’t sure where they were coming from. Then the handgun sounded again and she thought she made out muted voices.
With her weapon drawn, she crouched low, nearly slithering among the trees, trying to stay in the shadows. She fell once, her boots slipping on the rocks, and she landed hard on her knees. She caught herself with her hands and her gun went flying.
“You’re going to shoot yourself if you’re not careful,” she murmured as she scrambled after her gun. Once on her feet, she ducked low as the shooting started again.
As she moved parallel to the road, but still in the trees, she spotted the burgundy backpack. She pressed herself against a tree, her eyes widening. She’d recognize the burgundy backpack anywhere. Goddamn bastard. And who the hell was he shooting at?
And who was shooting at him?
She took a deep breath, waiting as another round of shots were exchanged. Then she stepped from behind the tree, her weapon pointed at him.
“Hey, you,” she yelled. He turned quickly, surprise showing on his face as their eyes fixed on each other. “Yeah, you.” She walked closer. “Drop your goddamn rifle.”
His smile was cocky. So was his laugh.
“Now why in the world would I do that?”
“Because I’m assuming you don’t want me to shoot your sorry ass.”
“You must be the police detective who was so kind to carry my tracking device.” He shrugged. “I don’t believe you’re allowed to shoot your suspects.”
“Drop your goddamn rifle,” she said again, her weapon pointed directly at his chest.
He smiled again. “I’m a firm believer that police work is for men, not women.”
She cocked her head. “Oh, yeah?” She fired quickly, her shot landing mere inches from his boot. He jumped back, his eyes wide as he looked at her. “I said drop your goddamn rifle.”
Jake heard voices, then a shot. A handgun. Large caliber. She nodded. The detective, most likely. She moved farther down the mountain, sliding on her belly, wincing as rocks dug into her thigh, reminding her of why she wasn’t on the force any longer. She shifted, her hand going to her thigh and rubbing lightly across the scar. She waited a few seconds for the pain to subside enough for her to go on. She looked back at Cheyenne and held her hand up.
“Stay.” The dog whimpered once and she shook her head, meeting the intelligent eyes of her furry friend. “I mean it.”
***
Jaime walked closer as he slowly lowered his rifle to the ground. She nodded, then motioned with her head.
“Move away.”
“Sure. Sure. Just be careful with that thing.”
She smiled. “Yeah, you know women and guns. You better hope I’m not PMSing.” When he stepped away from the rifle, she relaxed. “Now, who the hell was shooting at you?”
“Don’t have a clue. Some woman.”
“A woman? Hell, man, it’s just not your day, is it?” Jaime laughed as she bent to retrieve the rifle.
He laughed too, then quickly reached behind his back and pulled out a handgun. Jaime dove to her right as she fired twice, rolling down the mountain away from him. One of her shots got him in the shoulder and he went to his knees. He fired quickly in her direction but she ducked low, both shots going over her head.
“Stupid ass,” she murmured. What did she think? That she could simply arrest him without a fight? She rolled again, then sat up, firing as he tried to run. He went down then turned, pointing his gun at her. She pulled the trigger without thinking, all three rounds hitting him squarely in the chest. Her heart was pounding so loudly she had to stop, taking deep breaths to try to calm herself. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. She whipped around, training her weapon on the woman who emerged from the trees.
“Drop your goddamn gun!” Jaime yelled.
The woman shook her head, her own gun pointed at Jaime. “No. I don’t think so. You first.”
Jaime’s eyes widened as she took a step forward. “I said drop your goddamn gun,” she repeated, her voice low and threatening.
Jake held up one hand. “Whoa now, calm down. I’m assuming you’re Detective Hutchinson. Denver PD. Homicide?”
Jaime arched an eyebrow but did not lower her weapon.
Jake finally relaxed, lowering her own gun. “I’m Jake McCoy.” At Jaime’s blank stare, she added, “Special Victims. Retired.”
Jaime’s stare was intense, questioning. Then she let out her breath, finally lowering her weapon.
“Your Captain Morris called me a couple of days ago.” Jake smiled. “I guess he was worried about you.”
