Winter's Destiny (16 page)

Dallas stared at the door, his blood running hot. Only a few times in his career had he seen eyes so cold. Dallas had no doubts that the bastard would shoot to kill. Dallas fought an overpowering urge to kick the door down. His target was standing on the other side, waiting. Dallas could feel him there. The thought seared into his brain:
jurisdiction be damned!

Exercising all the control he could muster, Dallas yanked his handkerchief out, wrapped it around the gun, and slid the pistol into his pocket. He left without looking back.

As he drove away, he pulled out his cell. He’d forgotten Maya had turned it off. He powered it up and called in the tags. The Bentley was registered to a corporation called
CellBIX,
a name that had media coverage attached to it, but he couldn’t recall the context.

Next, he talked to Debbie. She sounded relieved to hear his voice. “I’ve been trying to get you, Sheriff. Amy’s Jeep was found in a ditch off the 101, thirty miles south of here. It’s totaled--hit the bank pretty hard. Deputy Matson says there was no way she was inside on impact or they’d have found her body. They figure she must have jumped clear before the crash, but they can’t find her. A damaged beamer was nearby and the driver’s whereabouts are unknown right now.”

Dallas cringed. “So both drivers are missing.”

“Right.”

Dallas cursed under his breath. “Something’s wrong with this picture. Both drivers missing? My gut tells me Amy’s in serious trouble. Did they call in the dog?”

“They did, but Max is on an exercise over in the Mt. Hood area. Matson told them to get him back here pronto, but it’s a four-hour drive. Meanwhile, Matson has our guys tracking without Max. It’s dark, Sheriff. You know what that’s like.”

Dallas cursed, thinking of Matson’s long history of serious blunders and mind-boggling screw-up’s over the past few years. “Tell Matson not to bugger this one up, Debbie, or I’ll personally nail his balls to his front door.”

“I’ll pass that along.”

“If I remember right, Deputy Larson’s off duty tonight.”

“He’s off duty, but I got hold of him a few minutes ago. He’s going to head down there as soon as he can.”

“Good.”

“There’s more, Sheriff.”

He could hear her flipping through papers.

“An eighteen wheeler went over the bank and landed smack in the middle of the
Devil’s Bath.
No word on any survivors, but it’s unlikely.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “And here’s the clincher,” She waited a beat. “Are you ready for this? The BMW that was found near Amy’s Jeep is registered to Dr. George Johnstone.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Blew me away when that came in.”

Dallas told her, “Deb, it’s absolutely imperative that they find Amy ASAP. Make sure Matson understands that.”

“I will, Sheriff.”

Dallas turned onto the overland highway and sped toward the coast. He cursed himself for not being there for Amy. She’d probably given up waiting for him. Deep down, in a place he seldom visited, he was terrified for her. She had become significant in his life. He had feelings for her, but he had no words for those feeling. All he knew was that he had to get to her
fast.

When he arrived, the accident scene was lit and taped. Looking at the mangled Jeep, he wondered how Amy could have survived, even if she did jump clear. “Jeezuzcusser.”

Matson and his deputies were milling around the scene when Dallas walked up. “It’s just too dark to waste anymore time looking, Sheriff,” Matson explained. “All we’re doing is tromping potential evidence. We’ll never find her tonight. Not without Max. Better to start fresh in the morning.”

A mental vision of Amy running from a possible killer flashed through Dallas’s mind. Matson had ignored the order to pursue with haste. “You stupid son of --! You see that car over there?” Dallas pointed to one of the cruisers.

“Yeah.”

“Sit your fat ass on the front seat until we’re finished here. I’ll explain to you later how your future’s going to play out.”

“But my shift ended half an hour ago—”

“The hell it did.” Dallas turned to his men. Smirks from the other deputies disappeared when they saw his thunderous expression. “Anybody else off shift?” He glanced around. No one spoke. “Okay. Let’s go.”

