Heartbreaker (21 page)

“You aren’t one of the Michaelites,” he continued. “I don’t know you.”

He looked, and sounded, disconcertingly normal. The local used-car salesman as homicidal maniac.

Lynn repressed a shiver.

“No, I’m not,” Lynn agreed, taking care to speak calmly. Her gaze met Rory’s. The pupils of her child’s eyes were dilated with fear. As the reality of the situation sank in, Lynn realized that she was pretty frightened herself. Her throat was so dry she couldn’t swallow. Her leg muscles felt about as firm as Jell-O.

Obviously, this was one of their pursuers from the night before. It had to be: How many different lunatics with guns could be running around in a few square miles of national forest? They had been caught—by the killers who had massacred that woman, those boys, the man on the cross. And who knew how many others? But perhaps there was hope, after all. He seemed surprised that she was not one of the “Michaelites,” whatever that meant.

He had no way of being sure that she and Rory were members of the trio that they’d been chasing. He could not know that they had seen the bodies at the mining camp. Perhaps she could convince him that she and Rory were merely innocent hikers and knew nothing—except that he was holding Rory captive and had a gun pointed at her own head.

That was pretty damning stuff, all by itself.

Lynn felt nauseous as she realized that in all likelihood she was not going to be able to persuade him to just let them go. But she had to try.

“Were you out here hunting?” she said with what she hoped was a disingenuous smile and her best Pat Greer, hearty-campfire-girl imitation. “Did we interrupt you? I’m sorry! If you’ll let my daughter go, we’ll get out of your way and let you get on about your business.”

“Is Theresa with you?” He ignored her words completely.

“Theresa?” Lynn was willing to say yes or no, depending on which answer was most likely to please him. Unfortunately, she had no way of telling that.

“Theresa. Michael’s daughter.”

“Oh.” While Lynn did a lightning-fast mental debate as to the possible advantages of telling the truth and disclaiming all knowledge of any Theresa, he shook his head as if dismissing the question.

“Where’s the man?” He was watching her intently. Rory was trembling. Lynn could see the pale slim fingers of one hand quivering as they hung down between the child’s bent knees. The other grasped the arm that imprisoned her.

“The man?” Lynn took a deep, calming breath as she considered the pros and cons of an ear-shattering scream. It would certainly bring “the man” lickety-split to the spot—but it might also precipitate her own, and Rory’s, murder. And Jess’s, when he came running.

“The man who was with you last night.” He smiled. “Yahweh told me to look for you along the river, you know. You can’t hide from Yahweh.”

“Yahweh?” Lynn was certain now that she was dealing with a lunatic and was unsure as to what might set him off.

“You call him God, I believe. He speaks to us through the Lamb. He that leadeth us … But of course you would think the Judas was the Lamb. That was what he wanted everyone to think.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “You Michaelites have been misled, I’m sorry to say. The Judas was but a false prophet. Well, he is answering for his sins now.”

“My daughter could go and fetch the man for you—and Theresa too. You and I can talk while she’s gone. She would hurry, wouldn’t you, Rory?” Lynn was desperate, trying anything she could think of to get the maniac to release Rory. There was a fanatical light in his eyes that told her even more surely than his incomprehensible words that he was irrational. The very reasonableness with which he spewed his nonsense was terrifying.

He would kill without a qualm, certain he was doing the right thing.

Rory nodded fearfully.

“If he’s around, gunshots will bring him running.” The man smiled, shrugged. “Though that might not work with Theresa. In answer to your suggestion I am reminded of that saying about a bird in the hand.… You know it? Yes. So don’t worry about the others. They’ll join you soon enough, I promise. But here, I mustn’t keep you talking all day. I know you’re frightened and must long to get it over with. Death is something that is universally feared, I’m quite aware. But it is nothing to fear. Just a passing over into a better life.”

“Please …” Lynn began as his hand shifted from Rory’s mouth to her waist. He was getting ready to rise.

“Mom …” Rory whispered. The child was visibly terrified. She trembled. Her face was as white as paper; her eyes were huge dark pools as they met Lynn’s.

Lynn realized that if she didn’t do something Rory was going to die. They both were going to die.

