The woman studied Mercy, her green eyes doubtful. “What happened?” she asked again.
Do I tell her? “Gunshot. Two months ago.”
A small measure of respect replaced the doubt. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“I have to find him.”
Anna looked away, indecision flickering as she took in the men as they rehydrated and rested. “I should tell Lou right now.”
“Not until I collapse. Then you can say something.”
“What’s that sound?” asked one of the men.
Then Mercy heard it. An engine.
The sound wasn’t far off and seemed to be coming closer.
“That’s a quad,” said one of the officers.
“Pair up,” Lou ordered.
Mercy and Anna automatically stepped shoulder to shoulder as they drew their weapons, and Lou gestured for them to move ahead. The other pairs of cops were sent in the same direction, sweeping forward but several yards apart.
As they moved, Mercy could hear yelling far ahead. It sounded like cheering. Did someone else find them? An eagerness quickened her steps. The forest thinned, and Mercy spotted a small clearing with a group of giant boulders in the center. Three unknown men on quads were circling the boulders, cheering and yelling obscenities at the rocks. Mercy froze and caught her breath.
They must be Kenneth Forbes’s men.
Each rider had a rifle.
This isn’t good.
She and Anna stopped behind a large pine and looked to Lou. He gestured for them to sit tight. The three pairs of searchers all waited, watching the four-wheelers’ tires send mud flying into the air.
A dog darted out from between the boulders, barking at one of the quads. A thin figure burst out and leaped at the dog, caught it around the belly, and then hauled it back to the shelter of the rocks.
Was that the teenager and his dog?
Truman has to be there too.
Mercy tasted blood as she bit her tongue to keep from calling his name.
The four-wheelers came to a stop, each one on a different side of the huge boulder pile to pin down whoever hid in the rocks. The men dismounted. Mercy could see two of them from her angle. Both carried their rifles, casually aiming them toward the rocks.
“Come out, you little shit!” one yelled at the boulders. “If you don’t get out here now, I’ll shoot your dog first and make you watch as it slowly dies.” Laughter from the other two men filled the clearing. “If you do what I say, you can be shot first so you don’t have to watch.” Peals of laughter again.
“Send out the cop,” another one yelled.
Truman.
Joy and terror shot through Mercy, and she fought to keep her focus. Lou gestured for her and Anna to watch the first man who had spoken. One set of cops moved through the trees and around the clearing to cover the man Mercy couldn’t see. Lou and his partner had the third.
Lou’s suspect aimed his rifle at the rocks and fired twice.
Mercy’s heart stopped, and her fingers tightened on her gun. Did he hit Truman?
“Police! Put down your weapons and get on the ground!” shouted Lou.
Mercy’s man spun around, his rifle pointed at the ground, searching the trees for the location of the shout. She and Anna both had him in their sights, but waited to see if he’d follow orders.
Lou yelled again, his weapon aimed at his suspect. The shooter turned and fired in Lou’s direction.
Several gunshots sounded, and Lou’s suspect fell to the ground, blood flowing from his chest and neck.
At the same time, Mercy’s man threw his rifle to the side and dropped to his stomach in the mud, his hands protecting his head.
Thank God.
No other shots came, and the officers on the other side of the rocks announced that their man was in custody. Mercy and Anna slowly left the trees, their weapons trained on the man covering his head.
As they drew closer, Mercy’s suspect whipped out his hand and lurched for his weapon. Three fast steps put Mercy at his head, her gun pointed at his skull. “Just try it,” she said in a low voice, as anger raced through her. “Your buddy has several holes in his chest. Do you want some too?”
He slowly returned his hand to the back of his head.
Mercy covered Anna as she cuffed the man. Once he was secure, she exhaled and noticed Lou and his partner checking their suspect. Lou looked her way and shook his head. He was dead. She winced in sorrow for the suspect and for the officers who had fired.
Truman. “Truman?” she shouted at the rocks, her weapon trained on the rocky hiding place. I don’t know else who might be in there.
“Mercy?”
His voice lit up every nerve receptor in her body. He’s alive. Anticipation made the gun shake in her icy hands. “Are you hurt?” Her voice cracked as she took careful steps closer to the boulders, wanting to dash between them. “The three men out here are in custody. Are there any more in the area?”
“No, just us.” A familiar tall figure limped out from the rocks, and she lost her breath at the sight of him. His face was thin and covered with two weeks of beard. His clothing and hair were filthy, but he looked stunningly beautiful to her. She holstered her weapon and ran the rest of the way, flung herself at him, and nearly knocked him down, her thigh forgotten. The only thing that mattered was him.
Finally. I’m not letting go.
His arms went around her and he clung tightly, his beard soft against her cheek. And wet. He started to shake, and she moved him to a rock to sit on and nearly crawled in his lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wept, burying his face against her. A moment later he pulled back and put his right hand on her face, eyeing her hungrily. “I can’t believe it,” he muttered over and over.
“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, moving her hands to hold his face. She couldn’t stare at him enough. His face felt foreign yet familiar to her fingertips as they learned the new contours of his sunken cheeks.
“I thought I was too,” he admitted. He moved his hand to her shoulder and frantically rubbed it up and down her arm, his gaze still locked on her face. “I didn’t think I’d ever touch you again.”
His eyes were red and wet, and he continued to quake under her fingers.
“You’re not moving your left arm,” she noticed.
“I think it’s broken.”
The pain he must have suffered.
“Is the rest of you okay?” She pulled back and assessed him.
“Everything is okay now.”
“No, seriously, Truman. Are you hurt somewhere else?”
“I think I had a concussion, and I know I had a fever for a while . . . I’m a bit banged up, but my arm is the worst of it.”
“We’ll get you to a hospital.” She stood, determined to carry him out if she had to, and nearly bumped into a young man directly behind her. A small hound sat next to his feet and showed Mercy its teeth. Anna stood a few yards behind the young man, her weapon holstered, but her hand ready as she kept a careful watch on the teenager.
“Mercy,” said Truman. “This is Ollie. He saved my life.” His voice wavered. “I would be dead if he hadn’t gotten me out.” He straightened his spine and sat up, his eyes widening. “Ollie knows where to find the guys who took me. They are running a—”