Those Who Wish Me Dead Page 17

  “So we’ll stop. You’ll check. It should take no more than a phone call. I’ll be right here with you. Say the wrong word and you’ve chosen the outcome more surely than I have. Something you need to remember—she’ll go first. I’ll see to it.”

  “You’ve made that clear. We’ll stop at my house. We’ll also start from there.”

  “Allison set that on fire, so it’s probably not ideal.”

  “Don’t say her name again, you son of a bitch. Don’t say it.”

  “You prefer ‘Mrs. Serbin’? I thought we were past needless formalities.”

  Ethan focused on peaks, still snowcapped, in the distance. Formidable rock faces that were friends. If he could remain calm, he would soon be surrounded by them.

  “I’ll stop in town and make a call,” he said. “You want to walk in with me and shoot me down if I say the wrong thing, you can. You want to stay in the truck, keep that burned face of yours away from questions, you can do that too.”

  “You’re very gracious, Ethan. But I’m well aware of my options. I trust you to go in alone. You’ll have your chances to cause trouble for me, but you’ll remember the way your wife looked in the hospital today. You’ll remember that, and remember who’s at her bedside.” He paused, shrugged, and said, “Or you’ll let her die. I’ve been wrong about a man’s character before. Perhaps I will be again.”

  Ethan parked in front of the Cooke City General Store. It had stood there since 1886 and Ethan imagined that over that many years many an evil man had surely passed by it but doubted any like the one who rode at his side.

  “I’ll walk down to the right,” he said. “To Miner’s Saloon. I can use a phone there and nobody will be listening. There’s a phone on the far end of the bar. The right-hand side. I’m going to walk to it and make a call. You’ll probably be able to watch me through the window. Nobody will see you, not with this tint.”

  “You have my trust, Ethan.”

  “Am I on a clock?”

  “By all means, take your time.”

  His tone was light, mocking. That was fine. Stay cocky, stay fearless, and Ethan would piss on his corpse.

  Ethan walked down the sidewalk to Miner’s and pulled open the door without so much as glancing back at the truck.

  “Ethan, man, didn’t expect to see you in here! I heard about…the fire.” This was from the bartender. Ethan figured the man had stopped himself from saying Allison’s name because he didn’t know what might have happened. Ethan looked up and nodded and said, “She’s fine. I’ve just got to make a call. Sorry.”

  “Of course.”

  He called Roy Futvoye. Said that he was back in town and wanted to know if the searchers had had any success.

  “I’m afraid not. They spoke to someone who thought she’d seen him, one of the fire lookouts, but they haven’t found him yet.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Coming down toward the Soda Butte now.”

  The Soda Butte was the stream that ran on the south side of town, parallel to the Montana-Wyoming line. That meant they’d made a loop of it, expecting that Connor had broken free and then tried to get back to civilization. It would have made sense to them, because they probably figured he wanted help or at least wanted to get back to familiar terrain. They did not understand his fears yet, and that was good. Another advantage. Ethan did not expect to find Connor on a highway, or even a trail. Not so soon. He had food, he had water, and he had terror. He would have searched for a good place to hide.

  “No sign of him beyond that tip?”

  “None. But that one sounded valid. She gave a good description, and the timeline was right. Maybe he dropped his pack and picked up the pace, got out to the road faster than we thought he would.”

  “Maybe,” Ethan said. “So your team is going to come out for the night?”

  “They’re out. We’ll send a fresh group. Luke Bowden stayed back.”

  “What?”

  “You know Luke, he doesn’t like it when he loses a trail. Damned bloodhound. I guess he wasn’t happy with the way they lost the kid’s prints at the fire lookout. He decided to backtrack and see what he could find.”

  “Get him out of there,” Ethan said. His tone changed enough that the bartender glanced his way.

  “Why?”

  Because Luke might actually find the kid, Ethan was thinking, but he said, “Because people shouldn’t run searches solo, Roy. You know that.”

  “He’s just back-trailing. Nothing’s going to happen to Luke—”

  “Things can happen to anybody,” Ethan said, and it came out too close to a snarl. He swallowed and said, “There’s something wrong with this kid, you realize that. Don’t let anybody go wandering around alone.”

  Especially somebody who may beat me to him. Especially somebody with a radio.

  “I’ll advise him,” Roy said, but his voice had changed now as well. “Ethan, you okay? You know something more than you’re telling me?”

  “I know I’m shaken up, Roy. It’s been that kind of day. Listen, I’ve got to go. I’ll check back in soon. Thanks.”

  Ethan hung up. He looked at a man sitting at the bar eating a steak and considered the knife he was using. It would be nice to have a knife. But the burned man wouldn’t miss that. Ethan thanked the bartender and walked outside into that warm wind. Knowing he had to hurry now. His own clock was speeding up, and the burned man didn’t even know it yet.

  When Ethan opened the door, the burned man looked at him casually, the pistol in his hand.

  “Send for the National Guard?”

  “You’ll know soon enough.”

  “I have the patience for my own wit. Not yours.” His voice was dark and he tilted his head so that some of the burns fell into shadow and said, “What’s the word?”