“Don’t be worried, young lady. I promise you, death is nothing to fear.” The man sounded jovial, like a macabre Santa Claus. Pulling Rory up with him, he started to get to his feet, gathering his body together, his movements ponderous.

The gun wavered as he rose.

Acting out of instinct and pure mother-love, Lynn jumped forward and kicked for all she was worth. The toe of her boot made a solid smack as it connected with his gun hand.

The gun went off even as his hand flew up, and the weapon went flying, spinning top over tail into the undergrowth.

“Run, Rory!” Lynn grabbed her daughter’s arm and yanked her away from the man. His momentary shock, plus his bulk, gave them the advantage. Bolting like deer from a hunter, Lynn pulled Rory toward the boulder …

… And ran headlong into Jess, who was clearly in the process of charging to their rescue. She hit his chest and would have bounced off if he had not caught her by her upper arm, steadying her even as he staggered a pace backward.

“Come on!” Recovering, he gripped her wrist, hauling her and Rory around the boulder in a frantic imitation of the childhood game crack-the-whip.

As his feet skidded on a patch of moss, Lynn realized he was still in his stocking feet.

A lightning glance back told her that the lunatic was frantically searching the bushes for his gun. His ample posterior, clad in shiny polyester slacks that were stretched to the danger point, faced her as he bent to rake the undergrowth with his hands.

“Hurry,” Lynn breathed, clinging to Jess’s hand now as she went slip-sliding down the steep bank after him with Rory in tow.

Distant male voices and the sound of crashing footsteps told her that their pursuers, summoned by the gunshot, were after them again in full force.

“Get in!”

Jess practically flung her into the river and bent over the back of the kayak. Lynn splashed through the knee-deep water, her boots growing unbelievably heavy as they filled with water, and whipped Rory around her toward the front seat.

“Get in!” she cried to her daughter.

Rory scrambled into the kayak’s front cockpit, sloshing water everywhere.

“Get in with her! Hurry!”

Lynn obeyed Jess’s instruction, clambering in after Rory as Jess pushed them out into the current. Trapped in mud and weighted down by water, her boots were left behind as her feet slid out of them. She had no time to worry about their loss. Her paddle was thrust past her elbow as soon as her bottom hit plastic. Lynn grabbed the paddle and maneuvered it so that it was in front of Rory. With both arms touching her daughter she could feel Rory trembling. But she had no time to worry about that, either, as she started to paddle for all she was worth.

Grab the water and pull.

A brisk breeze raced up the river, blowing her hair back from her face, smelling of pine. Her feet and legs were numb from the cold water, she was sitting in a puddle, and her freedom of movement was hampered by Jess’s oversize coat.

Plus she was scared to death.

Grab the water and pull.

“Hold it steady!”

The kayak was free of the bank now, picking up speed as its nose swung downstream. There was a splash, a grunt, and a violent yawing as a sudden shift in the craft’s center of gravity occurred.

Jess was on board.

Instinctively Lynn fought the rolling movement by leaning in the opposite direction. Controlling a kayak was kind of like riding a skateboard, she had discovered earlier. Lean in the direction you want it to go.

“Paddle!” Jess suited action to word. Lynn followed suit. Huddled against Lynn’s chest, her body surrounded by Lynn’s arms and legs, Rory sat silent and trembling.

“It’s okay,” Lynn said in her ear. “We’re going to make it.”

Debris swirled by them, sticks and leaves and larger branches. The banks on both sides of the river were tall, sloping rock walls topped by pines that crowded right to the rocky edge. Sparrows by the thousands had built nests high on the riverbank; an osprey dived from its perch high atop a ponderosa pine to swoop over the river, searching for fish. Roots rose above the water surface near the left bank; the osprey swept its talons through the surface of the water there, emerging with a trout so big it had trouble flying.

“Look!” Rory nudged Lynn, pointing, and at the same time seemed to shrink in her seat. Lynn looked as instructed and immediately wished she hadn’t. Almost directly opposite them, standing beside a willow thicket on the bank from which they had shoved off, was a man with a rifle.

He lifted it to his shoulder.

Jess said a word so vulgar that under other circumstances Lynn would have been tempted to cover Rory’s ears.

“Keep paddling,” he bit out next, as though Lynn needed the reminder. She paddled like a woman possessed as the kayak sought out and rode the swift current at the center of the river.

