The Trophy Hunter (32 page)

Five minutes passed before her headlights
picked up the sign:
Brookvale-Elevation 7,658 ft.
On the
west side of the mountain she saw the dim outline of a group of
buildings in a clearing. The road seemed to end at this point.
Perhaps there was another fork before it circled back eastward.
Faint lights glimmered from one of the larger buildings that set
back farthest from the road.

If Rogart had a night scope, she’d be a
sitting duck. Where had that thought come from? She quickly flipped
off her headlights as all the childhood hunting lessons came
slinking back into her head, as if they’d known all along that
someday she’d need them.

The ground under her car dropped
unexpectedly. She caught her breath. Just a bump. The road hadn’t
ended after all. She turned off the engine and coasted down toward
the entrance to the group of buildings, still impelled by the slant
of the road. A sign attached to wooden poles that framed the
entrance was unlit. Unreadable. She coasted past the entrance to
where a fork in the road enabled her to either return the way she’d
come or continue west into deep forest. She continued west.

The car came to rest as the road sloped
upward. Diana restarted the engine. The wind was still providing
good sound cover. About a half mile into the forest, the compass on
her rear view mirror told her she was angling south. Soon, she
should be positioned in back of the group of buildings. Her eyes
strained to see lights. If there had been a moon, the storm had
eaten it up. Nothing but blackness.

The BMW’s engine coughed.
Don’t die on me
now.
She shook her head to clear out the thought, then turned
left into a thick grove of trees. Careful not to stray too far off
the road, she picked an outcropping behind a large ponderosa pine
for a marker. The oddly-shaped rock formation reminded her of some
weird animal. Head like a beak, bulky body hunkered down, it sat
almost humanlike with folded forearms. She’d remember this spot. If
she got the chance to revisit it.

Diana stopped the car, opened the door and
took a deep breath of cold air. She eased out into the night,
treading carefully on slick pine needles. Not exactly dressed for a
hike in the woods, she at least had on a wool suit, all-weather
boots and a down jacket. With a hood, even. She’d exhibited some
good sense when she’d left her office some seven hours earlier.
Who’d have thought it would all desert her? What did she think she
was going to do? Turning back to her car, she opened the trunk and
removed a wrench from the tool box she carried─tools that she had
never used.

What’ll I do with a wrench? Clunk him on the
head? And meanwhile he’s doing…what?

She stuck the wrench in her shoulder bag and
moved cautiously through the icy woods, thinking what an inglorious
end to a promising life. And in mortality’s shadow, life suddenly
looked more precious. Even a childless, mateless life. Something in
her wanted to just run back to her relatively warm BMW and get the
hell out of there.

But then she saw faint lights in the
distance, and the thought of Jess shook her to the core. No turning
back. Her choice.

She’d only gone a few paces more when a hard
poke in the small of her back told her that retreat was no longer
an option.

“Walk straight ahead, Diana.” Rogart’s voice
was eerily pleasant. He might have been inviting her for an evening
stroll.

As she whirled around to face him, he hit her
in the legs with the butt of his rifle, knocking her to the ground.
Sharp pain quickly obliterated shock. She cowered for an instant,
out of survival skills for the moment.

Rogart towered over her, apparently relishing
his power position. “Now, get up slowly and do exactly as I say.
Next time you disobey, you’ll feel a lot more pain.”

She nodded, then struggled to her feet. Fear
closed off her throat. What did it matter? There was no on to hear
her scream.

“Walk toward the light,” he said, inclining
his head toward the largest building, now visible in moonlight
loosed by parting clouds.

Pain in her left ankle intensified as she put
weight on it.
God, don’t let it be broken,
That would surely
wipe out any escape options.

“You can go a little faster than that,” he
mocked. “Jess is waiting for you.”

Chapter 63

When the lock on Jess’s prison door finally
gave to her touch, she was covered with sweat even though she was
just as cold and naked as before.

She sucked in her breath, upper teeth biting
into lower lip, then inched open the door. Hearing no approaching
footsteps, she poked her head out into an open area bordered by a
railing. As she crept out of the room, she found herself on a
balcony overlooking the first floor of the building. A floor board
creaked. She froze at the sound of voices coming from below.

