Vendetta (25 page)

Nausea swept through her as he spoke. This was the closest she'd ever been to her sister's abductor, and yet she still hadn't found him.

“He confessed some things to me one day. Told me things he said he'd never told another soul. That's when I found out his connection to you. Eventually, he helped me plot my revenge.” Cooper rubbed his hands together, as if the cold were beginning to affect him. “I lost track of him eventually. I was transferred to another prison and he . . . I'm honestly not sure what happened to him.”

He scooped up a fallen branch and tossed it into the trees before turning back to her. “It must be a horrid feeling, not knowing what's happened to someone you care about. Not knowing if she's alive or dead. Or what he did to her. I suppose I'm lucky in that way. At least I know what happened to my brother.”

Nikki pressed her hands against her temples. “Tell me what you want from me.”

“For now? I want you to understand what I went through all these years. Suffering the way I did. I thought you deserved to remember what it's like to lose someone. To remember how it felt when you first saw that Polaroid of your sister. It was a nice idea he had, I thought. Leaving a bit of a personal touch behind at every crime scene.”

“Do you actually think I have to be reminded of how I felt that day? I think of Sarah every single day.”

“I know.” He pulled a Polaroid camera from his backpack. “I bought this on eBay a few months ago. They don't make these anymore, you know, but I thought you would appreciate the touch.”

“You're planning to take my photo, then kill me. Just like he would have.”

Cooper aimed the camera at her and pushed the button. The flash went off. A few seconds later, he pulled the photo from the camera and dropped the blackened card into her lap. The image of her face slowly emerged. The determination in her eyes . . . and the fear.

“That,” he said, dropping the camera back into his backpack, “depends on you.”

Nikki could see it in his eyes as he grabbed her arm and pulled her up. Pain shot through her shoulder. Only one of them was going to get out of here alive. If she was going to make a move, it would have to be now, before darkness settled over the mountainside.

“We need to keep moving now that the weather has cleared up a bit,” Cooper said.

“Where are we going?”

“You ask too many questions.” He reached for his backpack, still holding his weapon.

Nikki didn't stop to consider the risks. While he turned away from her to pick up the backpack, she raised her hands above her head as high as she could, ignoring the searing pain in her shoulder, then slammed her bound hands downward as hard as she could, her elbows on either side of her hips.

The duct tape snapped in two.

Before he could react, she reached for his gun. He tried to stop her, but she was quicker this time. She grabbed the barrel of the gun and pushed it toward him, rolling it against his thumb and twisting his wrist. Cooper groaned in pain as she forced him to his knees. The weapon was now facing him. She
wrapped her fingers over the bottom of his hand, but he wasn't done fighting. He jerked her toward the ground in one swift movement. The gun fired. Cooper slumped over onto his side, a frozen look of surprise on his face.

No . . . no . . . no . . .

Ears still ringing, she removed the magazine and tossed the gun aside while blood seeped through his clothes. She unzipped his coat and pulled it back from where the bullet had struck. Tears slid down her cheeks. She'd expected him to fight back. Hadn't she? Knew he believed he had nothing to lose. But it wasn't supposed to have come to this. Her life over his.

Just like with his brother.

A light rain began to fall again as she breathed in the smell of gunpowder. She reached for his backpack, unzipped it. She found a wool blanket in the front, pulled it out, and pressed it against the wound to stop the bleeding.

“Funny how nothing has changed.” Cooper's voice broke as he spoke. “Special Agent Boyd, I was wrong. You win. Again.”

She shook her head. “No one won today. And none of this brings back your brother.”

He grabbed her hand, his fingers tightening against her wrist. “It was never about that. It was always about revenge. About making things right. But I ended up being the fool, didn't I?”

“All I know is that none of this had to happen,” she said.

He choked, and blood ran down his chin. “Yes, it did.”

But it didn't. She hadn't taken this job to take lives. She wanted to save them.

