Hunting Fear

CHAPTER 14

It was getting cold. Wyatt didn't know if that was because his surroundings were actually growing colder, or if it was sheer, icy terror.

There was certainly that. He was far, far beyond the point of being able to dampen or ignore it.

His wrists were raw, his body sore from his attempts to free himself from the guillotine, and he was just as securely fastened as he had been hours ago. Too many hours ago.

There was only half an hour left. Twenty-nine minutes and thirty-odd seconds to go. Jesus.

It wasn't enough time. Not enough time to reconcile himself to death. Not enough time to make peace with himself, to think about all the guilts and regrets of his life. Not enough time for what-might-have-beens or what-ifs. It was over.

Just… over.

And there wasn't a single goddamned thing he could do about it.

With that realization, that certainty, Wyatt accepted what was going to happen to him. For the first time, he relaxed, his body going boneless, and his mind was curiously quiet, almost at peace. He heard his own voice speaking aloud and was a little amused by the conversational tone of it.

"Always wondered how I'd face death. Now I know. Not with a bang or a whimper, but just… resignation." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Lindsay. You'd probably be disappointed in me, wouldn't you? I bet you were never resigned. I bet you fought with your last breath, didn't you, baby? I know you didn't want to die. I know you didn't want to leave me."

"They're coming."

Wyatt blinked and stared up at the blade suspended over him. He could have sworn he'd heard her voice, though whether in his head or out loud he couldn't have said. "I guess a dying man hears what he wants to hear."

"Idiot. They're coming. Just a few more minutes."

He frowned slightly, and said, "I don't think my own imagination would call me an idiot. Although-"

"Just hold on."

"Lindsay? Is that you?"

Silence.

"Didn't think so. I don't believe in ghosts. Don't think I even believe in heaven, though it would be nice to believe you were waiting for me somewhere beyond this life."

"Don't be maudlin."

Wyatt found himself grinning. "Now, that sounds like my Lindsay. Come to keep me company in my final moments, baby?"

"You aren't going to die. Not now."

Deciding he was probably just quietly hysterical rather than being as calm as he'd thought, Wyatt said, "Twenty minutes left on the clock, babe. And I don't hear the cavalry."

He didn't hear her voice again either, though he did try to listen for it. And hoped for it. Because there were, he thought, worse things to take into death than the voice of the woman he loved.

When Lucas stopped suddenly, it caught Caitlin off guard. She leaned against an oak tree, trying to get her ragged breathing under control, and stared at the two just a couple of yards ahead of her. Her legs felt like rubber, there was a stitch in her side, and she couldn't remember ever being this weary.

They had finally reached the top of the ridge they had spent more than two hours climbing and from this position could see across a fairly level clearing to where the mountain again began rising steeply upward.

Caitlin stared up at that vast, looming shape and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she couldn't go on. Not up that… thing. She was just about to gather the breath to tell the others, when she heard Samantha speak.

"Luke? What is it?" She sounded remarkably calm and not the least bit breathless.

"He's not afraid anymore."

Samantha frowned up at him. "But you can still feel him?"

"Yeah. But he's calm. Not afraid anymore."

Glen looked at his watch and said desperately, "We've got less than fifteen minutes. Where is he?"

Lucas turned his head and looked briefly at the deputy, frowning, then began moving forward again, faster. "Over there. The mine."

"There's a mine up here?" Glen sounded surprised, but then followed that question with a disgusted, "Oh, Christ, I forgot all about the old mine on Six Point Creek. It closed down when my grandfather was a kid."

Caitlin, somehow finding the strength to hurry along with the others, was about to ask where the creek was when she nearly fell into it. Swearing under her breath, she followed the others as they jumped from rock to rock to cross the twenty-foot-wide, fairly shallow stream.

The entrance to the mine lay nearly hidden behind what looked like a thicket of honeysuckle, and all Caitlin could think was that it had to be really, really dark in there.

Glen paused long enough to shrug out of the backpack he'd grabbed from the ATV, and quickly handed out big police flashlights. He started to draw his weapon, but Lucas spoke, his voice certain.

