Hunting Eve

by Iris Johansen

  Or it could be an animal. It had happened before.

  Don’t move. Listen.

  She held her breath. She could hear the movement.

  Large, soft-footed.

  Doane was astonishingly quiet for a big man. She had become accustomed to listening for him and to him in the last days. As he got a little closer, she would know …

  Doane!

  She slipped into the shrubbery to the left of the path, every step silent. Just far enough to be out of sight. She couldn’t risk any sound of crashing in the bushes that might alert him.

  No trees nearby. Just low shrubs, then the cliff that plunged hundreds of feet to the winding river below.

  Crouch. Hide. Watch.

  Let him pass, then go for the trail that led past the coin factory. This could turn out to be a lucky diversion for her.

  It didn’t feel lucky. Her heart was beating so hard, she was afraid he could hear it.

  He was closer.

  Then he was directly opposite her.

  Then he had passed her, and she heard the rustle of shrubs as they closed behind him.

  She didn’t move. Wait until he was a good distance away. He was going toward the campfire. He had a purpose. It would take him at least fifteen minutes to get there. By that time, she would have reached the trail and gotten a good start toward the factory area. Just stay here and wait until he was out of earshot.

  She was suddenly aware of an abrasive roughness in her palm.

  She looked down and saw that she had instinctively grasped the hilt of the knife in the sheath on her leg as Doane had come close to her.

  The knife that Zander had strapped to her leg to fight their common enemy.

  Common enemy. Why did she keep thinking of Doane in that way? He was her enemy.

  And it was time that she started to escape from him and get back to her life.

  She rose to her feet and moved out of the bushes and started up the rough path leading to the trail.

  She could still smell the smoke that was leading Doane toward the campfire … and Zander. Unless Zander had left the fire and was laying a trap for Doane somewhere in the surrounding woods. It wasn’t likely that Doane would go into the clearing even if he thought Eve was his only prey. He preferred to stalk, not confront, until he thought he could scoop her up. He’d have trouble scooping up Zander, she thought grimly. He was a powerhouse and probably more lethal than Doane.

  Good luck to you, Zander. Bring down the enemy and crush him.

  The common enemy.

  Why the hell did that phrase keep repeating in her mind?

  Common enemy.

  She stopped in the trail, her fists clenching. What she was thinking was ridiculous, and it could be fatal. She owed Zander nothing.

  Nothing but a knife that could save her life. Nothing but a chance at freedom if she reached that ghost town.

  But she wasn’t like Joe or her friend, Catherine Ling. She had no warrior instincts. However, she’d never been good in the woods either, but she’d managed to survive and learn.

  And everyone was a warrior if the stakes were high enough. But, dammit, they weren’t high at all where Zander was concerned. Unless you could call this frustrating sense of duty and obligation important.

  It was important. It didn’t matter who Zander claimed to be or whether or not Eve believed him. She had always gone by her own rules and code. She couldn’t walk away from them now.

  Stupid, she told herself, even as she whirled away from the trail and started back toward the campfire. Lord, what was she doing?

  Maybe not too abysmally stupid. Doane would not expect her to be stalking him. She was the prey in his eyes. She would just monitor the situation for a while and make sure that Doane didn’t surprise Zander and get the upper hand. Then she would take off back toward the trail and leave them both behind.

  Surely that was not too much to do to help defeat a common enemy.…

  CHAPTER

  12

  THE CAMPFIRE WAS JUST AHEAD.

  What was left of it. Even from this distance, Eve could see that it was now only glowing embers. Which meant that Zander had left the clearing and was probably somewhere in the surrounding forest waiting for Doane to appear.

  Doane was a good hundred yards ahead of her, and she could tell that he was slowing, his head lifted as his gaze circled the clearing.

  Then she saw the beam of his flashlight pierce the darkness, spearing downward as he neared the clearing.

  Tracks. He was looking for tracks.

  She stiffened. And he would find her tracks because this was the way she had left the clearing. Then he would turn and follow those tracks … and find her.

  But he wasn’t finding her tracks, she realized in bewilderment. He was moving to the left, and the beam was focusing on the ground. Why hadn’t he found her tracks? He was an expert, and he knew her prints well. Many times she had watched him from hiding and knew just how good he was. He had kept her on the run.

  Just as she was watching him now. But he wouldn’t find her prints in the direction he was going. He would find Zander’s.

  Unless Zander had erased all sign of his passing. That was possible, even probable.

  “You’re here, Eve,” Doane called softly. “I can feel you. You must have been very cold to risk making that fire. But you were careful. I didn’t see or smell it until I was nearly here.” His flashlight’s beam danced on the earth in front of him. “Maybe you kept the fire so low because you were afraid I’d do that. Are you afraid of me, Eve? I hope you are. It’s been very frustrating knowing you don’t fear me. If Kevin were still alive, you’d be afraid. He could make anyone afraid if that’s what he wanted.” He chuckled. “And he doesn’t really have to be alive, does he? I think you’re still afraid of him. I could see he had you by the throat whenever you were working on that reconstruction.” He was going deeper in the circle encompassing the clearing. “If I don’t kill you right away, you’ll have to face him again. You will finish that reconstruction. That’s something for us to look forward to.”