“I never meant to kill your brother,” she said, praying for a miracle as she pressed harder against his side, but the blood had already soaked through the blanket and was beginning to pool against the hard earth. His face paled. Breath was rapid and shallow . . . She was losing him.

I'm so sorry, God
. . . so sorry . . .

“He never would have shot you or your partner.” Cooper coughed. “He just . . . he just made a mistake.”

A mistake that cost him his life.

But while Cooper might not make it, there was still a chance for Bridget. If she was still alive, they needed to find her.

“Cooper . . . Tell me where Bridget is. She doesn't need to die.”

His eyes had shut, and he wasn't responding.

“Cooper, I need you to listen to me.” She shook him. “Tell me where Bridget is. Please.”

He groaned, then opened his eyes. “I planned to kill her. To . . . bury her like the Angel Abductor, but I . . .”

“Tell me . . . please . . . Where is she?”

He closed his eyes again. “Find her, because my brother . . .”

She was losing him . . . the only link she had to finding Bridget.

Nikki sat back on her heels as his head slumped to the side. She checked his pulse. It was too late. He was gone, and the information to save Bridget had gone with him.

She slumped onto the ground beside him. Revenge had cost him everything . . . including his life. She zipped up his vest, then stopped. The grenade was still inside his backpack. She drew in a quick breath. If someone or something happened to stumble upon it before the authorities came . . .

Slowly, she reached inside the backpack and pulled it out. The pin still held the safety lock, stopping the trigger lever from opening and detonating the fuse. She set it down carefully beside her, then reached for the duct tape in the side pocket of the backpack where she'd seen him put it. Pulling off a large piece, she wrapped it around the grenade, firmly securing the pin in place.

Deciding that the safest place to keep the grenade was off the ground, she dug into his pack again until she found a scarf. A minute later, she'd secured the grenade to the branch of a tree, high enough off the ground, she prayed, that no animal or person would find it. Hopefully, she'd be able to lead the
rangers back to the site to find Cooper's body as well, but she couldn't think about that right now.

Wind whipped around her, chilling her through her wet clothes. Lightning danced across the darkening sky. Cooper might be dead, but for her, this night was far from over. The storm still hovered above her, but even if the weather let up, finding her way in the dark was going to be impossible. And with the temperatures dropping, she could easily be at risk from hypothermia. It didn't have to be freezing to suffer from the effects of exposure, even at fifty degrees Fahrenheit or higher in wet and windy weather. And this time of year, the temps could easily drop below that.

But most importantly, she needed to find a way to let someone know Bridget was alive.

She unzipped Cooper's pack completely and began taking an inventory of its contents, not only for anything that might help her stay warm but also for any more weapons. She laid the items out beside her, searching first of all for a phone, a radio, or anything that could help her contact the authorities.

He'd implied he planned to disappear. Which meant there was no cell phone to trace. And he knew these mountains, which meant no need of a GPS.

What do I do,
God?

She kept pulling out items. He'd clearly been prepared to stay in these mountains. A Swiss Army knife and a first aid kit. A flashlight, a slim mummy bag, and a packet of trail food. A raincoat, extra socks, gloves, and a fire starter kit. And her service weapon. She checked to ensure the safety was on, then slid it back into her holster. A minute later, she'd finished repacking the bag. But she had no idea where she was. Or where to go.

Rain pelted against the side of her face as the wind picked up. The sun slid behind the horizon while the last light of day was swallowed up by the forest surrounding her. Something rustled behind her. Nikki jumped at the sound. It could be
anything. Bears, coyotes, wolves . . . She flipped on the flashlight and shone the beam into the darkness. But there was nothing there. Only her nerves playing tricks on her.

She turned around and took a step away from Cooper's body. The adrenaline rush of rappelling down the side of the cliff had always exhilarated her, but this—everything that had happened today—had brought with it feelings of pure terror. She shivered, turning around 360 degrees while wondering which direction she should go. Or whether she should simply stay there. The trees would provide shelter. She had the sleeping bag and an extra raincoat. She was so cold . . . and so tired.

