A Shadow Fell (14 page)

             
             
             
             
             
             
             
32

             
I gave up trying to make sense of all the signs Con was finding as we wove our way
across
, over,
and
down
the mountain,
all the while
covering terrain
until now
unknown to us
. It was hard enough just keeping
up
with him. He was either a tracker of monumental ability or he
had succumbed to total insanity
. I decided to simply give him full reign and see where it landed us.
The truth was,
unless I was prepared to chance what might turn out to be a most disagreeable confrontation with him,
I had very little choice in the matter.

             
By one o’clock I was both famished and completely worn out. “Con,” I called ahead to him, “I’ve got to rest. And we need to have some lunch.”

             
He stopped in his tracks and turned to me.
The look on his face was one of
utter
disgust. “We’re getting close,” he said. “We need to stay on him.”

             
I shook my head. “An hour one way or the other probably won’t make much difference.”

             
For a while it looked as though he was going to argue the point.
“All right,” he
finally said, accompanied by an elaborate
sigh.
“Thirty minutes.”

             
He seemed to be losing the ability to tolerate me. It was like he had morphed into a completely different person from the one I had come to know as my
laid back
and helpful neighbor
.
             
I couldn’t help but wonder where this was likely to go.
Or how long it might be before his attitude toward me became violent.

             
After precisely thirty minutes Con
announced it was time to go. He didn’t wait for an acknowledgment from me but simply loaded up his gear and took off. I had to scramble like mad not to lose sight of him. And his pace had picked up even more from the already hectic pace he had set in the morning, presumably to make up for the time we had lost in stopping for lunch.

             
We maintained the same level of activity for most of the afternoon. Throughout this time I had become increasingly
worried.
I was now starting to wonder whether he had any concept at all about what he was doing or where he was leading us. Or was this just some mindless fantasy of his that would end with us being hopelessly lost
?
Conversation between us had all but ceased entirely. At times it seemed like he considered himself to be on his own. I followed along at some distance, as much to give myself
a
feeling of safety as anything else.
             

             
I was dreading the thought of making camp
that
night. Sharing a tent with him now was not a notion that gave me any comfort whatsoever.

             
Just about the time I was seriously considering a confrontation regarding the advisability of continuing on with our mission, events took a surprising turn. I had lost sight of Con for a few seconds when I came
around
a thick patch of undergrowth to find him kneeling by a rock, mumbling to himself.

             
I angled up beside him and said, “What is it?”

             
“Smell that,” he said, pointing to a patch of moisture in the dirt.

             
I leaned down
somewhat reluctantly,
not knowing what to expect,
and did as he said. The odor of gasoline was unmistakable.

             
“He refueled here,” Con said.

             
I didn’t know whether I was more surprised or relieved. Either way it now seemed apparent that
we were
indeed
hot on the trail of our prey.
All of a sudden
I was
only
too willing to attribute
all
of Con’s
odd behavior to
nothing more than
single-minded determination to get the job done. I was about to congratulate him on his
keen eye
when it occurred to me that
he’d been doing similar things for days. B
y
mentioning it now
I would
only
be making it quite clear I had actually lost confidence in him in the first place. Much better, I decided, that I keep that bit of
information
to myself.

             
My own enthusiasm for the task at hand
was
now
magically rejuvenated.
Convinced that we
were,
after all
,
closing in on Henderson
my mind turned once again to the prospect of revenge.

             
When
encroaching
darkness made
it
impossible
to track any longer
we made camp.
Con continued to display the same peculiar
conduct that had characterized his actions for the past few days, but I was now far less concerned with this than I had been before.
He had reestablished a degree of credibility in my mind, whether it was
wholly
justified or not.

             
It had been a long and exhausting day and
,
as soon as we were done with supper
,
we sacked out.

             
With my mind
less occupied with
worry over Con I fell almost immediately into a deep and
, for a change,
dreamless sleep. 

