Dangerous Secrets (24 page)

Chapter 24

Playing hero doesn′t really suit me. I
mean, I value my life as much as the next guy. By making Richard leave,
I′d effectively ended it. But I′m not a quitter, either. And I′d
had enough of that bastard Adam. He wasn′t going to get rid of me without
a fight.

I risked a look behind me, and saw no sign of
him.

All right. The logical move was to try and
follow Richard, but not directly behind him. If Adam caught up with me, I had
to make it harder for him to follow—to track—Richard.

Move!

But I couldn′t. Not with my head
pounding, and my legs as insubstantial as jelly. I pulled out my prescription
bottle, flipped open the top and spilled most of the pills on the ground.

Christ!
Just my day.

I dumped two in my mouth, recapped the bottle
and, with shaking hands, stuck it back in my pocket.

Think! Hadn′t I learned anything I could
use during my army training? But that training had been eighteen years before.
What should I do next?

Move,
stupid!

I glanced through the trees. The lift had
stopped. That meant Adam had ridden to the top to cut the power, probably so it
wouldn′t draw attention from the locals or passing motorists. He was a
thousand or more feet up the mountain from me. That gave me time. But Adam also
had two good arms and legs and the rifle with a scope. There′d be a shack
up top, stocked with rescue gear; ropes, flashlights—maybe even infrared
goggles—everything he′d need to track me in the dark. And he didn′t
have to take the hard way down. He could follow the grassy slope under the
chair lift while I had to stay in the woods.

He must have worked at the operation during the
ski season. How else would he have known how to run the lift? As a local, he
probably knew every inch of the mountain, too. And if he knew exactly where
we′d dropped, it would make it that much easier for him to hunt me down.

Rest time was over.

I pulled myself up and hobbled to the next
closest tree. The uneven, treacherous ground conspired to trip me with broken
limbs, sticks, and exposed tree roots. I looked around for a heavy branch to
use as a walking stick, but could see nothing suitable.

Get
going.

I hopped from tree to tree but was soon
confused. Was I zigzagging downward or was I just getting farther and farther
away from the ski lift, my reference point? I didn′t want to stray too
far or I′d get lost and no one would ever find me ... at least not alive.

Déjà vu hit me with a vengeance: this was my
vision—climbing the mountain—the one Kay Andolina had inspired with her talk of
looking within. Only I was climbing down—not up.

Why hadn′t I seen it as a warning? Where
was the guardian angel she said watched over me?

I pushed myself away from the tree. I was not
making good time. In fact, except for the loss of daylight, time seemed to be
standing still.

Hop to a tree.

Rest.

Hop to a tree.

Rest.

I glanced at my watch. I′d gone maybe
twenty yards in twenty minutes.

The light waned. Except for the sound of my
labored breathing, the air was still. I hadn′t heard footsteps or
crashing sounds behind me. Then again, I′d probably feel the rifle blast
before I ever heard it.

Hop to a tree.

Rest.

Hop to a tree.

It got old very fast. But I had to keep going,
because when the light was gone I′d have to stay put for the rest of the
long, cold night.

Rain had eroded a path among the birches.
Though steep, it was relatively clear of obstacles. Inching my way down on my
backside, I gained unwanted momentum. Little avalanches of pebbly dirt cascaded
before me. Then I was skidding, tumbling, smashing into a stand of young pines.

Stunned, for long moments all that registered
was the fire along my ribs.

After long minutes of pain-racked breaths, it
hit me—I
could
still breathe. One
small triumph at a time.

Get up.
Get up, get up, get up!

Struggling to straighten, I pressed a hand
along my right side. The pain flared, but I didn′t pass out. Maybe that
meant my ribs were only bruised—not broken.

One sore foot in front of the other.

Slower this time.

Drag to a tree.

Rest.

The light was nearly gone when I stumbled over
a solid maple branch. Almost five feet long, the thicker, jagged end was about
two inches thick. I stripped the smaller branches and stamped it against the
ground, testing its strength. It would do.

It was taking far too long to move from tree to
tree. Then like a soft sigh settling over the forest, it began to rain—cold
droplets filtering through the web of branches overhead. The wind was rising,
too. I fastened the top button on my denim jacket. It was a useless gesture;
I′d be soaked in minutes.

That′s when I really started to get
scared.

My fingers were already going numb. My left,
slashed arm had gone stiff from holding it in the same position for too long,
and was too painful to straighten.