And heading out into these woods only risked getting more lost. Her father used to tell her
a clear head will find itself
. And that if she ever got lost while they were hiking, she needed to stop, stay calm, and stay put.

She reached for her holster. She had a weapon. She had what she needed to start a fire. Which meant she wasn't completely out of options. Five minutes later, she'd gathered as much dry wood as she could find and had started a fire beneath the shelter of a tree. She pulled out the sleeping bag, trying to ignore the coyotes' howls in the distance, slid inside, and started praying. For Bridget, for her own safety, and for the numbing diversion of sleep.

Nikki woke up to darkness. Someone was shaking her shoulders. Calling her name. She fought to escape the heavy layer of sleep that had settled over her and the fingers gripping her shoulders. She pulled away, then tried to scramble backward in the confining sleeping bag. She reached for her gun beside her. She needed to run. Needed to get away from the scent of death that clung to her. What if Cooper wasn't really dead? If he found her again, this time he
would
kill her.

“Nikki . . . Nikki, stop. It's Tyler. Give me the gun.”

Tyler? How had he found her?

She stopped fighting when she caught sight of his face in the beam of a flashlight. Flickers of memories surfaced. Cooper with a grenade. Chasing her through the woods. The gun going off. Cooper dying . . .

“He's dead,” she said, looking into Tyler's eyes. She couldn't make herself care. The only thing she felt was numbness.

“We found his body,” Tyler said, taking the weapon from her, “but I need to make sure you're okay. There's blood all over you.”

She unzipped the sleeping bag and wiped her hands against her clothes, still trying to find her equilibrium. She was covered with blood. How had she not noticed?

“It's his blood.” Her voice broke as the numbness began to fade. She looked up. Cooper was moving toward her in slow motion. Grenade in hand. A smirk on his face. He was going to kill her.

“Nikki?”

Cooper's image vanished.

“I shot him,” she said.

“You did what you had to do,” Tyler said. “Everything is going to be okay now. Can you get up?”

She nodded. “I think so. Bridget's alive. We've got to find her.”

“Cooper told you that?” Gwen asked.

“Yes.”

“He could have been lying,” Tyler said.

“No. He was telling the truth.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“I know she was never in the park, but he would have had to hide her nearby. If he has a piece of property, a close friend . . . We need to find her.”

“Okay,” Gwen said. “I'll radio in the information and get a couple officers searching for that information right now.”

She let Tyler help her up. Gwen was standing in front of her,
holding a warm blanket. Anderson, Simpson . . . they were all there, along with a couple more uniformed officers she didn't recognize.

“It's good to see you alive, Special Agent Boyd,” Anderson said. “Though I've decided you're as much a magnet for trouble as Jack is for yellow jackets.”

She shot him a weak smile. “All I know is that it's good to be alive.” She pointed to the scarf in the tree, where she'd hung the grenade, the ends of the red strip blowing in the gusty wind. “The grenade. I put it up in the tree. I didn't want anyone to stumble across it . . .”

Tyler pressed his hands against her shoulders. “They'll take care of it, Nikki. They'll take care of everything.”

“He's right,” Anderson said.

“We're just all glad you're okay.” Gwen wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. “We came in by helicopter. Do you think you can walk out of here? It's not too far.”

“Yeah. But what about Jack?” she asked. If he was dead . . .

“It's a miracle,” Gwen said, “but that boy's tougher than you think. He's already out of surgery, and the doctors believe he'll make a full recovery.”

“And Lopez?”

“Some hikers found him disoriented but alive, with a huge goose egg on the back of his head,” Tyler said.

They started back through the darkness by the light of their flashlights. Officers were processing the scene. Taking photos and gathering evidence at the place where she'd killed a man. No matter what Cooper had done, she hadn't wanted to take another life. Maybe there hadn't been any other options, but that didn't stop the collision of her moral beliefs and the reality of what had happened.