             
             
             
             
             
             
             
33

             
I continued to marvel at the way Con
uncovered the most
minuscule
signs
of Henderson’s presence. I no longer harbored any doubt that the trail we were following was in fact that of the killer.
I had complete confidence not only in my companion’s tracking abilities but in his
endless assurances
that we were getting close.

             
It was obvious, even to me, that the trail we were following was not one that would lead us to civilization.
I believed absolutely that w
e were being drawn to another hideaway. Somewhere even deeper into the wilderness.
And I had no trouble imagining what we would find
when our pursuit finally came to an end
.

             
Blood lust ran hot in my veins. I could envision
clearly
the
imminent
encounter with my daughter
’s slayer
.
I hungered after the prospect of
confronting him, of witnessing his despair when he realize
d
that his capture did not simply mean a
return to prison. That I intend
ed
to end his miserable existence without regard to legal
process
.

             
Perhaps it was my preoccupation with these dark thoughts that
allowed
me to overlook the obvious signs of
mental illness
that Con was displaying.

             
I
suppose it is equally
possible
that
, at that time,
I was
less than
entirely
sane
myself.

             
             
             
             
             
             
*
             
*
             
*
             

             
The sound of the gunshot I heard did not cause me any particular anxiety at first. It seemed to emanate from too far away to represent any kind of immediate threat. It wasn’t until I saw Con, who was at least
thirty feet
in front
of me at that moment, drop to a prone position, that it occurred to me we were actually under attack. The next shot I heard relieved me of any doubt. A bullet ripped through my backpack with enough force to
knock me off balance
. I
dove
face down, at the same time scrambling to get the Glock at my back.
Still e
xposed, I slithered behind some
nearby
boulders. “Con,” I yelled. “Are you okay?”

             
He didn’t respond and I couldn’t see him from where I was hidden, but I heard him curse.
I yelled again and, this time, Con answered with an angry
,
“Yeah.”

             
“Can you tell where the shots are coming from?” I hollered.

             
I heard him mumbling again but he ignored my question.

             
I chanced a peek from behind my protective rock. My guess was the shooter was on a slight rise, maybe a hundred yards ahead and to the left of us. The area was heavily treed; there were a thousand places he could be hiding.
If he was there, w
e were easy prey. All he had to do was wait us out.

             
“Con,” I yelled again. “Have you got good cover?”

             
When he responded this time his voice nearly scared the shit out of me. He was standing a few feet in front of me. “Come on. Let’s go,” he barked.

             
“Jesus, Con,” I rasped. “Get down.”

             
“He’s gone,” Con announced. “I heard his bike fire up.”

             
“It could be a ruse,” I said.

             
“If it was, I’d be dead right now.”

             
I supposed he was right. I came slowly and a little
grudgingly
to my feet, half expecting another bullet to tear through me. Then I noticed the blood on his neck. “You’re hit,” I said.

             
“It’s nothing.”

             
“Let me have a look
,
”
I said.
I peeled back his shirt collar
. The bullet had grazed the flesh at the meaty part of his neck where it met his muscular shoulder. “It doesn’t look too serious. You were lucky.” I dug a dressing bandage from my pack and covered the wound.

             
“Come on,” he said the moment I was through. “We gotta get after the fucker.”

             
There seemed little point in arguing with Con. He was going to do what he was going to do whether I accompanied him or not. It occurred to me then that any sane person would have reconsidered the whole enterprise right there. “Why are you so determined to run Henderson to ground when th
is
fight is not even yours?” I asked.

             
He wiped sweat from his forehead and squinted off in the direction from which the shots had come. “Th
at
fucker shot me,” he growled. “Now it’s personal.”

             
I certainly couldn’t blame him for being
incensed
that he’d nearly been killed by Henderson
b
ut I found his vindictiveness interesting.

             
It wasn’t
very difficult
to imagine how he might
have
react
ed
if he
’d
learned his wife had been cheating on him.