In the black of night, his shout sent a sickening surge of fear and adrenaline surging through Amy’s arteries. He was right behind her! She dodged. Two powerful hands reached out and grabbed her from behind. She flew into the air, hitting the ground a second later. She tried to roll away, but a steel-toed boot struck her ribcage, expelling the air from her lungs and sending pain shooting through her chest. He flung her over onto her back. “Ah-ha, a wild one. I like that,” he laughed. Then, he dropped to his knees, positioning them across her thighs, pinning her to the ground under his immense weight, his kneecaps pressing heavily on her thighbones.

She swung at him with her fists, pummeling his eyes with all her strength, in an effort to blind him. Grunting, he grabbed her wrists with one meaty hand. With the other, he fished in his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of twine. In one quick movement he lashed her wrists and tied a knot.

Amy writhed and squirmed beneath him.
This can’t happen. God please! Don’t let this happen! Help me to help myself!

He threw his head back and laughed again, then his face appeared above hers, the scar flashing white against his whiskers, his sour breath hot on her neck.

A rough palm scraped her cheek and she recoiled. “Very beautiful.” His hand ran down her neck, applying pressure on her windpipe. “And so fragile.”

Amy choked, the blood rushing to her brain. Tears clouded her vision. She knew his hand would bring death. But first it would bring pain and with it, maybe, just maybe an opportunity to escape. His fingers closed over her esophagus and she choked uncontrollably.

He let go. She coughed and gasped for air. His hand began to move again, this time along her collarbone, then down over her left breast. “A body this perfect mustn’t be wasted. Waste is sinful.” He chuckled and dropped his mouth over hers, his teeth colliding with hers, his tongue pushing against them. Amy clenched her jaw. Her stomach contents rose to the back of her throat and she gagged. He pulled back. “Ah, a little resistance. We’ll fix that.”

Leaning back, he reached into his breast pocket and produced a long, thin knife. Unsheathing it, he held it up. The blade glinted in the moonlight. “Before my career in Special Security, I was a meat cutter,” he informed her, as he examined the blade, stroking it. “and I enjoyed my work immensely.” With a single motion the knife sliced through the air and he slit her top from neckline to hem. “I was very good at what I did.”

He flicked the knife again, slicing her bra in half, exposing her breasts. “Ah, yes. My cuts are good, clean, very precise.” He opened his mouth and dropped down to suck her breast. He bit down hard. Amy screamed, a sound of raw terror filling the night. Tears of pain streamed from her eyes. She tried to push him off with her bound hands. He grabbed her wrists and flipped her arms over her head, pinning them there with one hand. With the other he drove the knife deep into the ground beside her cheek, then he grabbed her other breast, and twisted hard.

Amy writhed, her screams forming a conduit for the pain—an escape route for the agony he imposed on her. Deep inside, beneath the pain, she could feel the burning desire for revenge.

Panting, he released her wrists and reeled back onto his knees to unzip his jeans. He struggled to lower them, his eyes boring into hers, perspiration beading his forehead, his body emitting a nauseating stench. He threw his weight onto one knee and lifted the other in an attempt to drop the jeans down his thighs. Amy watched and waited. The second the pressure let up on her legs, she twisted free and scrambled, crab-like, across the ground. When she managed to get her legs underneath her, she ran.

He groped for the knife, yanked it out of the ground, and staggered after her. His jeans slipped to his knees, restricting his movement. He stumbled and went down. “Bitch. I’ll get you!”

Amy fled through the brush, running on adrenaline and raw fear, her feet flying under her. She dared not look back. She needed every precious moment of time and every ounce of energy to escape him.

The evening was silent except for the sound of her feet pounding the dry earth, her raspy breaths, and her thumping heart. For a while she thought she was free of him. Then, a cry broke through the darkness. “Whore, you can’t escape me. I’m coming!”

Hoping her numb feet wouldn't fail her, she ran down an embankment, tumbled a few feet, pushed herself upright with her bound hands, and continued downward. She could hear him above her now. Breathless and exhausted, she ducked beneath a rocky ridge and froze.

He stopped above her and called out. “I know you’re there.”

She held her breath. The silence was absolute. There was not a breath of wind. Somewhere below, a river flowed. But around her, nothing moved.

Not even him.

