His footsteps crunched as he approached. Smoke thickened the cave’s atmosphere as if it came with him.
“Okay, girlie.”
Did she actually hear glee in that eerie distorted voice?
“Look here what I got for you.”
He circled near and stopped in front of her, this time directing the flashlight toward the ground rather than shining it in her eyes. In his other hand he held a stick that was about a foot long and a quarter inch around. He poked it forward, the end aglow with a red ember. Smoke spiraled off, wafting up to the cave’s ceiling.
This is how he burned and tortured Willie.
He still wore the horrible mask. Maybe he hated the stench of burning flesh.
“Wait,” she said. “I thought of something I should tell you about Ramona.”
“What?” He sounded disappointed. She was certain that it was cat-and-mouse play he was after now, rather than information.
“Ramona had a sister that came to see us. She—” Mattie faked a spasm of coughing, which wasn’t too hard considering the amount of smoke in the cave.
“What sister?”
She continued to cough, drawing up her knees. Between coughs, she sputtered, acting out an attempt to speak.
He leaned down, and she lashed out with the piece of shale, aiming for his neck. She felt it connect.
Gagging noises came through the mask, and he dropped the flashlight to grab at his throat. The flashlight tumbled and rolled, making the cave walls pinwheel around her dizzy head.
She stayed low to the ground. With the speed of a one-two punch, she recoiled and aimed lower—this time at his crotch.
The shale connected somewhere on his lower torso, and the mask on his face hissed with his sharp intake of breath. Bellowing with rage, he struck the back of her hand with his fist, knocking the shale out of her grasp.
Her hand stinging from the blow, she stayed on her side, drew back her right leg and kicked him as hard as she could on the ankle.
He stumbled, thrusting the burning stick at her like a blade. She raised her forearm to block her face, and the hot poker stabbed it, leaving a burning sting on her arm.
She didn’t dare let him close in on top of her; she could never fend off someone his size. Rising up on one arm, she pushed herself backward about foot, dragging the bola with her.
Using a backhand swing, he whipped the hot poker toward her face. Instead of backing away, she ducked under and dove for his legs. With the heel of her hand, she popped a straight-arm punch to the front of his left knee, hoping to hyperextend it. He howled, kicking at her ineffectively with his right leg as his left knee buckled.
Grasping the end of the bola, she swung it sideways and forward, wrapping it around both legs. She yanked the rope, and he went down, landing on his back. Air whooshed through the speaker on the mask as the wind got knocked out of him.
She’d lost both weapons and played her ace in the hole. Time to escape. The cave spun around her, and she couldn’t hold on much longer.
Grabbing a stone in one hand, she scrambled on hands and feet to get past him. Just when she thought she could make it to the cave’s opening, he grabbed her by the ankle and dragged her toward him. Flipping onto her back, she allowed him to pull her closer, cocking her other leg at the knee while the sharp rocks on the cave’s floor bit into her back.
When she felt she was close enough, she let loose with the most powerful kick she could muster and planted her shoe in the middle of that horrid mask, smashing it into his nose. She bent forward at the waist and whacked him on his bare head with the stone she still held.
He grunted, released her ankle, and she scooted backwards out of his reach. She’d stunned him, but he wasn’t out.
Pumped with adrenaline, Mattie scrambled away on hands and knees and then rose up on two feet, lunging for the mouth of the cave and the open forest that now symbolized life and freedom—if only she could reach it.
She used the cave wall for support and stumbled along, gaining momentum while her captor roared. As she reached the cave’s opening, she heard him regain his feet and charge toward her.
A huge fire blazed on the right, sparks popping ten feet into the air. Run, run, run, her mind screamed, and she turned left toward the shelter of the dense, black forest. She sprinted away, dodging boulders that littered the cave’s entry. Her only hope was to get deeper into the trees where she could hide.
A gust of wind caromed downslope, slamming into her. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted her captor at the mouth of the cave, his flashlight beam swinging back and forth, searching for her. He turned off the light, and she wondered if the mask provided night vision, perhaps the reason that he’d kept it on.
The whomp-whomp-whomp of a helicopter resounded from high overhead—too high to offer help. She ran as fast as she could for the shelter of the forest.
THIRTY-TWO
When Cole and Lawson arrived at the fork in the trail, they met Brody and two posse members, Garrett Hartman and Frank Sullivan, grim-faced men with determination etched on their faces. As they approached, Cole could hear Brody check in with McCoy on the satellite phone, telling him they’d arrived.
Robo bounded ahead to greet Brody, stopping at the end of the retractable leash. The leash had caused problems at first on the ride up, and Cole had been at his wits’ end, not wanting to entangle Mountaineer’s legs but fearful of losing Robo in the wilderness. Finally, Robo had understood that he was expected to follow, and he’d kept his place in their lineup. Until he spotted Brody. Cole figured the dog hoped he’d find Mattie with the chief deputy.
Brody returned Robo’s greeting, thumping his side with a few pats. Sure enough, the dog looked beyond him toward the others, sniffing, searching for Mattie’s scent.
“I’m glad to see he’s none the worse for wear,” Brody said, looking up at Cole. “This is bad business, Doc.”
“It is that.” Cole nodded at Garrett and Frank, standing hunched in the moonlight, their Stetsons pulled low and tight against the wind roaring through the pine trees. He projected his voice to speak over the noise. “Agent Lawson just heard from the helicopter.”
Lawson filled in the details. “Because of the wind, the chopper needs to pull out and go back to base. They got in one pass before having to turn around, and they spotted a large campfire about a mile north of the backside of the ridge. I’ve got the estimated coordinates.”
“This trail leads straight up to the top of the ridge, but it ends too far south to get to where we need to go,” Cole said. “The campfire is farther north. Does anyone know an alternate route to get from here to the north side?”
“There’s a game trail that heads north just beyond this fork,” Garrett said. “It crosses some rugged country through a couple ravines, but I’ve hunted in there before. It can be done.”
“There’s another trail that leads to the north side, the Balderhouse off Soldier Canyon Road,” Brody said. “Does anyone know the trail I’m talking about?”
Cole and the posse members acknowledged that they did.
Brody pulled a gadget from his coat pocket, evidently a GPS unit. “What are those coordinates?”
Lawson told him while Brody tapped them in.
“Here we go. It looks most likely he took the Balderhouse trail to get to this position. We need to split up and cover the lower part of the trail, too, in case we estimate wrong.” Brody turned to Garrett and Frank. “Upon the orders of Sheriff McCoy, I’m going to swear you posse members in as special deputies. Do you accept the duties assigned to you by me and will you use anything within your means including lethal force to protect and serve, and to apprehend the person who is holding Deputy Cobb? Say I do.”