“We think Walker’s still in the building,” Moira explained, turning back to the screen. “He hasn’t come out of the entrance and I’ve been switching back there every couple of seconds.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find him.” Marc stood up. “You ladies stay right here. It’s safer that way. And don’t open the door for anyone but me.”
“But . . . will you have to kill him?” Ellen’s voice was shaking. “He doesn’t have a gun.”
“Then there’s no problem. Give me the rifle, Grace.” Marc smiled as Grace handed him the rifle and the extra shells. “Perfect. You loaded the rifle with these?”
“Yes. Did I do something wrong?”
“Not a thing. I don’t want to leave you unarmed, so you keep this one. I’ll run up and get my hunting rifle.”
After Marc had left, Moira clicked the button for his floor and they all watched anxiously for him to appear. Ellen let out a relieved sigh as they saw him crossing the living room floor. “He made it!”
“Thank God!” Grace reached out to grip Moira’s hand tightly. “I don’t know whether he’s brave or foolish, but I’m sure glad I don’t have to go out there again.”
Paul kept the snowmobile on a path across the ridge that roughly paralleled the access road. There were clouds over the moon and the wind whipped up the loose snow to drive it against his face in what felt like needles of ice. He could feel Jayne shivering on the seat behind him and he wished he’d been able to run upstairs to get her parka. Betty’s fur coat was stylish, but no match for warmth.
“Are you all right, honey?” The wind whipped his words away in a blast of freezing air, but Jayne leaned close to him and shouted that she was fine, although she suspected the tip of her nose was already well on its way to turning into an icicle.
The engine of the snowmobile coughed once and started to sputter as it came slowly to a stop. Paul swore in Norwegian again, and got out of the driver’s seat.
“What’s the matter?” Jayne felt her heart beat faster. She hoped nothing was wrong.
“We are out of petrol.”
“Out of gas?” Jayne gave a cry of alarm. “Oh, no.”
Paul patted her shoulder. “It is just that I now must switch to the second tank.”
Jayne gave a sigh of relief as Paul went around to the side of the machine and flipped a switch, then got back on and tried the motor. She could hear it turn over, but it didn’t catch. Not on the second time, or the third, or fourth.
Paul frowned. “I think it is submerged.”
“Flooded,” Jayne corrected him. “What can we do?”
“We must wait until the extra petrol drains out and then it will start.”
Jayne sat for a moment, realizing that all the time they’d saved by cutting over the ridge was being lost now. Then the clouds rolled past the moon and it was bright once more. Jayne was just beginning to feel some hope, it would be easier to travel now that they could see clearly, when she spotted a dark furry shape barreling out of the trees ahead, charging straight at the snowmobile.
“Black bear!” Jayne pulled the gun out of her pocket and steadied it with both hands. “Get behind me, Paul.”
Jayne lined up the sights and fired. Thank God Jack had talked her into taking that firearms safety course after Paul had left! She hadn’t gotten around to buying a gun, but she’d learned how to use six different types of weapons, a forty-five automatic among them.
The bear gave a roar that nearly deafened them and kept right on coming. Jayne was sure she’d hit it, but the bullet must have bounced off its thick skull. She seemed to remember hearing that someone had pumped twenty rounds into a black bear before it had dropped. She had to make every shot count.
Jayne could see the bear’s teeth now, viciously sharp and gleaming in the moonlight. She squeezed off another shot, aiming right into its open mouth, and then another and another. This wasn’t the same as shooting at paper targets. This was real!
She tried to stay calm as she aimed carefully and emptied the magazine. The bear was almost on top of them when it staggered and dropped to the snow.
Paul’s voice was shaking. “I thought we had bought the ranch, honey.”
Jayne was too rattled to correct him. “Just try the engine again. And hurry!”
While Paul tried the engine, Jayne stared at the bear. It was a big one, five hundred pounds at least, with claws twice as long as her fingers and jaws powerful enough to rip a man’s leg right off his body. Black bears were known to be vicious when awakened in the winter, and one half this size could kill with a swipe of its claws. Jayne didn’t know what she’d do if it got up again. The gun was empty. She kept on staring at it, as if she could keep it motionless by the sheer effort of her will.
On the third try, the engine started, and as they sped away Jayne turned to look over her shoulder at the lifeless bundle on the snow, the dark stain of blood spreading beneath it. Then she started to shake. She’d just shot the most dangerous animal in the woods. It could have slaughtered them both, but it was a pussycat compared to the man who was stalking the halls of Deer Creek Condos.
Walker stared out the window, searching for movement in the shadows outside the building. Where the hell was Ellen? He’d rushed up here, hoping to find her before she could do any damage, but the spa was deserted.
He glanced out at the thermometer. Thirty degrees outside and the way the wind was howling past the windows, he was sure she hadn’t gone out for a walk. That meant she was still in the building, but where? She’d taken his forty-five when she’d left and that meant she’d put the pieces together. He had to stop her before she alerted the others or all hell would break loose.
He turned and headed for the stairwell. Even though he had a master key, it would be a waste of time to check out every apartment in the building. Ellen was holed up somewhere, and she’d kill him with his own forty-five rather than turn it over to him. She had courage, a trait he admired, but right now he wished she were a shrinking violet. He loved her, no doubt about that, but he’d been a fool to let down his guard. And while he wasn’t the first to be taken in by a woman, he sure as hell wasn’t going to roll over without a good fight.
Walker was frowning as he pushed open the door to the sixth floor. There was only one way to locate Ellen. He’d find her with Jack’s closed-circuit system and pin her down. There would be time for explanations later, but first he had to get his weapon back one way or the other.
Ellen put her arms around Betty as they watched Marc on the monitor. He’d taken his rifle from the case, an ugly-looking object that reminded Ellen of the ones she’d seen on movie posters, and now he was filling his pockets with clips of ammunition. She didn’t blame Betty for being frightened. She was frightened, too. Why did he have to take so much ammunition if he was just going to find Walker and tie him up?
“It’s all right, Betty.” Ellen tried to calm the poor dear, who was trembling so hard, her teeth were chattering.
“No!” Betty started to cry. “Nice man!”
Ellen patted her shoulder. “Of course he is. Marc is going to help us.”
“He’s got his parka and gloves.” Moira kept them posted. “He must think Walker’s outside. He’d better change his shoes, though. Those sure won’t make it in the snow.”
Grace swiveled around to look at the screen. “Oh, my God! I saw the killer’s feet, down in the menagerie and . . .”
There was a sound of a key in the lock and Moira switched cameras. “It’s Walker! And he’s got a key!”
Ellen’s hands were trembling as she picked up the antique rifle Grace had brought. There was no other choice.