There was a sharp popping noise, followed by three more in quick succession.

“Duck!” Jess yelled. Rory did, scooting down inside the craft as far as she could. Lynn huddled over Rory’s head, protecting it, shielding her own with her arms as best she could. At any moment she expected to feel a bullet ripping into her flesh. The prospect sent an anticipatory shiver racing along her spine. How would it feel to be shot? Would it be an immediate burst of agony, or would the shock numb any pain?

“Mommy!” Rory moaned.

“It’s okay, baby.” In calming her daughter, Lynn calmed herself. Panic would do neither of them any good.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

There had to be more than just the one gunman, Lynn thought. Glancing back, she saw that she was right. The lone rifleman had been joined by two others, one the evil Santa Claus. Both newcomers were armed with rifles. Lynn assumed Santa hadn’t found his pistol.

A staccato burst of gunfire caused her to duck again. Tiny white spurts in the water all around them marked where bullets hit. A sharp crack signaled that one sharpshooter had gotten the kayak. With Rory hyperventilating in her arms, Lynn battled panic anew.

Thank God for hardened plastic, Lynn thought. At least the thing wouldn’t sink.

“Are you all right?” she screamed back at Jess.

“Shut up and stay down,” was his reassuring answer.

Obviously he was not killed. Lynn took what comfort she could from that.

Gunshots sounded again, but the absence of white spurts in the water indicated that the bullets were missing their mark. Lynn stayed low, paddled for all she was worth, and prayed that the current would soon sweep them out of range.

They shot around a bend in the river. The kayak heeled dangerously, threatening to roll.

“Lean left!” Jess cried. Lynn and Rory complied.

“You can sit up now. We’re safe,” Jess said moments later.

He sounded breathless. Lynn sat up, cautiously, and glanced back. Nothing more threatening than pristine forest met her gaze. Sparrows fluttered in great shifting clouds on both sides of the riverbank; a bright-colored butterfly floated up from a clump of daisylike flowers to meander deeper into the woods. A pair of mallards, identifiable by their iridescent-green heads, floated past along with branches and other debris.

Santa and his murderous minions were nowhere to be seen. Lynn let out a great sigh of relief.

Closer at hand, Jess rested his paddle across the top of the kayak and let the river do the work of propelling them to safety. Lynn glanced back to find him breathing heavily, and new lines bracketing his mouth spoke of pain. The frantic paddling could not have helped his shoulder. Lynn wondered if his wound was bleeding again. Probably, she decided.

Like herself, he looked much the worse for wear. His hair was a wild, wet tangle blowing in the wind. River water had left muddy streaks on his face. He was pale, sweating, and he badly needed a shave.

But his eyes were bright baby blue again, with a definite gleam.

He met her gaze and grinned. He was, she judged with some surprise, on an adrenaline high. And if she hadn’t known better she would have sworn he was enjoying the excitement.

But of course she knew better. She hoped. Who could possibly enjoy this murderous game of cat and mouse?

“We’re safe for now,” he said. “With them on foot and us on the river, there’s no way they can catch up to us.”

“Thank God,” Lynn said. “Rory, baby, are you okay?”

“He came just before you got there,” Rory’s voice was high-pitched and shaking. “I had to go to the bathroom, so I crawled out of the bushes. He just grabbed me! I didn’t even know he was there! At first he called me Theresa. Then he asked if I knew where she was. Then he was going to kill me. If you hadn’t come, Mom, he
would
have killed me!”

“It’s over,” Lynn said to her comfortingly as Rory slumped against her. “It’s all right. We’re okay for now.”

“Oh, God, I thought he was going to kill you too. Both of us. Right there.”

“We got away. Now we’ve left them far behind.”

“I was so scared!”

“I know, baby, I was scared too.” Lynn hugged her daughter, a gesture rendered clumsy because of the paddle she held.

“You were awesome, Mom. What you did back there—that was totally awesome.” Rory twisted in Lynn’s hold to glance back at Jess. “Did you see what she did? She kicked his gun away!”

“Just like Chuck Norris,” Jess agreed. “It was awesome. What do you do, take karate?”

“Aerobics,” Lynn said.

“Aerobics?”

“It helps me stay in shape. Three times a week after work I do the exact same kick.”