Becoming Quinn (22 page)

Bad move
, Durrie thought as Oliver jumped between the woman and the car.

“Run!” Oliver told her.

The woman took a few steps, but as soon as Larson started talking again, she stopped.

The look of hopelessness that had been etched on her face disappeared. It was replaced by the hardened eyes and disdainful smile of a professional. She turned toward Jake, her back now to Durrie’s position.

Silently, she reached around and unzipped a secret pocket on the waistband of her billowing skirt. From inside she withdrew a Beretta Bobcat—a .22 caliber, palm-sized pistol. Not great for distance work, but more than enough firepower when held to the back of someone’s head.

She took two silent steps toward Jake, listened to the conversation for a moment, then started to raise her weapon.

Durrie pulled the rifle’s trigger.

The force of the bullet hitting the back of her head thrust her forward a few feet before dropping her to the ground.

“Down!” Durrie yelled, as he put three quick shots into the side of the car.

•    •    •

At the sound of the shot, Jake whipped around. He was just in time to see the woman collapse to the ground barely a foot away from him.

“Down!” a voice shouted from the trees. It sounded like Durrie.

Immediately three more shots rang out, whacking into the car.

Jake dropped to the ground.

He heard a car door open, then footsteps running on pavement.

Two more shots flew through the air, then Durrie was suddenly crouching at his side.

“You need to help me get her off the street.”

“You…shot her,” Jake said.

“Yes,” Durrie said. “I did.” He grabbed Jake’s chin and turned him toward the woman. “Look.”

Jake did. She was face down in a puddle of blood. There was a hole where the bullet had entered the back of her head. He didn’t want to think about what it looked like where it came out.

“The hand,” Durrie said.

Jake moved his gaze to her hands. The left one was empty, but in her right was a small pistol.

“She was about to do to you what I did to her,” Durrie told him.

“That’s…not possible,” Jake said. “She…she was—”

“Working with Larson,” Durrie finished. “Now help me. We can’t leave her here for someone else to find.” He grabbed the woman’s arms. “Get her feet. But stay low. He’s still out there.”

Numb, Jake did as he was told, and half a minute later they’d stowed the body ten feet deep in the woods.

Durrie then pulled off the long rifle that was on his shoulder and moved over to the car. Pointing at what was left of the woman in the street, he said, “Dig a hole and dump the big chunks in, then use some dirt to cover up the blood.”

“What am I supposed to carry them with?” Jake asked.

“You’ve got hands, don’t you?”

Jake tried not to think about what he was doing as he picked up the pieces of the woman that were no longer attached to her, then carried them back to the trees and buried them. As he covered the blood per instructions, Durrie started to roll the sedan the rest of the way off the road.

“I’m done,” Jake announced, after he dropped the last handful of dirt onto the spot where the puddle had been.

Durrie glanced back, and nodded. “Good. Now help me with this,” he said, indicating the car. “We need to get it far enough down the dirt road so no one passing by will see it.”

Once they finished, it was almost as if nothing had happened. Even a cop could have driven by and he would have seen nothing that would have made him stop.

Jake glanced back at the woods where the woman’s body lay. “I thought for sure she was just trying to get away. I believed her. What…what do we do now?”

Durrie looked into the forest west of their position. “Either he finds us, or we find him. What would you rather?”

Jake’s first thought was to get in the car and drive away as fast as they could. But something held him back from voicing it, something that said even if he was able to get away today, Larson would still come after him tomorrow, or the next day, or the one after that.

He gave Durrie’s question more serious consideration. “Let him find us,” he finally said.

Durrie glanced at him, a curious look on his face. “Why?”

“He wants to kill us, so he’ll be looking for us anyway. Let him do the work. We can be ready for him.”

“Where did you learn that?”

Jake shook his head. “Nowhere. It’s just logical, right?”

Durrie responded with a grunt and a nod. Then he said, “We’ll go back down the dirt road a bit. I spotted a small clearing not far from that ridge you climbed up. We can use that.”

