"Come on," he said. "Let's see what she can find."
As Kramer and Jenkins led the dog across the street, the other two men got into the black and white station wagon. Joe Rankin took the wheel and DickKennally switched on the radio, tuning it to the frequency of the portable unit Kramer was carrying with him.
"She's already got a scent," Kramer's voice crackled from a speaker a moment later. "She's heading east."
Joe Rankin put the car into gear, turned it around, and started slowly down the street, keeping abreast of the unseen men who were following the dog through the backyards.
"Turning north," Kramer said a few seconds later. "We're cutting across Pecos Drive."
The pursuit went on, Kramer keeping the men in the car posted as to his position, Rankin doing his best to anticipate their moves. At last the cruiser was parked on the street a few yards from the footbridge, where Frank Kramer and Wes Jenkins were waiting for them. Mitzi, straining at the end of her leash, was struggling to reach the bridge itself.
Kennallyand Rankin left the car and joined the two men already at the bridge.
"I don't know," Kramer said doubtfully, gazing up into the darkness on the other side of the bridge. "Why would he go up there? All that could happen to him is that he'd get lost."
"Maybe Mitzi's following a 'coon or something," Jenkins suggested.
ButKennally shook his head. "I don't think so. I think he's up there, and I don't think he's thinking straight. Come on."
Taking the leash from Jenkins,Kennally started across the bridge. The dog, her nose close to the ground, whined eagerly.
Mitzi didn't so much as hesitate at the fork in the path on the other end of the bridge. Instead, she started up the center trail, andKennally heard a groan from Frank Kramer.
"Told youyou were letting yourself go," he said over his shoulder. "Maybe you'll get lucky tonight and we can do five miles."
As the streetlamps of the village faded away behind them, the men switched on flashlights and started up the trail, soon disappearing into the deep darkness of the woods.
Jeff's eyes flickered as he watched the flashlights approach. He could barely make out the shapes of the men hunting him, but he had seen the dog clearly when one of the lights briefly flashed across its lithe form.
He stayed by the rock for a moment, trying to decide what to do. But his mind was fuzzy and he couldn't think clearly. Finally, following his instincts, he started uphill once again. Almost immediately the path grew sharply steeper, and within a few minutes his breath began to come in gasping pants. Still, he forced himself onward.
A few minutes later he missed his step and felt a sharp pain as he twisted his ankle. Stifling the yelp that rose in his throat, he lowered himself to the ground and rubbed at the injured joint. He rested there a moment, then heaved himself back up, resting all his weight on his good leg.
Gingerly, he tried to take a step forward.
He couldn't walk.
"He'd better be up here," Frank Kramer groused fifteen minutes later. They had come out into a clearing on a bluff above town, and Mitzi was sniffing eagerly at the base of a large boulder. Kramer wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow and tried to catch his breath, silently promising himself that after tonight he'd get serious about the diet and exercise he'd been putting off for longer than he cared to admit.
The other three men, he noticed, didn't even seem to be breathing heavily.
"He's up here,"Kennally replied, maliciously shining the light on Kramer's face. "Look how Mitzi's acting. Wouldn't surprise me if Jeff sat here for a while, watching us hunt for him."
"How can I look with that damned light in my eyes?" Kramer muttered. Then: "How long do we keep looking? He could be anywhere up here."
Kennallytilted his head in a gesture of indifference. "Anywhere he could be, Mitzi can find him."
The dog had abandoned the boulder now and was once again pulling at the lead as she tried to scramble up the steep trail. The four men followed her for another ten minutes, until she stopped abruptly, her whole body rigid as she stared into the darkness ahead.
Kennallyplayed his light over the trail, and then all four men saw what they were looking for.
He was crouched down by another large boulder, and in the glare of the flashlight his eyes seemed to glint unnaturally. As he gazed silently at the boy, a strange thought flitted into DickKennally's mind.
A cornered animal. He looks just like a cornered animal.
"It's okay, Jeff," he said out loud. "We're not going to hurt you. We're just going to take you back to town."
JeffLaConner said nothing, but in the glow of the flashlight, they could see him press closer to the shelter of the boulder.
Kennallyhesitated a moment, then spoke again, his voice low. "Okay, you guys. Let's spread out and move in slowly. I don't want anyone getting hurt."
Joe Rankin glanced at him curiously. "Hurt? Christ, Dick, he's not Charlie Manson. He's just a kid."
ButKennally shook his head, Martin Ames's words fresh in his mind. "Just do what I tell you, all right?"
Kramer and Rankin moved off to the left and Wes Jenkins slipped into the woods to the right asKennally moved slowly up the trail, keeping his flashlight trained on JeffLaConner. The boy's eyes never blinked, but his head began to move in a strange weaving pattern that remindedKennally of a snake preparing to strike. Out of the corner of his eye he kept track of the men's progress, and when they had fanned out, cutting off any possible avenue of escape for the boy, he signaled them to move forward.
He began talking to Jeff, speaking in the soothing tones he'd use on a frightened animal.
As Frank Kramer drew close, Jeff suddenly struck out with his right fist, clipping Kramer on the shoulder, sending him reeling back. "Shit!" he heard Kramer exclaim. "What the hell's wrong with you?"
But Jeff didn't hear, his eyes now fixed warily on Wes Jenkins.
Then, as Joe Rankin approached from the opposite side,Kennally saw their opportunity. "Now!" he snapped. Dropping the light in his hand, he leaped forward.
Jeff, ignoring the injury to his ankle, scrambled to his feet and pressed closer to the boulder. His fists began to lash out as the three men closed on him.
It finally took all four of them to subdue the furiously fighting teenager, and in the end they had to carry him back down the hillside, his hands cuffed together behind his back, his ankles manacled with a second set of handcuffs. Even as they carried him across the footbridge and worked him into the back of the station wagon, he was still thrashing in their arms, twisting wildly as he tried to escape their grasp.
From his throat emerged a series of feral howls, like the anguished cries of a coyote whose foot has been clamped in a trap.
Chapter Twelve
"What the hell's wrong with him?" Frank Kramer asked. He glanced nervously over his shoulder. In the rear compartment of the station wagon JeffLaConner was still struggling against the handcuffs that manacled his hands and feet. His right ankle was swelling rapidly, and though the metal band dug deeply into his flesh, he was apparently oblivious to the pain of his injury. He was curled up tightly in the confining space behind the heavy wire mesh, but as Kramer watched, the boy suddenly wrenched himself around and his feet lashed out at the barrier itself. The mesh bulged slightly, but held firm. In Jeff's throat a strange, keening wail was building.
"Some kind of mental breakdown," DickKennally replied tersely. They were through the town itself now, and the road narrowed as they headed east toward Rocky Mountain High, where a few lights glowed dimly in the darkness. He grimaced as he heard Jeff's feet crash once more into the mesh of the barrier. Then Mitzi, sitting up on the seat between Kramer and Joe Rankin, began barking. "Can't you shut that dog up?"Kennally asked.