Deadly Justice

50

BEN DROVE UNDER THE archway that identified Camp Sequoyah, doing seventy miles an hour on the narrow one-lane dirt road. Caution to the wind—this time he was not going to fail.

He drove through the parking clearing, then over the small embankment that served as a curb. His Honda shuddered and squealed as he took the car onto the uncleared grass and down a steep hill. What the hell! The car was about to fall apart anyway.

He parked his car outside the closed circle of oak trees he remembered from the weekend before. This was as far as he could possibly travel on wheels. He jumped out of the car and raced into the forest. The sun was just rising; the orange corona was visible above the treetops.

The High Course had been taped off, but Ben didn’t have any trouble crawling under. The police had closed it off as a crime scene, but there was only so much that could be done to restrict access to a forest. The guards had left long ago. Since access had been restricted, though, there was still a chance he could find what he wanted.

He was now certain that Crichton’s belay line had been cut. Problem was, the police had combed the grounds and searched everyone before they left the site. If the line was cut, what happened to the knife?

It must’ve been left somewhere on the High Course, he reasoned. The police probably didn’t search sixty feet up in the air. The most likely hiding place would be the big oak tree that connected the giant’s ladder to the Burma bridge. If Ben could find the knife, it might bear the fingerprints of the person who had left it there. That would provide the proof Ben needed to confirm his theory.

Problem was, the High Course was…high. Sixty feet high, to be exact. Ben didn’t have any belaying equipment, and there was no one here to spot him even if he did. He was going to have to go up without a net, so to speak. Alone.

He felt himself dizzying, just thinking about it. How could he possibly climb that high by himself? His stomach was fighting him, threatening a repeat of the upheaval he had experienced before. When he found…

And that was the answer. Trixie. This might be his only chance to catch the bastard who killed Trixie. And Hamel. And almost killed Mike. He’d climb fucking Mount Everest if necessary; that sadistic butcher was not getting away.

He stood on the stump and hoisted himself onto the first rung of the giant’s ladder. His arms ached with the strain. He’d been hurt more in his scuffle with the killer than he’d acknowledged. And he wasn’t exactly in primo shape to begin with.

Didn’t matter. None of it did. He was going up.

He balanced himself carefully on the first rung of the ladder, trying to remember everything he had been told when he tried this the first time. Don’t look down, Crichton had said, and that seemed like eminently practical advice. He placed his foot on the metal joint of the connecting wire. Didn’t much matter if Crichton thought he was a wimp now—he just wanted to get to the top without dying.

He hoisted himself up till he was lying flat on the second rung. He clung to the wooden beam, holding on for dear life. Two down, seven to go. He tried to pull himself upright, which was tricky enough on this narrow beam without the additional complication of having his eyes clenched tightly shut.

He tried to establish a rhythm: reach, pull, hoist, and balance. Reach, pull, hoist, and balance. It should become a routine, something he did without even thinking about it. Slowly, methodically, and please God without looking down, he pulled himself up to the third rung, then, in rhythmic succession, the fourth, fifth, and sixth.

After me ninth beam, Ben grabbed the vertical wire and stretched himself upright. He’d made it. The giant’s ladder was by far the part of the course that required the most physical strength. If he could climb it, he could finish the whole course. He grabbed the high wire with both hands and started inching his way toward the oak tree and the Burma bridge. A sensation of pride swelled through his body. By God, he’d faced the demon head-on and conquered it. Fear of heights or not, he’d made it to the top, something a lot of people couldn’t do even with a belay line. Feeling fearless, he opened his eyes and looked down toward the ground.

Someone was there, watching him. The killer.

“Bravo,” the man said, clapping. “Quite a performance. All the way to the top in less time than it would take some grandmothers. The older ones, anyway.”

Ben clenched the overhead wire tightly. “What are you doing here?” he shouted down.

“Looking for you, of course. Did you think I would just run away and hide until you came after me the next time? Not my style, I’m afraid. After I left the house, I parked on Eleventh Street, waited for your car, then followed you out here. It was easy, despite the fact that you drive like a maniac.”

“You should know,” Ben said. He gripped the wire even tighter. His hands were dripping with sweat, which he knew would not improve his grip. “What are you planning to do?”

The man smiled maliciously. “Well, I really can’t let you fill out a police report, can I?” He seated himself on the ground. “I’m very patient. You have to come down to earth sometime.”

“You’re too late. The police are on their way. They should be here within the hour.”

“Hmm. Probably a bluff. Still, I can’t afford to take the risk.” Rob Fielder stood up, brushed off his hands, and gripped the first rung of the giant’s ladder. “Very well. I’m coming after you.”