The next thing Devon felt was a noose around his neck, the slipknot tightening. He tucked his chin to his shoulder in an attempt to protect his airway, but it was too late. Vincent slammed him between the shoulders again, and, unable to see, Devon stumbled to catch his balance, elbows jerking wide, the restraints on his wrists holding solid. The slight gap he’d maintained in the noose slipped away as the cord settled tight to his skin, and Devon’s hopes fell.
Vincent had him collared like a damn dog.
His toque was pulled off along with a few strands of hair, pain jolting his already aching head. Vincent stood to one side of him, emotionless.
“Walk. Take me to the caves or I’ll tie you to a tree right here and pull the fucking rope until you’re blue in the face,” Vincent warned.
“Gee, I’d think you didn’t like me or something.” Devon turned and broke trail through the pristine snow. He deliberately walked farther into the meadow than needed to leave a visible trail from the air. Heading to the caves was the only logical choice. He had to keep trying to buy more time. Every moment was one more opportunity for Vincent to fuck up.
Moving was better than simply allowing the man to choke him to death before he even got to use the knife burning a hole in his back pocket.
Devon shook his shoulders and tightened his neck muscles as he walked, thankful that when he relaxed there was a tiny bit more play in the circle. He could draw a full breath again.
He glanced back as he stepped up and over a larger rock. Vincent strode behind him, the rope between them hanging slightly, but Vincent’s fingers were firmly wrapped around the excess length. The gun had vanished.
Choosing which direction to lead Vincent was simple. Devon had been in the Takkakaw caves more times than he could count—it was a favourite training ground for the SAR school. The number of hours he and Alisha had spent wandering in the dark with only their headlamps to guide them had diminished over the past two years while on Lifeline, but there were some things that were etched into his memories. Like the massive free-fall off the trail shortly inside the upper entrance. No way in hell was he leading Vincent anywhere near that. At the lower entrance he had a chance—there was nowhere good to hide a body for at least a few minutes’ walking, not to mention the river and the falls to deal with. Somewhere in the growing darkness Devon would make his move.
He clung to that hope as they marched silently over the meadow, the broad face of the rock wall appearing ahead of them. The falls themselves boomed louder as they approached, the constant descent of water crashing into rocks filling his ears, a mist in the air growing as ice sparkled on the limbs of nearby trees.
They had to descend the final section. Devon was challenged to remain on his feet as he manoeuvred over snow-covered boulders, the mountain walls rising around them as they entered a natural amphitheater where the water foamed up, clouds of vapour and freezing water spray painting the rock shimmering white.
“Why are we going down?” Vincent asked, suspicion thick in his voice.
Devon snapped. “You wanted the cave, you’ve got the bloody cave. Look for yourself, asshole.”
The rope jerked and Devon choked, bending at the waist and shaking frantically to find air.
Vincent spoke softly. “Don’t push me anymore.”
A thin thread of air returned as the noose loosened, and Devon dragged in a breath. He staggered for a pace, then straightened and took another step down toward where they’d have to wade through the river to access the cavern opening.
Runoff was far slower now than in the spring or summer, but the glacier melt never really stopped, the constant moisture of the falls forming into a sparkling cascade of ice in the dead of winter. Devon stepped reluctantly into the shallows, the pounding splash of the cataract covering all other noises. Icy-cold spray coated them both as they edged closer to the mountain, the falls forming a curtain to their right. Rock and water filled the sky as Devon waded forward, thigh deep in the current as the underground stream they were about to follow joined the torrent from above.
He paused as they reached the actual entrance, the warmer air from inside the opening rushing past them bringing the scents of mold and earth along with it. A moment later a light clicked on as Vincent shone the beam into the cave. Devon struggled forward, climbing out of the water onto a relatively dry path with difficulty, his tied hands pulling him off balance.
Now that they were inside, the volume of the crashing falls faded, warping into strange echoes and haunting cries.
“Which way do we go?” Vincent asked. “Never mind. I see it.” He dodged around Devon, the coil of rope in his hands. “This is how this works. You stand here and wait for me. When I get where I want to go I’ll call. If you choose to obey me, I’ll lead you in safely. If not, I’ll jerk you off your feet and push you into the water.”
“Why not push me in now?” Devon would welcome it. None of the pools in this area were deep, but there were holes along the cavern wall he could hide in, and tall stalagmites he could wrap the neck rope around to give himself time to use the knife to get free.
Now that they’d reached the caves, his opportunities were better than in the open—as long as Vincent didn’t shoot him. That option he simply didn’t have a solution for.
Vincent stepped away another pace. “Lana mentioned a place where I could leave you. You’ll never get out, not without gear, but it seems more like something she’d do, doesn’t it? If we’re going with the lovers’ spat. Alisha will be heartbroken when they finally find your body next spring. I’ll be sure to offer lots of sympathy.”
Devon fought the urge to spit on the man. Vincent really thought he had Lana so cowed she wouldn’t call for help when she got free?
Any mistakes Vincent made now only helped Devon. He stood silently as Vincent backed away, then turned to use the headlamp to guide himself along the narrow path at the edge of the water, the noose rope slowly falling from his hands as he moved away.
As soon as darkness closed around him, Devon had his fingers in his back pocket, the switchblade out and pressed to the ropes entangling his wrists. He cut quickly, forcing his breathing to remain calm, watching the light Vincent carried bob into the distance.
He wasn’t nearly through the fibers when Vincent called for him to move. The man shone the light toward him, the muted glow illuminating an eerie world of shadows and glistening water, ribbons of tiny streams shimmering as they trickled down the ancient cavern walls.
“Moving. Just give me time.”
He kept working the blade, the occasional misdirection cutting his fingers, sliding too near to his wrists, but he couldn’t afford to be cautious. Every step took him closer to Vincent, and if he discovered what Devon was doing, the knife would be gone.
Devon’s chances might be gone as well.
Pressure eased slightly on every tug, but the ropes were still too tight to fall away.
A familiar sound reached his ears, echoing through the higher tunnels toward them, and Devon grinned in spite of the hellish situation. Somewhere outside the cave a helicopter was landing.
“What’s that?” Vincent snapped.
“Bats,” Devon lied.
Vincent paused, then swore violently. “That little bitch.”
Devon wasn’t sure if Vincent meant Lana or Alisha, and he didn’t care. The ropes were nearly off. He stepped quicker now, hoping to catch Vincent distracted. Only the light vanished and he had to jerk to a stop before he slipped off the path or tripped over something.
The final thread snapped free, and Devon twisted his hands loose, blood rushing into his numb fingers. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop from making any noise as his eyes attempted to adjust to the even more limited lighting.