“You don’t actually have to write anything until you’ve thought it out. This is an enormous relief, and you can sit there searching for the point at which the story becomes a toboggan and starts to slide.”
—MARIE DE NERVAUD
Through the green monochrome tint of his night optics, Mick sees the jagged edges of an opening in a wall of rock. It’s wide enough for Emma’s wheelchair, plus a foot on either side.
Looking down, he sees footprints, and what looks like drag marks, leading in. If I step out from cover, Jason will shoot me. If I stay here, he’ll kill Emma.
Mick picks up a rock and tosses it into the opening.
“What took you so long?” comes the voice of Jason Hughes.
“Is Emma Benton with you?” Mick asks.
“Mick, I’m—” Emma’s voice is cut off by the sound of a sharp slap.
Anger flushes through Mick, slow and burning. The muscles in his arms tense. “Hughes, or should I say, Berndt, this is between you and me. Let me trade places with Emma.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Jason laughs. “No. You’re going to join us. And if you don’t, I’ll send her out—one piece at a time—until you do.”
Mick sends a text to Joe: Found cave. Jason has Emma. Going in or she dies. Move forward fifty yards. Stop. Remain quiet. Stay under cover.
“How do I know you’re not going to shoot me when I step in?” Mick asks.
“You don’t.” Jason laughs. “You’ll just have to trust me. Throw your weapon in first, and then enter with your hands above your head.”
Mick sets the safety, then throws in the Glock, grateful for his ankle carry.
He enters the cave and sees Emma in her wheelchair. His heart gallops at the sight of her. His mind floods with relief, dousing the nightmare images he’d imagined. She’s alive. He exhales slowly to make his breathing slower and more effective.
As Emma leans toward Mick, Jason pulls her body back.
Crouching behind her, he sneers. “You look like a bug-eyed frog. Take off those night vision goggles. And while you’re at it, turn around. I want to see if you were stupid enough to tuck a gun in your waistband.”
Mick does what he’s told.
“Okay. Turn back around.”
Jason shoves a flashlight into Emma’s left hand. “Hold this on your lap and aim it up. I want Mick to have a good view when I slit your throat.” He yanks Emma’s hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck. “Don’t move.”
Exhilaration soars through him. The power of life and death is his, and he’s drunk with the taste of it. Before starting his handiwork, he crouches behind Emma, rests his chin on her shoulder, and smiles tauntingly at Mick.
Emma hears his breathing. Slow and measured—no panic, or lack of control. His breath is foul. The smell sweeps into her nostrils, nearly making her gag.
Except for his face, no other part of Jason is exposed. Reaching into his left cargo pocket, he feels for his knife. “What the fuck?”
When Jason turns his head to check his pocket, Emma slips her hand under her right thigh and fists the knife, blade down.
Knife-less, Jason grabs his gun and stands up behind the chair. Emma feels his stomach at her back as he leans forward toward Mick.
Adrenaline surges through her veins, accelerates her heart rate. I’ve got one chance. Standing fast, Emma catches Jason hard under the chin with the top of her head.
She hears a primal, guttural sound ring throughout the cave. It takes a second for her to realize it’s her as she slams the blade back into Jason’s right thigh and twists it.
Mick has a look of disbelief on his face as Emma flinches before toppling forward, face down on the ground.
Then a bullet rips into Jason’s chest and joins the echo of Jason’s Beretta.
Jason’s gun drops to the ground.
“No, I wasn’t stupid enough to tuck a gun in my waistband. It was in my ankle carry.”
Jason falls backward and hits the ground.
“What the hell?” Weapons drawn, Joe and Toni enter the cave—each in a half squat, their torsos swiveling—to find Mick bent over Emma’s blood-stained back with two fingers on the side of her neck checking for a pulse.
“She’s still alive,” Mick shouts. “Joe, radio Herb and tell him we need LifeFlight. There’s not enough clearance on the property, tell them to land at the entry gate. Then call Niall and tell him to get the ATV as close to the back of Thoreau cottage as he can. Toni”—He nods toward Jason’s body. “Check to make sure he’s dead.”
As Toni kneels over Jason, he whispers, “I told her.” Then he loses consciousness.
Pressing two fingers on his carotid artery, she feels a weak pulse. “He’s still alive.”
“Lucky son of a bitch,” Joe says. “He’s already escaped death once. Mick, do you want Herb to get an air ambulance for him, too? Or should he just wait for a meat wagon?”
“I’m not through with him. I want that bastard to live,” Mick growls. “Order another lift.”
Herb and Chris try to keep up with Hemingway as he races toward the back of Thoreau cottage. “Wait up, Buddy,” Herb shouts.
Libby answers on the first ring. “Yes. Yes. Okay, behind Thoreau. He’ll be right there.”
“Who was that?” Niall asks.
“Emma’s hurt. Mick needs you to bring the ATV to the back of Thoreau, then drive them to the front gate. LifeFlight’s on their—” She finishes her statement to Niall’s already-retreating back.
