US Marshall 01 - Cold Ridge (23 page)

The shot had been close enough that Carine had felt its concussion, as if the air around her was compressed, the oxygen sucked out of it by the velocity of the gun burst. Itwassounexpected,sostartling,she'dalmostscreamed, and ended up biting the inside corner of her mouth.

Turner didn't have her. In fact, he'd slipped out of the warming hut and was moving around back, near her position in the trees. She was cold-no hat, no gloves, just her barn coat. At least she was basically out of the wind.

"Carine," Turner said softly, dried leaves crunching under him, "I know you're here. I have a soft spot for you. Join me. You didn't know about North's trust fund, did you? We can get away from here. I won't hurt anyone if you come with me."

Maybe North had a trust fund, maybe he didn't, but she didn't believe Turner planned to do anything but shoot her the first chance he got. Either he really was losing his grip on reality or he was just pretending to, toying with her, manipulating her. She sank low behind a low-branching white pine. If she moved, he'd hear her-she couldn't see him, but she knew he was close.

"I'm sick. I have cancer. It's all through me. No one's fault."

If true.

"It gives me perspective." His voice was eerily calm, almost toneless. "I know what I want before I die. Who I want to see die first. But I'd give that up if I could spend my last days with you."

She stiffened to keep herself from shivering with fear, the cold. She didn't dare look around the tree, make even the slightest sound.

"Tony-Louis-and I had a good thing going. I planned to live out my last months in style. I had a wife." His voice cracked. "The smuggling was to help set her and her idiot brother up for the future."

Carine had no choice but to let him talk. If he was talking-hunting her-he wasn't shooting anyone else. But had he seen her, heard her? Was he just playing with her before he pounced?

"Jodie Rancourt took up with Louis a year ago, before you took the pictures of our base of operations. She knew he was up to something, but she liked the sense of danger, the risk. She let us try out her and her husband's expensive guns."

Good God, Carine thought, wishing she had a tape recorder.

"He had them for show," Turner said as he crept around in the woods to her right, nearer the Rancourt house. "Louis wanted to kill you. I stopped him. I wanted to get the camera, make sure there were no incriminating pictures and make sure you were too scared to talk. Then the PJs and Hank Callahan showed up on the scene. I had to cut my losses."

She spotted him in the trees, up on the hill above her, still to her left, but if she stayed where she was, he'd see her. She picked up her rock and eased around the other side of her pine, making relatively little noise in the bed of red-brown pine needles. She hit grass, then quickly slipped into the back door of the hut.

Maybe it was what he'd planned all along. Corner her. Shoo her into the hut with Eric and Hank.

Eric was in the corner, sobbing and choking for air. Carine knelt down, setting the rock on the floor next to her, and quickly undid the bungee cords around the boy's wrists and ankles. "You heard your dad out there, right?"

The boy nodded. "He-he only tied me up this morning." But talking was clearly difficult for him, and once free, he immediately grabbed his inhaler, then sagged and threw it down. "None left."

"Look-sit tight," Carine said. "I'm going to untie Hank. Turner's outside looking for me. Maybe your dad and Tyler will intercept him."

She quickly ran to the front of the hut, where Hank was bound and gagged next to the small potbellied woodstove. Carine pulled the gag.

"Eric-he's going out the back. If Turner sees him-" Hank sat up straighter. "Go after him, Carine. I'll be okay."

He was bound with thin rope, the knots pulled tight. She tugged at them, trying to stretch the rope. "I can't get them without a knife."

"Go!"

She could hear Turner out front, stepping onto the ground-level porch. "What the fuck's going on in there?"

"We're out of time," Hank hissed.

She ducked down and ran toward the back of the hut, diving outside and down behind a woodbox next to the door. Eric was up by her pine tree, but he didn't stay put. He made a mad dash up the hill, into the woods, thrashing through the dried leaves.

Carine took a breath, pretending she was the one making the noise. "Gary," she said. "I told everyone you weren't trying to kill me that day last fall. The shack- you set it on fire?"

He was inside, moving toward her position. "I had to burn down the evidence. Manny Carrera was almost there-"

"He would have waited for the police. He was unarmed."

"I couldn't take that chance."

"What happened?"

"My wife was there. She tried to talk me out of burning everything down. She didn't want to give up. She and Tony Louis-they thought we could kill all of you."

He kicked at something on the floor just inside the door, probably Eric's bungee cords. "They were right. I should have listened. The explosion and fire killed her. I watched the woman I love burn to death."

"I'm sorry, but why didn't anyone find her body?"

"I buried her in the woods, before the ground froze. She didn't die right away, but I couldn't take her to the hospital. Louis ran-Jodie Rancourt helped him. I don't know if she guessed who he was then, knew it all along. I hid in the woods for weeks. I got a skin infection. Frostbite. I lost my fingers, a couple of toes."

