Winter's Destiny (17 page)

The night was silent except for the odd footfall and crunch of leaves. Occasionally the moon threw white light across the landscape, but when it didn’t the team crept along, relying on their powerful searchlights. They moved systematically through the scrub, taking care not to destroy the subtle clues left behind. Whether it was a footprint in the soil, a hair caught on a branch, a leaf bent backward—each small clue created a trail for them to follow. Often they wasted many precious minutes on the wrong path and had to return to the last point and try another route.

Frustrated by their slow progress, Dallas unclipped his radio. “Where the hell is Search and Rescue?”

“ETA thirty minutes, Sheriff.”

“That’s what you said thirty minutes ago. Tell SAR that all they have to do is follow our yellow markers. When K-9 gets here, tell them we’ve got personal items from the vehicles so Max can pick up each scent. We need these guys here yesterday.” Dallas re-clipped the radio, stopped in his tracks, and looked around. “We haven’t seen anything for a good five minutes. We’re going the wrong way.”

A team member replied, “Maybe Sheriff, but we’re doing a heck of a lot better than we did following Matson. He had us going the other direction entirely. No wonder we didn’t find any trace of them.”

“When it comes to Matson everything’s a wonder,” Dallas grumbled. “The real problem is that the entire SAR team
and
the K-9 unit went to Mt Hood for an exercise. Somebody’s supposed to stay behind in case of an emergency.”

Deputy Larson, who’d caught up with the team said, “When do we ever have an emergency, Sheriff?”

“Well what do you call this, a night hike?” Dallas barked in frustration and retraced his steps. The small footprints they were following belonged to Amy. The large imprints were made by a man’s heavy boots. Dallas fought down the bitter taste that rose to the back of his throat. Judging by the size and pressure of the boot prints, he guessed her pursuer to be well over six feet and probably a good two hundred and seventy-five pounds.
Werner.
The markings indicated both of them were on the run. Amy was running for her life from the killer. Her only hope would be to outrun Werner, then use the darkness and groundcover to hide.

Dallas feared he and his deputies were too far behind her and much too late. Flashing his light across the ground he battled an impulse to race after her. He caught sight of a clearing on his left and moved quickly to it. Each of the deputies turned their lights onto the ground in front of Dallas. “Lordlovin…”

“Looks like he caught up with her, Sheriff.” Larson commented.

Examining the impressions and markings left on the ground, Dallas could see there had been a struggle. He squatted down and shone his light over the area.
No blood.

“Look over here, Sheriff.”

Dallas stood. Two small footprints were visible. Two larger ones had stepped on them. “She’s on the run again. Let’s go.”

With a dire sense of urgency Dallas pressed on, using as much speed as he dared without losing the trail. Again he fought the desire to run, knowing that if he did so he would lose her trail instantly in the darkness. The minutes ticked by with excruciating slowness as they followed the footprints to the ridge.

Dallas didn’t want to think about what had happened to Amy in the clearing. Instead, he concentrated on the fact that she had escaped the attacker and was once again on the run. His gut told him this man would kill her the second he caught her.

They had to catch up
fast!

Larson interrupted his thoughts. “They went down the bank, Sheriff.”

Dallas shone the light over the rocks unable to see which way she went. The team moved with care trying to sight a clue as to the direction. Suddenly a howl—angry and feral—shattered the night.

Dallas stepped off the ridge, half-running, half-sliding down the embankment, sending rocks rolling ahead of him. A second howl split the air.

Drawing his gun, Dallas scrambled down the bank. A second later he saw movement in the river. A large man broke the surface, dragging an object up with him.

Amy!

Never slowing, Dallas leapt down onto a rocky ledge as the attacker shoved her underwater and held her there.

“Freeze!” Dallas shouted. “Stand up with your hands over your head. NOW!” He aimed the barrel of the gun at the man’s heart. “I said
now
!” He moved the gun a hair and fired a warning shot.

The man lurched sideways and disappeared into the river along with Amy.

Dallas catapulted off the ledge and raced down the grassy bank, his eyes on the slight figure drifting near the surface. She was almost midstream. He couldn’t swim fast enough to catch up to her. The only hope was to run along the riverbank and beat her downstream.