Mick lifts Emma, cradling her in his arms as gently as he can. Stepping out of the cave into the fresh air, he feels her blood ooze down his arms, slow and insidious. The moonlight is tangled in Emma’s dark auburn hair. Please God, let her be okay.
Joe joins Mick. “I’ll shine the light on the ground in front of you ’til we get to the top. It’s rough going under the best of circumstances, but if we both try to carry her, we’ll jostle her too much.”
“Thanks, buddy. Did you call Niall?” Mick asks.
“Yes, he’s on his way. Can you tell where she was hit?” Joe asks, worry evident in his tone.
“He shot her in the back. It hit the left side, between her scapula and spine. When I first heard her breathe, there was a sucking sound. I think a bullet may have hit a lung. I plugged the wound so she can breathe easier.”
“So that’s why you’re missing a sleeve,” Joe says, nodding toward Mick’s bare arm.
Just then they hear Hemingway bark. “We’re almost there, Emma. Hang on,” Mick whispers.
When they reach the top of the canyon, Herb, Chris, Joe, and Niall lift Emma from Mick. Once he’s seated in the back of the ATV, they transfer her back to his waiting arms. Mick’s heart thrashes against his sternum as he looks at her. Please don’t die.
From the side of the ATV, Hemingway tries to nudge Mick. “It’s going to be okay, boy.”
Turning, Mick says, “Chris, will you please take Hemingway up to the main house? I know Libby, Fran, and Cynthia can use your assurance.”
Motioning for Joe to step closer, Mick says, “Now’s the time to call the FBI. Bring them up to speed on the situation, and then you and Herb head back down to Toni. I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”
And with that, Niall drives toward the front gate.
“Herb, you head down to Toni,” Joe says. “I’ll be right there.”
Whump-whump-whump. They hear the sound of rotating helicopter blades long before they see the chopper. As they drive through the front gate and stop, it swiftly sheds altitude and lands about a hundred feet away. Its prop wash pummels them and bends the tall grass back.
Two first responders exit the bird with a stretcher and make the expert transfer look easy. “We’re taking her to St. Joseph’s. It’s the closest hospital with a helipad,” one of them shouts.
As Mick makes to join them, one of the guys shakes his head. “There’s only room for the triage unit,” he yells.
Mick nods in understanding. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he yells back.
The noise is deafening as the turbine gears up for liftoff.
Niall says, “Mick, if you let Libby call Emma’s parents while you shower, you can be on your way to St. Joseph’s all the sooner. I’ll have a fresh pot of coffee ready by the time you head to the hospital. You’re a little on edge to be the one to call her folks.”
“You’re right,” Mick agrees. “I almost killed a man tonight, Niall.”
Resting his hand on Mick’s forearm, Niall says, “We were wondering what happened in The Devil’s Canyon. But from the bits and pieces we’ve put together, it sounds like the world would be a safer place without him.”
Mick runs his hands through his hair and down his face. He exhales deeply through his mouth and inhales through his nose, trying to wrap his mind around what’s happened.
Above them, the stars seem weary in a sky bleached thin by the neighboring city’s lights.
“Jason was going to slit Emma’s throat,” Mick says. “Everything happened at once. She stood up fast and caught him under the chin with her head and stabbed him in the leg. He shot her in the back. I shot him in the chest.”
“Emma stabbed him?” Niall asks, impressed. “Where’d she get a knife?”
“I think it was Jason’s. When he reached for it in his pocket and it was gone, he pulled a gun instead. That’s when Emma stood up. He didn’t expect it. She blindsided him. Remember, he wasn’t in the kitchen the night she showed us what she’s been working on—that she can stand.”
Toni slaps on a pair of latex gloves and rummages through “Jason’s” backpack. She shakes her head at the number of aliases she’s known him to use. She checks every compartment but doesn’t find anything of use.
Turning her flashlight onto Alex’s body, her eyes are drawn to the knife sticking out from his right thigh. Emma, you’re one smart cookie. She nods with admiration.
Picking up an empty bottle of Jack, Toni looks at Alex’s motionless body and says, “Everyone has an Achilles heel, and this is yours.”
She starts pacing—back and forth, back and forth. I can punch his ticket right now, and no one will be the wiser. Just pinch his nostrils, cover his mouth, and it’ll be over. She pauses and turns around, directing the beam at Alex’s face. He’s one of the most dangerous and volatile men I’ve ever known. She draws in a long breath, then blows it out, giving herself a moment. He’s got a hole in his chest. It would be a “mercy” killing. Her brief smile is followed by a frown. But I want to know what he meant by, “I told her.” Who, Emma? And just what did he say?
As she walks over to the wheelchair, she’s impressed that it’s still upright. But that makes sense. Emma fell forward when she was shot in the back, and Alex fell backward when he was shot in the chest.
With nothing else to do, she peels off the gloves, sits in the chair, and waits for the others, callous to the fact that someone is dying a few feet away.
“I’ll meet you in the kitchen with a thermos of hot black coffee,” Niall says as he pulls away from the front of Mick’s cabin.