She heard his boots bite into the dirt as he paced back and forth on the trail above her. He stopped. The minutes ticked by. Then, suddenly, he was on the move. She could see his dark form cutting diagonally along the bank above her. He stopped again, turned, and then worked his way back to the top. When she thought he was beyond hearing range, she crept in the opposite direction, continuing downward, slowly and carefully, taking care not to make a sound. One snapping twig or rustling leaf would give her away. Placing each foot softly, one below the other, she descended in a crouch toward the river.

Growing colder, she became aware that she was exposed from the waist up. To zip her jacket she had to free her hands, so she put the frayed rope to her lips and tugged at the knots with her teeth until they loosened. The rope fell away and she zipped her jacket before continuing slowly down the bank. She could hear the river now and guessed she must be about thirty feet above it. There would be no cover down there, so she would have to move quickly. She traveled a few more feet and peered down. Below her, the river glistened platinum in the moon’s rays.

When the moon slipped behind the clouds, she darted around a large outcropping of boulders. The movement was too quick and her foot slipped between two rocks, dislodging one. It crashed downward. She froze, the sound deafening to her. He’ll hear it! She listened for his footsteps. Nothing.
Where is he?
She had to get out of there!

Amy bolted down the incline. If she could get to the riverbank, she could gain speed. Even if he spotted her, she was sure she could outrun him.

Suddenly the earth broke away from underneath her. A small landslide of mud, sand, and rock cascaded down the final fifteen feet, to the riverbank, taking Amy with it, depositing her at the bottom in a heap of mud and rocks. The moon broke clear of the cloud cover, swathing her in brilliant white light.

A large boot landed beside her and an ugly laugh sent terror through her heart. She leapt back. He grabbed at her, but she was faster this time. Twisting away from his grasp, she fled across the bank.

Quicker off the line than she thought he’d be, he caught up with her, threw his arms around her and lifted her off the ground. “Got you now, Bitch.”

Amy let fly with both arms and legs and gouged his eyes with her fingernails. As he dropped her, she drove her right knee into his groin. He howled like an animal and released her. Amy bolted across the bank.

He roared with rage and stumbled after her. Leaping into the air, arms wide, he tackled her, driving her to the ground. They rolled across the bank toward the river’s edge. Amy could see the water fast approaching.
Good or bad?
Good, she decided if she could break free of him when they hit the water
. Bad if I can’t.

Suddenly, they were completely immersed in the icy, fast flowing river. The shock caused him to release her. His feet found the rocky bottom and he struggled upright, chest deep in water, choking.

Amy tried to swim away, but he grabbed her long hair and dragged her back. She broke the surface and saw his face in the moonlight, eyes wild, saliva and river water running from his mouth.

He’s going to kill me!

He lifted her out of the water, threw his head back, and shrieked in outrage. Then he pushed her into the river and held her there.

Amy was a strong swimmer and could hold her breath a long time, but she knew he wouldn’t let her re-surface. She kicked and fought his grasp. He pushed her deeper. Her lungs were bursting; she needed to breathe!
I can’t hold on any longer. I can’t.
She could see nothing, only blackness, then Jamie’s sweet face appeared. She tried to reach for him, but he was too far away. She tried again, but he disappeared. Suddenly, she was drifting. Jamie reappeared above her and she tried once again to touch him. She needed to feel him, to know he was okay. She swam toward him, breaking the surface of the water, her starving lungs inhaling air and the river. Gasping and choking, she drifted downstream. She looked around her and saw that she was free of her assailant. He was gone. But the river current had caught her, forcing her downstream.

The current flowed faster as it dropped toward the gorge. Above her was the highway overpass; ahead was the open sea. In a few minutes the incoming ocean would surge upstream and meet the out-flowing river in a head-on collision of forces. Many people had been caught in the powerful undertow and drowned. She had to get out.
Now!

But the river hurtled her into the mid-stream. Choking, Amy kicked hard and pulled with long, strong strokes in the direction of the bank, hoping to find a back eddy. She gained about ten feet, but knew at the rate she was moving that she would never make it. Using every muscle in her body, working each one to its limit, drawing on all her body strength, she swam for shore. She had to get there before she was carried into the gorge. There, the constriction threw the river into a frenzy of standing waves, overfalls, and powerful undertows. She could never fight them. They would sweep her away like a piece of driftwood.