"I'm sorry." She held her rock, wondering if he'd come outside and she could bonk him on the head before he shot her. "But hurting people because you're hurting-that's not your way. I can tell."

"I don't expect you to understand. It'll feel good to see those bastards go before I do. They think they can do anything."

He was out the back door, two feet from her. She didn't dare breathe.

"Are you armed, Carine?" he asked in a conversational tone. "The boy won't last. There was peanut oil in the energy bar I made him eat a little while ago. He doesn't know. He's deathly allergic to peanuts.

"North! Carrera!" It was Hank, yelling from inside the hut. "Eric's free. Turner's going after Carine. I'm setting this place on fire. I'm his only hostage."

Turner spun around. "What? Goddamn it-"

The sound of crashing metal-the potbellied stove- came from the hut, Hank still yelling information, instructions. Carine shot out from her woodbox cover and beaned Turner with her rock and ran, darting up the hill into the woods. He swore viciously, and she glanced back, seeing him down on one knee, grabbing his head where she'd hit him. He hadn't dropped his rifle.

She knew she'd only bought herself a few seconds.

But she could smell smoke. Hank had set the hut on fire, presumably creating a diversion-confusion, chaos-for Manny and Ty to act.

Carine zigzagged up the hill from tree to tree, trying to pick up Eric's trail and stay out of Turner's sight. Had he gone back into the hut to grab Hank? He wouldn't want to lose his only hostage.

But if he had, it wasn't for long.

She could hear him down the hill, behind her in the woods.

North and Manny had made it to the trees just below the hut when Hank decided to set the goddamn place on fire.

"Carrera, North-go after Turner!"

But the fire would spread rapidly-smoke was already pouring out of the front door. No way would they leave Hank in there to burn to death.

Without discussion, North ran, Manny with him. Automatically, Manny ducked to one side of the front door, Ty covering his mouth as best he could and bursting inside, crouched down as he grabbed Hank and dragged him out. Manny took over, throwing Hank over his shoulder and running a few yards back down the hill, dumping him behind a boulder.

Ty coughed, but he hadn't inhaled that much smoke. He dove behind the boulder and glanced back. Flames were eating up the wall where the woodstove had been. Hank wouldn't have stood a chance.

Manny got a knife from North's med kit and quickly cut the ropes on Hank's feet and hands. He was coughing up soot, his lips and cheeks swelling.

"Looks like you singed most of the hair off your face," Ty said. "Eyebrows, eyelashes. That's going to look good on TV."

"I'll be okay." Hank winced in pain, pushed North's hand away when he started to dig in his med kit." Go after Turner. Intercept him before he gets to Carine and Eric."

Ty had already thrust a tube of burn ointment at him. "This hut's going to keep burning. Stay clear of it."

Hank hissed irritably. "Jesus Christ, I know. I hope I bought Carine enough time. He's gone after her. He knew you'd storm the place once the fire started, and he wouldn't have a chance against all three of us."

"Eric?" Manny asked.

"He's not in good shape. He used the last of his inhaler. He tried-"

North checked a lump on Hank's forehead. "What'd you do, jump the woodstove?"

"Turner hit me on the way up here. He wants Carine dead as much as he does us. Maybe more. She took the pictures last fall, she turned him down on his offer of the good life together-and Eric. Turner'll use him if he has to. He wants revenge. We ruined his life. He'll ruin ours."

North got to his feet. "No one knows these mountains better than Carine."

"Cold, fear, an uphill climb-Eric's going to collapse." Manny's head was bleeding through the bandage and had to be pounding, but Ty knew he wasn't going to stop. "Go, North. Pick up his trail. Don't let me slow you down. If I can't keep up, don't count on me."

Hank coughed and spat black soot. "I'll meet the police when they get here and get a rescue team in place. Gus?"

"Banged up pretty good. He's down by the stone wall."

"I'll hook up with him. If you see this guy-he's done playing games. He wants to kill someone. Don't take any chances."

Carine thought she'd gone too far and must have bypassed Eric somewhere down on the trail. She made the last, steep burst onto the main ridge trail, but kept going, not daring to call him.

Although she was still below the treeline, the wind was blowing hard, the temperatures dropping, the cold penetrating her barn coat and freezing her ears. She couldn't imagine Eric in his sweatshirt. What if he'd fallen? What if he'd collapsed? But she couldn't think about that-she had to keep moving, find him, stay ahead of Turner, hide from him.

She ducked on and off the trail, trying to stay within cover of trees or boulders, intensely aware she was unprepared for the conditions. But Eric had spent the night in the cold hut, kidnapped, terrified, conserving his inhaler as best he could. She could keep moving.