Racing against time and distance, his feet barely touching the ground, arms pumping, lungs bursting, he fought to out-run her. Her head came up and her arms started to move lethargically. Suddenly, she saw him and started swimming toward shore.

Dallas looked up. The gorge was only twenty feet away. No time left! He threw off his heavy gunbelt and boots and leapt from the bank into the cold river. The frigid water tore his breath away, but he was close to her. He grabbed her arm and started back to shore, but the current caught them. Suddenly they were flying downstream.

Into the rapids.

They were flung feet first into an overfall. It sucked them under and held them momentarily, then spit them out. They surfaced gasping for air. Amy had Dallas’s shirt in her fist, but the forces against them were so powerful, the shirt was yanked out of her hand.

They were separated! Dallas felt it instantly and reached to catch her. He missed and dove for her, his hand clenching her belt. The deadly pull of the undercurrent caught them both and dragged them beneath the boiling surface. They somersaulted and tumbled, all the while being pushed deeper and deeper.

Amy slipped from his grasp again. Dallas felt his lungs bursting. He knew if they didn’t surface soon, they’d drown.

His shoulder struck a boulder and Amy flew into him. He grabbed her as a strong upsurge of water catapulted them toward the surface. A second later they broke through next to a snag of logs and tree branches. Coughing, choking, Dallas knew this was their last chance.

He grabbed hold of a thick log and pushed Amy up over it. Exhausted, choking, their lungs full of river water; they clutched it, their strength gone. Dallas knew they had to keep going. “Work your way toward shore,” he shouted over the roar of water.

With painful slowness they dragged themselves along the half submerged trees, the current pulling at their legs, trying to suck them back into the main stream.

Overwhelmed by cold and exhaustion, Amy slipped under water. Dallas caught her and pulled her back up, prodding her. “Come on, Amy, you can do it,” he gasped. “Do it for Jamie!”

Deputy Larson appeared on the shore, followed by the rest of the team. They waded into the river and dragged Amy and Dallas the last few feet to shore.

Amy collapsed onto the ground. Dallas took the survival pack and a warm jacket from Larson. “Here,” Dallas told her, stripping off some of her wet clothes. “Put this on before you get hypothermic.” He pulled her to her feet.

Amy collapsed against him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. She could barely stand. “Forget hypothermia,” she said through chattering teeth. “I need a hug.”

The hike back to the road seemed to take forever. A dry jacket helped, but wet jeans and the chilly night air prevented them from warming up. Dallas was cold to the bone. He couldn’t see Amy’s face in the dark, but he could feel her shaking as he half carried her slowly up the path.

Not far from the river, Max bounded toward them, followed by his handler, Greg. “We gave up on the markers, Sheriff, and followed the racket. Could hear you guys a mile away,” Greg told them. “SAR is right behind us.”

“I’m real glad you could make it,” Dallas said sarcastically.

“Ah, come on, Sheriff, you know we go to Mt. Hood every year. It was just bad luck that we were needed here. It’s never happened before.” He looked at Amy. “You find both of them?”

Dallas shook his head. “The perp either swam away or got washed out to sea. Personally, I hope it’s the latter. My guys are checking the riverbank. They’ve got his sweater, so Max can use that scent to pick up the trail, if there is one. Keep me posted. I’ll be at the hospital.”

Amy stopped walking. “No, I don’t need the hospital. That monster didn’t get a chance to rape me.”

“You should be checked over anyway. The Jeep’s totaled. You could have head or internal injuries.”

“I jumped before the Jeep hit. Landed in the bog. I’ll be okay, Dallas, really. The worst part is the cold.”

“I agree with that. Keep walking,” Dallas told her. “Search & Rescue aren’t far away. They’ll have dry clothes and hot packs.”

Less than an hour later, Dallas pulled off the 101 at the Coastal Pacific Resort and Spa and stopped outside the office. The truck heater was blasting and even though Amy had changed out of her wet clothes into a pair of drawstring pants, T-shirt, and fleece shirt provided by the Search and Rescue team, Dallas could see that she wasn’t able to get warm.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

“We’ve got to warm up. I’ll be right back.” The cold, wet jeans clung to him. Desk clerk Ira Florence found them fascinating. “Fly fishing, were we, Sheriff?”

“River rafting, Ira. In the dark. Sans raft. Give me one of those rooms with a spa.”