As Jess leaned cautiously over the second
story railing, a wave of dizziness unsettled her. She clutched the
railing for support as the scene below wiped out her hope of
escape. Although the lighting was dim and her vision still blurred,
she instantly recognized Rogart. His back to her, he held Diana at
bay with a rifle. Fearing Diana would look up and give her position
away, Jess staggered back. The whole scene seemed unreal. A set
from a horror movie. A nightmare from which she’d wake. Or
wouldn’t.

Feeling her legs rapidly turning to rubber,
Jess sank quietly to the floor. She could hear Diana trying to talk
her way out of an impossible situation. Only Jess was sure that
Diana had no idea what lay upstairs. She sounded too calm.

“Think about it, Darren. What’s it going to
do to your kids when you’re arrested again?”

“What makes you think I’ll be arrested?”

Jess crept back toward the railing on all
fours and peeked down. Rogart’s back was still to her, but she
could imagine a smirk on his face.

“I’ve told people where I was going. A number
of people. They know where to look for me,” replied Diana. “You
don’t want to do this.”

“This what?” he mocked.

“Your kids need you,” continued Diana. “It’s
not too late to let Jess and me go. You’ve been through a lot. I’m
sure a judge would take that into consideration.”

“You know you don’t believe any of that,”
said Rogart. “Besides, Lori won’t need me much longer.”

Jess watched fear steal through the veneer of
confidence on Diana’s face as she asked, “Why not?”

Rogart laughed. “She’s a little beauty, isn’t
she?” he said. “I’ll harvest her soon. Didn’t want to do it without
letting her know the carnal pleasures. Why do you think I let Shane
have her?”

As Rogart slipped momentarily from Jess’s
view, a surge of bright light nearly blinded her. Was this what
people see when they die? Was she dying?

No. She could still hear Rogart’s voice. “Now
you see how stupid your words are,” he said.

Sanity teetered back. He’d obviously turned
on a light and was showing Diana something, but Jess couldn’t
imagine what could rival the upstairs horror.

Whatever it was wiped away Diana’s
pseudo-civility as she lunged at Rogart. He easily knocked her to
the floor with the rifle butt. “Didn’t learn your lesson yet?” he
asked.

Pulling herself to a standing position, Jess
gauged the distance to the floor below. She fingered the small
scalpel still clutched in her left hand. Unless she instantly hit a
vital spot with the knife, it wouldn’t put much of a dent in him.
Could she slow him down long enough to get hold of the rifle? Could
she even use it in her weakened state?

As Rogart aimed a kick at Diana’s cowering
body, Jess eased herself over the top of the railing. At that
moment, her eyes met Diana’s. Rogart whirled and looked upward as
Diana’s stifled scream warned him an instant before Jess leapt. She
landed on his chest, knocking the rifle from his grasp. But when
she tried to drive the scalpel into his throat, her arms felt like
jelly. She only managed to get in a superficial cut to the side of
his neck before he threw her off. She landed with a thump and a
clatter against a hard surface in the area under the balcony, then
slumped to the floor amid shards of breaking glass. Searing pain
tore through her shoulder as a sharp fragment pierced it.

Her eyes found what Rogart had shown Diana,
the source of the glass: Three display cases decorated the area
under the balcony. Two of them contained wax-like figures of nude
women in provocative poses. The third case had broken with the
impact of her body. A drum and animal skins tumbled from an African
diorama.

Jess rose and stumbled toward Diana, moving
as though through thick molasses. Running out of adrenalin.

“Jess, get out of the way!” Diana commanded
in a voice Jess barely recognized. Through hazy consciousness, she
saw that something had changed.

Now Diana held the rifle.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph! She’ll never be able
to use it. She can’t even squash a bug without wincing.

Jess moved back. Not quick enough. Rogart
grabbed her, thrusting her between Diana and himself. One of his
arms folded roughly over her face, while the other twisted her
injured shoulder. The pain was like none she’d ever felt.

Her brain and body fast going to mush, Jess
summoned everything she had left. She forced open her jaw, feeling
the hairs on his arm graze her lips. His smell, mingled with her
own scent, made her forget the pain for an instant as anger took
over. She bit down with all her remaining strength.