"Nobody's here except Wyatt. At least…"

Hesitating with a hand on his gun, Glen said, "At least what? Has he booby-trapped the place?"

Lucas seemed to be listening, and after a brief moment, he turned on his flashlight and shoved the tangle of vines aside to enter the mine. "No. No trap. Let's go."

The mine shaft was fairly clear of debris and angled slightly upward into the mountain, with plenty of room for them all to move freely. They traveled probably sixty or eighty feet in a straight line, and then the shaft turned sharply to the right-and widened considerably into a sort of cavern.

They saw the light then, bright and harsh and focused on the deadly, eerie guillotine and its captive.

Both Glen and Lucas, cops acting on instinct, rushed forward. Caitlin leaned a hand against the damp wall, feeling decidedly weak with relief-because that gleaming blade was still suspended above Wyatt. Still, she didn't think she breathed normally until she was certain that Glen held the cable so that the blade remained securely up while Lucas was unfastening the straps holding the sheriff prisoner.

She looked to the side then and saw that Samantha also had paused for a moment. There was just enough light for her to see the other woman lift a shaking hand briefly to her face, and then Samantha was moving forward and speaking calmly.

"Can I help?"

Lucas was easing up the wooden block pinning Wyatt's neck to the table, and said, "Got it, I think. Wyatt-"

The sheriff lost no time in sitting up, removing himself from harm's way. He slid to the edge of the table so that he was sitting on it. He was pale and haggard, but there was also a peculiar peace in his face. "The cavalry did come," he said, only a slight quiver in his voice. "How about that."

Then he turned his head, and they all followed his gaze to watch the nearby clock's digital readout counting relentlessly down. Nobody said a word as the last two minutes on the timer ran out-and Glen found himself suddenly supporting the weight of the heavy steel blade as a soft click announced the release of the cable. He carefully eased the blade down until it rested in the stained groove of the table.

"Shit," Wyatt said in a wondering voice. "I thought I was a dead man."

"You almost were," Lucas said. He went to study the clock, which was actually attached to a metal rod hanging downward from the lighting. "And the bastard really wanted you to know it, didn't he?"

"I'll never look at a clock the same way again." Wyatt frowned slightly as first Samantha and then Caitlin entered the circle of bright light. "Hey. Where the hell are we, anyway?"

"The old Six Point Creek mine," Glen told him, sounding considerably relieved. "And if you'll all excuse me, I need to get out of here so I can radio the other search teams. Assuming I can get a signal out here, that is." He hurried away.

Still eyeing the women, Wyatt said, "What are you two doing here?"

Lucas immediately said, "If it hadn't been for them, we would never have found you in time."

"Yeah? Did Lindsay talk to one of you?"

They all looked at him in surprise, and it was Caitlin who said somewhat hesitantly, "She talked to me. Sort of. Left me a note."

"Which pointed us in this direction," Samantha said. "After that, it was Luke connecting to you that got us here."

Wyatt flinched slightly, and said to Lucas in a wry tone, "I won't talk about it if you won't."

"Done," Lucas said immediately.

Samantha said, "Did Lindsay talk to you, Sheriff?"

Surprising them all again, Wyatt replied firmly, "You know, I think she did. Could have been my imagination, of course, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't. She told me you were coming."

Samantha wanted to ask him if that was why he'd stopped being afraid, but didn't. Whatever Wyatt Metcalf had experienced here in this dark and lonely mine with a clock counting down and a steel blade set to end his life was his own business.

Instead, she said, "It'll be dark by the time we get back down to the truck. Luke, I know you want to examine this place-"

"That can wait," he responded. "We'll send a couple of deputies to keep an eye on things tonight, then come back first thing in the morning with the CSU team. Not that I expect them to find anything useful. Wyatt, I don't suppose you saw the bastard?"

"Didn't even hear him. As far as I could tell, when I woke up this place was deserted. Except for me."