  “No luck yet. If we’re lucky, we’ll catch him coming up to the road. If we aren’t, then we’ll have to go back to the place where I lost him, and I’ll have to start tracking.”

  “You don’t think we’ll be lucky, though.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s too afraid of you to stay on a trail.”

  “Thinking like the lost person. Good for you. And an accurate assessment, I believe. His approach in the past has been to hide and then run.”

  “And you couldn’t get him yourself. You should have called me then.”

  The burned man looked at him and smiled.

  “Starting to appreciate my wit?” Ethan said.

  “No. I was just thinking of how your wife looked with her hair on fire.”

  24

  The woman named Hannah had saved him, at least temporarily, and that was great, but it didn’t mean he could let her rush him. And she was rushing him now. Telling Jace to get up and get moving, telling him to leave the pack behind because they’d move faster without the extra weight, telling him that if they went fast enough, they’d both be riding out of the mountains on a helicopter by the end of the night.

  “Slow down,” he said. “We need to slow down.”

  “Hon, that is exactly what we cannot do. It is time to hurry. I know you’re tired, but—”

  “We have a goal,” Jace said, “but we do not have a plan.”

  It was funny; if an adult had said this to Hannah, it would have made perfect sense to her, but those same words coming from a kid apparently meant there was something wrong with the kid. Hannah stared at him as if he’d just told her that he wanted to ride out of the mountains on a unicorn.

  “It’s what Ethan says.”

  “Ethan, your survival instructor?”

  “Yes. The one I was with until last night.”

  “That’s terrific, Connor. That’s great. But I’m pretty sure if Ethan were here right now, he’d tell you that we need to hurry.”

  “That’s the exact opposite of what he would say. Panic kills. You rush and you make mistakes. You’re trying to rush me.”

  She laughed. The exasperate
d, I-am-done-listening-to-you sound his mother made during arguments. “I’m trying to rush you, yes. You arrived at my door with a killer behind you, and now I would like to hurry the hell out of here.”

  “Two killers,” Jace said. “We haven’t seen the other one.”

  That had been bothering him for some time. He knew very little of these men, but somehow he was surprised to discover that they were willing to separate. It had felt to him as if they came together, a matched set.

  “Connor,” Hannah said, “we can talk and walk. Please. The only mistake right now would be staying here any longer.”

  “Ask my dad—he takes pain pills every day because of somebody who rushed. You’re already making one mistake.” He tapped on the glass of the Osborne and said, “Aren’t we going to want a map?”

  This time, the look she gave him was more considered. She even made an odd little smile, as if someone had told a joke, and she stopped arguing with him.

  “All right,” she said. “We’ll take a map. That’s a pretty good idea. I will admit not thinking about that was a mistake. Do you see any others?”

  She seemed to be asking him seriously, and that gave him a sense of strength he hadn’t felt in a while. Not quite the same as when he’d built the fire, but close. A reminder that he was capable of more than he imagined.

  He looked around the tower and tried to see it the way Ethan Serbin would. It was hard; he was sure he was missing things. The map had been obvious, but although he wanted to bring his entire pack, he had to admit she had a point about the walking speed.

  “Map, water, some protein bars,” he said, speaking slowly, thinking of what they must have and what they could leave behind. “I’ll bring the plastic and the parachute cord for shelters. And the fire steel.”

  “We’re going to need to be on the move, not building shelters.”

  “That’s what everyone says a few hours before they realize they need a shelter.”

  She gave the little smile again, nodded, and said, “All right. I’ve got water, and some lightweight food. I’ve got a knife and a multi-tool. You’ve got the map, the compass, and the rest of what you want?”

  He nodded.

  “Then are you ready? Or is there something else?” Her eyes were drifting to the windows that faced east, the direction she’d sent them. She was worried that they would return soon, and he wondered how convincing she had been in the conversation.

  “Just let me think a minute.”

  “That’s your favorite approach, isn’t it, Connor? You are one patient guy. A thinking man, and a patient one.” The frustration was clear in her voice, but he ignored it. She had helped him and now he had to help her. Think like Ethan. Think like a survivor. Just think.

  “Okay,” Hannah said after he’d been silent for maybe thirty seconds. “Looks like you’re all thought out. Let’s move.”

  “Leave the light on.”

  “What?” She turned back to him with a confused look because it was a brilliantly bright afternoon, and you wanted, if anything, more shade in the glass-walled room right now. Unless you were thinking like a survivor.

  “The light’s very bright at night,” Jace said. “Trust me, you can see it from a long way off.”

  “We’re going to be very far away by the time it—”

  “They may not be,” he interrupted, and she fell silent. “If anyone thinks you lied, they’ll be even more sure of it if the tower goes dark, right? You’re already off the radio, but at least people believe you’re still here. If it’s dark tonight, they might wonder.”

  She nodded slowly and said, “Okay, kid. Keep going. You’re earning it.”

