One-Two Punch (23 page)

When a lopsided metal gate came into view, Hammer stopped the SUV and got out, swearing under his breath. The gate completely blocked the path. He was relieved to see that, although a chain wrapped through the gate and around the wooden post, there was no lock. He untangled the chain and pushed at the gate. It didn’t budge, having sunk so low over time that it was resting on the rocky ground. Lifting the end of the gate as high as it would go, Hammer forced it open, wincing at the protesting creak of metal. He froze and listened, his arm muscles quivering as he held the gate motionless.

When no warning shout came from the direction of the cabin, Hammer began to breathe again. He muscled the gate the rest of the way open and wedged it between some rocks protruding from the ground.

After climbing back into the vehicle, Hammer continued along the rock-strewn trail into the trees, wincing as the evergreen branches scraped both sides of his SUV.

“Cap’n’s paying for a new paint job,” he muttered. Figuring that the vehicle was as well hidden from the cabin as it was going to get, he turned off the ignition and slipped out, pulling his gun from his shoulder holster.

Carefully picking his way through the trees, he almost ran into a wire fence.

Swallowing a curse, he bent and slid between the second and third strands, counting his blessings that it wasn’t electric.

The rest of the way to the back of the cabin was empty of cover, so Hammer moved fast, closing the distance between trees and cabin wall as quickly as he could without tripping over a rock or one of the scrubby plants. He pressed his back to the logs of the cabin, glancing around the corner before he shifted to the side. There was only one entry—the front—and none of the windows were big enough for a child to get through, much less a guy as big as he was.

With his gun held in both hands, he crept along the wall toward the front, crouching as he passed the windows. A movement caught his eye and he went still, gun extended, his finger ready on the trigger. It was Ky, Hammer realized, relaxing his finger a fraction.

Ducking around the corner to the front of the cabin, Hammer saw that both Ky and Harry were already in position on either side of the rough, wooden door. He gave a soundless sigh. With four inches and about forty pounds on Harry, Hammer figured that he would get the privilege of kicking in the door. He was always the one who had to kick in the door.

Before he could move in, Harry held up a hand—
wait
—and pushed on the door. It swung open easily and Ky pivoted into the dark opening, staying low. Harry followed him in. Hammer felt the clear focus of battle, his pulse even, breathing steady.
Jesus, I’ve
missed this.
With a grin, he ducked through the doorway after them.

The cabin was a typical hunting cabin—a single room with stacked bunks against one wall, a bare-bones kitchen against the other and a wood stove in the center. Enough light was still filtering through the windows to make it obvious that no one was there.

Hammer saw Harry’s shoulders slump in defeat and felt his own stomach twist in sympathy.

Ky bent to check the space under the kitchen counter. When he stood up and turned, Hammer took a step toward him. He had been in enough firefights with Pokey to know that look—the narrow-eyed glare, skin drawn tight over his cheekbones. As Hammer eased forward, moving into position to restrain Ky if necessary, a dark spot on the floor drew his eye.

With a sharp gesture, he caught both men’s attention and pointed. As they moved closer, Hammer could see that it was a latch to a trapdoor cut into the floorboards.

Harry crouched down and soundlessly slid the bolt clear. He gripped the metal pull and counted down with his fingers—three, two, one—jerking open the door as Hammer and Ky trained their guns into the hole.

The thin face from Beth’s drawing stared up at them, his face a white blur in the darkness below.

Hammer heard a roar as Harry disappeared through the opening in the floor. There was a cut-off shriek and a thud and Ky shoved his gun into his waistband before climbing down into the hole.

“Fuck,” muttered Hammer. Stomping to the trapdoor, he holstered his gun and followed the other two men through the dark opening.

Ky was closest, so Hammer grabbed him by the back of the shirt and tossed him to the side. Harry was straddling Ed’s chest, hammering the skinny man’s face with his fists. He was harder to pull free but Hammer finally managed to knock him sideways off a dazed and bloody Ed. Yanking his limp form off the floor, Hammer pinned Ed against one of the concrete walls with a wide hand around his thin throat. Blood poured from Ed’s nose and dripped onto Hammer’s forearm.

“Where is she?” Hammer asked almost conversationally. He saw a blur to his left and swung his free arm up to clothesline a charging Ky, knocking him to the floor.