"He's being very careful," Samantha noted. "He talked to Lindsay. Talked to most of the other victims, didn't he?"

"We can't know for sure," Lucas told her. "Only the first victim survived to tell us."

"Can't legally know for sure, but you know, don't you?"

He looked at her for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he talked to all of them, at least up to a point."

"Then left them to die alone."

Lucas nodded.

Samantha eyed the sheriff and said slowly, "I wonder why you were different? Maybe… because you would have recognized him? Even his voice?"

"It's certainly a possibility," Lucas said. "A change in M.O. at this late stage has to mean something."

"Can we talk about it after we get off this mountain?" Wyatt requested. "I feel the need for fresh air-and maybe a nice, hot shower. And a cup of coffee. And a big steak."

No one was about to argue with him. They left the cavern exactly as it was, bright lights blazing, and used their flashlights to illuminate the way back to the mouth of the mine. When they reached it, they found Glen about to enter. He had made contact with one of the other search teams, so the word was being passed that Sheriff Metcalf had been found alive and was safe.

"They'll meet us back at the station," he said.

"Good enough," Wyatt replied. "I say we get the hell out of Dodge. I've had more than enough of this place."

From his vantage point near the sheriff's department, he saw the search teams begin to return and instantly knew something was wrong. Some of the cops were smiling, and all looked far less upset than they would have been had their search been fruitless or their sheriff's body been found.

He checked his watch and swore under his breath, then settled down to wait.

It was nearly an hour later when the last search team returned. In the harsh lights of the sheriff's department parking lot, he saw them get out of the hulking ATV, with media shouting questions and flashbulbs popping. And he saw the sheriff, who had obviously taken the time to shower and change after his ordeal.

Wyatt Metcalf was alive.

Alive.

The search team that had found the sheriff disappeared rather quickly into the building without stopping to answer questions, as did Metcalf-after making a stale joke about the reports of his death being greatly exaggerated.

Watching, teeth gritted unconsciously, he knew all he needed to know. On this move, at least, they had won.

Luke.

Caitlin Graham.

And Samantha Burke.

He discounted the deputy automatically, knowing there was no threat from him. But the others…

What was the Graham woman's part in all this? It bothered him that he didn't know, that he hadn't expected her to turn up here in Golden. That he hadn't even known Lindsay Graham had a sister.

It was what came of changing his plans, he knew that much, though at the time he hadn't seen another choice.

He hadn't intended to take Lindsay Graham, and from almost the moment he had, things had felt… wrong. He had the uneasy idea that from the instant he had decided not to take Carrie Vaughn-principally because it had both irritated and surprised him that the carnival "seer" had figured out who his target was and had warned the woman, following that surprise by managing to somehow convince the sheriff to watch her-that his mastery over events had slipped, if only a bit.

He really hadn't expected the sheriff to listen to Samantha, whatever she told him. Metcalf was a hard-nosed cop who had no patience with carnival seers; everything in his past and professional record said as much. Just as Samantha Burke's past involvement with the police indicated both her lack of credibility in the eyes of law-enforcement officials and her reluctance to involve herself in anything outside her carnival world.

She had been an active participant in an investigation only once, three years before, and the disastrous ending of that-both the investigation and her turbulent, short-lived relationship with Luke Jordan-had sent her fleeing back to the safety of the Carnival After Dark.

She had seemed a handy tool, not because he believed that she could see the future but because of the personal turmoil she would undoubtedly cause Luke, and the media storm she was likely to attract to the investigation. So he had lured her here, intent on using her in that way. To keep Luke off balance and draw his attention away from his job.

It was, he had decided, a necessary step to take once the game settled here in Golden. He no longer had the advantage of moving constantly, forcing Luke to follow after him. So he needed Samantha's presence to keep his opponent just that little bit distracted and unfocused.

To tip the odds more in his own favor.

But her behavior had been unexpected from the beginning.

And rather than distract Luke, or rattle him with the unexpected presence of a discarded lover, she seemed rather to have insinuated herself both into the investigation-and back into Luke's bed.