I blew on my right hand. My breath came out in
a fog. The temperature was dropping—fast. Already fifty degrees or less. Cold
and wet—perfect for hypothermia.

I had to keep moving. Once it was fully dark, I
could edge toward the ski lift′s treeless corridor, maybe walk in the grass.
But to do that left me open for target practice.

I leaned against a tree trunk, only my ragged
breathing broke the quiet. Adam could sneak up behind me at any time—I′d
never hear him. But maybe I could sense him, like I had in the truck.

I closed my eyes, concentrated, and tried to
home in on Adam′s aura. If there was ever a time when I needed that
damned, erratic psychic ability, it was then.

And it failed me.

Miserably.

I bit my lip, stifling the urge to scream.

It was time to face some harsh truths. It
didn′t matter if Richard made it to help—no one was going to come for me
in the dark. It was too dangerous. And despite what I′d told Richard,
there was nowhere to hole-up for the night; just the shelter of the trees—and I
doubted I could climb one.

Nope, I was stuck in the rain and cold for at
least eight, maybe ten hours. Depending on how cold it got, chances were I
might not make it—whether Adam found me or not. And it didn′t look like
I′d come up with any constructive way to conserve my already waning body
heat.

A drop cascaded down my neck, soaking into my
shirt. I pulled up my jacket collar, shivering—the body′s instinctive
response to generate heat.

It wouldn′t be enough.

To move was to stay warm, but moving was
getting too difficult. I looked up into the treetops, seeing nothing. Droplets
cascaded down my cheeks. The thickening clouds gave no hope of moonlight or
stars breaking through to give me an inkling of direction.

It was time to risk it all, go back to the edge
of the forest and follow the ski lift.

I took off again. Slower this time.

I smacked into a tree, which set my ribs on
fire again, and snagged my good foot in the forest litter.

I took a steadying breath. I
had
to keep going.

The lift should only be a few more yards.

It should be.

I glanced at my wrist. It was too dark to see
the hands on my watch—no way to figure time.

Winded, I slumped against a tree, sank to the
ground and pulled my good leg up to my chest, hugging it for warmth.

I was so friggin’ tired.

I had to stay awake. To sleep was to die.

Me,
dying?

I′d never been so close to the end of
everything—not even when I′d been mugged.

A face from the past came back to haunt me.
Shelley, my ex—dead—wife. Our marriage had ended six months before she was
killed. That she′d found cocaine more attractive than me had badly
bruised my ego.

I didn′t like to think about it

What about Richard? I′d treated him with
indifference for over twenty years before we became friends just six months
before. Our past relationship had been tainted by his wealth and my own
goddamned pride.

He loved me. He′d said it aloud,
something I could never do. And he′d said it because he didn′t want
me to die without knowing.

Thanks,
Rich. I owe you.

And dear, sweet Maggie. I thought she was my
future. But if I didn′t have a future....

Time out!

Thoughts like that would get me killed. I
needed to think positively. I needed to believe I could actually get out of
this mess.

But the dark thoughts multiplied.

A sprained ankle. An armed killer chasing me. A
steady downpour and the temperature dropping. My odds of survival were just
about nil.

Goddamn
it! Think positive!

I shivered in my damp clothes. If Adam
didn′t kill me, I′d probably die of pneumonia.
It′s an infection, you ass. You don′t get it from being
cold and wet
, some logical part of my brain told me, sounding an awful lot
like Richard.

You need
to kill time. Don′t sleep
.

Two times
two is four.

Two times
three is six....

How long had Richard been gone? He had to reach
safety. Brenda was going to need him. I wasn′t sure how or when exactly,
but I knew. Saw her horror-stricken face etched with fear, worry—every negative
emotion known to mankind.

Was it precognition? Would I be there to help?
Or was I destined to be
her
guardian
angel?

The rain came down harder.

The darkened landscape beckoned. Did I dare
keep moving? If I fell and sprained my other ankle I′d be completely
helpless when Adam found me.

So what? I could get all the way down the
mountain and never see him. It was a goddamned big mountain. I could be safe
and warm and dry. But no, there I sat like some scared schoolgirl.

Shit.

My tired, sore muscles protested as I pulled
myself up and hobbled forward. Two feet. Four feet. Six feet....

Twigs broke somewhere behind me.

I froze—squeezed my eyes shut tight—and held my
breath until I thought my lungs would explode.

Maybe I hadn′t really heard the noise
behind me.

A tidal wave of anger and hatred rolled over
me.

Adam.

How the hell had he found me so quickly?

