The Hunt

seen the cabin. It seemed much longer.

They had three hours until sundown. They wouldn’t make it out before then, even if they ran the whole way.

“Ashley, we have to go.”

“No, no. I can’t. Let me stay with them.”

“He’s going to be looking for you.” In addition, there was barely enough room up slope behind the boulder to hide two men.

Miranda had faced her fear in the cabin and won. If she could conquer her claustrophobia, she could certainly lead Ashley to safety. But only if the girl would cooperate.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“I can’t,” Ashley wailed, tears running down her cheeks.

“Yes, you can. Don’t let him win.”

Nick said, “You’re stronger than you think, Ashley.”

Something in his tone made Miranda look at him. Though his eyes were closed, she saw on his face that he was worried. And more. A quiet understanding. He knew. He’d lain next to Ashley and witnessed her rape. Miranda hated that he’d been through that.

But for the first time in her life, she didn’t dwell on what happened all those years ago. She’d escaped the Butcher then, and she would elude him now.

“We need to go,” she said. “Lance, don’t forget to call Charlie as soon as you’re hidden up slope.”

“I will.”

Ashley whimpered, her body heaving with dry sobs. But she seemed resigned to going with Miranda as she slowly got to her feet, her arms still wrapped tightly around herself.

Miranda turned one last time to Nick as she strapped on her backpack. “I expect to see you alive when I get to the end of this canyon.”

CHAPTER 32

Quinn searched the Parker residence with Deputy Jorgensen while two other cops searched the grounds.

“Clear,” Quinn called.

Richard Parker looked ghostly, his face drawn, when Quinn stepped back out on the porch. “He could have killed Ryan. He could have killed Delilah.”

“Ryan’s safe,” Quinn reminded him. “I sent a deputy over to the Moore place to watch over him. Every available cop is looking for Delilah and David.”

“She didn’t know. She couldn’t have known.”

Parker had been repeating this mantra in the car until Quinn was ready to slug him.

“Agent Peterson!”

One of Nick’s deputies came running up. “We were checking out the south meadow like you said and heard faint gunshots down in the gulch.”

“Where?”

“It was hard to tell with the echo, but it was from the bottom most certainly. It’s obvious that several people have walked down the slope; there’s recently disturbed dirt and plants.” The deputy wiped a hand over his face. The drizzle had been steadily increasing, but it wasn’t fully raining yet.

A series of four-wheel-drive trucks came down the driveway. Quinn recognized the driver of the first truck, Charlie. Quinn didn’t wait for him to get out, but met him next to the gravel area by the barn.

“I just talked to Lance Booker,” Charlie said. “They found the girl. And get this: Nick’s with her.”

Quinn slammed his fist on the hood of Charlie’s truck. What was Miranda thinking going down into that canyon alone? He didn’t care that she had a deputy with her; she wasn’t a cop, she wasn’t a federal agent. Why?

It hit him: She thought she could save Ashley. He would have done the same.

“Let’s head down to the meadow. I’ll catch a ride with you-we’ll need the four-wheel-drive if this rain gets any heavier.”

“It will,” Charlie said grimly.

The drive was short and bumpy. As soon as the truck stopped, Charlie’s radio buzzed. “GCSR, GCSR, anyone there?” GCSR was the acronym for Gallatin County Search and Rescue. Miranda’s unit.

Charlie answered. “Roger, Charlie Daniels here.”

“Charlie, it’s Lance Booker. I’m calling to give you coordinates. Can you take them?”

Charlie pulled a pencil and pad from the visor. “Give them to me.”

Booker gave the coordinates. When he was done, Quinn took the radio. “Booker, it’s Agent Peterson. Put Miranda on.”

“I can’t, sir.”

“Why the hell not?”

“There was no place here to conceal all four of us and she took Ashley farther down the gulch.”

“Explain.”

Quinn closed his eyes when he got off the radio with Lance Booker. Damn, damn! Miranda had no other choice-she hadn’t had many options. But to have her running with an injured, scared woman…

“Let’s get going. Booker says it’ll take forty-five minutes to get down to the gulch.”

“I’ll cut that time in half. Ever rappel down a mountain?”

Davy stared at the open door. Red rage exploded in his chest, filling every blood vessel with potent hatred.

That bitch stole his girl.

Where did they go?

She was a smart bitch; she wouldn’t go up the gulch. It only grew steeper, narrower. A trap. She hadn’t fallen for his traps before. Down Boulder Gulch would land them out near Big Sky. Hard going over the rocks, and they’d have to cross several creeks. With the rain last week they were running high. Waist deep at least. It would slow them down.

She wouldn’t be able to take his girl up the mountainside. Too steep. He’d picked this location because of the trap to the west. He wanted to corner the girl. See the hot fear in her eyes when she realized there was no way out. Would she run toward him? Or cower against a mountain she’d never be able to climb?

Instead, the bitch must have taken her down the boulders, taking the sport out of it. What was the fun of shooting them in open space? He’d done that before.

He wanted something new.

The bitch would pay for what she’d done. He should have killed Miranda Moore twelve years ago.

He would have her begging for mercy before he cut out her heart.

Miranda winced at the buzz of her radio. She had it turned low, but it still made noise.

“Moore here,” she said, mindful of the echo. The rain was coming down steadily, helping to mask the noise, but if the Butcher was on her tail she had to take every precaution. They were keeping close to the north slope so they weren’t completely out in the open, but the rain made the ground slick. She had on hiking boots yet still fell once; she’d had to pick Ashley up more times than she could count.

They were not moving fast enough for her liking.

“It’s Booker. The Butcher came and left, ninety seconds ago at a quick pace. He was not happy.”

Booker’s voice came through fuzzy.

“Roger.”

“I tried for a clean shot, but I couldn’t get one.”

“Better to stay hidden. If you missed the first shot, he would have known where you were. How’s Nick doing?”

“He’s going in and out of consciousness. I was talking to him, keeping him awake, until I spotted Larsen and