And instead of being the distraction he had planned her to be, it appeared that she was actually helping Luke.

He didn't understand that. He understood how pain and fear could-for want of a better phrase-call out to anyone with the right makeup to be able to hear: the simple electromagnetic energy of emotions and thoughts alive in the very air around him made perfect sense to him. It was an ability he understood, not so much paranormal as it was a sharply enhanced extension of otherwise normal senses.

He even understood, because he had made it his business to, how and why Luke's ability was a difficult one for the man to control at all, far less master. And why it drained him physically, exhausted him.

It's what he had wanted, a man driven past his limits and emptied of everything but the memories of the pain and suffering of the victims he had not found in time, and the unbearable knowledge that he had failed.

A broken man.

A man who understood, at last, why he had been judged and was being punished.

Instead, the man he had watched enter the sheriff's department after a successful search and rescue of Wyatt Metcalf had not seemed at all exhausted, and certainly wasn't broken.

For a long time after the small search team had disappeared from view, he remained where he was, still. Even the media had dispersed by the time he reached into his inner coat pocket and drew out a plastic Baggie containing an envelope. Inside the envelope was the note he had written to Luke, telling him where he could find the sheriff's body.

He took the envelope out of the bag and methodically, viciously, tore it into small pieces.

"Think you've won, Luke?" he muttered. "Wait. Just wait."

"I've put in a request for an agent to talk to the first kidnapping victim," Lucas said. "But I don't expect to get much if anything beyond her original statement. She told us what she knew and then pretty much asked us to leave her alone. Understandably, she's kept a low profile in the last year and a half, and I very much doubt she'd be willing to come down here to talk to us."

"Not with him here," Samantha murmured. "And who could blame her."

Lucas nodded but didn't look at her, and Caitlin wondered at the other woman's twisted smile. They had an odd relationship, those two, she decided. So solidly a team during the search for Wyatt, they were now, she thought, separated by much more than the length of the conference table.

"I don't know if she can tell us anything we don't already know," Lucas went on. "But she is the only one he released unharmed."

"And I'm the only one he's lost-so far," Wyatt said. He frowned and looked at Samantha. "You really think the fact that he didn't talk to me might mean something?" He was making a determined effort to at least pretend that he'd emerged from his ordeal unscathed, and everyone around him was playing along-for which he was grateful.

She shrugged. "Just struck me, is all. He's picked Golden as his last stand, apparently, and he clearly knows the area. That means he had to spend some time here before now. If he didn't talk to you, then maybe it's because he was afraid you might recognize his voice."

"But he left me for dead."

"Yeah, but even with all his confidence, he had to know there was at least a chance you'd be found in time. And if we know anything about him, it's that he's careful."

"I've lived here all my life," Wyatt told her, "and I've met a lot af people. Talked to a lot. Residents, tourists, people just passing through. If we can't narrow it down more than that, there isn't a:hance in hell I'll be able to figure out who he is."

Lucas said, "It's a point to keep in mind, but with, as you say, no way to narrow it down, not very helpful at the moment. What baffles me is how he's managing to get in and out of these remote places, machinery or parts to build it in tow, without leaving much if any evidence."

"Maybe he has wings," Wyatt grunted, just about half serious.

Jaylene spoke up to offer, "Or a hell of an ATV. And something that big and rugged gets noticed, even in these mountains."

"I didn't see any tracks near the mouth of the mine," Lucas told tier. "Maybe we '11 find something tomorrow morning, but if it's the same as at every other crime scene…" He shook his head, adding, "And why weren't mines on our search list? Especially after Lindsay was found at one."

Wyatt shrugged. "Because none of them are marked on any of aur maps, probably. Haven't been for decades. Virtually all the old mines in this county have been closed for so long that most of us tiave forgotten about them.

"Thing is, people have been digging in these mountains for generations. Gold, emeralds, whatever else there is or was. Lot of defunct mines up there that companies shut down when the veins petered out. And that's not even counting amateur efforts or natural caverns. Plus old cellars and other shelters hacked out of the granite during the last century or two and left abandoned. A big part of this county is federal land now, but it wasn't always."