The trail meandered along a section of rock, marked with splashes of blue paint and rock cairns.

And then she saw Eric, collapsed in a patch of grass a few feet off the trail. Carine shot over to him. Fear and determination had gotten him moving fast, but now he was prone, barely breathing as he lay on the cold ground. She glanced around her for Turner, then grabbed the boy and half carried, half dragged him to the base of a fifteen-foot ledge, several stunted fir trees concealing them.

Eric was wheezing, raising his shoulders and lifting his head as hestruggled to get air. She noticed he was blue around the mouth and knew that had to be a dire sign. Carine stemmed her panic and tried to talk to him, but he just mumbled incoherently, ripping her heart out. She thought she remembered that it was easier for an asthmatic patient to breathe sitting up, but her first aid skills were limited. She didn't know if he was suffering more from asthma or an allergic reaction. It seemed to make common sense, however, and she put her arms around his thin shoulders. "Come on," she said, "let's sit you up.

She searched his pockets and found his EpiPen, which she knew was intended to combat a severe allergic reaction, but she wasn't sure how to use it. She slipped off her barn coat and wrapped it around him, hoping that if she could get him warm, maybe he could tell her what to do. Self-management had been key for him. He couldn't have gone to Mount Chester without knowing how to deal with his illness.

But nothing Carine did seemed to help. Eric was laboring to breathe, not even mumbling now. She held him close to her in an attempt to transfer some of her body heat to him-at least they were out of the worst of the wind. She could hear it whistling and howling.

She heard Turner-someone-on the trail nearby.

"You're not armed, Carine."

Turner. Calm. Superior.

"You can't hold out against me. You can't hide."

His voice seemed to be coming from the ledge above where she and Eric were tucked amid the stunted firs. She pulled Eric against the rock wall, in its shadow, where they were less likely to be seen from above. The shallow soil was moist under her. She tried to cover Eric as best she could with her own body and protect him from the elements. But she was cold herself, shivering in her cotton shirt.

Eric gave a rattling, frightening wheeze.

"I hear the kid."

Heartless bastard.

If Turner spotted them, they didn't stand a chance, but Carine knew the area where she and Eric were hiding well. The footing was tricky, deceptive on the ledge. Turner undoubtedly would attempt to track Eric's wheezing-maybe it was something she could use to their advantage.

"Be careful, Gary." She tried to match his tone. "There are places you can get hurt up here. And maybe you've gone up, but your still have to go down. The police, Manny, Tyler and Hank will all be waiting for you.

And Gus. Don't count him out."

"But you'll be dead. You killed my wife."

"You killed your own wife."

"And Louis-"

"You killed him, too. Why? He had you take the pictures of him and Jodie Rancourt so the two of you could blackmail her? You realized what a loose cannon he was?"

"He wanted money. He didn't understand that I had other priorities to see to first."

"But you want money-you did try to blackmail her."

"I wanted it all, Carine. I still do. Money, justice. You."

She could hear him moving on the ledge, trying to find her. As she'd hoped, he was well off the trail, onto one of the most treacherous sections of the ledge. It was one of her favorite spots for taking pictures, but a deceptive growth of stunted balsam made it look like there was proper footing where there was none-she'd almost fallen there herself.

"What if I cooperate with you?" She kept her voice low in an effort to lure him, but not to give away their position completely. "What if I help you get Manny, North and Hank? Three for one. That's not a bad deal."

"What about the boy?"

"He's not doing well. I wouldn't worry about him."

"Tell me where you are."

She debated her next answer, but knew she had to take the chance. "We're down here. At the base of the ledge." Then she spotted him above her, slightly down from her, his rifle raised, but she hoped he still couldn't see her and Eric concealed within the rock and trees. She took a shallow breath. "I can see you, but you can't see me. Be very careful. The footing's tricky up there. You don't want to fall. Do what I say and you'll be okay."

"Fine." He sounded shaky, dubious. "Where to from here?"

Carine knew he didn't believe her. He was doing to her what he'd done to Louis with the pictures-pretend to cooperate, then he'd pounce. She held Eric more closely, feeling how cold he was. He was shivering uncontrollably. He kept raising his shoulders and his head, fighting for air. The sand had run out of the hourglass. She had to get him out of here.

She concentrated on what she had to do. "See the small evergreens? They're balsam firs. Stay out of them. You'll fall. Instead, go backward a few steps and up to your right."

They were the proper instructions, but, just as she'd hoped, he did the opposite and went for the fir trees, losing his footing almost immediately. He swore dropping his rifle as he grabbed onto weak branches that couldn't support his weight. It was a precipitous twenty-foot drop, and he yelled all the way down.

