Water Bound (52 page)
Authors: Christine Feehan
Swearing, Lev raced across the uneven terrain. Pratt had come in through the back entrance. As with many unbalanced people, he was cunning, and he came in downwind, taking care not to alert the birds. He had laid his fire lines like a general. The ground was wet, but not soaked, and with enough fuel, it would burn hot and fast and run uphill right to Rikki’s house.
As Lev sprinted through the trees, he could smell the kerosene, thick and strong, and knew Pratt had been at work for some time. Tree trunks surrounding him had been splashed with the flammable liquid. The arsonist was working his way slowly and very carefully around Rikki’s house to trap her inside. Pratt had been so overcome with the need to destroy Rikki that he hadn’t waited until they had lowered their guard. He’d come up with another plan of attack and implemented it immediately.
Jet A fuel would provide the needed heat to dry out the ground between the thick vegetation and Rikki’s home. Once Pratt started the fire, he could manipulate the flames, until they burned hot enough to race up the hillside, consuming everything in their path, including Rikki’s house. This time, Pratt would cut off all escape by soaking the trees on the ridge above her as well. Had Pratt not been a fire element, Lev wouldn’t have been so alarmed. The ground wasn’t dry and ready for the least little spark, but Pratt had the ability to control his fire, make it burn hot enough to do the damage he intended. The heat would swirl around behind the flames, creating more oxygen and feeding the fire as it grew in size until everything in its path would be consumed.
Heart pounding, tasting fear in his mouth, Lev cursed himself for not having made certain Rikki was safe. He’d been so focused on removing Pratt from her life, that he hadn’t considered she might be trapped waiting for Jonas and the fire department. He glanced at the sky. There were clouds, but not as heavy as the other night. A few appeared gray and dark, but not many.
Lev, where is he?
He let himself breathe. The arsonist wouldn’t know they could communicate in silence. He turned his head to glance over his shoulder and stepped into a pool of liquid. The ground was saturated with the fuel. He knew instantly the man had expected company. He was in the profession and had been educated in the way fires worked. He would have studied the topography of the farm and surrounding forest.
Rikki’s home was considered urban interface—a home surrounded by tremendous amounts of fuel. She had cleared away hazards close to her house and planted only low-growing and fire-resistant plants within thirty feet of her home. She’d convinced her sisters to do the same thing. Most of the plants held water, making them perfect to get through droughts, and to aid in the resistance of fire. She pruned regularly and removed all the dead vegetation, staying extremely vigilant because of the fires in her past. Wild strawberry, beardtongue and fuchsias were closer to the house, while plants like lavender, yarrow, monkey flower and redbud provided a middle circle with the sage and concha on the extreme outside. Throughout the entire garden, she had sprinklers and a vast water supply.
Don’t come through here, Rikki. He’s got fuel everywhere. And remember, he’s got a flamethrower. The moment he knows we’re out of the house and in the forest, he’s going to ignite that accelerant. I want you to get out of here.
Well, that isn’t going to happen. I’m drawing all the moisture I can into this area, both from the sky and below us. I can’t use it until he makes his move. Once that happens, I’ll cut off his escape using the pond. He has to figure he’ll get out that way. I’m not letting our farm burn. The sheriff and the fire department are on their way. I told my sisters to leave immediately.
That was his woman. Cool under fire. Determined. She could face a trained Russian interrogator and use what others called a weakness as her greatest strength, and then just as coolly and deliberately go out into the night and work with him, in spite of the danger, to save the farm. Of course Pratt had an escape plan. He was going to set the hills and forest on fire. He had to have given himself a safe path out.
Staying low, Lev moved in a semicircle, slower now, reaching for the birds to give him a clear idea of where the fire starter was working. He moved in silence, knowing if Pratt heard him coming, he would immediately use his flamethrower and trigger the ignition source. It would definitely burn hot enough to start a fire on the hillside.
