The Hunt

CHAPTER 33

Quinn helped Charlie rig mountain-climbing gear to the trucks at the top of the mountain. They would rappel straight down, cutting off a huge chunk of time getting to the bottom. They had only two ropes long enough, so Quinn and Charlie would go first, followed by additional teams of two.

“Ten minutes, tops,” Charlie said.

They were about to start down the slope when Charlie’s radio buzzed. “Charlie here.”

“It’s Deputy Booker. Larsen was just at the shack and went off in the same direction as Miranda. I warned her. She’s radio-silent now.”

Damn. Quinn wanted to talk to her, find out exactly where she was. Find out how she was holding up. Tell her to watch her back. Assure Miranda of her strength and perseverance.

Most of all, he wanted to hear her voice.

“Sheriff Thomas is bad off,” Booker said. “He needs a doctor.”

“We’ll send the medic down next,” Charlie said. “Twenty minutes.”

“Roger that.”

Charlie turned to Quinn. “Let’s do it.”

Quinn was in good shape, but rappelling down a mountain used muscles he never knew existed. By the time they got to the bottom, he was winded.

But he couldn’t stop. His eyes scanned the gulch. Where was Miranda?

Where was Larsen?

Charlie radioed Booker, who said he and Nick were about three hundred yards west.

“Okay, Booker. Hang on. The medical team is on their way.”

Charlie turned to Quinn and pointed to the ground. “Look.”

The rain was falling faster by the minute and Quinn could barely see his feet clearly. Then he saw what Charlie did.

Deep impressions in the leaves leading to the boulder outcrop. “This way,” Quinn said.

Miranda sensed the hunter before she saw him.

She didn’t know exactly how she realized they weren’t alone in this part of the woods, but suddenly the wet air felt electric, the gray sheets of rain sharpened, and her ears picked up every sound. The rain pounding on the boulders in the rising creek below. The faint creak of the trees swaying in the storm.

Her own sharp breath.

She had attempted to cover their tracks, but it was virtually impossible with the limited time she had to set her plan in motion. She hoped Ashley stayed quiet. That was all she had to do. Hide and be quiet.

Twelve years ago, Miranda had harbored a deep resentment of Sharon as they ran from the Butcher. Every time Sharon cried out, Miranda cringed, fearing her friend was leading the Butcher right to them. That he would catch them and they would die.

And Sharon had.

Times had changed. Though Miranda winced every time Ashley whimpered, she understood. How could she hate her for her fear?

That same fear crawled up Miranda’s spine, step by step, eating away at her resolve.

She should have kept moving. Eventually, Larsen would have caught up to them. But maybe not. She should have stayed with Nick. If she had looked harder, maybe she could have found another place to hide. Gone back into the shack and waited for him to walk in.

She had to stop second-guessing herself. Her fear was rising because he was getting closer.

Dammit, where was he? He should have been here by now.

He wouldn’t stroll down the middle of the canyon. He’d follow their tracks, keeping close to the trees so he would have an element of surprise. Miranda had planted false tracks on the north side of the canyon, opposite of where she was hiding.

She expected him in camouflage to blend in with the environment. Every muscle rigid, she waited and watched.

There.

A movement to her left. Faint. Directly in front of Ashley’s hiding spot. She looked and saw nothing. Maybe it was the rain playing tricks with her peripheral vision.

The sunlight had all but disappeared under the gray skies; visibility was minimal. The trap was a bad idea. She’d never be able to see him.

But maybe this was okay. He would pass by, and she and Ashley could sit tight until Quinn came.

Yes. That would work.

To her far left she sensed movement. Dammit, Ashley! Get down. Stay down. Hadn’t she listened to her? Don’t move. Stay low. Don’t even look.

Straight in front of her, forty feet away, she saw him. He stood perfectly still. She’d marked a trail going another two hundred feet past her hiding space, before she had backtracked-why had he stopped there?

Did he hear something?

Smell something?

Had he seen Ashley move in the rotting tree where Miranda had tried to hide her?

Dammit, what did he know?

She was panicking. He couldn’t know where she was hiding. Or Ashley.

Please stay down, Ashley. Please be quiet.

Larsen was listening. He stood so still that if Miranda hadn’t known he was there, she would have questioned her sanity. But she had seen a glimpse of him, and if she focused she could make out his silhouette.

Run. Run!

No, she would not run. She would stay right here, behind the low boulder. She was flat on her stomach, watching him from above. Watching, with her gun sights on the Butcher. He was too far for a certain hit. And she couldn’t afford to miss. One miss, and he would bolt and come at them again. With the knowledge of where they were.

Walk on by, Larsen. Walk on by.

Her plan was to backtrack once Larsen passed them. In the ten minutes she’d had to plan, she determined the best trap would be to not get caught. Let him pass them, then backtrack as fast as possible to Nick. At some point before they reached him, they’d run into Quinn and the others.

Her number-one responsibility was to protect Ashley, not to catch the Butcher. But even through her fear, she wanted to stop him. Now. Give him no other opportunity to hurt another woman.

But getting Ashley safely out of the mountains was her job, and one she took very seriously.

Walk on by. Come on, come on! What are you waiting for?

He stood there, unmoving. Why?

She sensed more than saw Ashley’s panic.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion-Ashley jerked forward, out of the log. Back again.

Larsen turned his body and stared at the log. He raised his rifle.

Ashley screamed and scrambled out of the dead tree. Miranda aimed her gun at Larsen. He dropped to his knee and turned his rifle toward Ashley.

Miranda fired once, twice, three times.

Larsen fell flat to the ground. Had she hit him?

Ashley screamed again and Larsen used his forearms to crawl along the ground. He swung his rifle around and fired at Ashley.

“Ashley, get down!” Miranda yelled as she fired three more rounds at Larsen. But he was already rolling away from her and then he disappeared behind a boulder.

Shit! Where had he gone?

Ashley stumbled to Miranda’s hiding spot. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought he’d seen me, I had to run. I’m sorry.”

“Shh. Stop.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Be quiet,” Miranda commanded. She had to think. She stared at the boulder forty feet in front of her. Visibility was so poor, she couldn’t see beyond. Was he cowering on the other side? Had he crawled away? Would he try to get them from the right? The left? The rear?

He had to know where they were. But Miranda didn’t dare move.

She would wait him out. She had no choice.