The Hunt (36 page)

“Ashley, we have to go.”

“No, no. I can’t. Let me stay with them.”

“He’s going to be looking for you.” In addition, there was barely enough room up slope behind the boulder to hide two men.

Miranda had faced her fear in the cabin and won. If she could conquer her claustrophobia, she could certainly lead Ashley to safety. But only if the girl would cooperate.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“I can’t,” Ashley wailed, tears running down her cheeks.

“Yes, you can. Don’t let him win.”

Nick said, “You’re stronger than you think, Ashley.”

Something in his tone made Miranda look at him. Though his eyes were closed, she saw on his face that he was worried. And more. A quiet understanding. He knew. He’d lain next to Ashley and witnessed her rape. Miranda hated that he’d been through that.

But for the first time in her life, she didn’t dwell on what happened all those years ago. She’d escaped the Butcher then, and she would elude him now.

“We need to go,” she said. “Lance, don’t forget to call Charlie as soon as you’re hidden up slope.”

“I will.”

Ashley whimpered, her body heaving with dry sobs. But she seemed resigned to going with Miranda as she slowly got to her feet, her arms still wrapped tightly around herself.

Miranda turned one last time to Nick as she strapped on her backpack. “I expect to see you alive when I get to the end of this canyon.”

CHAPTER

32

Quinn searched the Parker residence with Deputy Jorgensen while two other cops searched the grounds.

“Clear,” Quinn called.

Richard Parker looked ghostly, his face drawn, when Quinn stepped back out on the porch. “He could have killed Ryan. He could have killed Delilah.”

“Ryan’s safe,” Quinn reminded him. “I sent a deputy over to the Moore place to watch over him. Every available cop is looking for Delilah and David.”

“She didn’t know. She couldn’t have known.”

Parker had been repeating this mantra in the car until Quinn was ready to slug him.

“Agent Peterson!”

One of Nick’s deputies came running up. “We were checking out the south meadow like you said and heard faint gunshots down in the gulch.”

“Where?”

“It was hard to tell with the echo, but it was from the bottom most certainly. It’s obvious that several people have walked down the slope; there’s recently disturbed dirt and plants.” The deputy wiped a hand over his face. The drizzle had been steadily increasing, but it wasn’t fully raining yet.

A series of four-wheel-drive trucks came down the driveway. Quinn recognized the driver of the first truck, Charlie. Quinn didn’t wait for him to get out, but met him next to the gravel area by the barn.

“I just talked to Lance Booker,” Charlie said. “They found the girl. And get this: Nick’s with her.”

Quinn slammed his fist on the hood of Charlie’s truck. What was Miranda thinking going down into that canyon alone? He didn’t care that she had a deputy with her; she wasn’t a cop, she wasn’t a federal agent. Why?

It hit him: She thought she could save Ashley. He would have done the same.

“Let’s head down to the meadow. I’ll catch a ride with you—we’ll need the four-wheel-drive if this rain gets any heavier.”

“It will,” Charlie said grimly.

The drive was short and bumpy. As soon as the truck stopped, Charlie’s radio buzzed. “GCSR, GCSR, anyone there?” GCSR was the acronym for Gallatin County Search and Rescue. Miranda’s unit.

Charlie answered. “Roger, Charlie Daniels here.”

“Charlie, it’s Lance Booker. I’m calling to give you coordinates. Can you take them?”

Charlie pulled a pencil and pad from the visor. “Give them to me.”

Booker gave the coordinates. When he was done, Quinn took the radio. “Booker, it’s Agent Peterson. Put Miranda on.”

“I can’t, sir.”

“Why the hell not?”

“There was no place here to conceal all four of us and she took Ashley farther down the gulch.”

“Explain.”

Quinn closed his eyes when he got off the radio with Lance Booker. Damn, damn! Miranda had no other choice—she hadn’t had many options. But to have her running with an injured, scared woman . . .

“Let’s get going. Booker says it’ll take forty-five minutes to get down to the gulch.”

“I’ll cut that time in half. Ever rappel down a mountain?”

Davy stared at the open door. Red rage exploded in his chest, filling every blood vessel with potent hatred.

That
bitch
stole his girl.

Where did they go?

She was a smart bitch; she wouldn’t go up the gulch. It only grew steeper, narrower. A trap. She hadn’t fallen for his traps before. Down Boulder Gulch would land them out near Big Sky. Hard going over the rocks, and they’d have to cross several creeks. With the rain last week they were running high. Waist deep at least. It would slow them down.

She wouldn’t be able to take his girl up the mountainside. Too steep. He’d picked this location because of the trap to the west. He wanted to corner the girl. See the hot fear in her eyes when she realized there was no way out. Would she run toward him? Or cower against a mountain she’d never be able to climb?

Instead, the bitch must have taken her down the boulders, taking the sport out of it. What was the fun of shooting them in open space? He’d done that before.

He wanted something new.

The bitch would pay for what she’d done. He should have killed Miranda Moore twelve years ago.

He would have her begging for mercy before he cut out her heart.

Miranda winced at the buzz of her radio. She had it turned low, but it still made noise.

“Moore here,” she said, mindful of the echo. The rain was coming down steadily, helping to mask the noise, but if the Butcher was on her tail she had to take every precaution. They were keeping close to the north slope so they weren’t completely out in the open, but the rain made the ground slick. She had on hiking boots yet still fell once; she’d had to pick Ashley up more times than she could count.

They were not moving fast enough for her liking.

“It’s Booker. The Butcher came and left, ninety seconds ago at a quick pace. He was not happy.”

Booker’s voice came through fuzzy.

“Roger.”

“I tried for a clean shot, but I couldn’t get one.”