Rikki had to be out in the open. She could never gather the clouds together from inside the trees. He didn’t know which would be worse, knowing she was in the woods where any moment Pratt could turn the entire forest into roaring flames or out in the open where she might be an easy target for a gun. He couldn’t see her as he worked his way through the trees and brush, back around toward the lower valley where the irrigation pond was situated.
On the other side of the valley, some forty yards away, he could see Pratt, working furiously, jetting the fuel from a pack on his back. The arsonist sprayed a generous splash over the bushes leading to the first ring of protection of Rikki’s house, the sagebrush. Pratt saturated several areas as he raced around the outer perimeter of her personal yard. Shedding his pack, he thrust it out of the way near the road leading down to the pond and donned his flame-throwing pack.
Lev took aim at the man’s temple. Before he could pull the trigger, Pratt stumbled on a large tree limb that lay in his path and sprawled onto the ground, taking him out of Lev’s sight. Flame burst orange red, igniting the gases. The world around them exploded. The gas on the trees around Lev ignited, flames leaping into the air until he could see nothing else. Heat seared him. Oxygen was gone, feeding the hungry flames, pouring into the fire so that he was left gasping. He dropped to the ground to try to find a way to breathe.
I’m trapped.
Rikki was ready for just that moment. The sky opened up just over the forest and small slope where Pratt had so carefully prepared his assault. She had concentrated the rain in the exact area where the arsonist had set his fuel. Water slammed into Lev, drenching him, plastering his hair to his head, running in rivulets down his neck. The roar that had surrounded him as the fire sprang to life, so loud just seconds before, turned to the hiss of a snake. There didn’t seem to be individual raindrops, but buckets of water pouring over the trees and his head.
The rain fell in two concentrated places that Lev could tell. It was difficult to see through the thick gray veil, but water poured into the irrigation pond, already filled to capacity and now running over its banks, and onto the trees and small valley. The valley was a funnel, catching the water running off the slope and sending it rushing like a river toward the road and pond. Water bubbled from underground, adding to the sudden supply, which was rising fast and furious.
Lev crawled forward on his hands and knees through the trees to the edge of the forest. He couldn’t get a good shot at the arsonist and he didn’t want to tip him off as to his presence, so he continued to move forward through smoldering brush. Pratt struggled to get to his feet, but was knocked back to the ground by the tumbling limb of a large broken branch. He rolled, seemed to get tangled for a moment and then fought to gain his feet.
Water swirled around his ankles, rising fast, pouring now from the sprinkler systems throughout the farm. Water came off the roof of Rikki’s house, running down the gutters to the channels leading to the ditches. The entire area had been designed to preserve water. Every ditch led to the main funnel, which Pratt seemed caught in. He gave a halfhearted spray again with his flamethrower, but he knew it was impossible.
Lev used his elbows to propel himself through the mud and grass to work his way around to get in position to take a shot. Pratt suddenly stiffened, his head whipping around, looking up the slope toward Rikki’s house.
She stood at the top of the hill, her face upward, toward the sky, hands graceful as she conducted her wild symphony. The rain responded to her commands and every third beat, her right hand would move upward, palm up. She looked like an ancient priestess worshiping the rain goddess. Lev tried to call out to her, to warn her, but thunder cracked and the wind whipped the sound of his voice away. Pratt tossed aside the flamethrower’s trigger and pulled a gun.
Without hesitation, Lev fired several shots, knowing the angle was wrong, but all he cared about was distracting the man away from Rikki. He leapt to his feet and ran toward the arsonist, firing as he did so. Pratt turned to face the immediate threat, spitting bullets at Lev. He was just as blind, trying to see through the pouring rain to the shadowy figure coming at him. Unable to see Lev, he half turned and fired at Rikki. The water swirled around his knees now.
Lev skidded to a halt as he realized he was about to run right into that gathering force of water. He slammed a new clip into his gun and knelt, trying to get a clear shot, firing to draw Pratt’s attention back to him.