The mention of the ridge caused Jake to ask, “Why did you follow me?”

Durrie frowned, then slung the rifle back over his shoulder. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Without another word, he jogged into the woods.

For half a second, Jake thought again about getting into the car. He could get away not just from Larson now, but Durrie, too. He could bring the authorities back here. He could show them the woman, and where he’d buried the remainder of her face. But the thought passed as quickly as it came. He was staying, and he knew it.

He didn’t dwell on the reason why. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

So he headed after the man who had been holding him prisoner, the man who had just saved his life.

30

By the time they reached the clearing, twilight had settled over the mountains. There, on the eastern side of the range, the shadows were deep and black, as if night had fully engulfed the ground but not yet the entire sky.

Durrie halted next to a downed tree, setting his pack on it. From inside he pulled out a pouch, then removed two items and handed one to Jake.

“So we can stay in touch,” Durrie said.

“We’re splitting up?” Jake asked, surprised.

Durrie looked at him for a second, then nodded at the gear in Jake’s hand. “I’ll leave it up to you to figure out where the earpiece goes. That little square piece attaches to your collar. See the switch on the bottom?”

Jake twisted it around until he found what Durrie was talking about.

“Flip it into the other position. That turns everything on.”

Jake did so.

“On the side’s a pressure button. In, your mic’s on. Out and it’s off. Since you’re not used to the equipment, just leave it on at all times.”

Nodding, Jake activated the mic, then attached the square to his collar. Once that was done, he inserted the earpiece. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Durrie had just finished checking the mags on the two handguns he’d pulled out of his bag. As he shoved the last mag back into place, he looked out at the clearing. “I want you to move through the woods and over on that side.” He pointed across the clearing at the side farthest from the dirt road. “When you get there, find a dry branch about an inch thick.” He looked at his watch. “In exactly five minutes, snap it like you would if you’d accidently stepped on it. But only once. Quiet after that.”

“You took my watch.”

Durrie frowned at him. “You know how to count, don’t you?”

“What are you going to do?”

From Durrie’s pause, Jake sensed the man wasn’t used to sharing his plans.

“I’ll be on the ridge on the other side of the road,” Durrie said. “When I see him go by, I’ll follow him. Once he’s between us, we’ll take him down. If you end up firing your weapon, try not to shoot me.” He strapped his pack back on. “You can start counting now.”

He took off.

With little choice, Jake headed around the perimeter of the clearing, counting down the seconds in his head. On the way, he found a branch that would do what Durrie had requested. He reached his assigned position with about thirty seconds to spare.

Propping the branch on a rock, he raised his foot, holding it in the air as the final seconds ticked off. Three…two…one…
crack!

Even as the sound was still reverberating across the clearing, Jake started looking for a place to hide. He found a spot about thirty feet away, where he could see both the clearing and the area where he’d snapped the branch.

He wasn’t nervous, in fact, far from it. He was…energized, he realized. Focused, alive, and energized.

•    •    •

Durrie was scrambling up the ridge when he heard the crack. He checked his watch. Right on time. Durrie was the one who was slow.

He saw a shallow depression to his left, and angled over to it. He had barely lain down in it when he spotted a dark shadow race across the dirt road. He brought his rifle around, but was too late.

Son of a bitch!
He’d been expecting to catch Larson coming over the ridge, putting Durrie in the position to end it right there. He hadn’t expected to see the other man already halfway to the clearing. So much for his plan.

He quickly got to his feet and started down the hill. As he did, he clicked on his mic.

“Oliver?” he whispered.

“Here,” the kid answered back.

“I just spotted him on the road. He’s heading in your direction.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t do anything stupid. In fact, just stay down. I’m coming in behind him.”

“Got it.”

“I mean it.”

“I said, I got it.”

Durrie clicked off his mic.

When he reached the road, he paused. This was the most dangerous part. Larson could be just on the other side waiting for someone to show up. Though it was now full dark, the mountain sky was full of brightly shining stars, making the road the one place a person wouldn’t be able to hide.

