'Really?' Anne asked.
Carrie nodded. 'You honestly don't watch television, do you?'
Anne shook her head. 'I could work on the sheets. Maybe instead of tying knots, I could figure out a way to braid them together… or something.'
'That's good,' Sara said. 'While you're doing that, Carrie and I will work on the wall. Anne, you're brilliant. I never would have thought to go out through a wall. I think this is doable.'
'We have to leave during the night,' Carrie said. 'I don't relish the idea of tromping through the wilderness in the dark, but if we make our way downhill until we estimate we're past the fence, then we could get to the road and follow it back to town.'
She'd made it all sound easy. Was she being naive, or could it be that simple?
'We should probably take a couple of sharp knives with us,' Sara suggested. 'Just in case we run into any wild animals.'
'Or Monk,' Carrie said. She shivered then. 'I think I'd prefer fighting off a wild animal than running into him. Do you know…' She suddenly stopped, embarrassed at what she had almost confessed.
'What?' Sara asked.
'You'll think I'm gross, but I thought he was handsome. '
Sara snorted with laughter. 'I did too. I loved his accent. Do you think it was real?'
'I thought so,' Carrie said. 'I thought he was sexy.'
Anne had been listening quietly to the conversation until Carrie made that comment. She couldn't keep silent any longer; her disapproval was evident. 'Shame on you, Carrie. You're a married woman.'
Carrie defended herself. 'I'm married, yes, but I'm not blind, and there isn't anything wrong with appreciating a great-looking
man. Surely you've-'
Anne cut her off. 'Absolutely not,' she insisted. 'I would never insult my Eric by lusting after another man.'
'Did I say I lusted after him?'
'Will you stop bickering,' Sara begged. 'You make me want to open a door.'
Chapter 19
John Paul retrieved the watch then hiked over twelve miles. He made a wide circle around the perimeter of the
location marked on the map looking for signs-anything out of the ordinary, like a sniper hunkered down in the scrub. When he was satisfied he was alone, he planted the watch and backtracked four miles to Coward's Crossing.
There wasn't any doubt about being in the right place. There was a crude hand-painted sign nailed to a stake that had recently been pounded into the ground. The white paint with the words 'Coward's Crossing' wasn't weathered and, therefore, couldn't have been more than a couple of days old. The arrow on top of the sign pointed to a boarded-up, abandoned mine shaft. There was a woman's bright red silk scarf nailed to another board above the entrance.
Dawn had arrived, and the mist was being burned by the rising sun. John Paul was safely concealed by the trees and bushes. From where he was positioned, he could see the entrance to the shaft. He didn't relish the idea of climbing down inside. Were
the women there? Doubtful, he thought. Monk wouldn't have kidnapped them and then given Avery a map showing their location.
No, Monk was isolating his prey. No doubt about that.
When would he take his shot? Maybe he thought they would want to go into the shaft. How had Monk planned to kill them? Explosives, he guessed. Yeah, that's what Monk would do. Clean and neat, an underground explosion no one would hear, and
he wouldn't have to worry about burying what was left of their bodies.
Come on, John Paul urged. Show yourself. There was a good thirty yards of open space between the cover of the trees and the shaft. Check it out, Monk. Let me get one clear shot. He would try to immobilize him so he could question him and, hopefully,
find out where the women were.
Someone was out there. The silence in the woods confirmed it. No birds singing, no squirrels scurrying about as they foraged for food. Nothing but the wind whistling a forlorn melody through the branches and an occasional rumble of thunder in the distance.
John Paul was patient. He could wait it out for as long as he needed. But what about Avery? How long would she sleep? And when she woke up and found him gone, would she try to come after him? The possibility sent chills down his back. He pictured her walking into a trap and had to force himself to block the image of her being gunned down.
He thought he heard something and tilted his head, straining to listen. The sound didn't come again.
What was Avery doing now? Was she still asleep? He'd left her snug as a bug in his sleeping bag with the gun next to her.
Damn, he'd hated leaving her. Knock it off, he told himself. She's fine. The car's well hidden and over ten miles away. Yeah,
she was okay. Ah, hell, try as he did, he couldn't convince himself.
How in God's name had she worked her way under his skin so quickly? And what the hell was the matter with him to be
attracted to her? She was a damn liberal, he reminded himself, one of those 'Let's save the world' types. Worse, she was a
team player, and the team she obviously loved playing for was the Bureau.
They were completely, thoroughly, absolutely unsuitable for each other. And yet here he was, worrying himself sick about her.
Monk could have tracked them… a twig snapped behind him. Without making a sound, he turned, trying to pinpoint the location. He thought it was maybe thirty or forty feet away, but with the rising wind it was impossible to be accurate.
For over five minutes he didn't move a muscle. Then he heard another sound, a faint rustling of leaves. Ever so slowly, he eased back on his haunches, zeroed in on the exact spot where the noise had come from, and took aim.
Then he saw those blue eyes staring at him between two little branches she had so painstakingly parted.
He was suddenly livid. He had damn near killed the woman. What could she have been thinking to sneak up on him like that? If she hadn't stayed perfectly still and let him see her face, if she had made one more little sound, he might have blown her away. Son of a bitch, he silently cursed as he eased up on the trigger. Son of a bitch.
Thank God he hadn't hurt her. An odd thought, given the fact that he was now contemplating wringing her neck.
He strained from the effort he exerted not to shout at her. He held up one hand, motioning for her to stay put. She slowly shook her head and held up one finger. Then she pointed behind her.
He moved through the brush toward her.
Avery knew he was furious. His jaw was clenched so tight she thought it might shatter. She slowly got up on her knees, leaned into him until her mouth was touching his ear. Then she whispered, 'He found the car.'
John Paul heard movement and saw the glint of steel through the trees about fifty feet away. Like a lion, he sprang.
Avery didn't have time to react. One second she was whispering into his ear, and the next she was flat on her stomach on the ground, her face smashed into dead leaves with John Paul covering her as he fired. The dirt around her head was spitting up into her hair.