  He knelt beside his pack and unzipped it, removed the map, the compass, and the parachute cord, and then stopped and said, “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t have the plastic. We walked away with the shelters still up.” He looked at her and said, “Do you have anything that would work? Some ponchos, maybe? Something that could be used as an emergency shelter?”

  Her expression changed then for reasons he didn’t understand. Her eyes went sad.

  “What’s the problem?” he asked.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. And, yes, I’ve got a shelter. That’s exactly what it is. An emergency fire shelter. It would probably be a good idea to bring it along, I suppose. But I want you to promise me something. You need to listen and not argue, all right?”

  Jace nodded.

  “I will not get in that thing,” Hannah said. “I will let you get in it if you need to, but I will not, and you had better not try to make me. You promise?”

  “Okay.”

  She rubbed a hand over her face and said, “What else?”

  He thought they had it all. He emptied his pack of the nonessentials and put them under the cot and then added the fire shelter. It didn’t weigh much. Looked like tinfoil.

  “This is supposed to keep you from burning?”

  “Yes, it is,” she said, and then added, “and yes, it does.”

  He looked up at her and she turned away immediately.

  “Were you ever in one?”

  “Connor—just pack the damn thing.”

  He did as instructed, then stood and put the pack on. It was much lighter than it had been since it held a lot less stuff, but he was still glad to have it. He felt better, more prepared, and how someone felt had a direct impact on what he did. His survivor mentality was coming back. It would be good to be moving again and even better to know that the man who had come to kill him was moving in the opposite direction.

  “I think I’m ready,” he said.

  “Good. Let’s get to it, then.”

  He stepped out and hesitated—the height of the thing surprised him even though he’d been looking out the windows a lot of the time. Then he got moving, one foot in front of the other, keeping his eyes on his boots.

  When he stopped short, Hannah Faber almost ran into him.

  “What’s wrong?” she said.

  “What’s your shoe size?”

  “Pardon?”

  “What is it?”

  “A ten, Connor. Yes, I have big feet. And I’d like to get them moving.”

  “Do you have any other shoes?”

  “Connor, that’s useless weight. We are not going to need two pairs of shoes.”

  He turned around, holding the rail with one hand, and looked at her feet. They were big for a woman. He put his own foot beside it. Almost the same.

  “Do you have any other shoes?” he repeated.

  “Connor! We’re not going to—”

  “The search party tracked me here fast,” he said. “I’m pretty sure they know my boot prints by now. It would be nice if they didn’t see them leading away from your tower.”

  She was giving him the stare that he was beginning to regard as normal. Then she turned around and walked back up the steps and into the cabin without a word. He followed her in. She went to the foot of the cot and came back with a pair of boots.

  “Perfect,” he said. “Let me see if they fit.”

  She was looking at them funny, as if she didn’t want them to be used. When she spoke again, she was still staring at the boots and not him.

  “I’ll wear these,” she said, setting them down by the bed. “You try the ones I have on.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” She began to unlace her boots. They were more like hiking shoes, really. The boots by the bed, though, were serious work boots. He ran his index finger over the glossy black leather. Sturdy stuff. The laces went all the way from the tongue of the boot to the toe.

  “What are those laces made of?”

  “Kevlar.”

  “You’re serious? Like, the bulletproof stuff?”

  “Yes.”

  “Those look pretty tough,” he said.

  “They sure as hell are, kid. Now, try these on.”

  He got his own boots off and slipped his feet into hers. A little snug, but n
ot bad at all.

  “They work. You really do have big feet.”

  “It gives me certain advantages, Connor. I won’t blow over even in a strong wind.” She put on the new boots slowly, as if there were something wrong with them. By the time she had the laces tied, her eyes were closed.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just haven’t laced up in a while.” She opened her eyes and said, “Now that we’ve gone to this extreme, make sure to hide your old boots. None of this will be much help if they walk in and find your boots right there on the floor.”

  Good point. He was disappointed in himself; that was an obvious problem, and he had missed it. He picked up the boots and looked around the room and saw no great option. Looked again, taking slower inventory, and then crossed to the woodstove and opened the door. Cold ashes inside. He put the boots down in them and closed the door.

  “Very good,” Hannah said. “Very smart.”

  They left the tower for real then, making sure the light was still on to greet the darkness when it came, and at the bottom of the tower, they turned west and crossed the plateau, and Jace’s feet left no trace of the boy who had come this way in the morning.

  25

  Allison woke in the afternoon to a sea of muddled regrets. Should have brought the shotgun onto the porch, should have been firmer with her concerns over Jamie Bennett, should have allowed Ethan to go after the boy, should have gone with him into the mountains, should have…

  And then awake, fully awake.

  And alone.

  The hospital room was dim but not dark. Ethan’s chair empty. That was fine. He’d left for some reason, and he would return. She had been asleep for a long time.

  The minutes passed and he did not return and at length she grew uneasy alone there in the room and pressed the call button above the bed. A nurse arrived within seconds, asking if she was in pain.

  “A little, sure, but I’m…I’m fine. I was wondering where my husband is?”

  “No idea, Mrs. Serbin. He left some time ago.”

  “What do you mean, left?”