He hadn’t paused to identify the two men on the snowmobiles before dashing into the forest. He’d guessed who they were, and he’d been correct. They’d called out to him periodically, and he recognized their voices. Dutch Burton and Wes Hamer. Both of them were strong and athletic. He was also reasonably sure
that in the last forty-eight hours neither had been struck by a car, suffered a brain concussion and a gash on the head, or sprained an ankle.
Probably neither had made love most of last night, either.
Strength-wise, they definitely had the advantage over him. But they certainly didn’t outsmart him. In fact, they weren’t very bright at all. Good trackers would have kept their yaps shut, so as not to alert him to their position or distance from him. Despite their boasting of hunting skills, they had a lot to learn about stalking prey. Maybe they thought human prey responded differently to noise than animal prey.
But make no mistake. Tierney, he thought to himself, you are prey.
Any doubt of that had been dispelled by Wes’s taunting catcalls and Dutch’s dire threats, which echoed eerily through the snow-cushioned forest. Just as he had feared, they wanted Blue, dead or alive. He strongly suspected they favored the former, particularly Dutch Burton, who had shouted more than a few obscene allegations regarding him and Lilly.
Dutch wore a badge, but Tierney knew that wouldn’t prevent him from blowing his heart out if given the chance. In addition to being a law enforcement officer, sworn to uphold the law and protect an individual’s civil rights, Dutch was a husband scorned whose ex-wife had spent two nights in isolation with another man. If he got Tierney in the crosshairs of his scope, he would pull the trigger and exult at doing so.
They sensed that he was weakening, and that served to spur them on. He didn’t stop to look back, but he could tell they were gaining on him. Sounds of their passage through the forest came ever closer. They had it easier than he did. He had to forge the trail. All they had to do was follow it.
He considered taking cover and making a stand against them. He had the pistol, and it was still loaded, missing only the bullet that Lilly had fired at him. However, its respectable range was nothing compared with that of a rifle. And there were two of them. One could keep him under cover while the other sneaked around and flanked him.
He was also afraid that, if he stopped, he would never be able to get up again. His stamina was depleted. He’d thought it had been exhausted yesterday when he went after Lilly’s medication, but today he truly was on the verge of collapse. Only sheer willpower kept him on his feet.
Just as he had decided that, in order to have any hope of survival, he must keep moving, he saw a branch near his head splinter. A millisecond later he heard the crack of a gunshot.
He dived into the snow and rolled behind a boulder.
“Tierney, you might just as well give up,” Dutch Burton shouted.
He wasn’t foolish enough to raise his head above the boulder in order to pinpoint their position, but he could sense them darting between the trees, moving nearer. One was advancing on his right, the other on his left. The important thing was, they were advancing. He was trapped.
Now that he had stopped, he realized how much he hurt. Every cell in his body was screaming in agony. He was short-winded. He was hungry.
“We know you’re Blue. The FBI nailed you with stuff they found in your cabin at the lodge.”
Tierney had already figured that out. It was circumstantial evidence, but all the justification a jealous ex-husband would need to take him out and worry later about the fallout over his breach of legal procedure.
Tierney didn’t dare speak and make himself an easier target. He hardly breathed. He heard nothing from them, either. They had stopped moving. They must have decided to wait him out. For several minutes the three shared the absolute quiet.
A noise eventually broke the silence, and Tierney identified it as another snowmobile. The sound came from a distance, and because it had a million surfaces off which to ricochet before reaching his ears, it was impossible to tell from what direction.
Though they didn’t speak, he sensed that Dutch and Wes were listening to it too. Had someone on foot come along and availed himself of one of their snowmobiles? Were they wondering how they were going to transport his dead body back to town if, between them, they had only one snowmobile?
They would be stupid not to take advantage of the distracting noise.
Never accuse them of being stupid.
Above the diminishing buzz of the snowmobile, he heard the unmistakable sound of a twig snapping underfoot. One of them was closing in on his right. Thirty yards away, maybe more. Maybe less. Even a lousy marksman couldn’t miss at that distance.
A more subtle noise came from his left. A patch of snow falling with a soft plop onto the ground. Had the wind blown it down, or had one of them disturbed a lower branch and knocked it loose?
He held his breath, listened. The snowmobile could no longer be heard. He couldn’t even hear his own breathing. He’d covered his mouth with his scarf so the vapor of his breath wouldn’t give away his position.
Wherever they were, however far from his hiding place, they seemed content with their positions. They weren’t moving. They could wait.
Again they did. The three of them. Silently. Waiting for someone to make a move.
And then another sound rent the silence. The clatter-clap of helicopter blades. Cleary’s police department sure as hell didn’t have a chopper. It had to be from a state agency or the FBI. In any case, Dutch wasn’t going to shoot him in cold blood in front of witnesses. Wes Hamer didn’t count. He would back up his buddy, lie under oath in his defense, no matter what. And vice versa.
Till now, the forest had protected Tierney by providing good cover. But suddenly that advantage had shifted to Dutch. He could shoot now and explain later that Tierney had resisted arrest, leaving him no choice except to stop him with a bullet. Or he could attest that Tierney had charged them, forcing them to protect themselves. Either way, he’d be dead, and they’d be vindicated.
No, in order to survive Lilly’s trigger-happy ex, he must get into the open, where he could be seen by whoever was in that chopper.