Disturbance Page 27

  They had laid the maps out at Stinger’s place and marked them up based on what they knew from various reports about where Parrish might have taken a group of searchers. Stinger had helped Frank to reason out where Parrish was most likely to be. The maps still bore those markings.

  Even though he had not since been back to the area they flew over now, Frank thought he could have found it in his sleep. It had been, after all, a place of waking nightmares.

  Frank looked down on the pristine expanse of white below him and saw it as he had seen it that day in May, a bloodied field covered with the remains of his colleagues and, as he had at first feared, perhaps his wife’s as well. He shook himself. She had not died there. She was not, he told himself fiercely, dead now.

  He glanced over and saw that Ben was looking pale. As hard as this was for Frank, it had to be a thousand times worse for Ben. “You okay?” he asked over his headset.

  Ben shook his head no but kept staring down at the meadow.

  The last time they had been here, Ben’s closest friend had been murdered. Ben had left on a stretcher, airlifted in this helicopter.

  The vista below was beautiful and serene.

  Everything changes, Frank thought, and forced his mind back to the present.

  Travis brought the helicopter as low as he could without allowing its downwash to disturb the snow. Even studying the meadow with field glasses, Frank could see no signs of human tracks.

  They had already looked in another meadow, one Parrish had also been known to use. They had even explored the ridge between the two meadows. Travis had set the big Sikorsky down there, not far from where it had rested once before. They had trudged through the snow, looking for any sign that Parrish had come back here, even hiked up to a shallow cave, one of the places Irene had told Frank about after she was rescued. But the cave was clearly long-abandoned. Other than stretching their legs and giving the dogs a chance to get some exercise, nothing had been gained.

  Travis’s voice came over the headset. “Pappy just contacted me,” he said, referring to the dispatcher at their home base. “Looks like that storm is slightly ahead of schedule.”

  “Do we need to go back?”

  “Not yet, but we probably only have another hour or so before we should either go back or put her down and wait it out. She can fly in rain and is designed to survive a lightning strike, but that can still lead to dangerous amounts of damage. I don’t want to risk it.”

  “I don’t want anyone to have to rescue us,” Frank said.

  “Do what you need to do.” They had all been patient with him, Frank thought. Good about keeping him distracted during the long flight up here. And it was beginning to look as if he had guessed wrong about where Parrish was going. He had thought of this area as Parrish’s comfort zone, but nothing said Parrish would stay true to that now, especially once it had been discovered. In Parrish’s view, the recovery of remains from this meadow was undoubtedly a desecration of his work.

  “Wasn’t there a place he used as an airstrip?” Travis said.

  “Yes,” Ben said. “We started out from there … the last time. We hiked up here from there.”

  “Would it still be there?” Jack asked.

  “Yes,” Frank said. “It belongs to the Forest Service. They use it to land fire crews—he just took advantage of it.” He looked it up on the map, then gave Travis the coordinates.

  “Okay. Let’s head back that way and check it out. We can look from there, and if I need to land until the storm’s over, it might do the trick.”

  They reached the airstrip. It was in a long, narrow valley, at a lower elevation than the meadows, and was free from snow. They let the dogs out again while Frank studied the maps.

  Parrish had often flown his victims here in a small plane. That had been part of his M.O. Most killers who used the mountains for dumping grounds stayed close to roads—bodies are heavy, and it’s difficult to carry them far or bury them deep. Hiking any distance involves risking control over the victim, as well as hazarding being seen by others. Parrish took that gamble, sadistically forcing his victims to hike with him and to dig their own graves.

  But this time, Parrish had come here in a car, not a plane. He knew the roads—including rough dirt roads and roads open only for use by the U.S. Forest Service. He had escaped from these mountains on just such roads.

  And he wasn’t alone. He had at least two helpers with him. But were his sons used to being in the outdoors?

  If he was here, Parrish hadn’t arrived by plane, and he couldn’t have reached this airstrip by car. What places, near his old killing grounds, could he reach by car?

  Frank searched the maps for roads that were accessible by a car initially traveling from the south. A great many, but far fewer coming into this part of the wilderness. Fewer still anywhere near this airstrip. He included fire roads and roads that would be officially closed to the public by now. He spotted one, not all that far away.

  He saw Travis standing on a slight rise, staring toward the north.

  Frank called to him. When he came over, Frank said, “Take a look at this map. How long would it take us to reach this road?”

  Travis studied the map, then pointed toward the area of sky he had been watching. “See those clouds? I’m concerned about that storm. I know you don’t want to hear this, and I don’t even want to be saying it, but it might be better to just sit tight and let it blow over. Let me see what I can find out about it, because it’s definitely going to affect what we can safely do.”

  He went into the helicopter. Frank followed him, and the others, seeing them, returned, loading up the dogs and strapping them into their special safety harnesses.

  The Sikorsky S-58T was a giant, over fifteen feet high and about forty-five feet long. It had been fitted with turbine engines and auxiliary fuel tanks. It could hold eighteen passengers, but the interior had been altered so that now—in addition to a crew of two in the cockpit, which was a separate area high above the cargo area—the cargo area had seats for ten passengers and carried two stretchers.

