sensed that Bill did, too. Parcel 1899-A6 in Rough and Ready was where they were, where some if not all of this business was going to finish.
A woman came into the lobby and opened the doors at nine straight up. Runyon asked her directions to the recorder’s office; two minutes later they were in there and Bill was giving the clerk Mia Canfield’s name and the parcel number and asking for maps to pinpoint the exact location. It took the clerk a few minutes to look it up, bring out a big book of area maps, find the one that showed 1899-A6.
Bill studied the map with Runyon looking over his shoulder. The parcel was a couple of miles outside Rough and Ready, on Old Stovepipe Road. Looked easy enough to find: follow the Rough and Ready Highway through the village, left turn on Bugeye Mine Road, left turn on Old Stovepipe and a quarter of a mile down. The parcel itself was rectangular, half again as deep as it was wide, with a creek running through it lengthwise along the south borderline; the creek and the mileage ought to be all the landmarks they’d need.
Five minutes and they were back in the car, another ten and they were taking the Highway 20 exit off 49. They still weren’t talking, but only because words were unnecessary. They were a single-purpose unit, had been all along. Bill was the emotional type until push came to shove; then he was like a rock. Plenty of proof of that last Christmas, if any was needed. He sensed that you couldn’t ask for a better man to partner with in a tight situation.
As they shot downhill toward the Rough and Ready turnoff, Runyon glanced over and saw that Bill had his piece out-a. 38 Colt Bodyguard-and was checking the loads. In his cop days, when Colleen was still alive, he might’ve told him to put the gun away, it wasn’t safe riding with a loaded revolver in your lap. But he wasn’t a cop anymore, and Colleen was gone, and Bill knew what he was doing; he didn’t say anything. If their positions had been reversed, he’d probably have been doing the same thing.
28
ROBERT LEMOYNE
When he first saw something moving in the woods, he thought it was a deer. Lots of deer up here, roaming alone or in little herds, eating up all the ground cover and crapping everywhere so you were always stepping on their turds. Rats with hooves. But then, in the next second, there was a splash of color… two legs, not four… and that brought him up short. Somebody trespassing on his property? He squinted hard, shading his eyes. And then the figure hobbled onto a patch of open ground where sunlight slanted down among the trees, and there was a ripping sensation behind his eyes that brought fragments of confusion, disbelief.
Dark Chocolate.
Couldn’t be, she couldn’t have gotten out of the trailer. But it was. How? Carrying something wrapped in a blanket… Angie? Not Angie, the stranger who wasn’t Angie. Both of them trying to get away.
She wasn’t moving anymore. Poised like a deer trying to blend into the background. She’d seen him, too. Deer and hunter, only he was too far away for a clear shot and he wasn’t any good with a handgun anyway. All he could do was take off running. And as soon as he did, she did the same thing-wounded deer, dark chocolate deer, limping deeper into the woods.
He raced across the yard, unzipping his jacket pocket, fumbling the gun out. Another blip of sunlit color, then he couldn’t see her anymore in the tree shadow. But he could hear her, even at a distance, blundering around in there. He reached the creek, trampled some ferns getting down the bank, splashed across, and then he was in the woods with her.
Where would she go? Savage pounding ache in his head now… he couldn’t think clearly. He gritted his teeth, pinched his eyes hard with his free hand. Think! Where would she go? The road, across it to the thicker woods on the other side? If she made it into that stretch, there were plenty of places she could hide and he might not be able to find her. Or would she go over the boundary fence onto Brannigan’s parcel? You could see the farmhouse from there, Brannigan had a big family and there was always somebody around. If they saw her… if he couldn’t stop her…
Boundary fence. Wire, barbed wire. Meadow on the other side, graze for Brannigan’s mangy herd of dairy cattle. No, she wouldn’t go that way… the barbed wire, all that open ground… if she made as far as the fence she’d veer off…
The road.
He pulled up, sucking air. Pinched his eyes again, jammed the heel of his hand against one socket, then the other. The road. Couple of hundred yards of woods… she didn’t know them, it’d take her a while to find her way through. He didn’t have to chase her on foot to catch her before she ruined everything. The road, Old Stovepipe Road.
He swung around and ran back out of the trees, over the creek and across the clearing to where the Suburban waited.
TAMARA
She heard him crashing around somewhere behind her. Then she didn’t hear him anymore. Must’ve slowed down so he wouldn’t make as much noise and she wouldn’t be able to tell where he was.
She forced herself to do the same thing. Would’ve had to anyway because her ankle was on fire and she was afraid it’d give out on her or she’d step on a rock or something hidden under the thick matting of needles and twist it even worse, maybe break it. And Lauren, small as she was, was no longer a clinging featherweight; heavy now, a constant strain on the tired muscles in her arm and shoulder.
The first rush of panic was gone. She was still plenty scared, but mad as hell and even more determined. Son of a bitch wasn’t gonna get his hands on them again. Not after all they’d been through, not this close to freedom. If he got near enough to shoot her he’d better kill her with the first bullet. Otherwise she’d find a way to claw his eyes, break his balls, tear his throat out with her teeth, take that Saturday night special away from him and shove it up his ass so far the barrel be poking out one of his nostrils. Wasn’t gonna hurt Lauren. Wasn’t gonna stop her. Wasn’t, wasn’t, wasn’t!
She dodged around tree trunks, hopping on her good leg, dragging the bad. How far was the road? Couldn’t be too far now. She was sure she hadn’t lost her sense of direction, it had to be straight ahead. Ground slanted upward here, little moss-coated humps of rock sticking out of it, thick grass and bushes and ferns and the trees close-packed again. She made it to the top of the rise, paused with her back to one of the pine boles to catch her breath and listen. At first all she heard was Lauren’s breathing-raspy, liquidy, as if she might have fluid in her lungs, hot and moist in her ear.
Sudden rustling, snapping noise somewhere behind her… but it wasn’t Lemoyne. Jay or some other bird high up in the interlacing of branches; it squawked when it flew off.
Was that a fence over there?
She focused, staring past a tangle of brush and dead limbs to a spot twenty or thirty yards away. Yo… fence post, wire, barbs glinting in a patch of sun. She pushed off the tree, forgetting her ankle for a second, biting down hard against the splintering pain, and hobbled that way. Once she got to the tangle she could see all the way past. Boundary fence, long stretch of it visible from there. And on the other side a wide meadow, empty except for stumps where some trees had been cut down. Above it was a section of tilled land And a farmhouse. Long way off, few hundred yards. Flatbed truck parked on one side, some kind of car under a carport on the other. Thin streamers of smoke coming out a tall metal chimney.
People.
Help.
Her pulse rate jumped. But the rush of relief didn’t last long. Try to climb over or through that barbed wire, she might get herself hung up and Lauren hung up… and she didn’t know where Lemoyne was, he might be close enough to catch her before she made it onto the other property. The farmhouse was too far away for yelling to do any good; it’d just tell him exactly where she was. And even if she did get past the fence, there was all that open space over there. She couldn’t outrun him with a twisted ankle. Be easy for him to catch her in the meadow, drag her and Lauren back onto his property. Or shoot them while they were out in the open, pick them off like animals on the run…