A bobbing flashlight shone some ten yards
behind me. Flattening myself against the tree trunk, my hand tightened on my
walking stick.

His anger grew nearer, stronger, like the burst
of emotion I′d gotten from Maggie at the hospital. I couldn′t let
it overwhelm me. I steeled myself against his rage.

Despite the cold, I broke out in a sweat. I
didn′t dare move as I heard his carefully placed footsteps on the wet,
slippery leaves.

Adam slowed, the beam of light sweeping before
him.

Four feet from me.

Two feet.

Lunging forward, I smashed the branch over his
shoulder. The rifle went flying, hit the ground and went off—the explosion
fracturing the night.

Adam landed face-first, but rolled, coming back
at me, swinging the long-handled flashlight like a club. I dove for his throat.
The flashlight caught my slashed arm, and the pain sent me cringing.

Adam came at me again, blinding me with the
light. I ducked, hearing a whoosh as the flashlight whipped over my head. I
rushed him, knocking the light from his hand. We rolled, tangled in the brush.
The coil of rope around Adam′s shoulder came loose. Legs thrashing, one
of his kicks connected with my swollen ankle, sending skyrockets exploding in
front of my eyes. I countered with a knee to his balls—that killer move sending
him into spasms of agony.

Struggling to my knees, I wavered, spit out
pine needles and dirt, groped in the mud for the flashlight, and then gathered
up the rope. Grabbing his left wrist, I yanked it behind him, took the right
and tied him, looping rope around his legs, too. Doubled over and gasping, I
shoved Adam onto his back and searched his jacket pockets. I took the ammo and
the flashlight’s extra batteries, and then tossed the wooden masher into the
dark woods.

Winded, I sank back.

Now what the hell I was going to do?

Chapter 25

Holding the flashlight under my chin, I
unloaded the rifle, listening to Adam′s gasping breaths. The US Army had
taught me to take any advantage and exploit it. It was time to do just that and
shift to rescue mode. That meant making us visible.

Hunkering over to a tree, I used it for
support, hauling myself upright. Exquisite agony coiled up my leg and through
my body as I gingerly put weight on my swollen ankle. I breathed through
gritted teeth, unwilling to let Adam know just how much I was hurting.

I wound the rope around my forearm, intending
to use it like a leash. If Adam tried to make a run, I′d yank it taut and
trip him. Hefting the flashlight in my left hand, I used the rifle in my right
as a walking stick. I nudged him with the stock.
‶
Get
up. We′re moving out.″

‶
Where?″
he croaked.

‶
To
the grassy area under the ski lift.″

‶
In
the open—in the pouring rain?″

‶
You
don′t like the weather—talk to God. Move!″

Adam struggled to his feet, unable to fully
straighten. Good. If he was hurting, it evened the odds.

My ankle screamed. I bit my lip to keep from
grunting. Adam wasn′t feeling so hot, either—at first. But in no time his
stride lengthened.

‶
Slow
down,″ I called, my shoulder snagging an unseen branch.

He did, for a couple of steps.

‶
You′re
hurting, man. That makes you easy prey,″ he taunted.

‶
Shut
up.″

The rope pulled tight again.
‶
I said, slow down!″ I
jerked it hard, sending him face-first into the sodden ground.

I trained the flashlight on him as he struggled
to his knees. Adam′s face was screwed in fury, his anger near the boiling
point. He turned without a word. We started off again.

We walked, brushing past trees, stumbling over
roots and branches, only the feeble beam of the flashlight cut the gloom.

Minutes passed.

No sign of the clearing and ski lift. I
must′ve lost my bearings in the dark.

‶
We′re
lost,″ he grunted.

‶
Shut
up!″

‶
Hurt,
lost. You′re a dead man.″

Not so far.

Suddenly we broke free of the trees. The rain
came down harder without the canopy of branches and leaves overhead.

‶
Keep
moving,″ I said

I walked him some twenty feet away from the
trees.

‶
Sit.″

‶
In
the wet grass?″

‶
Sit!″

He sat.
‶
I′ve
got plenty of time—but yours is running out.″

‶
Shut
up!″ I told him for what seemed like the hundredth time.

‶
You
got hurt when you jumped off the ski lift.″

‶
It
didn′t stop me from capturing you.″

‶
Pure
luck. It won′t hold.″ Despite his bravado, I knew he wasn′t
feeling quite as confident as he made out.

My ankle throbbed, so I moved behind him and
sat in the cold wet grass. Dipping a hand in my pocket, I took out the bullets
and reloaded the rifle.