“Better to stay hidden. If you missed the first shot, he would have known where you were. How’s Nick doing?”

“He’s going in and out of consciousness. I was talking to him, keeping him awake, until I spotted Larsen and had to keep quiet. He faded then.”

Damn. Nick needed medical attention soon.

“I talked to Peterson,” Booker continued. “They’re on their way down.”

Good. At least she had reinforcements.

“I’m turning off my radio,” she said. “I don’t want any noise. Out.”

She glanced at Ashley. The girl didn’t know the meaning of the word quiet. Every time she slipped she let out a yelp, then started crying again about how she was going to die.

Miranda couldn’t blame her. Ashley was scared to death. She knew what had happened to all the other victims of the Butcher. She’d had a lot of evil things happen to her during the last two days.

But Miranda needed to explain the facts of life—and death—to Ashley van Auden.

She turned off her radio and pocketed it. Ashley stepped on a sharp rock and fell to her knees. “Ow!” She sobbed into the dirt.

Miranda picked Ashley up off the ground, her muscles straining. Though Ashley was several inches shorter and ten pounds lighter than Miranda, she was drenched. Miranda felt sluggish with the weight of the water and backpack.

The rain had cleansed Ashley’s body, washing away the blood and body odor, leaving her smelling like the wet wool sweater and fear—the fear rolling off her was palpable.

Or was that Miranda’s own terror?

She carried the girl to a thick ponderosa and propped her against the base.

“Listen to me, Ashley,” she said in her sternest voice.

“He’s going to kill us,” Ashley interrupted. “You know it. You know he’s coming after us. I heard. I heard on your radio. That cop said. He’s coming to kill us. We’re going to d-d-die—”

Miranda grabbed Ashley’s arms and gave her a firm shake. “Shut. Up.” She didn’t want to lose her temper, but her heart was racing. They didn’t have time. Larsen would be eating up the ground three, four times faster than they were. Even with their twenty-minute lead—shit, they might have ten minutes. If they kept moving.

If
they ran.

No. No more running. It would end here and now.

Rain pounding down, she observed her surroundings. She could use the terrain to her advantage.

They were in a wide part of the canyon. The boulders seemed to pile in the center, with a shallow creek running both north and south of the rocks. Though the south slope was steeper, there were more fallen trees here. Better places to hide.

“Ashley!”

“Why are you being so mean to me? You don’t understand.” Her swollen lips pouted and tears rolled from her eyes. “You don’t know anything. Let me go!”

Miranda didn’t release her hold. “Do you know who I am?”

“Mir-anda.” Ashley’s voice trembled.

“I am
Miranda Moore.
I escaped this bastard once. I’m not going to let him kill me—or you—now.”

Miranda was surprised her voice sounded so strong. Inside, she was a mess. She had no idea what would happen when she saw Larsen. She didn’t know if she would freeze or panic or scream in rage.

But she did know there was no way they could outrun him. And this time, she had a weapon, she had physical strength, and more important, she had the element of surprise.

She would not be a victim again.

Ashley blinked, oblivious to the rain running in rivulets down her face. She was shivering, but didn’t seem to notice.

Her voice was small, like a child’s. “Promise?”

“So help me God, he will have to kill me before I let him touch you. But you have to do exactly what I say.
Exactly.
”

Ashley slowly nodded. “Okay.”

Ten minutes. She had ten minutes to see if her plan would work.

Or Quinn would find her dead.

CHAPTER

33

Quinn helped Charlie rig mountain-climbing gear to the trucks at the top of the mountain. They would rappel straight down, cutting off a huge chunk of time getting to the bottom. They had only two ropes long enough, so Quinn and Charlie would go first, followed by additional teams of two.

“Ten minutes, tops,” Charlie said.

They were about to start down the slope when Charlie’s radio buzzed. “Charlie here.”

“It’s Deputy Booker. Larsen was just at the shack and went off in the same direction as Miranda. I warned her. She’s radio-silent now.”

Damn. Quinn wanted to talk to her, find out exactly where she was. Find out how she was holding up. Tell her to watch her back. Assure Miranda of her strength and perseverance.

Most of all, he wanted to hear her voice.

“Sheriff Thomas is bad off,” Booker said. “He needs a doctor.”

“We’ll send the medic down next,” Charlie said. “Twenty minutes.”

“Roger that.”

Charlie turned to Quinn. “Let’s do it.”

Quinn was in good shape, but rappelling down a mountain used muscles he never knew existed. By the time they got to the bottom, he was winded.

But he couldn’t stop. His eyes scanned the gulch. Where was Miranda?

Where was Larsen?

Charlie radioed Booker, who said he and Nick were about three hundred yards west.

“Okay, Booker. Hang on. The medical team is on their way.”

Charlie turned to Quinn and pointed to the ground. “Look.”

The rain was falling faster by the minute and Quinn could barely see his feet clearly. Then he saw what Charlie did.

Deep impressions in the leaves leading to the boulder outcrop. “This way,” Quinn said.

Miranda sensed the hunter before she saw him.

She didn’t know exactly
how
she realized they weren’t alone in this part of the woods, but suddenly the wet air felt electric, the gray sheets of rain sharpened, and her ears picked up every sound. The rain pounding on the boulders in the rising creek below. The faint creak of the trees swaying in the storm.

Her own sharp breath.

She had attempted to cover their tracks, but it was virtually impossible with the limited time she had to set her plan in motion. She hoped Ashley stayed quiet. That was all she had to do. Hide and be quiet.

Twelve years ago, Miranda had harbored a deep resentment of Sharon as they ran from the Butcher. Every time Sharon cried out, Miranda cringed, fearing her friend was leading the Butcher right to them. That he would catch them and they would die.