“Settle. You kill him and we don’t get information.” He refocused on the gasping man in his grip. “Now, if we just hurt him a little…”

Ed was clawing at Hammer’s hand, trying to talk. When the grip loosened slightly, he croaked, “Now there’re
three
of you? Leave her alone! She’s
mine
!” His eyes bugged out as Hammer clamped his fingers around his neck.

“That’s not what I asked,” Hammer chided him gently. “Where is she?” He squeezed until he could see Ed’s face darken, even with only the dim light filtering in from the opening above. After a few moments, Hammer relaxed his grip. “Where?” he prodded.

“I don’t know,” Ed gasped after sucking in a few rough breaths. When Hammer’s fingers twitched against his throat, he blurted frantically, “No, really, I don’t know! She attacked me and locked me in! I don’t know—I don’t!”

Hammer eyed the other man’s desperate face for a long moment. Without releasing Ed, he looked over his shoulder at Harry and Ky. “Better go find her,” he told them.

“There’s water and flashlights behind the backseat. Take one of the radios—it has built-in GPS. Grab a couple of jackets too—it’s going to get cold.”

Taking a step toward Ed, Harry growled, “No, I—”

“Go,” Hammer barked. “I’ll clean up.”

With a final enraged glare at Ed, Harry complied. Ky hesitated.

“Sure?” he asked.

Hammer nodded. “Go find your friend,” he said in a gentler tone and Ky followed Harry up the ladder.

After Ky’s feet disappeared through the opening, Hammer turned back to Ed’s terrified face. He abruptly pulled his hand from the skinny man’s throat and Ed dropped to the floor. Without a word, Hammer strode toward the ladder.

“Wait!” croaked a frantic voice behind him. “You can’t just leave me in here!”

Hoisting himself through the opening in the floor, Hammer didn’t pause. “Wanna bet?” Not waiting for an answer from Ed, he slammed the trapdoor shut.

He felt a surge of satisfaction as he drove the bolt home, locking Ed in the dark hole.

After a quick trip out to the SUV for gloves and a flashlight, Hammer began to efficiently search the tiny, dim cabin, running his fingers under every ledge, lifting the mattresses off the bunks—even sifting through the ashen remains of the fire in the potbellied stove. He checked the walls next, pausing when a piece of chinking between the logs next to the front door gave beneath his fingers. He worked out the loose chunk, revealing an old chewing tobacco can. The lid came off easily, as if it was opened often.

Inside lay four tiny locks of hair, all different shades of blonde and each tied with a thin ribbon.

His stomach twisted as he carefully replaced the tin and the chinking. He left the cabin and scanned the terrain.

“Can’t dig on a mountain,” he muttered to himself. “Did he take them someplace else?” He dismissed that idea immediately—why risk being seen with a body when Ed had such a perfectly isolated place right here? Hammer walked as he thought, spiraling out from the cabin. He halted at a twenty-foot dropoff north of the cabin, staring down the cliff. In the last of the evening light, he saw the dim shape of a pile of rocks below.

“Fucker,” he muttered. Although the base of the cliff was too far down for the flashlight beam to reveal any details, Hammer knew in his gut that this was where Ed had dumped the women, where he had tossed their bodies to be picked apart by animals and covered by rocks and dirt from the crumbling cliff face.

Hammer turned away from the edge and walked back to his SUV.

“Any luck? Over.”

After a short pause, Ky’s voice came through clearly on the radio. “Picked up a trail. Woman’s easier to track than a drunken elephant. Over.”

Relief flooded through Hammer. “Good. Almost at the sheriff’s office. I’ll see what I can do but the search and rescue guys probably won’t get out until morning. Over.”

Ky’s answer was just a grunt. “Over.”

Hammer’s mouth twitched. “Let me know when you find her. I’ll get in as close as possible. Over.”

“Got it. Over and out.”

Hammer placed the radio in one of the cupholders between the seats, feeling lighter than he had before talking with Ky. They had a trail, which meant Beth was alive and moving—or at least had been a short while before. He turned into the parking lot of the small square building that housed the county’s law enforcement.

A young deputy visibly started when Hammer walked in.

