Going to Extremes. Amanda Stevens
Читать онлайн книгу.
interior. The convicts had taken a hostage. They’d stripped him and bound him to a wooden chair. He was bleeding profusely from his wounds and seemed barely conscious as his head lolled forward, chin on chest.
As Kaitlyn watched in horror, one of the MMFAFA members approached him. Grabbing the man’s hair, he pulled back his head, exposing his throat as he slipped a knife blade along the delicate skin, drawing even more blood.
The man groaned and began to babble. He spoke in what sounded to Kaitlyn like German. “Gotthilife mich. Gotthilfe uns alle, wenn Sie gelingen.” He muttered it over and over. Kaitlyn tried to translate, but her high school German was too long ago and she was so terrified she couldn’t think straight. But she could tell from his demeanor that he was begging for mercy.
His pleas fell on deaf ears. Someone shouted, “For the Cause!” and they all took up the chant as the knife whipped across the hostage’s throat.
The gush of crimson sent Kaitlyn into a momentary state of shock. She stood paralyzed at the window, hand clapped to her mouth to suppress her own scream. She couldn’t move. She hardly dared to breathe. If they saw her…
She must have made an involuntary sound, or perhaps some instinct told him she was there. Boone Fowler had been standing with his back to the window, and now he turned slowly, his gaze meeting Kaitlyn’s through the window.
Bloodlust glinted in his eyes.
Kaitlyn had never seen such a cold, demonic expression. His lips twisted cruelly as he acknowledged her presence and then he sprang like a panther across the room to the window.
At that moment, Kaitlyn knew she was a dead woman walking, but her instinct for survival was stronger that she’d ever imagined and, whirling, she sprinted for the woods.
She heard the glass shatter behind her as Fowler leaped through the window, and then the more immediate sound of rustling leaves and snapping twigs underneath his feet as he pursued her.
Kaitlyn ran like the devil himself was behind her. She was young, fit, and had the advantage of fear-induced adrenaline spurring her through the wet twilight. For a moment, she thought she might actually have a chance of getting away, and then she came to a dead stop as she found herself teetering on the brink of a canyon.
She spun, her gaze darting about for another way out, but Fowler had already found her. He was perhaps twenty yards away and closing in on her as he took in her predicament. Then his steps slowed. No need to hurry. He had her cornered.
Kaitlyn’s heart pounded as she watched him. Would she be better off to fling herself from the cliff…or wait for Fowler to seal her fate?
“Who are you?” he asked in a voice that gave nothing away of his past. He might have been a fellow traveler that she’d stumbled upon in the woods. Not the remorseless killer who had the blood of two hundred innocents on his hands.
Kaitlyn didn’t answer him. Her breath was coming so hard and fast she couldn’t speak.
Fowler took a menacing step toward. “I asked you a question, girl. Who are you?”
“Kaitlyn Wilson.”
His gaze narrowed. “Do I know you?”
“I’m a reporter for the Ponderosa Monitor.”
“A reporter?” He took another step toward her. “Who told you where to find me? Answer me!”
Kaitlyn jumped at the rage in his voice. “No one. I didn’t come up here looking for you. I got stranded in a flash flood on Route 9. I kept walking until I could get a cell-phone signal.”
“Who knows you’re up here?”
No one, Kaitlyn thought in despair. Not a single soul. “The police. I called 9-1-1 for help. They’ll be here soon—”
“You’re lying. You can’t get a cell-phone signal up here for miles.” He started toward her again, and Kaitlyn backed away, gasping when she wobbled too close to the edge of the cliff.
Fowler laughed. “Careful. That’s a long fall.”
He was obviously enjoying himself, like a cat playing with a mouse. Even in the gathering darkness, Kaitlyn could see the gleam in his eyes. The feral grin that made her blood run cold. He was going to kill her as he’d killed Jenny. Maybe it was destiny catching up with her after all these years.
Maybe it was nothing more than her imagination, but Kaitlyn could have sworn she felt Jenny’s presence in the wind that swept through her hair. In the rain that fell like teardrops on her face.
Come on, Kaitlyn! You’ve always been able to think on your feet. You can talk your way out of this if you try.
Kaitlyn tried to beat back her panic as she moistened her lips. “I didn’t come up here to find you, but now that I have…I can help you. I can give you a public platform. Arrange for you to tell your side of things—”
Before Fowler could reply, a voice said from the darkness, “I’m afraid we can’t allow that.”
Kaitlyn couldn’t see the newcomer. He remained hidden in the woods behind Fowler, but there was something familiar about his voice. She’d heard it before.
If he knew her, maybe he’d help her somehow…
“Who are you?” she asked, sounding far more desperate and frightened than she would have liked.
“It doesn’t matter who I am. You’ve stumbled upon the story of a lifetime, it seems. I’m sorry you won’t live to tell it.”
Kaitlyn’s stomach churned at his words. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t even know who you are.”
“You’d put it together sooner or later. I truly am sorry, but in times like these, sacrifices have to be made. Our Cause is far too important to risk letting you go.”
Oh, God…
“Kill her and make it quick,” he said to Fowler. “Have your men dispose of both bodies and make sure they clean up inside.”
“Whatever you say. You’re calling the shots.” For now, Fowler’s tone implied. “For the Cause!” he shouted in triumph.
“For the Cause,” the disembodied voice agreed.
Fowler lifted his weapon, but in the split second before he pulled the trigger, the ground gave way beneath Kaitlyn’s feet. Loosened by all the rain, the edge of the canyon broke free and slid downward, carrying Kaitlyn with it.
She screamed as the bullet whizzed past her cheek, and then she plunged backward into nothing but darkness.
Chapter Two
Wednesday, 1600 hours
The storm had let up overnight and the early part of Wednesday morning, but as the afternoon slipped away, a new front moved in, bringing rain bands that slammed across the JetRanger’s path. Cruising at an altitude of three hundred feet beneath heavy cloud cover, the chopper rose and fell like a roller coaster as wind gusts of up to twenty-five knots batted it to and fro.
No problem, Aidan Campbell thought as he kept his eyes pealed out the window for the missing woman. The JetRanger III was a reliable machine, and the pilot, Jacob Powell, had nearly twenty years of experience under his belt. Plus, he was trained to fly in thirty-knot and above winds. Aidan had seen the guy navigate through near-hurricane conditions—and while they were taking heavy fire, to boot. Comparatively speaking, this search-and-rescue mission was a piece of cake.
The request for assistance by the county sheriff’s office had come into Big Sky Bounty Hunters headquarters at approximately 1300 hours, and Cameron Murphy had immediately notified his teams—already in the field searching for the escaped prisoners—to be on the lookout for a Ponderosa woman whose abandoned and submerged vehicle had been spotted on Route 9. Presumably, she’d taken to high ground during the storm, but the fact that she hadn’t been heard from in over twenty-four