Mortal Pursuit

62

“They’re leaving the island.” Lilith breathed the words above the drone of a distant motor.

Cain nodded slowly, tasting the woody sweetness of the night air. “Now let’s just hope they’re coming our way.”

He stood with Lilith at the trailhead adjacent to the parking lot, the best point from which to view the lake. His binoculars, trained on the dark hump of the island, caught a shimmer of movement near the eastern shore.

The boat. It flashed in a spill of starlight as the prow swung north-toward the picnic area.

“Our two Mouseketeers are taking the cheese,” he said with satisfaction, and Lilith shivered.

He tracked the boat until it vanished behind the treetops. Then he pocketed the binoculars.

“Move out.”

“Wait.” Lilith dialed the volume higher on the police radio.

The same throaty voice, the woman named Lou: “Eight-one, you still en route to that ten-thirty-three Eight-one Four-Adam-eight-one”

“It’s taken the unit too long to respond.” Cain frowned. “Dispatcher’s getting worried.”

“Should I answer”

He shook his head. “Even these local yokels may not fall for the same trick twice. And I don’t want them figuring out the last transmission was faked. We told them the car was on Hospers Road. That’s where we want them to be looking. Now let’s go.”

The dirt trail twisted down the hillside, past stands of black oak growing tall and thick-boled in the rich, dry soil.

Cain moved with unaccustomed lightness, his steps muffled though there was as yet no need for stealth. Lilith was a shadow at his side, supple and silent, the contours of her costume flowing like tendrils of ink.

Somewhere near the phones Tyler already was lying in wait. There was a good chance he would get Robinson.

If he didn’t, Lilith would-or Cain himself.

This was it.

Endgame.

From the stowage compartment under the bench seat Trish took out the first-aid kit she’d found earlier.

She considered taking more Advil, but decided against it. Much as she wanted to dull the pain, the risk of an overdose was too great. Putting the pills aside, she examined the remaining items in the waterproof case.

Antibiotic cream.

Band-Aids of various sizes.

Moistened towelettes.

Sterile pads, both nonstick and adhesive.

Rolled gauze.

Digital thermometer, tweezers, mineral oil, and a five-yard spool of rayon tape.

With towelettes and sterile pads she blotted up blood from the ugly gashes in her leg, fighting new waves of vertigo as the damaged nerves screamed.

Next, antibiotic. She used it all.

Then two more sterile pads, the adhesive kind, pressed to the wounds.

Quickly she wrapped her calf in gauze. As she secured the dressing with tape, the boat neared shore.

To her right lay a long stretch of beach. To her left, willows edged the water.

“Go toward the trees,” she told Ally. “And sit lower.”

Approaching the wooded area was a calculated risk. She and Ally would be less exposed there-but their enemies, if any were present, would be better camouflaged.

As the boat drew near shore, Trish leaned forward and rummaged in the dead man’s dump pouch, which contained a single magazine. She inserted it in her own Glock, then holstered the weapon.

The other gun was almost fully loaded: fifteen rounds, plus one in the chamber. Blair must have put in a fresh mag before coming ashore.

Willows eclipsed the stars. A tangle of floating deadwood, branches torn loose in storms and washed into the shallows, scraped the FireStar’s starboard side. Ally eased back on the throttle as the prow nuzzled a bank of crumbly earth.

“Kill the motor,” Trish said.

Ally removed the knife from the ignition switch, opening the circuit, and the engine died.

Silence.

No one shot at them. Nothing stirred in the shadows beyond the trees.

“Okay. This is for you.” Trish gave the second Glock to Ally. “Remember how to use it”

Ally drew a shallow breath. “I remember.”

“Tell me where to find the phones.”

“They’re outside the snack shop in the picnic area. Northeast, maybe five hundred feet. I can take you right to them.”

Trish met her gaze. “I’m going alone.”

“What” Hurt and bafflement welled in Ally’s eyes. “You … you can’t even walk.”

Leaning over the side, Trish plucked one of the branches from the water. The limb of a ponderosa pine, five feet long, stripped of needles, black as coal.

“I can lean on this.”

“You can lean on me. We’re partners.”

“And we’ve each got a job to do. You keep the boat ready for a quick getaway.”

“It’s my folks who’re in trouble. If just one of us goes, it should be me.”

“You’re not a cop,” Trish snapped, then gentled her voice. “Look, there’s no time for this, all right”

Ally turned in her seat, as stiff and mute as the corpse by her side.

Trish wanted to say more, but a new argument would only waste more seconds, and seconds might cost lives.

Unassisted, she pulled herself upright and struggled over the transom onto the steep bank directly alongside the FireStar.

Her shoes sank into damp earth. She planted the branch. Though her leg seethed, it did not fold.

Propping the crutch under her left armpit, she advanced, moving with an alacrity that surprised her.

“Wait.”

Ally’s voice. Trish turned as the girl scrambled off the boat. Something gleamed in her open palm.

The arrowhead.

She had no pockets. Must have been holding it the whole time. Clutching it in her fist, a talisman.

“For luck,” Ally said.

Trish accepted the minuscule wedge of obsidian, glassy and hard, and slipped it into her pocket.

Though she wanted to say some words of thanks, her voice seemed to have left her.

Instead she simply nodded, a deep nod that left her hair hanging across her face for a long moment, then turned and limped quickly away, deeper into the woods.

The boat had fallen silent by the time Cain and Lilith reached the edge of the beach. Crouching behind a clump of sunflowers, Cain unfolded his binoculars and swept the scene.

Barbecue pits scored the sandy strip in a ragged line.

A volleyball net rippled between two poles.

An upturned lifeguard platform reclined on the beach as if stargazing.

Across a sparkle of placid water lay the dark hump of the island and, farther away, the dim glow of the Kent estate, tiny squares of windows burning pinholes in the black hillside.

No movement anywhere. No boat in the shallows. No footprints in the sand.

Cain lowered the binoculars and glanced at Lilith, squatting beside him.

“Must’ve come ashore in the woods,” he breathed. “You look there. I’ll check out the picnic area. And stay off the air. They may have gotten hold of Gage’s radio by now.”

“Where do we meet”

“Back at the parking lot.” She was starting to move away when Cain added: “If the Kent girl’s unarmed-take her alive.”

Lilith frowned. “Isn’t it getting a little late for fun and games”

“It won’t take any extra time. There are two beds in the master bedroom. I can do Ally and her mom side by side.” He smiled. “Double the fun.”

“You’re the boss. How about Robinson”

His smile vanished. “Kill her on sight.”

They separated. Cain prowled north, retracing his route along the dirt pathway.

He looked back once in the direction of the trees and saw Lilith dissolve into grainy darkness, a shadow merging with other shadows, smoke fading in air.

A sudden inexplicable sense of misgiving almost prompted him to call her back.

Ridiculous.

His Lilith might behave like a child at times, but she was fully capable of fending for herself. She was as helpless as a tigress.

Of course, Cain reflected as he moved on, Officer Robinson had proved herself a tigress too.