Pratt was in trouble and knew it. He fired several times at Lev and then abandoned every attempt at killing, trading his need for retribution for survival. The water crept up his thighs, and now the current was strong, tugging and pulling, driving him toward the pond. He was strapped into his heavy pack and couldn’t get the buckles loosened with the rain pouring down on him.
He fell again, tumbled over, the pack pulling him down. He was wearing boots and the water had filled them. His heavy jacket and clothing added to his weight. The current swept him straight over the bank into the irrigation pond. He went under, surfaced with a thin, terrified scream and went under again.
Rikki collapsed at the top of the hill and Lev’s heart nearly stopped. He clawed his way through the slippery mud to get to her, even as he tried to keep an eye on Pratt. The body came up once, rolled like a heavy log and disappeared again, this time in the center of the pond. Lev reached Rikki. She was lying faceup, her eyes open, staring at the rain as it came down. Without her orchestration, the rain slowed considerably.
“Are you hit?” His hands ran over her body.
“My calf feels like it’s on
fire.”
fire.”
She was remarkably calm while he felt insanity taking hold. He ripped her jeans with the tip of his knife, frantic to see the damage. The bullet had barely clipped her, taking more denim than skin, and he hung his head, his stomach heaving. He didn’t have time to vomit, he heard a noise above them and whirled, gun rising. Jonas appeared, flanked by several others. Lev simply laid the gun on the ground and lifted Rikki into his arms. By the time he reached the porch, the rain had stopped altogether.
Several hours later, a team had recovered the body and collected evidence, and Jonas came to join them on the back porch to take their statement. “Are you all right, Rikki?” Jonas asked gently. “Did a paramedic look at that wound?”
“Yes, Blythe got here a couple of hours ago and insisted. She sent coffee to your crew.”
“Bad luck, Pratt falling into the pond like that with his pack on. He didn’t have a prayer,” Jonas commented.
“I wouldn’t call it bad luck. And I want my gun back when you’re finished with your investigation.”
Rikki remained silent, head down, hands covering her face. Lev and Jonas exchanged a long look above her head.
“They’re almost gone, sweetheart,” Lev murmured.
She rocked back and forth silently, and he dropped to the porch beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into him, sheltering her with his chest and arms.
“Rikki,” Jonas said softly. “Gerald Pratt and his family were in the same accident as you and your parents, just before your thirteenth birthday, the huge pileup on the freeway. Do you remember that accident?”
Lev felt her take a deep breath. She nodded, but didn’t lift her head.
“The Sitmore car hit the Pratt car from behind, launching the Pratt car into the air. It hit a fuel tanker and ignited from the sparks another vehicle that was sliding along a guard rail, metal to metal, was throwing into the air.”
“There was fire everywhere,” she murmured, her voice that of a child. “All around us. My mother was hurt. People were screaming. A car hit ours very hard from behind and pushed us into the car in front of us. The noise was terrible.”
“The accident wasn’t your parents’ fault and it certainly wasn’t yours. Anyone reading the report could clearly see the problem started with two trucks colliding, causing a chain reaction behind them. Visibility was poor, the roads slick, and disaster struck.” Jonas pushed a tired hand through his hair. “He’s gone now, Rikki, and he can’t hurt anyone you love.” When she remained silent, he sighed and started to turn away.
Rikki sat up, squaring her shoulders. “Why did he want me and my family dead?”
Jonas shrugged. “Who knows what happened to his mind. He was in a burning car with his parents, someone pulled him out, but he watched them die in the fire. He became obsessed with fire after that. He took classes, became a volunteer at a young age, continued his schooling and then joined the CDF.”
Blythe came out of the house, and dropped her hand on Rikki’s shoulder. “I’m going home, honey. Get some sleep.”
“Thanks for the coffee,” Jonas said. “We all appreciated it.”
They watched her drive away, too tired to get up. Rikki leaned her head against Lev’s shoulder and looked at Jonas, actually meeting his eyes. “He blamed my family and wanted us to die the same way, didn’t he?”
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