  Nausea. Smothering. A reaching-out to touch. To hurt Eve, to hurt Bonnie.

  To hurt Bonnie.

  God, yes, she was afraid of Kevin.

  But if Doane died, then Kevin could no longer use him to try to fight his way back to the living. That merging she had been afraid would happen between father and son would not occur, and the evil that existed would be destroyed.

  Was that why she had returned tonight? To make sure that Doane was killed? She had been struggling with the decision whether she could actually kill deliberately. She had told herself it was her duty to not opt out and run, but it could be that the other, more chilling, decision had already been made.

  “Do you know that Kevin didn’t really care anything about the sexual side of what he did to those little girls. He just found dominating them fascinating. He had to prove that the magical purity within them could be crushed and destroyed by him and him alone. He believes he can still do that. He’s been trying to reach out for your Bonnie, but she’s very strong. He’s not used to little girls being stronger than he is. He thinks that you’re helping her fight him.”

  Bastard. Son of a bitch. Every word was a red-hot brand that filled her with rage … and sickening fear. And Doane knew it and was pouring acid into that wound.

  Yes, she would help Bonnie. Her soul would stay safe and full of joy in that special place. No monsters would be allowed to enter there.

  “I can sense your anger. You didn’t like that, did you? It’s good to know we can reach you through her.” He was on the far side of the clearing. “I’m sure that Kevin can find ways of hurting your Bonnie that don’t involve the physical. He’s such a smart boy and he can—” He stopped and the beam zeroed in on something on the ground. “What have we here?” he murmured. “Fresh tracks. Your tracks. How fresh, Eve?” He shined the light on the ground leading from the campfire. “Yes, you jumped to your feet and started running towa
rd the forest. Did you hear me coming?”

  What? She was totally confused. She had certainly not entered the forest from that direction. He must be looking at Zander’s tracks.

  “I can imagine you close, crouching, afraid to move because I’d hear you. Let’s just see where you’re hiding. These prints are leading toward the edge of the cliff. The earth is hard there, and you probably thought I wouldn’t be able to track you.” She saw the glint of moonlight on his rifle as he moved through the trees. “I’m getting impatient, Eve. I’m feeling a few raindrops, and I do not want to stalk you in a thunderstorm. I may have to blow one of your kneecaps to keep you from doing this again. That might work very well. You’d still be able to finish the reconstruction.”

  He was going deeper into the forest, heading toward the bluff. His voice was fading as he put distance between them.

  She heard a low rumble of thunder and the spatter of raindrops on the leaves.

  Stay here or go after him? She knew what the decision should be.

  But that wasn’t why she had turned at the trail and followed him back to the campfire.

  Common enemy.

  And their common enemy was going after Zander.

  She started to glide silently through the forest.

  * * *

  ZANDER LEFT THE PATH and pushed through the shrubbery. Not the easiest way to travel, but it was certainly the best means to hide his trail. Let Doane believe he was the hunter and not the prey. Let him think that he was alone in these woods with poor, defenseless Eve Duncan.

  Zander smiled. Eve Duncan defenseless? Hardly. Defenseless like a grizzly bear, maybe. Even without the knife he’d given her. She was clever and clearly had a survival instinct that bordered on ruthless.

  Where had that streak come from? She would not have admitted that he had anything to do with it, and he was inclined to agree. Eve’s upbringing and the loss of her daughter had undoubtedly toughened her. It hadn’t been an easy life that created the character of Eve Duncan.

  He crouched low as he moved through an especially thick patch of brush. The ground was getting so uneven that he knew he might have to return to the trail. Even if it meant he—

  The ground fell away beneath him.

  Before he knew what was happening, he felt himself kicking and clawing at space as a sickening crack cut through the silence.

  He tumbled over twenty feet into the void, trying to latch onto something, anything, that would slow his descent. He finally struck bottom with another sharp crack, this one even more sickening than the first.

  It was the sound of his wrist breaking.

  Pain stabbed him at every nerve ending, and a low, guttural groan escaped him.

  Dammit.

  He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth until the pain subsided.

  There, finally.

  He opened his eyes. Where in the hell was he?

  His eyes adjusted to the darkness. He was at the bottom of a mine shaft, he realized. A gold mine dug and abandoned over 150 years before, like scores of others that probably dotted these mountains. He had stepped through the brush and rotted wood planks that covered the sealed mine, an entrance hidden and undisturbed by virtue of being off the trail.

  Until he stumbled upon—and into—it.

  Lucky guy.

  Excruciating pain still radiated from his wrist. And his left ankle. Shit.

  He pulled himself up and tried putting weight on his leg.

  His ankle held.

  No break, maybe a minor sprain. He could power through it. His wrist, however, was another matter. His left hand would be useless until he got medical attention.

  Not the best condition in which to go mano a mano with a maniac like Doane.

  A rustling sound up above.

  He looked up. Not now, Doane. I need a little time.

  He silently drew his gun from his holster.

  If Zander was lucky it was only a wild animal …

  “Are you all right?” a voice whispered.

