The Trophy Hunter (31 page)

For a moment, she thought he’d relented until
she heard, “I think I got me a harasser, a distrurber of the peace.
Can’t rule out drugs or alcohol’s involved.”

As Diana backed out of the office, she saw
him hang up the phone, a smug look on his face. Then he turned back
to his meal.

Chapter 59

Diana climbed hurriedly into her car and
drove next door to the library where the redneck deputy couldn’t
watch her every move. She tried to sort through diminishing options
as snow blanketed the car, and her rapid breathing quickly fogged
up the windows.

At least she could scratch the possibility of
Rogart having Cutler with him. If he had teamed up with Cutler,
Rogart seemed the most likely candidate to have ended the
association─permanently. But why? If Rogart and Cutler had some
internet porn scheme going, why would Rogart kill his partner? What
else was at stake?

Two missing women and two dead men. All with
connections to Darren Rogart. Was Jess getting too close to the
truth? Was that why he took her? Frustration brought Diana close to
tears as she thought of poor Joe Flannigan. One of the missing
women was his daughter. No wonder his behavior had been erratic.
Then she started tabulating all the things Joe couldn’t have done.
Probably the only thing the man was guilty of was being half out of
his mind with grief.

She had to find a phone. Diana got out of her
car and climbed the steps to the library door. She breathed a sigh
of relief upon seeing it was still open. Inside, a half dozen or so
people─mostly young─sat at tables or prowled the rows of bookcases.
The librarian she had seen before dozed at her desk.

The computer area was unoccupied. She logged
onto the closest machine and sent emails to Winston and Tamara.
There was no time to wait for outside help. But at least she’d
leave a record of where she’d gone and why.

Then she thought of the Rogart children alone
and unsupervised. If she failed in what she was about to attempt
and dropped off the face of the earth like Brandi and
Trisha…and…no…don’t even think it…Jess…nobody was going to know
about Rogart’s neglect of those kids. She couldn’t believe she’d
once entertained the dream of helping him raise them. The thought
that nobody was going to know the true face of Rogart was scarier
than any physical danger.

Diana found a pay phone next to the computer
area and left a concise voicemail message informing Marge of the
situation and her concern for the Rogart children. Maybe Marge
would help with both problems. Jeffco for sure was not going to
come to the aid of some nut that had ruffled the feathers of their
local celebrity.

Where could she get help right now? Still
holding the phone, she looked at the strangers going about their
business in the library, oblivious to her plight. She may as well
have been invisible. A feeling of isolation permeated her being.
She ached for a familiar face or voice. Then she entered Winston’s
number. If she could just hear his voice, she might have the
strength to go after Jess. Her call went to voicemail again. He was
probably with Joe at the FBI office. She left another message in a
small voice that sounded foreign to her ears.

Outside the library, she found a blanket of
snow covering her car. She ducked inside to start the engine, then
got out and brushed snow off as the defroster cleared the
windshield. Snow still covered the side and rear windows. As she
got back in the car, she had the weird feeling of entering a
coffin.

She wished for that sense in birds and
animals that told them where to go without sight or sound, some
radar that would bring her back to the spot where she’d last seen
Rogart.

The town was so quiet. Few cars on the
streets. People headed to warm homes and dinner. Her stomach
cramped at the thought. She reached over and opened the console,
half-remembering the energy bar left there a week or so ago. She
grabbed the bar, tore the wrapper off with her teeth as she drove
slowly to where she remembered entering the town after fleeing
Rogart.

The snow had moved east as she retraced her
route as best she could. The energy bar was tasteless. Just as
well. She reached down for her water bottle, unscrewed the lid and
took a long drink.

There was not a doubt in her mind that the
cabin Rogart had attributed to Joe Flannigan was really the
property purchased by Arlette Cruz-Ramos. If Rogart had an
accomplice, it was likely the Cruz-Ramos woman and maybe the skinny
man as well. There had been a real destination that afternoon. But
it was Rogart’s place, not Joe’s.