  Donning their headsets again, Frank and Ben waited while Jack went through the start-up procedures and Travis listened to reports from local air traffic and studied weather radar.

  There was a whump as Jack hit the ignition, and then the whine of the turbines began to build. The blades of the rotors swoop-swoop-swooped, ever faster—within twenty seconds, both the main and tail rotors were spinning at a steady speed.

  Everything around them was a roar.

  Travis’s voice came over his headset. “Lightning often arrives before rain, so keeping that in mind … if we leave now, we can probably at least fly over it and get back here before the storm hits. We could at least see if the vehicle is there.”

  “Could you set me down if need be?” Frank asked.

  “Depends on conditions at the time. If it’s safe to do that, sure. Depending on the road, I may even be able to land there.”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  FORTY-NINE

  I tucked the gun into one of the pockets of my parka and ran in a zigzagging motion, concentrating on not tripping or falling. I ran until I realized no one was chasing me or firing bullets at me.

  I crouched behind a large pine, feeling the rough bark on my hands, and tried to catch my breath.

  I knew I was far from home safe, but I could not prevent a sense of exhilaration from sweeping over me. I had defended myself. I had fought Nick Parrish, and taken his gun away from him. I had escaped their control. Now all I had to do was stay free.

  And alive.

  Time to better assess my situation.

  I reached into the parka and took the gun out. It was a .22 semiautomatic. I checked and saw that there were only two bullets left. Better than no bullets. I put the magazine back in.

  I was not all that comfortable with firearms. Frank was a marksman, but I hadn’t taken the time to do more than learn the basics. Still, I knew those basics, and if Frank managed
only to drag me out to a range to practice twice a year, at least I knew I had two bullets and a gun that Parrish did not have.

  In addition to the clothes on my back and the gun, I had half a dozen energy bars, a collapsible water bottle, and a survival blanket. A small mirror—which could be used as a signaling device. I peered into it, confirmed that I looked as if this was casual Friday at the insane asylum, and quickly put it away.

  What I had thought was lip balm turned out to be a small container that had once held aspirin and was relabeled “water purification tablets, use 2, wait 15 m.” So I had food, a way to carry and purify water, and something to help me stay a little warmer and drier. I began to feel more hopeful about my odds. Plus, it was all very portable and didn’t add a lot of weight to the jacket.

  The item that nearly made me weep was a pair of dry socks. I immediately sat down and changed into them.

  I stood and checked another pocket, the flap of which felt a little lumpy, and made a major discovery—a book of matches tucked inside a small hidden space, a sewn-over hem that was just tacked down. They weren’t super-duper camping matches, but who cared? I wouldn’t be forced to test my ability to start a fire from two sticks. I felt along the bottom hem and found another of those lightly tacked places. I pulled at it and withdrew a long, thin cord that had a strong wire at its core. It took me a moment to realize what it was—a garrote.

  I looked at that for a long moment. Not a defensive weapon, the garrote. A tool of self-preservation, perhaps. I wondered what Donovan—because without a doubt, he was the one who had prepared this walking survival kit for me—had had in mind. It didn’t take a lot of imagination. If I had a chance to kill Kai or Parrish in their sleep, this was designed to help me take it. I tucked it back into the parka.

  I supposed there weren’t too many weapons he could risk hiding on me. For one thing, he had to make sure I didn’t accidentally hurt myself before I discovered them. For another, there would always be the risk that Parrish or Kai would search me. So as much as I might wish for a knife—for its usefulness as a tool in the outdoors more than as a weapon—I could understand why this might be the only weapon he thought could stay concealed.

  On the downside, my shoes and the bottoms of my pant legs were still wet from the stream, which could cause problems, especially if it got much colder. I didn’t have shelter, but I might be able to manage with the survival blanket.

  Oh, and I had just pissed off a couple of serial killers whose desire to kill me was the nicest thing they had on their Things to Do with Irene list.

  Not to mention that I didn’t know exactly where I was. A consequence of running into the forest in a blind panic. That thought almost sent me into another one, until I realized that I could hear the stream. I could follow the stream toward the road, the road toward help.

  I wondered where Donovan was. I thought of him telling me to have faith. I had such mixed emotions about him. I could not forget that he’d helped Parrish take me hostage. Yet from that point, he had taken many risks on my behalf. Actually, I realized, he must have planned to help me even in advance of kidnapping me. I couldn’t make sense of it. But right now, thanks to him, my chances of surviving had greatly increased.

  I thought about the warm clothing and realized something else. Donovan had chosen a parka of a color that blended in with the forest, would provide some camouflage. His parka was the same color.

  Parrish’s and Kai’s light-colored parkas, on the other hand, would be easier for me to see.

  I needed to think more like Donovan, I decided. I figured out that I was overdue for a meal. If I was going to stay clearheaded and have enough energy to keep moving through the forest, I needed to eat. So I carefully opened an energy bar, saved the wrapper, and immediately realized that the damned thing was salty and made me feel thirsty. Okay, next stop would be the stream.

  The trouble was, Parrish was a hunter, and water was an obvious place to wait for game. And going to the stream would also mean going back toward the cave, and possibly crossing paths with Parrish and Kai.