"In other words," Lucas said grimly, "we've got a wilderness full of countless places where he could hold a hostage."

Wyatt lifted his brows slightly. "I take it you expect him to grab somebody else?"

"Until we've got our hands on him, it's a given."

The sheriff sighed. "Great. Well, what you said pretty much sums it up. Hell of a lot of land and not many ways of narrowing down the list of places to search. We might be able to find out who owns various remote parcels, but there's nothing to say he's even tied to them in any legal sense. From what we've seen so far, it looks like he's just taking advantage of places nobody's made use of in so many years most of us have forgotten there was anything useful there."

"Which," Caitlin said, "is another point in favor of what Sam said. That he's been here long enough to know the area very, very well."

Wyatt frowned very slightly as he looked at her. "Not that I'm complaining, but are you sure you want to stay involved in all this?"

A bit self-conscious, she shrugged. "Might as well. I mean, if it's okay with you. I don't know that I can help, but it sure beats hours alone in that motel room."

Jaylene spoke up again to say, "Ask me, we can use all the help we can get. But I vote we start fresh tomorrow morning. It's been a very long day."

"I'll second that," Wyatt said. "Not that I plan to go home tonight, but the couch in my office is very comfortable, and it won't be the first time I've slept there."

None of the others probed for his reasons, simply accepting that a man who had faced his own death a few hours previously might not want to return to an empty apartment and spend the night alone. Better here, with people about and the pulse of life going on all night.

After a quick glance at her partner, Jaylene said to Caitlin, "I'll take you back to the motel. Maybe we can stop on the way and have dinner somewhere."

Caitlin nodded, but said to Lucas, "Am I still being guarded?"

He nodded immediately. "I think you should be, Caitlin. If he's been watching, he knows you're involved now."

Unnerved, she said, "You think he's been watching us? You mean-today?"

"I'd be surprised if he wasn't somewhere nearby when the search teams returned. He'd have wanted firsthand confirmation of just how successful this move was."

"But, still, why would he target me?" she demanded.

Samantha said, "I'm betting you're an unknown factor to him, and that's got to make him uneasy. He'd expect the cops and feds to be involved in a search, and he already knows about me, but you? Not only a civilian, but the grieving sister of a previous victim, so what are you doing with a search team?"

"He has to wonder," Lucas agreed. "And with a mind as twisted is his, wondering about anything could make him even more dangerous. So I think we're better safe than sorry, don't you?"

Caitlin sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, thanks."

"If you'd rather stay somewhere else-"

She shook her head, getting to her feet as Jaylene rose. "No, the motel is fine. Hell, maybe Lindsay will be in touch again." She eyed Wyatt, then smiled. "Or maybe she used all her ectoplasm or whatever to help save your sorry ass."

Soberly, Wyatt said, "I'll do my best to make it mean something."

"I was kidding. Lindsay was too smart and too stubborn to waste her time, believe me." Without waiting for a response, Caitlin lifted a hand in farewell and left the room with Jaylene.

To Lucas, Wyatt said, "Do you seriously believe she could be in danger?"

"I seriously do. Bringing you out of one of his killing machines alive just upped the stakes; I don't expect him to wait long before he makes another move. If we openly keep watch on Caitlin, at least we serve notice that we know he's still out there, and still a danger."

Wyatt didn't question that, just nodded and said, "I'll go reassign the watchdogs. And I'm going to send one of my people for takeout. That steak I mentioned earlier. You two want anything?"

"I need to get back to the carnival," Samantha said.

Lucas looked at her briefly, then said to the sheriff, "We'll get something on the way. But thanks."

"Okay. See you in the morning." Wyatt paused in the doorway to frown back at them. "Did I say thank you, by the way?"

"In your own way," Samantha murmured.

He grinned at her for the first time, and said firmly, "Thanks for getting to me in time. Both of you."

"Don't mention it," Lucas said.

