was fine. But no calls would go through. Not even a call to 911.
What if Bryan was on his way back to the cabin this very minute? He would pull into the driveway, blissfully unaware that anything was wrong, and Vargov would kill him! She had to get down the mountain to the last little town they’d passed through-was it called Icy Creek?-where she could notify someone. And she had to make sure she met Bryan if he was headed this way. But to get past the cabin, she would have to go out in the open-or circle through the dense woods, way around.
As she dithered about what to do, the cabin’s front door opened, and Vargov came out. He looked left, then right, scanning the woods. Her heart pounded. He was looking for her. He climbed into his car, and Lucy crossed her fingers. If he drove up the road looking for her, it would be her chance to get past the house.
Sure enough, he headed up the mountain.
Just as she was about to make her move, she heard something, a loud something coming toward her, breaking branches and crunching leaves. Was it Vargov? Panic zinged through her. How had he found her so quickly? Did he have heat-seeking scanners? A tracking dog?
Then she realized it was not Vargov, and she didn’t know whether to be relieved or not.
Because it was a black bear.
Okay, it would probably run if it saw her. Still, she zipped up the nearest tree like a monkey, grateful for her rural upbringing. Her family had owned a small peach orchard, so she’d climbed her share of trees.
Wait a minute. Didn’t bears climb trees?
It came closer. She was twenty feet up, well out of its reach, but it seemed to be very interested in her. It reared up on its hind legs and leaned up against the tree trunk, sniffing madly.
Oh, God, what if it started climbing? She considered screaming, but that would bring Vargov straight to her. Did she prefer to be shot, or eaten?
Just then there was another noise. The bear turned, wary of a threat. This time it was Vargov. He was quieter than a big man should be, hardly even crunching leaves, but she could hear his breathing. He’d probably parked the car up the road some place where it wouldn’t be spotted so when she returned, she would assume all was well. Then, returning to the cabin on foot, Vargov had heard the bear and thought it was her.
Vargov and the bear saw each other at about the same time. The big man cursed and raised his gun, shooting at the hapless bear. He missed. The startled bear lumbered off at a gallop.
“Christ,” Vargov muttered, still breathing hard and rubbing his neck. He was sweaty and pasty. “I’m too old for this.”
He looked around, but he didn’t look up. Lucy clung to her tree branch, the rough bark scraping her skin, the mosquitoes chomping on her, and prayed.
He holstered his gun and headed back toward the cabin.
Lucy waited until he’d gone inside, then clambered down. The business with the bear had wasted precious time. She’d lost her chance to get past the cabin. She would have to circle far around through the woods. But there was no other choice. She plunged into the thick undergrowth, getting slapped by twigs and branches, trying to be quiet in case Vargov had some listening device.
When she judged she was a good distance from the cabin, she headed downhill roughly parallel to the road, wondering how far she would have to hike before she reached Icy Creek.
Then she heard another car engine.
This time, to her horror, she recognized the distinctive rumble of Stash’s Peugeot. She was still too far from the road to get there in time to head Bryan off. She broke into a run, heedless of the branches whipping at her face, hair and clothes. For a moment she thought she might beat him…but she was too slow.
She broke cover just as the Peugeot turned into the cabin’s driveway. The engine switched off and the driver’s door opened.
“Bryan!” she called out. He froze, turned. “It’s a trap!” She motioned frantically for him to get back in the car.
Her warning came too late. Shots rang out from the house. Bryan dived behind the car.
Lucy knew she should make for the safety of the woods. But all she could think about was being with Bryan again, facing the danger together. She made a headlong dash across the road toward the cabin. More shots came from the house, churning up the asphalt road inches from her feet. She expected one to rip through her flesh any moment. But by some miracle she made it to the car in one piece.
Bryan dragged her down beside him, then behind him, placing his body between her and the shooter. “Lucy, are you crazy? You almost got killed.”
“Yell…at me…later.” She sucked in great gulps of air, feeling like she might pass out. “What do we do now?”
“Who’s in the house?”
“Mr. Vargov.”
“That’s impossible. Vargov is in France.”
“Don’t you think I know my own boss?” she said impatiently. “It’s definitely him. I took off into the woods, and a bear chased me, and then Vargov showed up and he shot at the bear-”
“Lucy, slow down. You’re not making a lot of sense.”
“Maybe we can outrun him,” she said suddenly. “He’s thirty pounds overweight and blind in one eye, so he has lousy depth perception.”
“Maybe so, but he almost got-Did you say Vargov is blind in one eye? And overweight?”
“Yes. Didn’t you know that?” She’d assumed he knew everything.
“Siberia is blind in one eye. And overweight. It’s why he’s not in the field anymore. Christ, Lucy, they’re the same person.”
Lucy let the implications sink in. No wonder Bryan had been having such a hard time with this case. His boss had been providing him with misinformation.
Bryan swore again and pulled his cell phone from his pants pocket. Almost instantly he realized it wouldn’t work.
“Mine doesn’t work, either,” Lucy said. “I wanted to call you and warn you, but I couldn’t.”
“Vargov must have put a scrambler device in the cabin. It’s why he lured us here-so we couldn’t call for help.”
“Then what do we do?”
Bryan silently reviewed their options. “We hold out until dark. We might stand a chance of making a break for it if Vargov can’t see us.”
But Vargov had no intention of allowing them to wait him out. Another flurry of shots rang out from the house. Bryan returned fire, breaking all of the upstairs windows. He practically sat on Lucy to keep her down and out of the line of fire.
When the shooting stopped, it was eerily quiet. Even the birds had stopped chirping, and the breeze had died to nothing.
“Maybe you got him,” Lucy whispered.
“Doubtful.” Bryan’s voice had a strange, strangled sound to it. The hand he’d placed on her shoulder to keep her low to the ground lost its grip, and his gun rattled to the pavement.
“Bryan?”
He slumped against her, bleeding from a wound to the shoulder, dangerously close to his chest.
“Bryan!” In her panic, she forgot about the man shooting at them. Her only thought was that she would have to get Bryan some medical attention or he would die-and that meant getting him into the car and driving down the mountain.
He was conscious, though barely. “What-what are you doing?” he asked when she tried to hook her hands under his arms and lift him.
“You have to get into the car.”
“Lucy, get down!” That was when she realized she’d been standing almost upright, and no one had shot at her.
Maybe Bryan had hit Vargov after all. Maybe he was reloading, or out of bullets altogether. She didn’t have time to speculate. Bryan was bleeding at an alarming rate. The front of his shirt was soaked in red.
“You have to help me, Bry,” she said. “You’re too heavy. I can’t lift you into the car myself.”