*****

With a roar of pain, Rogart threw Jess from
him. Diana watched her friend, now bleeding profusely from the
shoulder wound, crumple like a rag doll.

At least Jess wasn’t in the African diorama
case. The horror of the other two cases twisted surreally in her
brain.

Then Rogart came toward her. “Put the gun
down, Diana.” No artificial smile to hide behind now, he looked
every bit the monster he was.

Diana raised the rifle to her shoulder as she
backed away, her resolve still a slippery slope. The contents of
the diorama cases held her attention in a paralyzing grip. Brandi
Rogart was certainly the woman in the Native American setting.
Don’t look at them. Keep your eyes on Rogart.

“Won’t do any good,” he scoffed. “It’s not
loaded.” He’d gotten a hold of his bravado again, back in Darren
mode. “Why do you think I hit you with it instead of shooting
you?”

She guessed he’d never have come out after
her with an unloaded weapon. But, being Rogart, he just might have.
Just for that extra thrill.

Cycle the goddamn breach, Diana.
Daddy’s voice in her memory’s ear.

She did.

One cartridge, one shot, one kill.

She snapped it closed with a crack, then
returned it to the ready as Rogart moved toward her, in no hurry,
as if he had all the time in the world. Again she backed away,
yelling, “Stop,” as she got him in the crosshairs. But the gun
shook in her hands. Even braced against her shoulder. Her entire
body trembled. Rogart couldn’t fail to see it.

“Or you’ll what?” he asked, his tone mocking
her. But he did stop, as if weighing the chances of her actually
firing. She watched a smile steal over his face. Apparently he
determined that she would not.

Then he took a step forward as her finger
curled around the trigger. Rage consumed her, and in its heat she
felt the trembling subside.

Squeeze, don’t jerk, dammit!

Yes, Daddy. This one’s for you.

Epilogue

Brookvale, Colorado

Afternoon sun reflected off aspen leaves
turns them to myriad gold coins dancing in a cool September breeze.
Brookvale teems with people attending the dedication of the Brandi
Flannigan Memorial Wildlife Museum.

Evergreen’s favorite resident artist, Arlette
Cruz-Ramos, abandoned her death wish when she donated the entire
town in memory of Rogart’s murdered wife. Arlette has convinced the
authorities that neither she nor her houseman, Roy, were knowing
accessories to Rogart’s diabolical plan.

The feds found the knife used to kill Larry
Strickland among Rogart’s many trophies and also tied it to the
murder of Shane Cutler. Now the lodge contains only exhibits of
animal specimens. The intact human victims were laid to rest by
their loved ones, but it will be months before forensic efforts can
identify the rejects whose ashes filled Rogart’s crematorium.

*****

Diana, in burnt-orange suede, holds Winston
Bell’s arm as he helps her over a fallen tree. They continue on
toward picnic tables bordered by a stream made immobile by an early
freeze. The record cold has loosened its grip, granting a reprieve
for this special occasion.

Jess trails behind them, hand-in- hand with a
studious type who looks a tad younger than she. “Sorry we’ve got to
split,” says Jess. “I’ve got classes in the morning.”

The women hug briefly and the men look at
each other, neutrally at best.

“She’ll get her J.D. yet,” whispers Diana to
Winston as Jess and her new boyfriend move away toward the parking
lot.

“She’s finally growing up,” says Winston,
sounding more like Jess’s wise old uncle than ex-lover.

“Have you met the guy before?” asks Diana.
“He seems like a nice contrast, doesn’t he?”

Winston’s low laughter gurgles up. “No to the
first. Yes to the second. He sure is
white.
”

Nervous laughter erupts from Diana. “That’s
not what I meant. Personalities. He’s Mister Conservative. What
could be more of a contrast?”

“That he’s white,” replies Winston. Diana is
sure that she catches a twinkle in his eye.

They move on, choosing an empty table,
farthest from the group of people that now spills from the lodge.
“I thought the dedication went well,” says Winston. “Joe and Rena
will bring the kids some day, but today wasn’t the right time.”