“Well goddamn. Jake McCoy. Yeah. I remember. Sure, Special Victims. Your lieutenant shot—”
“That’s me,” Jake said quickly. “Retired now.” She pointed at their guy who lay sprawled on the bloody rocks. “Who’s this?”
“Hell if I know.”
They both turned at the sound of someone running toward them. Simultaneously, they raised their weapons as Sara burst from the trees.
Jaime lowered her gun, then lightly touched Jake’s arm. “She’s with me.”
Sara stopped, her eyes wide as two guns lowered. She was winded from running but as soon as she met Jaime’s eyes, she lunged forward, flinging herself at Jaime.
“It’s okay,” Jaime murmured as she barely caught herself before Sara could take them both to the ground. Then two frantic hands moved across her torso, then her arms. Jaime grasped Sara’s wrist, stilling her hands. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? There was so much shooting. I was afraid—”
“But I’m fine, Sara. I’m fine. Now you need to go back and get Megan. We’re getting out of here.”
Sara nodded, finally acknowledging the other person there. She stuck out her hand. “I’m sorry. I’m Sara Michaels. Are you okay?”
Jake smiled then shook her hand. “Jake McCoy. Yeah. I’m fine. Just happened to be in the area.”
Sara nodded again. She looked past them to the man laying on the rocks. She gasped, then turned to Jaime, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah. It’s him. We’re safe now.”
“Who is he?”
“Don’t know yet.”
Sara closed her eyes, then walked slowly into Jaime’s arms, burying her face against her.
“It’s over,” she whispered. “It’s really over.”
“Yes, it’s all over, sweetheart.” Jaime pulled back slightly. “Now go get Megan. She’s probably worried.”
Sara squeezed Jaime’s hand then turned away.
When she left, Jaime gave an embarrassed laugh. “Kinda crossed that line there between professional and personal,” she admitted.
Jake laughed. “Been there, done that.” She turned, gave a whistle and waited as Cheyenne bounded up to her, allowing the dog to sniff her, letting her know she was okay. “This is Cheyenne.”
Jaime reached down to pet the dog’s head, then motioned to their dead guy. “You got a phone on you? I need to call my captain and let him know where we are.”
“Already did that. I ran into your girls on the road. Gave them my truck and sent them on to Tin Cup. I called the sheriff in both Nathrop and Gunnison. And your captain was going to notify the FBI team that was working on the case. I think everybody is en route.” She looked up. “Although it’s too windy to get a helicopter up here. I’m guessing the winds are fifty knots or more.”
“En route? Well, great. Because I can’t wait to get my hands on Special Agent Ramsey.”
Jake flipped open her phone and walked into a clearing. “Let’s let Morris know you’re okay,” she said as she punched in the number.
Jaime nodded. “I’ll see if
this guy’s got any ID on him.”
Jake watched as she dug into the man’s pockets, then turned when her call was answered. “Captain Morris? I found your detective.” She nodded. “She’s fine. Found the assassin, too.” She frowned, glancing at Jaime. “The FBI is going to want to talk to him, huh?” She and Jaime exchanged a smile. “Well, I think they’re going to need some sort of an interpreter.” She shook her head. “No, I don’t know if he’s a foreigner or not. But I do know he’s very dead.”
Chaper Forty-Eight
“Senator?”
Peter glanced up, then motioned Arthur into the room. “What is it?”
“The FBI is on the phone. They want to speak with you.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Fine. Please let Mr. Dodds and Mr. Ramsey know I’d like to see them. They’re both down in the bunker.”
“Of course, sir.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “Your wife . . . I heard she wasn’t well. Is there anything I can do?”
“When did you hear that?”
“This morning. One of the maids said that Dr. Patterson was summoned last night.”
Peter smiled reassuringly. “She’s fine. She had a little . . . little spell again last night is all.”
“Very well.” He pointed at the phone. “The FBI is on line two.”
“Thank you, Arthur.”
His smile vanished as soon as Arthur closed the door. This was most likely the call they’d been waiting on for days. The call to let them know that they’d found Sara. And that Sara was dead. As he picked up the phone, he reminded himself to show the proper amount of grief at the news.