Crouching low, Durrie made a quick dash to the other side. No bullets, no sound of a gun. Just the breeze through the top of the trees, and the underlying buzz of insects.

Durrie made his way as quickly as he could toward the clearing, while being careful not to make any noise that would betray his position.

“I think I see something,” Oliver reported.

Durrie pushed the mic button twice so that the radio would broadcast an audible click. It was a signal to say that he heard, but couldn’t talk. He hoped Oliver would understand.

Apparently, he did. “Movements on the side nearest the road,” Oliver said. “It was in the trees, but I don’t see it now.”

Durrie double-clicked again. He wanted to say, “Get the hell out of there,” but he was too near the clearing to risk it.

He dropped into a half crouch to lower his profile as he weaved through the trees, then stopped when he finally spotted the clearing twenty feet away. He had taken a much more direct path than Larson’s to get there, so there was a chance the assassin hadn’t reached that point yet.

Durrie searched the area, but nothing caught his attention. After several seconds, he rose, intending to move closer to Oliver’s position. That’s when he finally heard a noise. But it wasn’t a footstep or clothes brushing against a tree. It was the
whoosh
of something moving through the air.

Instinct kicked in, and even as he turned toward the sound, he dropped his head down and raised his arm as protection. The move probably prevented his skull from being crushed, but the glancing blow of the thick branch against the side of his head was enough to knock him out.

•    •    •

Jake heard a noise off to his left. A
thwack
followed by something falling to the ground.

“Durrie?” he whispered. “Was that you?”

No response.

“I heard something. If it’s Larson, he’s about fifty yards from me.”

Still nothing.

Jake’s hand involuntarily tightened on the grip of his pistol. “Durrie?” he said again, but received the same lack of response.

This was not good.

He considered investigating the noise, but held his position. The sound could have very well been part of the same kind of trap he and Durrie were trying to use on Larson.

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?” Larson said playfully over the radio. “Hello? Is that you out there, Officer Oliver? If so, I have your friend here, the one you said made a run for it from the cabin. You lied to me, Officer. I’m impressed.”

Jake pulled his earpiece out, holding it close enough so that he could hear anything coming over it. When Larson spoke again, he listened carefully to the forest to see if he could determine where the man was.

“I’m sure your conscientious mind would be glad to know Durrie’s still alive. Whether he stays that way is up to you.”

There was a faint sound coming from the direction where Jake had heard the
thwack
. He put the receiver back in his ear. Then, leaving his bag, he moved deeper into the woods, and began circling around so he’d come at the sound from the side opposite the clearing.

“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Larson said. “I know you’re close to the meadow. That little trick you tried to lure me in with? It did the job. Here I am. Now, step out of the trees, and walk all the way to the center.”

Jake needed to keep him engaged, so he whispered, “Why would I do that?”

“Officer Oliver, so good to hear your voice. Why? Because I’ll kill him otherwise.”

Jake paused behind a dying tree. “Why would you think I’d care? He kidnapped me.”

Larson laughed. “I’m not buying that. You’ve got a cop’s mind, which means you can’t let someone die if you think there’s something you can do about it.”

Jake could hear the man’s voice ahead, not quite loud enough to make out the words without the aid of the radio, but definitely recognizable as Larson. “I’m not a cop anymore.”

“You think getting fired changes the way you think? I know your kind. I know what goes on in a cop’s head like yours. It’s all about saving lives.”

Jake said nothing, worried he was getting too close to respond without giving away his position.

“What’s wrong, Officer? A little too close to the bone?” He paused. “Enough chat. Move into the meadow where I can see you, and do it now.”

Jake circled to the left, moving closer as he did.

“Oliver!” Larson shouted. Jake froze, thinking he’d been spotted. But then the man said, “Stop wasting time, and move out where I can see you! Goddammit! You do
not
want me to come looking for you!”