When they were alone in the room, Samantha didn't wait for the silence to lengthen, as she suspected it would.

"Shall we talk about this, or is it your plan to give me the silent treatment for the duration?"

"There's nothing to talk about, Sam."

"Sorry, but that's not good enough. Not this time."

He turned in his chair to look at her, the length of the table a more-than-symbolic space between them. "It's been a long day and we're both tired. I hope you aren't planning on reading at the carnival tonight."

Deliberately, she said, "If I have a choice between reading strangers or being in that motel room for the next twelve hours or so with your anger between us, I'll take the carnival."

"I'm not angry."

"No, you're furious. I got too close again, this time emotionally. Tell me about Bryan, Luke."

He got to his feet, face closed. "We should stop on the way and get something to eat. You haven't eaten in hours."

"Neither have you." Samantha rose to her feet as well, conscious of weariness and a distant pain she didn't want to acknowledge. She followed Lucas from the room, and not even several rather awkward attempts from some of the deputies to thank her as they passed through the building could rouse more than a fleeting smile.

She had known there would be a steep price demanded of her for this. Bishop had tried to warn her.

"He's been obsessed too long, Samantha, and he won't thank you for trying to dig that out of him."

Understatement, Samantha thought now. By the time this was over, Luke might well hate her.

For all her determination, she didn't know how to deal with that possibility. She couldn't stop pushing him, not for long; that had been the plan from the beginning. No matter what it did to her, to them, she was convinced it was the only way to get at the inner pain driving Luke.

And that was the only way to save him.

The cell phone in the pocket of his vest vibrated a summons, and Galen answered it without taking the binoculars from his eyes.

"Yeah."

"What's happening?" Bishop asked.

"Not a whole hell of a lot, at the moment. They stopped at a teak place for supper, and now they're at the carnival. In Sam's booth. She must still be getting ready; there's a line forming, but Ellis hasn't let anybody in yet."

"I just tried to call Quentin and couldn't reach him. Where is he?"

"Playing Daniel Boone. He managed to take a look at the mine before the deputies Luke assigned to watch the place got there. Now he's trying to backtrack and find out which way the bastard got his little toy in there." Galen shifted position slightly, adding, "Probably not surprising you couldn't raise him on the cell; wild country up there."

"And dark, with only a quarter moon. What does Quentin think he can find?"

"You'd have to ask him. All he told me was that his spider sense was tingling." Once Galen would have used that phrase sardonically, but he had been a member of the team too long not to have learned that-comic-book terminology notwithstanding-the enhanced senses of some of the SCU members were both accurate and often surprisingly prescient.

"If you hear from him, keep me advised. And especially if you don't hear from him. I don't want any of you alone or out of touch for too long."

"Copy that. He should be reporting in any time now."

"How's Luke holding up?"

"Judging by what I could see, Sam was able to make him mad enough so that he'd find Sheriff Metcalf. They're both looking a little ragged, though. Hard to say whether her plan is working as well as she'd hoped, but whatever else it's doing, it's obviously a strain on them."

"And she's reading tonight?"

"Looks like. Whatever's going on between her and Luke, I think she believes this killer is a regular visitor to the carnival. And maybe she's right. He does like games."

Bishop was silent for a moment, then said, "You're still keeping an eye on Jaylene whenever she's alone?"

"Of course. Right now, she's with Caitlin Graham, so deputies are watching them both. As soon as Quentin gets back, he'll take over here and I'll make sure Jay's covered." He paused as his binoculars swept the carnival grounds slowly, then returned to Madam Zarina's booth.

"She spotted you, you know."

"Who, Jay?" Galen chuckled. "I must be slipping."

"That's what I told her."

"She's not mad at having a watchdog, is she?"

"No. She knows anyone close to Luke is a possible target. This killer has abducted two police officers; I doubt he'd hesitate to grab a federal agent."

"No, he has balls enough for just about anything, if you ask me. And right about now, I'm betting he's pissed as hell."

"I'll take that bet," Bishop said. "Question is, what's his next move?"