  I couldn’t just hurry to the stream like a rabbit.

  I took out the little mirror again, careful not to let it catch the light as I placed it on the ground. I reached down into the damp earth and scooped up a handful of dark soil and rubbed it on my face and hands, checking in the mirror to ensure I was well covered. Parrish had talked of having supplies in the cave, and they might include a pair of field glasses. I didn’t want to provide any reflective surfaces to catch his attention. When I was muddied up, I carefully put the mirror away again.

  I needed to move differently through this forest than I had thus far. I had to be quieter and reduce any signs of my passage. I forced myself to be as still as possible, and to think through where I was headed next.

  I felt a temptation to spy on Parrish and Kai. To stalk them, instead of being their prey. Wait for them to leave the cave and then raid its supplies. But the risks were too great that I would simply be delivering myself into their hands when what I needed was distance.

  Frank would be coming for me. I knew that as surely as I knew anything. I needed to make it as easy as possible for him to find me and get me safely back home. Ideally, he’d have an army with him, and Donovan would get out, too.

  I began heading toward the sound of the stream. I did not take a direct course. I moved carefully and walked as quietly as I could, thinking about every step, avoiding leaving footprints or an obvious trail of crushed leaves. I wondered what had become of Donovan.

  I had no sooner thought this than I heard raised voices. Kai and Parrish. I could not make out the third voice, which wasn’t as loud, but I knew it must be Donovan’s. What if he was in danger? He might have come back for me, not knowing that I had escaped.

  He would figure that out. If I could help him, I would, but in the meantime, I returned to my goal of a few minutes before: to get safely to the stream, then put more distance between me and Nick Parrish and Kai.

  Suddenly I heard a faint but familiar sound: a helicopter. A big one, it seemed. My hopes soared. Should I start a signal fire? No. Parrish might see the flames first.

  I needed to keep going.

  I had taken no more than two steps when I heard their voices again. They were much nearer.

  I froze, then very slowly crouched low to the ground. I made myself stay as still as possible.

  Too close. They’re too close.

  After a time, I realized that I couldn’t tell whether they’d come closer or veered away, because the wind was blowing harder through the trees. Birds were making one hell of a ruckus. There was less light.

  Helicopter or no, Parrish and company or no—a storm was coming.

  I tried to hear what they were saying. All I could tell for sure was that Donovan was definitely with them. I had a horrible feeling about that, more fear for him in that moment than for myself. He was, I thought, being taken to his execution. I had to do what I could to help him get away. But what? I strained to hear them and finally caught a glimpse of them moving through the trees.

  I took out the gun.

  FIFTY

  Parrish, Donovan was sorry to learn, wasn’t bad at tracking. Fortunately, his injuries slowed him down and probably accounted for his being a little noisy as he moved through the leaf-strewn woods. The injury to his eye, in particular, made depth perception a problem, and he was uncertain as they stepped over fallen trees, roots, and rocky, uneven ground. Kai made even more of a racket, apparently having no notion that stealth was desirable. Soon Donovan intentionally did the same, wanting to give Irene as much notice as possible of their approach.

  Her tracks were not difficult to follow at first. He could almost feel her panic by seeing the length of her stride, the broken twigs, vines, and other disturbances showing the path of her initial flight—purely an attempt to put distance between her and the cave, with no effort to conceal her trail. She had run through the forest, but with enough presence of mind to move
in an unpredictable manner to avoid giving someone a clear shot at her. Then at a certain point, judging by the way the leaves were crushed and the pattern of her footprints on the soft earth, she stopped to catch her breath. After that, it was more difficult to track her. Still, he thought they were getting closer.

  As they stalked her, if their less than stealthy movements could be considered stalking, Donovan began to evaluate his own chances of survival. Time to run a little test. He lagged behind Parrish, pulled a rounded stone from his pocket, and as he moved briefly out of Kai’s sight, launched the rock at a tree near Kai’s head.

  Kai jumped and then crouched low to the ground. Donovan had already moved forward to be nearer Parrish.

  “Hey!” Kai called.

  Parrish and Donovan looked back.

  “She must be back here! She just threw something at me!” Kai looked around anxiously, trying to spot his attacker.

  “Threw what at you?” Parrish said.

  “I don’t know!”

  They spent several minutes standing still, listening, waiting. Donovan could hear Kai panting.

  Donovan heard other things. The wind was moving more strongly in the trees. Birds were getting louder.

  “Are you sure it wasn’t just something falling from a tree?” Parrish asked.

  “Yes! It was like a rock or something.”

  “She has a gun. Why would she throw a rock?”

  “Maybe she doesn’t have any bullets left.”

  “Let’s keep moving,” Parrish said.

  “It’s going to rain,” Donovan said.

  “Rain!” Kai’s face had mutiny written all over it.

  Parrish looked at the sky and sighed. “All right, let’s head back to the cave.”

  They had nearly reached the place where Donovan’s pack had been left when a faint, distant sound caught his attention. A helicopter. He saw the moment when Parrish registered it, too.

  “Stay together,” Parrish said. “We may have company.”