“I’m just going to shower and change. I’ll be right over.”
The wind kicks up, howling its worry as Niall pulls around to the mudroom entrance. “Hey, where’s Hemingway?” he calls out, expecting a greeting from his companion.
“He bolted when Chris and Herb opened the front door,” Libby says. “How’s Emma and where’s Mick?”
“We don’t know about Emma’s condition yet. They’ve taken her to St. Joseph’s.”
What exactly happened?” Libby asks.
With mutual concern, Fran and Cynthia step over to join the conversation.
“Jason shot Emma in the back, and Mick shot Jason in the chest,” Niall says. His expression is grim. “As you know, Emma’s been life-flighted to St. Joseph’s.”
Slack-jawed, Libby’s and Cynthia’s hands fly to their chests. Fran buries her face in her hands. Through parted fingers, she asks, “Is Jason dead?”
“Close to it, but no. There’s another LifeFlight on its way,” Niall says.
“This is a terrible thing to say,” Fran says, “but I wish he had died.”
Niall nods and continues. “Mick will be here in a minute. He’s showering and changing his clothes, then he’ll swing by to grab a thermos of coffee on his way to the hospital. Libby, will you please call Emma’s emergency contact. Mick and I both assume it’s in her registration paperwork and that it’s her parents.”
“You’re right on both counts, this is going to be a difficult phone call,” she says, heading to her office.
Niall starts a fresh pot of coffee then puts on his apron and begins pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator and cupboards.
Seeing the look of devastation on Niall’s face, Cynthia says, “Fran, let’s give them some space. You haven’t seen the gorgeous guest room yet. I’d love to show it to you.” And with that, the two women head down the hall.
Mick arrives at the main house and finds Libby in her office, wrapping up the conversation with Emma’s parents. “Yes. St. Joseph’s. Okay. Sean McPherson is my brother. He’ll be at the hospital waiting. No. No. It’s no trouble at all. You can stay in Emma’s cottage. Yes. Uh huh, text me your flight details, and I’ll see you in Seattle. Ok, bye.” And she ends the call.
“You’re driving to Seattle?” Mick asks Libby.
“Well, the Benton’s—Maureen and Philip,” she corrects herself, “said it’ll be much faster to catch a flight to Seattle than Bellingham. They’ve got to get to St. Joseph’s from Sea-Tac somehow, and it’ll be emotionally better for them to ride with someone who knows Emma rather than with a stranger.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the best sister ever?” Mick asks.
“Maybe a time or two.” She smiles. “By the way, are you going to finish getting dressed?”
Mick looks down and shakes his head. He tugs his shirt closed, then his fingers march up the buttons, fastening them.
Libby and Mick enter the kitchen together and share Libby’s plan with Niall.
“You’re right,” he agrees. “Mick, while you’re at the hospital, I’ll keep the home fires burning. I imagine it’ll be like a revolving door around here until the dust settles. And most people like to eat when they’re stressed.” Brandishing a wooden spoon, he continues, “And I can meet that need. Speaking of which, here’s that thermos of hot coffee I promised. Please keep us posted on any updates.”
Turning to Libby, Mick asks, “Are you taking the van?”
“That’s what I had in mind.”
“That’s great, I just filled it. I’ll take my Jeep. Thank you for the coffee,” Mick says to Niall as he heads toward the door. “I’ll call or text when there’s news about Emma.”
When Joe enters the cave, flashlight in hand, he sees latex gloves crumpled on Toni’s lap. “Did you check the backpack?” he asks, nodding toward it on the ground.
“I did, but nothing looks important. I left everything where it was. Do you want me to bag and tag it?”
“Yes, please.”
Pointing with her chin, she continues, “I removed the knife from the guy’s thigh before they carried him out of here. I bagged and tagged it, along with the empty bottles of Jack. They might have prints we can lift.”
“Good work, Bianco. Thank you.”
Carrying the evidence bags up the side of the canyon, Joe turns to Toni. “There are ten unsolved murders we think this guy’s responsible for. The autopsy findings from the first two victims show that each medical examiner recovered tissue from under their fingernails. And while the DNA tissue scrapings match each other, they don’t match anything currently on file in CODIS.”
Bianco listens intently, as she always does, sometimes grunting or nodding in encouragement, occasionally requesting clarification.
Joe continues, “At the hospital, we’ll be able to get DNA from Hughes or Berndt, or whatever the hell his name is.”
“I wonder why only the first two women had tissue under their nails?” Toni asks.
“The eight women after them had zip-tie restraints around their wrists,” Joe says. “It appears the killer got better at subduing his victims.”
They trudge for a while in silence, each one thinking their private thoughts.
“I’m meeting with Sean Rafferty at the hospital in the morning,” Joe says.
“Who’s Sean Rafferty?”
“Oh, that’s right, you’re a new transfer. Rafferty’s an FBI agent from the Seattle office. We’ve worked cases with him before.”
Toni’s step falters and she catches herself. “When did they get involved?”
“About thirty minutes ago.”