Mattie’s throat tightened. “Okay.”
“Dad told us this morning that he’d always let us know if he was going to be late. He made a big deal of it, you know. And . . . well, I’m worried that something happened to him.”
Mattie knew Cole Walker, and a promise to his children would not be something made lightly. “I talked to Tess about twenty minutes ago. Have you talked to her since then?”
“Just now. Right before I called you.”
“And she hasn’t heard from your dad yet?” Mattie knew the answer but needed to confirm.
“No. I asked Mrs. Gibbs to drive me up toward Dark Horse Stable to look for him, but she suggested I call you instead.”
“She’s right. I’m glad you did. You girls need to stay put in case your dad calls. Call me immediately if he does. I’ll drive up that way and find him. Maybe he had a flat tire outside of cell phone range or something. I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”
“Okay.” Angela still sounded frightened.
“I’m sure your dad’s fine, Angie. Don’t worry so much. You’ll hear from one of us soon.”
Mattie tried to reassure the girl before disconnecting the call, but she couldn’t damper her own alarm bells. With Robo following, she went directly into McCoy’s office and summarized the situation for him and Stella.
“He’s an hour late now,” Mattie said. “I think under the circumstances, I’d better drive up that way and see if I can find him.” Not intending to wait for permission, Mattie turned to leave.
“I’ll go with you,” Stella said, falling in behind Robo.
“Get Deputy Brody to go along as back up,” McCoy said. “I’ll get this warrant request over to the judge and meet you up there.”
Chapter 28
Cole sprinted up the hillside. Adrienne’s laptop felt bulky against his chest, and he worried that it would slow him down, but he didn’t dare leave it where Carmen might find it. This piece of evidence proved that Adrienne had been at Dark Horse Stable on the day she died.
If only I can get out of here and get it to Mattie.
He crossed the fifty yards of open space and reached the tree line in seconds. Pine, spruce, and large boulders gave him enough shelter to slow down and think. He ducked in behind a ponderosa, turning back to look at the barn. No one was following.
He patted his shirt pocket. I left my cell phone in the truck! It felt like a nightmare. Juan said that Carmen killed Adrienne. And she seemed willing to kill again. He’d seen her sight down a crossbow at him before Juan shoved him out the door. The disturbing image was burned into his memory.
Had Juan stopped her? He remembered the man’s scream. No, he’d taken the bolt meant for Cole. Carmen was still out there.
The open space between him and the barn remained still and lifeless. A hawk wheeled overhead and screeched a haunting call. Could he circle back to his truck?
Suddenly, the Doberman pinscher tore around the edge of the barn, dragging Carmen on the end of his leash. She carried the crossbow and a quiver of bolts on her back. She directed the dog straight to the hay room door. The Doberman swept the area with his nose as he went.
Good Lord! She’s using the dog to track me.
Cole gave up all hope of reaching his truck. Maybe he could sneak around Carmen and beat her to his vehicle, but there was no way could he outrun that dog. He snatched the laptop from inside his coverall, scooped aside pine needles, and buried the computer at the base of the tree, making sure it was well hidden by the needles.
Turning away from the barn, he dashed upslope, running as fast as he could, dodging through the trees. The more distance between them the better, but still, he knew he couldn’t outrun Bruno. He hoped Carmen would keep him on the leash—anything to slow him down.
Even so, he had to think of something else—something besides running.
Finding a game trail allowed him to increase his speed, and he did a quick mental assessment of his assets. The only thing he had with him that he could use as a weapon was the Leatherman he always carried in his coverall pocket.
He heard the deadly clunk of the crossbow before he felt the searing pain in his arm. The bolt flew past and thudded into a tree. Blood trickled from his left upper arm. He grabbed at the wound where the steel tip had grazed him, trying to stop the blood from leaving a trail on the ground.
Topping a rise and going down the other side for cover, he jerked a bandanna from his back pocket. He wrapped it around his arm, using his teeth to help tie it snug. He kept running and almost stepped on a dead coyote, a wicked crossbow bolt lodged in its side, surrounded by darkened, bloody fur. The stench of decomposition stifled his breath.
She’s been using the animals for target practice. And it looks like she’s a damn good shot!
Grabbing the bolt, he ripped it from the half-rotten carcass, the razor-sharp broadhead tip coming with it. He’d gained a weapon, for whatever it was worth. He tucked it into a loop on his pants leg.
He searched his surroundings, looking for a good place to get off the game trail. He needed more rocky terrain. There, near a large boulder, he found what he was looking for: shale and flat stones leading into some scrub. He leaped from stone to stone. He grabbed onto prickly rose branches to pull himself up and into the shrubs, the barbs drawing blood that blossomed bright red on his palms.
The Doberman’s sharp, staccato bark wafted upslope on a chill breeze. Cole realized he was downwind from the dog. Thank God Mattie had told him about wind interference. How could he use it?
Being downwind was a lucky break. At least the breeze wouldn’t carry his scent back to the dog. Cole needed to head across the slope. He paused, thinking of the coyote carcass. Maybe he could use the heavy scent of decomp to distort his trail and slow down the dog.
Leaping back along the stones, he retraced his steps to the dead animal. He picked it up by the shoulders, dragging it along as he backed toward the shale. He rubbed the carcass over his own steps while struggling to keep the decaying flesh intact. When he reached the stones, he arranged the carcass to look as natural as possible, as if it had died in place. After rubbing scent from his hands along the soles of his boots, he crossed over the shale and sprinted through timber.
Spotting a limber pine, he pulled his Leatherman out of his pocket and opened a blade. Taking mere seconds, he sliced a heavily needled bough and stuffed it down the back of his bib overall to block his shirt from sight. Closing the blade on his Leatherman, he continued to run, stuffing the tool into his pocket.
His breath was starting to recover from his mad dash uphill, but he knew he needed to head back upslope gradually to use the wind factor to his advantage. Branches scratched his arms as he sped through the trees. He angled his direction uphill, his feet pounding the rocky surface. Knowing his endurance wouldn’t allow him to run uphill forever, he started to think about what kind of terrain would be best to take a stand. He would need the element of surprise to set up an ambush.
The Doberman barked, the sound coming from much more near than Cole expected. His attempt to sully his trail with the coyote’s strong scent might have slowed the dog, but it didn’t throw him off the trail. He tried to run faster, but his legs were getting tired.
He came upon a shallow stream. This can mask my scent. Running full tilt, he leaped into the frigid water. Its icy fingers snatched at his ankles and snaked into his boots, taking away what little breath he had left. Gasping, he jogged upstream, bending to scoop a handful of mud that he smeared on the front of his shirt and as far as he could reach in the back. Another palmful covered the bright blue color he’d been worried about. He smeared it on his face as well.