That night was the only time she’d ever heard a cougar scream. They’d been setting up the tent, and the lake had a sunset glow that seemed to come from within the water and everything had been still and beautiful and silent until that ungodly shriek.
Nick found the cat-it was sitting on a ledge across the lake from them, up on the rimrock, a shadow against the stone. It looked like it was black in the fading sunlight, but black mountain lions didn’t exist. A trick of the light. When Nick spotted the cougar, Hannah wondered if they should leave. Nick said no but that they shouldn’t go any closer either. If it was a female and she had cubs, she’d protect them.
“She didn’t have to let us know she was there,” he’d said.
The cat watched them for a long time and never moved and eventually its shadow blurred with the others, and night claimed the ledge and then the mountain. Hannah hadn’t slept well, knowing that it was out there in the dark, but that was all right. They didn’t spend much time sleeping anyhow.
“You need me to slow down?”
Hannah jerked her head up, moving her eyes out of the past and into the glare of Connor’s headlamp. He’d pulled well ahead of her.
“I’m fine.”
“We can rest. You’re breathing pretty hard.”
Actually, she’d been close to crying.
“Okay,” she said. “We’ll take a rest.” She unclipped the canteen from her belt and sipped some water and said, “I used to be in a lot better shape.”
“You don’t look too old,” Connor said.
She had to laugh at that. “Thanks.”
“No, I just mean…you said it the way an old person would. How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight, Connor. I am twenty-eight.”
“See, that’s still young.”
It certainly was. She had her whole life ahead of her, she’d been told.
On her twenty-seventh birthday, Nick had given her a watch, along with a card on which he’d written a line from an old John Hiatt song. Time is our friend, because for us there is no end.
He’d been dead nine days later.
Because for us there is no end.
It had been a beautiful sentiment that day. She’d kissed him and told him that it was true. It had proven to be, in a terrible way. There was no escape from him-time for them did not and would not end.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Connor said.
“You didn’t.”
“Then why are you crying?”
She hadn’t known she was. She wiped her face and said, “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah.”
She remembered then that Connor had come her way in the dark, with that one headlight bobbing through the blackness to her. He had been on the move for many hours to get to her, and he hadn’t slept since he’d arrived. She was standing here crying over the dead, but right in front of her, the living needed help.
“We’re going to go just a bit farther,” she said. “I want to get a little more distance between us and the tower. Then we’ll rest for a while.”
“You think that’s safe?”
She pointed ahead, into the blackness. “We’ve got to do some serious climbing at some point. Up or down, it doesn’t matter, it’s going to be hard. Going down is more dangerous, probably, especially in the dark. So we’ll push on just a little more. Then get some rest.”
“Okay. You sure you’re all right?”
She clipped her canteen back on her belt. “Just fine, Connor. I’m just fine. Let’s keep walking.”
29
They spoke just as Allison had promised they would: Ethan was the focus but he was not part of the conversation; it swirled around him. One thing he learned from listening was their names, or at least the names by which they called themselves. The other thing he learned was that they were the most chilling men he’d ever encountered. At first, he believed it was because they were empty of fear. Later, he decided it was because they were just empty, period.
“Ethan tells me the searchers found no sign of the boy. Now, so far Ethan has had a propensity to tell the truth. Would you say I received it this time, Patrick?”
“I would, Jack. I would. I’ve been with them most of the day. There was no sighting. They spent some time at a fire tower, where they spoke with a lookout, and then they moved on with renewed purpose. As if she’d told them something that encouraged them.”
“A perfect match to Ethan’s account. As I said, I believe he’s an honest man.”
“An honorable quality.”
“Isn’t it, though? And noble. He chose to join us simply to protect his wife. The man has had ample opportunities to cause trouble for me, perhaps even to escape, and yet here he is, walking beside us, guiding us even. Why would a man do that for the likes of us?”
“To keep the wife alive, I’d say.”
“Correct again. And Ethan, I tell you, he is one loyal husband. He’s working hard, and working against the clock. All for her.”
“Protecting her.”
“Exactly. The man appears to be nothing short of a local legend, and you know what? I believe he’s earned his reputation. That rarest of breeds.”
“He seems noble, as you say. Loyal, certainly. But here’s my question, Jack, and bear in mind that I hardly wish to impugn a good man’s character.”
“Of course not.”
“We agree that Ethan is a noble, brave man, a smart man, and a loyal one. Do I believe he’d do anything in his power to save his wife? Certainly. But I have to confess, Jack, that I have my doubts that he’s willing to give up the boy so easily.”
“Interesting.”
“He’s earned his reputation for protection, has he not? For salvation. Yet we are to believe that he’s guiding us to a boy, knowing all the while that we intend to kill that boy?”
“You’re dismissing the power of his marriage vows?”
“I’d also say that he looks at me with hate in his eyes. Disgust. Loathing. Why? Because I’ve killed. And yet, as I said, he’s guiding us to the boy. He’s playing a role in a child’s death now, and he can rationalize it away, because he believes that he’s protecting his wife. Perhaps I can accept that. Perhaps.”
“What troubles you, then?”
“He knows why we’ve come for the boy. He knows that the boy poses a threat. And, being the very bright man that he is, Ethan should understand something else by now. Can you guess what that is, Jack?”
“It would seem, using fairly basic reasoning, that both Ethan and his wife represent threats to us as well.”
“So you see the flaw here?”
“I do.”
Ethan could hear thunder. A prolonged rumble in the west. Somewhere ahead of them, a limb cracked loose from a tree and fell, thrashing down through the branches. The wind had been blowing steadily since they arrived on the trail but now it was gusting. The smell of the smoke rode along with it, stronger than it had been before. He had one flashlight, taken from the burned man’s truck, and it was not bright. Behind him, the brothers walked in darkness.
His plan was gone, Republic Peak no longer offering him the opportunity he’d envisioned, and he was trying to adapt, but it was hard. With the weapons and the numbers in their favor, it was very hard.
Where is Luke Bowden? he wondered. Earlier, he’d demanded that Roy bring Luke out of the mountains. He hadn’t wanted any help, because he’d had a plan. Now he had nothing, and he wanted the help.
Maybe Luke didn’t listen, he told himself. It’s possible. Probable, even. He doesn’t like to lose a trail any more than you do. He’ll have gone back to find it, and he will hear you coming, and he will know that you should be alone.