‶
Have
you ever fired a gun before?″ he asked.

‶
An
M-16. I figure at close range I can blow your head off.”

That shut him up.

The downpour continued. I trained the
flashlight on my watch: nine-fifteen. It was later than I thought. Only another
nine or ten hours before rescue.

I took a breath to calm myself. No way would I
let him know exactly how scared I was. On the other hand, he was pretty cool.
Despite the current situation, he still felt the odds were in his favor. Much
as I didn′t want to admit it, they probably were.

Richard had been gone for three hours. If
he′d found help, then he and the cops were probably down at the ski
center at the base of the mountain. I couldn′t see any lights—not even
traffic on the road somewhere below the line of trees. Would they throw the
master switch, bathing the ski lift in beautiful white light?

Not if Adam had sabotaged the system.

‶
You
cut the wires, didn′t you?″ I said.

He looked at me over his shoulder, grinned.
‶
Yeah.″

My finger tightened on the rifle′s
trigger.
‶
You son of a bitch.″

He laughed.
‶
I
told you. You′re a dead man.″

‶
What′s
the point in killing me now? By now the cops know about you. They know you
murdered Eileen. Why is it still so important for you to get rid of me?″

He glared at me, the flashlight′s harsh
beam gave his face an almost demonic appearance.
‶
Do
you have to shine that thing in my eyes?″

‶
Yeah.″

He half-turned.
‶
It
ain′t gonna last an hour unless you turn it off. And those other
batteries might give you another hour after that. Then it′s just you and
me and the dark—and it′s a long time until dawn.″

It was my turn to be quiet.

The problem remained: the temperature was
dropping and my only source of heat was sitting in front of me, glaring at me.

‶
So
where′s the doctor?″ he said.

‶
I
sent him on ahead.″

‶
Yeah,
right. You got that bum ankle. He figured you′d slow him down, so he left
you. Nice guy. No sense of loyalty. None of
‵
em.″

He wasn′t making any sense.
‶
None of who?″

‶
All
you queers are the same.″

What was he talking about?

‶
Why
did you kill Eileen?″

‶
Not
that it’s any of your business, but that old bitch and Zack were fucking
around. She got what she deserved.″

‶
Because
she was fucking Zack or because she was fucking Susan′s husband?″

He ignored my question.
‶
That doctor ... he′s a looker, ain′t
he?″

‶
Very
good looking,″ I agreed; at least, Brenda thought so.

‶
He
left you, practically helpless.″ Adam shook his head ruefully.
‶
Just deserted you. No sense of
loyalty,″ he repeated.

‶
On
the contrary, I told him to go.″

‶
Then
that was plain stupid.″

‶
At
the time, it made perfect sense. Why should both of us end up gut shot by
you?″ I glanced down at my watch: nine-twenty.

‶
He′s
kinda special to you, that doctor, huh?″ His tone was snide with
accusation.

‶
As
a matter of fact, yes.″

‶
Nadine
told me about him and you. She makes up the rooms and said since your
girlfriend′s been in the hospital, you′ve been sleeping with
him.″

I bet she′d neglected to tell Adam that
she′d had to make up both beds. That would′ve made the story just a
little too mundane.

‶
So
what if I was?″

‶
It′s
even sicker than Zack and Eileen.″

Something was going on with him. I wasn′t
sure, but I took a guess.

‶
Eileen
made a pass at you that night, didn′t she?″

‶
Shut
up!″

It was beginning to make sense. Eileen was so
drunk I don′t think she knew what she was doing in those last few
minutes. Coming on to me ... and then Adam. Had the idea of balling an old lady
actually been appealing? Was he capable of rape? Why not—he was capable of
murder.

‶
I
hope you’re not too homophobic, Adam, because you’ve got something I need.”

I crawled nearer, shoved him down onto the
ground, and turned him onto his stomach. His fear escalated as I yanked the
rope, tying his feet, looping it back around his hands so he was trussed like a
Thanksgiving turkey. Then I nestled close, wrapping my left arm around his
shoulder.

‶
Get
away from me, you pervert,″ he shouted, trying to squirm away.

Grabbing a hank of his hair, I jerked his head
back, cutting off his air, his left ear inches from my mouth.

‶
Listen,
you dumb shit, three times now you’ve almost cost me my life. I′m not going
to die of exposure because of you. So, if you don′t want me to cave your
head in with the rifle butt, you′ll shut up and settle down, because I
intend to suck up every therm of heat your body can generate between now and
the time somebody finds us come dawn. Do you understand?″

Strangled noises escaped his throat. He tried
to nod, but I didn′t loosen my grip.