Manny appeared up on the ledge, and Ty bounded out of nowhere, getting to Turner just as he landed five feet from where Carine was hidden with Eric. She heard his head hit rock, then saw him sprawl forward onto his left wrist, which snapped under the impact of his fall. But he was conscious, moving-going for his nine-millimeter in his belt.

Ty kicked him in the head, then swooped in, snatched the handgun and pointed it at Turner. "Hands where I can see them. Don't move."

Turner sneered at him. "Fuck you." But his voice was weak, his head bleeding from where he'd struck the granite, never mind where Ty had kicked him and Carine had earlier pelted him with her rock.

Manny dropped silently onto the rocks next to Carine and collected Turner's rifle, handing it to Ty, then dropping down next to Eric. Carine, shivering herself now, was still holding the boy. "I tried to keep him warm. I didn't know what else to do. Turner told me there was peanut oil in an energy bar he made him eat. I don't know if it's true."

Manny quickly examined his son and injected the epinephrine, then shook his head. "Christ. This isn't just asthma. His epiglottis is inflamed from the peanut oil. His airway's getting obstructed-North, I've got to do a crike."

Ty tossed over his med kit. "Want me to do it?"

Manny shook his head. "I've got it."

He got out what he needed-a small scalpel, gauze, first aid tape, a breathing tube. Carine moved out of the way, but she could see Manny was in trouble. He blinked blood out of his eyes from his own head wound. "Manny…"

Ty, keeping the nine-millimeter leveled on Turner, eased in next to his friend. "Manny. Come on. Your head's a mess. I'll do it."

Manny gave a curt, reluctant nod, not speaking as he stood up and took the guns from Ty, letting him get to work on Eric.

Turner was unconscious, not that Manny took any chances-he kept the gun pointed at him, the rifle cradled in one arm. Carine offered to take the rifle, but he shook his head. "You're shivering. You'll end up shooting someone."

"He wanted us all in the hut. He was going to set fire to it and let us burn to death, set right what he did to his wife last fall. She was badly burned when he blew up the shack and ended up dying. It was an accident. He didn't mean to kill her. He didn't listen to her. She wanted him to shoot us all that day and disappear. That's what he planned to do this time. Kill us all and disappear."

"Better late than never, I guess. Bastard. He tell you all this?"

"Most of it. Some-not in as many words."

By unspoken agreement, she knew, they were trying to focus on something besides Eric's condition, but Manny glanced back as Ty made a small incision in the boy's neck-it bled like crazy, but he quickly stanched the blood with gauze.

"What's a crike?" Carine asked, hoping that talking helped.

"Cricothyroidotomy. It's like a tracheotomy, except you use the cricothyroid space. It opens up the airway. It's a-" Manny paused, swallowing, obviously struggling to control his fear for his son. "It's a simple procedure."

"What happened to your head?"

"Flying rock. Mine got me worse than yours got you last fall." He glanced at her, and she thought he might have tried to smile. "Lucky for you."

Ty inserted a breathing tube into the airway, secured it with tape and packed it with more gauze. "He's got mild hypothermia. We need to get him out of here."

Manny peeled off his coat and covered his son with it, craddling his son against his big body. North took over guard duty, handing his cell phone to Carine. She managed to get hold of Gus, but she was shivering uncontrollably. Her head was fuzzy. She managed to get out the basics of their situation.

"They're stuffing me into an ambulance," Gus said. "A rescue team's on its way on foot."

"Eric's in bad shape. There's no time."

Ty looked at her, his concern for his patient evident. "Tell him we need to get a helicopter up here. Winds are tough, but it'll be okay. They can ask Hank. He'll tell them."

Carine repeated his words to Gus, who grunted at her. "You freezing?"

"More or less."

She clicked off, and Ty eased his leather jacket over her shoulders. "I'm sweating from hoofing it up this goddamn mountain," he said. "You did say you liked a sweaty guy-"

"Covered in wood chips. A key ingredient."

"What if Turner had believed you and did what you said?"

"I had another rock picked out."

"That's the spirit."

She nodded at Turner. "What about him?"

"Broken wrist, concussion. When Manny gets done with Eric, he can hold a gun on Turner and I'll treat him. There's not much I can do."

"Is he-"

Ty read her thoughts. "Nah. He'll live."

She could feel the warmth of his jacket, her shivering slowly subsiding. "He would have killed you, me. Hank. Manny. Eric. Gus. All of us. He waited to get us together, at the right moment-it was like he got satisfaction from manipulating us, playing us."

But Ty didn't answer, edging closer to her. He tucked the nine-millimeter into his waistband and held on to the rifle with one arm, slipping the other around her shoulders. "You need to stay warm. Gus'll have a fit when he sees you up here in cotton. He'll recommend to Fish and Game that you pay for your rescue."