When she was following Rogart, she must have
been almost there when some primitive inner radar had caused her to
pull over and stop. The fact that Rogart had driven around the
mountain and approached her from the east in another vehicle
indicated the proximity of the destination.

She concentrated on the curves, turned up the
defroster as the windows fogged up again. A hulking, naked
deciduous tree by the side of the road rose up in her vision like
an eerie hitchhiker. Her brain had sorted out that it was a tree
before her body stopped trembling.

If the scarecrow with the high voice at the
Ramos estate was an accomplice, why did he tell her Jess was with
Rogart? Well, duh. She was doing exactly what Rogart wanted. He
knew her. He played her like an instrument. He knew all the chords
to strike.

She braked slowly to a halt, feeling the car
skid slightly as she pulled to the side of the road. Ahead, the
rock mountain seemed to close in on her.

The possibility that Jess and Rogart were not
at Brookvale seemed remote. That she should follow his trail like
an unsuspecting bird was so…not… Not what? Not smart. Not prudent.
Not a hell of a lot of other choices.
Jessie, I can’t just leave
you.

Chapter 60

The soft jangle of his cell phone shatters
the moment. The Hunter curses the intrusion as he moves away from
Jess’s supine body and plucks the phone from the pocket of his
jeans. Arlette’s number jumps out at him from the small screen.

“Yes?” He can barely conceal his
annoyance.

“You said you’d be right back,” she reminds
him.

His face twists as he mouths her words in
silent mockery before he replies aloud, “What is it?”

“You need to know that a lawyer was here
looking for the black woman.”

He takes a deep breath, steps into his jeans
and pulls them up while holding the cell in the crook of his neck.
“Probably someone the family sent. Was the situation resolved?”

“Roy has taken care of the car. But I have a
question. Why would the lawyer refer to the black woman as her
colleague?”

“You must have misunderstood,” he says. “Is
the lawyer still hanging around?”

“She left, but if she was sent by the family
members─”

“I’m sure that was it.” He curses again under
his breath.

“Why can’t people just respect their loved
ones’ decisions?” asks Arlette.

He aches to choke her and stuff her in the
crematorium. He can’t wait for the day. He doesn’t know which
irritates him more─her cloying or her stupidity. Has she signed the
transfer papers for Brookvale yet? The question hangs, unasked.
She’s probably not
that
stupid.

“It’s a sad situation,” he finally
replies.

“She looks so…healthy,” Arlette comments.

He hates it when people try to elicit answers
without asking questions.

When he doesn’t respond, she continues, “I
said the black woman looks in good health.”

You should see her now.
“She’s been in
a lot of pain,” he replies. “Is there anything else?”

“I think the lawyer may have gone to the
police. When I didn’t see her leave, I sent Roy out to look for
her. He found her nosing around.” Arlette lowers her voice to a
whisper. “
He
is becoming a problem. You need to talk to him.
I’ve told him that he’ll be provided for after I’m gone.”

“I’ll talk to him. He won’t have any
financial worries. Is that it?”

“I called the sheriff and told him that the
woman was bothering me.”

Oh, great.
“What did he say?”

“He called me back to say he’d sent her on
her way with a warning. He said she seemed a bit off. He thinks she
probably went back to Denver.”

“Good job,” he says before hanging up.

During his conversation with Arlette, his
eyes are on Jess. Detecting no movement, he judges that the
ketamine in her system will hold her until he takes care of the
Diana business.

Downstairs in front of a window that gives
him an unobstructed view of Brookvale’s east entrance, he reviews
where he went wrong. When she’d gotten away from him that
afternoon, he was so sure that she’d hightail it back to Denver.
Now that he doesn’t need her any more, she turns into one more
loose end. She’ll burn for that, he decides. Literally.

Chapter 61

Intense lights tweaked Jess’s consciousness.
A soft groan escaped her lips as one eye half-opened. Her lids felt
like they had weights on them.
So bright. So white.