“Can…can I help you?” the man stammered, looking as if he wanted to bolt from the building. Hammer wasn’t surprised by the deputy’s reaction—there weren’t many enormous black men in mountain towns like this and his fucked-up face didn’t help with first impressions.

“Got a serial killer for you,” Hammer said conversationally.

The deputy paled. “You?” he squeaked, fumbling for his gun.

“No, dipshit,
I’m
not the killer,” Hammer told him in exasperation, his gaze firmly on the other man’s gun. “Careful with that thing.”

“Drop your weapon!” The deputy was visibly shaking.

Hammer sighed. “It’s a radio.”

“What’s going on, Collins?” a new voice asked.

Both Hammer and the deputy looked toward the main entrance where an older man stood in the open doorway.

“Sheriff!” the deputy gasped with relief. “This man’s confessing that he’s a serial killer!”

Hammer sighed. “
I’m
not a serial killer. I want to
give
you a serial killer. He’s all locked up and everything. And one of his victims is lost in the mountains.”

The sheriff looked at Hammer calmly. “Well, good thing I stopped back in this evening then. Why don’t you come talk with me, son?” The sheriff waved Hammer toward an office door, not even looking at the deputy as he ordered, “Collins, put that gun away. You could hurt someone with that thing.”

Hammer liked the sheriff already.

It was fucking cold again and Beth was pissed. Pissed at Ed for dragging her out here, pissed at the mountains for making her sweat all day and shiver all night, pissed at Harry and Ky for not finding her yet, pissed at all bodies of water for not appearing in front of her when she was so
fucking
thirsty. She kicked at a rock and yelped when her toes connected with the unyielding surface.

Her little temper tantrum had warmed her up a little but the chill soon resettled on her bare arms and she shuddered. Beth knew she should keep moving but the thought of walking any farther made her want to cry and she was afraid that if she started crying she wouldn’t be able to stop.

Besides, what a useless waste of water.

She wanted sleep with a drugging, bone-deep longing. She
needed
sleep almost as desperately as she needed water. The daylight hours she had spent sitting, alert, ready for Ed to come around the corner at any second, now seemed like a terrible, terrible waste when she could have been sleeping. As she trudged along, she daydreamed about curling up on the rocky path and disappearing into oblivion. If she slept, was it cold enough to freeze to death? It seemed better not to find out.

If she found shelter, a hole to crawl into that would keep her warm, what if some other animal had taken residence already? Last night, she had been mindless with fear and the need to escape, so thoughts of bears and mountain lions and rattlesnakes hadn’t been an issue. With a low moan of frustration, she forced her legs to keep walking, stumbling on the rough footing every other step.

How long has it been dark?
she wondered, cursing herself for the millionth time for not wearing a watch. Hours had passed, surely? Now that she was cold, the heat of the day seemed blissful in comparison and she wished for sunrise with such intensity that she almost started to cry again.

To distract herself, she started thinking about Harry. And Ky. She imagined them all together in Harry’s big bed, laughing, drinking huge glasses of ice water—no, lemonade. No, hot chocolate. Beth shook her head. Stop. Enough with the sweet, thirst-quenching, delicious drinks, she ordered her brain.

They would all be naked. Harry would pull her against him, teasing her breasts against the flat planes of his chest, and Ky would press against her back, his erect cock tucked into the crevice of her ass, and she would be so warm…

Her head tipped forward, her eyes closing, and she tripped again, barely managing to catch her footing before she ended up facedown on the ground. She was falling asleep on her feet, she realized, amazed that it was even possible.
Maybe if I just sit down
for a moment
, she thought longingly, swaying where she stood. A rough shiver shook her and she rubbed her arms. She pulled them under her tank top but the thin knit didn’t provide much protection.

Keep walking
, her brain ordered and her feet grudgingly obeyed, although she was stumbling almost every step now. Her legs felt weighted and Beth had to concentrate on each step, right foot, left, right again, trudging forward until she realized that she was actually warmer. Her shivering had even stopped.

Her toe caught and she went down, hard. She lay still for several moments, the side of her face resting against the ground, too exhausted to get up. With an extreme effort, Beth managed to roll onto her back. The stars were beautiful, bright pinpricks that left a trail when she turned her head.