‶
Good.″
I let go and he gasped for air.

Reaching behind me, I snagged the flashlight,
holding it in my left hand. Another weapon in my arsenal. I could use it as a
club if I had to. I switched it off.

‶
Now,
we′re just going to lie here quietly and wait until morning.
Right?″

Anger and humiliation rolled off him in
waves—warming me like a space heater. I basked in it—draping myself across him
to take full advantage of his body heat. But all those sensations pummeling my
psyche made my head pound. I didn′t kid myself; Adam was just as
dangerous as he′d been with the rifle in his hands. He was younger than
me and I was cold, wet, and bone tired. And hugging a murderer wasn′t my
idea of bliss, either.

Survival mode, I reminded myself.

I was determined to survive.

A barrage of conflicting messages and emotions
continued to assault me. I waded through the miasma of memory and sensation and
after a while, things began to clear. The snippet of a vision I′d picked
up in Zack′s and Susan′s bathroom suddenly made sense.

‶
You
saw them—Eileen and Zack—in the hot tub together, back in April.″

He answered easily, unconcerned with how or
where I′d gotten my information.
‶
I
was helping Zack with the renovations. I left my tools on a Friday and I needed
them for another job. I had a key, so I came inside, but I couldn′t find
Zack. I wandered out back and saw him in the garden—screwing old lady Marshall
by the hot tub.″ He shuddered at the memory.

But that wasn′t all I got.

‶
Eileen
hired you,″ I murmured in disbelief.”

‶
So
what,″ came his cool reply.

‶
She
hired you to....″ I couldn′t quite understand it, had to
concentrate.
‶
... to break up Zack and Susan.
You were screwing her to break up their marriage.″

‶
You
don′t know nothin′!″

Ted′s words to me that day during the
dining room photo shoot came back, sickening me:
Older broads are grateful for anything they get in the sack
. Was
Susan so love starved that Adam′s attention seemed like a godsend?

‶
What
did Eileen offer you?″

‶
Money.
But I stopped taking it back in June. Susan′s worth more than a mercy
fuck. She′s teaching me the business. I′m not gonna be washing
dishes the rest of my life.″

More likely he′d be staring at the walls
of a jail cell, I thought.
‶
So why
didn′t you kill Zack, too?″

‶
He
never bothered me. All he thinks about is getting back his goddamn boat.″

‶
Then
why kill Eileen?″

‶
She
was going to tell Susan everything. How I took money from her—how I sold pot to
the guests. She pissed me off being so damned smug.″

‶
Tell
the truth. She pissed you off by making a pass at you. Isn′t that what
really happened?″

Adam′s anger flared.
‶
I was walking up from the
creek, heard the way she talked to Susan. I was fed up with her and all her
shit. So while you guys were in the pool, I ducked in the kitchen—grabbed the
masher. I was just gonna scare her. After you left, she said those things to me
and I got mad, so I whacked her. Big deal. I figured the cops would think she smashed
her head on the side of the hot tub. And they would have, if you hadn′t
gotten so damned nosy.″

My anger boiled. Despite her character flaws, I
could identify with Eileen feeling betrayed by someone she′d loved. That
this callous little bully snuffed out her life disgusted me.

The night wore on and I had no desire to speak
with Adam again, though it became a game to eavesdrop on his emotions. And I
let his anger feed mine, which helped me stay alert. Because something Richard
said came back to haunt me:
Once you’re
out of it, kid—you′re dead to the world.

I couldn′t afford to fall asleep.

Occasionally Adam would move, either trying to
get more comfortable or testing to see if I was still awake, but a sharp tap
with the flashlight quickly reminded him who was in charge.

Time dragged.

Eventually Adam′s body went lax, and my
psychic pipeline to him shut down as he dozed off.

Cold rain rolled down my face. I shifted
position, unwilling to listen to Adam′s thudding heart. I′d never
felt so uncomfortable—so ridiculous. But this was survival, I kept reminding
myself. Unpleasant as the situation was, it was the only way for me to survive.
I could suffer a little indignity for the privilege.

I switched on the flashlight and glanced at my
watch: 12:43. That left five or six hours
‵
til
daylight. I was so damned cold. Yet despite being stiff and achy, I let myself
hope.

Maybe—just maybe—I′d live through the
night.