“Amy, wait!”
Ryan watched as she faded into darkness, then looked desperately at Jeb. “If one of us doesn’t go after her, she’s going to end up like that woman in the car.”
Stockton tightened his aim. “Just stay right there!”
Ryan thought fast. Even in the heavy ballistic jacket, he could probably outrun the old man. On impulse, he turned and ran in Amy’s footsteps.
“Stop!”
Ryan only ran faster, never looking back.
66
Nathan Rusch was angry, not about to be outrun by a woman ten years his senior. He had come down from his hiding spot in a matter of seconds, chasing down the wooded path that led to the dam. Her sixty-yard lead had closed to less than twenty. He’d tried to make verbal contact, but his shouts on the dead run had only made her scream.
His lungs were beginning to burn. The hills and thin mountain air were taking its toll. He wondered if the drug Sheila had given him back at the hotel this morning wasn’t still affecting him, making him fatigue faster. Lucky for him she’d lacked the nerve to kill. Unfortunately for her he didn’t have the same qualms.
He stopped at a fork in the footpath, unsure of which way to go. A canopy of trees completely blocked out the moonlight. He’d lost sight of Marilyn. He listened for footsteps cutting across the woods. All was silent, save for the water flowing beneath the damn.
“Freeze!” The voice had come from behind — an older man’s voice.
Startled, Rusch wheeled quickly. Jeb Stockton was standing behind a rock, his gun aimed at Rusch. “Put the gun down,” said Jeb, “hands over your head.”
Slowly, Rusch obeyed. The gun dropped. His hands went behind his head. Jeb was obviously having a hard time seeing in the darkness, particularly with Rusch’s black clothing. He stepped out from behind the rock and took five steps forward. He closed to within ten yards. “Lay on the ground, face down. Nice and slow.”
Rusch lowered himself to one knee, his eye on Jeb’s chest. In one blinding motion his hand snapped forward from behind his head, releasing a titanium throwing knife from the sheath on his wrist. The sleek blade whirled through the air and struck the target, parting Jeb’s ribs. He groaned as the wound dropped him to his knees. He fired two erratic shots, then fell to the ground.
Rusch grabbed his gun and came to him quickly, checking the pulse. It was weak. He gave a moment’s thought to finishing him with a bullet, but it wasn’t necessary. He’d let the old man suffer. He yanked the knife from his ribs, cleaned it on Jeb’s shirt, and tucked it back into his wrist sheath.
“Don’t feel bad, old man,” he whispered smugly. “No one ever looks for the knife when they think they’re in a gunfight.”
Stockton’s left arm jerked forward. A loud crack erupted as he fired off a round from a small palm-sized revolver. Rusch was hit square in the chest and fell over in a heap.
Stockton collapsed, exhausted. “Don’t feel bad, jackass. Nobody ever looks for the second gun, either.”
The gunshots echoed like thunder in the canyon, drawing Amy and Ryan to the fork in the footpath. Amy arrived first, barreling down the hill. Ryan was close behind. Breathless and scared, she stopped at the first sight of the body on the ground. The boots she recognized as Jeb’s. In the darkness, she hadn’t noticed the man in the black body suit, but finally she did. He was completely still. She felt a wave of relief till she noticed the blood at Jeb’s side. She ran to him and knelt close.
His eyes were glazed. He was barely conscious. Blood had soaked his shirt, covering his chest. He coughed, trying to speak. “Bastard, got me with a knife.”
“Who is it?”
“Damned if I know.”
Amy quickly went to the body, checked a pulse. Nothing. “He’s dead.” She pulled the hood off his head. The face was unfamiliar, but she knew it had to be Rusch. She came back to Jeb’s side.
“Did you see Marilyn?”
He shook his head.
“Which way did he come from?”
“The dam.”
Amy started at the pounding footsteps behind her. She rose and aimed her gun. Ryan stopped short and backed away.
“Easy,” he said. “I’m on your side. I think.”
Amy jerked her gun, directing him toward Jeb.
“Other guy’s dead. He stabbed my friend here. You’re a doctor. Help him.”
Ryan went to his side and checked the wound. It was a clean hole from an incredibly sharp knife. Air and foamy blood appeared around the edges with each expiration. “Thankfully it missed the heart. But definite signs of pneumothorax.”
“Numo-what?”
“A sucking chest wound. I think the knife punctured a lung. This man needs a chest tube. We have to get him to the ER.”
“I can’t just leave Marilyn. What if this dead guy has a partner out there somewhere? She’s wearing a wire. They’ll kill her if they find it on her.”
“Who is they?”
“The people who would have killed you if Marilyn hadn’t intervened. They may have killed my mother.”
For Ryan, it was a relief to hear that someone other than his father might have killed Debby Parkens. Jeb groaned. Ryan dug Norm’s cell phone from his coat pocket. “I’ll call Medevac. Somebody has to wait here with him.”
“You’re the doctor,” she said. “I’ll find Marilyn.”
Jeb raised his arm, as if he wanted to say something. Amy leaned close but couldn’t hear.
“What’s he saying?” asked Ryan.
“I don’t know. He’s delirious.”
“I can’t leave him. He’ll go into shock. But don’t you go charging off by yourself. This is too dangerous.”
“Sorry,” said Amy. “You’re the one with the Hippocratic oath.”
Before he could speak, Amy darted down the path in the direction of the last scream. Low-hanging branches slapped her in the darkness. She was running on pure adrenaline, rounded a sharp turn, then stopped short. She had reached a clearing. The dam was straight ahead. A moonlit view of the canyon stretched beyond. The powerful sounds of rushing water rose from the depths. She took a step forward and nearly lost her footing. The gentle slope of the trail was at an end. It was a steep drop to the dam and observation deck, accessible only by a walkway of makeshift steps cut into the mountainside.
“That’s far enough.” It was a booming voice from the side.
Amy froze. Joe Kozelka stepped out from behind the rocks. He had sent Rusch to do the job, but this assignment was far too important to rely totally on a subordinate. He had to follow, arriving quietly by boat off big Lake Cheesman, which stretched for miles behind the dam.
His gun pressed against the base of Marilyn’s skull. He was standing right behind her, using her body as a human shield. Amy turned her gun toward him, but Marilyn was in the way.
“Drop the gun,” he said.
Her arms stretched out before her. The gun felt heavy in her hands. But she didn’t move.
“I said, drop it.”
Amy squeezed her gun.
“Don’t listen to him,” said Marilyn.
“Shut up!” He wrenched her arm behind her back.
Marilyn cringed. “Don’t give up your gun, Amy. He’ll kill you.”