  Eve’s voice.

  She moved closer, and he saw her silhouetted against the starlit sky. “What the hell are you doing here?” He spoke louder than he meant to but the thunder muffled it.

  “It looks like I’m saving your ass. I saw Doane go into the forest, and I was afraid that he might be tracking you. Then I heard a crashing sound, and I came to—”

  “I’ll save my own ass. Get the hell out of here.”

  “Do you think I want to be here? You’re nothing to me. It just seemed … right.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. I should have known. You’re a do-gooder who thinks she can change the world.”

  “I’m not a do-gooder.”

  “Close enough. A do-gooder and an amateur. God, I hate amateurs.”

  “And I hate men who take lives and walk away.”

  “Then get out of here,” Zander said. “Move!”

  “How badly are you hurt?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll pull you up.” Eve backed away from the shaft entrance. “I need to find something I can use to—”

  “Who asked you to do that? I’ll get out on my own. Run, dammit.”

  “I can’t leave you.”

  “Then stay here and let Doane catch you and pick me off like a duck in a shooting gallery. There’s no time. Doane is on his way. He thinks he’s trailing you, and I led him through a maze of shrubs, but he should be heading this way by now.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, I’ve been leading him here. Dammit, he should be on top of us anytime now.”

  “I have a knife.”

  “Are you willing to risk it? You can’t win … Not like this.”

  “Can you get up here on your own?”

  “Yes.” He gazed appraisingly up at the craggy sides of the mine shaft, which appeared to present plenty of hand- and footholds. It wouldn’t be easy, especially with this damn useless left hand, but he’d gotten out of tougher spots before. “I told you, I don’t need you.”

  “He’s coming.” Eve’s voice was suddenly tense. “I see the beam of Doane’s flashlight near that bluff.”

  “Get out of here.”

  “No, I’ll go toward him and let Doane see me, so I can lead him away from here.”

  “No! Don’t you—”

  “Stop telling me what to do,” she said fiercely. “I won’t have you shot. I won’t have Doane and his Kevin survive if anything happens to me. Evil. So much evil. You’re the only safety net I have to make sure that they’re destroyed. You won’t care about Venable or cops or politicians or anyone else. You’ll run right over them. You’ll go after Doane and keep on going after him.” She whirled back toward the path. “Now shut up and start trying to get up that mine shaft.”

  Then, the next second, Eve was gone.

  * * *

  EVE STARTED RUNNING, CUTTING back into the forest to where she’d seen the beam of Doane’s flashlight.

  The shrubs were wet, and she was soaked in seconds.

  A light shining bright in the darkness.

  The light was on her, targeting her.

  She braced herself, standing there like a deer caught in the headlight. Then she turned and started running back through the forest.

  Keep away from the mine shaft.

  Had Doane caught sight of her? She’d thought that the beam had zeroed in on her long enough.

  Just in case, make as much noise as she could to draw attention.

  But the thunder that had been her friend was suddenly her enemy. How could you hear the sound of footsteps and crash of vegetation with that rumbling all around them?

  But it didn’t matter. Doane had seen her!

  She could hear him cursing behind her. He must be close for her to hear him so clearly.

  She glanced over her shoulder and her heart jumped in her breast.

  Oh, yes, very close.

  Should she pull out the knife? She jumped over a fallen tree stump
and ran down the overgrown trail. If he caught up with her, she’d be ready for him.

  “You won’t win … Not like this.”

  Zander’s words were still ringing in her ears. He was right, of course, especially if Doane now had a laser-sighted rifle aimed at her back.

  She glanced back. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear the stomping of his rubber-soled boots and the jangling of keys on his belt. At least, she had drawn him away from Zander.

  Now she just had to save her own neck.

  “Give up, Eve,” Doane called out behind her. “You’d never have lit that fire if you hadn’t been exhausted. It’s the end for you tonight.”

  She became aware of another sound. It was water, babbling and slapping over rocks. She turned toward a cluster of trees to her left.

  A stream.

  She bolted toward it.

  She ran through dozens of outstretched branches, clawing at her face, her clothes, her hair. Just another few feet …

  Doane’s voice behind her, even closer this time. “You have to finish what you started. He’s waiting for you.”

  She leaped into the stream and gasped as a million icy razors cut into her. The frigid water immediately took her breath away and slowed her movements. What was she thinking?

  That he’d be crazy to follow her.

  She dove to the shallow bottom and swam as far and fast as she could without breaking the surface. Doane was undoubtedly running on the bank alongside waiting for her to show herself.

  She let the stream carry her along, moving faster than she ever could under her own power.

  And, hopefully, faster than Doane, she thought desperately.

  She swam until she felt that her lungs were about to burst. In one fluid motion, she broke the surface, hungrily gulped the air, then dove back under. Had he seen her?

  It didn’t matter. The current was picking up.

  She could do this.

  A bullet tore into the water only a foot from her head.

  “The next bullet will be aimed much closer,” Doane shouted from the bank. “Do you think you can swim faster than a bullet, Eve?”

  No, and the stream was so narrow it would make it easy for him to see her in the water.

  Get out.

  Take to the woods again.