“Sure thing, Sheriff. Just scrawl your damp Henry on the bottom line and the honeymoon suite’s all yours.” She slid the registration form and a key across the counter.

Dallas pushed the key back to her, “I don’t want the damned honeymoon suite, Ira, just give me a room with one of those big, hot baths.”

“Spa. We don’t call them baths anymore.” Ira glanced at the woman sitting in the sheriff’s truck. “Here, take it, Sheriff. No extra charge.” She held out the key. “Nobody deserves it more ‘n you.”

Inside the suite, Amy and Dallas found themselves staring into a huge spa built into a private glassed-in solarium, adjoining the suite. “It’s the best way to warm up in a hurry,” he told her turning on the taps. “You go first.”

When there was no response he turned to look at her. “Amy?” Her pale skin had taken on a bluish hue. Her lips were chalky, her eyes bloodshot, and her hair fell in long, damp clumps down her back.

“No, you go ahead,” she answered absently. She gazed into the adjacent bathroom, her eyes fixed on the tiny bottle of mouthwash that protruded from a basket of bath condiments.
He
had put his tongue against her lips and teeth. The vile taste still lingered. “I need to clean up.” She left Dallas and walked into the bathroom. She popped the lid, and tipped the contents into her mouth, rinsing until the container was empty. Then she plucked the soap bar and shampoo from the basket, and walked around the corner to the shower. She felt…
filthy
. The fast flowing river had removed all traces of mud and sand, but not the feel of
his
hands on her skin.
The bastard!

Shedding the clothing she’d been given, she turned on the shower, and stepped in. The lukewarm beads of water felt like needles on her cold skin. She stood directly under the showerhead and closed her eyes, soaking up the warmth and the feeling of
him
running off her. She shampooed her hair and scrubbed her body with soap, cleansing
him
away. Thank God she had the strength to fight him off.

Amy knew she was lucky to be alive. He was close to drowning her when Dallas fired his gun. What a strange feeling that had been. She had seen Jamie.
No…can’t think about Jamie. Not right now.

It was a long time before she finally turned off the water. Reaching for a bath towel, she wrapped it around her slender body and padded back into the solarium. To her surprise Dallas was sitting on the planter, still in damp jeans, staring at the tub, and looking like he was deep in thought. He looked up. On their hike back to the highway Amy had told him, in detail, what had transpired from the moment her Jeep struck the mud bank to the struggle in the river. She could almost see him going over it in his mind now. “Why didn’t you go in the spa?” she asked. “You look frozen.”

Dallas had filled the tub with warm water. Steam drifted over the surface. “Ladies first.”

Amy shook her head at the simplicity of his response, yet it spoke volumes about the man who had waited in cold, wet jeans while she showered. Sitting tenderly on the tile surround, she swung her legs into the tub, immersing her feet. “It’s quite hot.”

Dallas tested the water. “It’s comfortably warm,” he told her. “Go ahead. Get in. Add more hot water as your body adjusts to the temperature.” He turned to leave, but Amy caught his hand. He looked down at her questioningly. She recognized his intense look. Those blue eyes were searching again. His hand went to her cheek. She reached for it and held it there. The towel slipped to the floor.

His eyes traveled down her body.

Amy stepped into the tub. “Come on,” she whispered. Amy tilted her head to look up at him and he saw angry red bite marks on her right breast.

“That animal!”

She glanced down, and seeing the teeth marks, scooped warm water over the raw flesh. “He’ll pay for that, Dallas, I swear.”

Sitting on tile surround, he reached out and lifted a wisp of hair from her forehead and studied her intently. Amy watched him. The tenderness of his expression tore her breath away. She grasped his wrist and tugged him toward her. “Dallas. Come in the water. Get warm.”

“I’ll shower first,” he told her and disappeared into the bathroom.

Dallas returned a few minutes later, and plucking a washcloth from the rack, he slipped into the oversized tub and sat behind her. As he slid his legs around each side of her, the warm water rose to his chest. He lifted her hair over her shoulder, and dampening the cloth, he ran it tenderly over her skin. Cupping the water in his hands, he trickled it across her small shoulders and down her arm. He could smell the flowery scent of her hair and pulling it back, he ran his fingers through the fine silk, then let it fall, like a curtain down her back, before lifting it over her shoulder.