She looked up at the ceiling, source of the
brightness.
Am I in a hospital?
She moved her arms with
great effort. Then, her legs. Her fingers traced along the metal
surface on which she lay.
So cold.
Then she realized that
she was naked.

Her head ached with a vengeance. In the back.
Her hand sought out the place that hurt, at the base of her skull.
She withdrew her fingers and looked at them.
No blood.
Then
she remembered the needle prick. Somebody gave her a shot. Whatever
was in it must be giving her the headache.

The room smelled of disinfectant and
something she couldn’t immediately identify. As she tried to sit
up, the pain in her head intensified, but she persisted. It seemed
imperative that she get off that table, but she couldn’t remember
why.

Her eyes widened as she focused across the
room on a row of steel cabinet doors with large handles. The
handles were in the centers of the doors. They looked like…

Jesus Christ! I’m in a morgue.

Jess tried to swing her legs over the side of
the table, but had to lay back as dizziness overcame her. As one
hand flopped down on her inner thigh, she felt something wet and
slimy.
Am I bleeding…internally?

She dipped into the slime, then looked at her
hand, expecting blood. But the substance was colorless. Then the
strange scent that didn’t go with the antiseptic surroundings
identified itself.

Semen!

Whatever had been her last meal came lurching
up into her throat as she sat up again. Quickly, so she could retch
over the side of the table. So she wouldn’t choke on her own vomit.
When there was nothing left to disgorge, she wiped her mouth on her
arm, then slithered carefully to a standing position on the floor,
gripping the table for support.

Her last ride with Darren came reeling into
cognition.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
A lot of good
coulda-woulda-shoulda was going to do her now.

As her eyes dragged the corners of the room
for some sign of him, she wondered. He’d left her alone because…
Shit! I wasn’t supposed to wake up.

Jess staggered toward the only door in the
room, tried the handle. That it was locked didn’t really surprise
her. She looked around for her clothes. They weren’t in
evidence.

She took a more thorough look at the room.
Two stainless steel tables. A double sink. Shelving that held
bottles and jars of stuff, plastic tubing and a bunch of other junk
you’d expect in a lab. Something in the far corner that looked like
a furnace. She didn’t want to go near that─not really. Dizziness
forced her back against the bank of drawers that reminded her of a
morgue.

Even as she realized that getting out of this
room should be her first priority, Jess felt the handle of the
drawer that she leaned upon. Her fingers tightened around it. Then
she pulled.

At first the drawer remained stationary. Jess
tugged again, harder. With a faint sound of sloshing liquid, it
came sliding out as she moved back, making room for whatever it
contained.

Oh, God!
She choked back any audible
sound. A naked female form lay suspended on an opaque liquid. Jess
looked closer. Blond and young, she almost appeared to be sleeping.
Trisha!
The girl looked just like her picture. An odor of
paraffin emanated from the drawer.

Ohmigod. This is the procedure!

Jess felt as if she’d been poked by a cattle
prod. On suddenly steady feet, she dashed across the room and tried
the only window. Boarded shut from the outside. Her spaghetti legs
crumpled under her. She struggled back to a standing position.

There must be something here.
She
searched frantically for a tool of some sort, a sharp object to use
on the door lock, or if all else failed, as a weapon. One of the
shelves had drawers in it. Jess opened them until she found what
she was looking for: surgeon’s tools. She grabbed a scalpel, then
attacked the door lock with quiet urgency. She hadn’t picked that
many locks. Each scrape made her stop and listen for returning
footsteps. Each listening pause made her hold her breath, as
that
sounded even louder to her ear than the rasp of metal
against metal. As she worked, she marveled at how quickly her head
had cleared. If only her body cooperated as well.

Chapter 62

Diana rounded the dark mountain, grateful for
the intermittent wind that now covered the sound of her engine. At
least the snow had moved on down to Denver by now. She hugged the
side of the dirt road, creeping along at fifteen miles an hour.