Her heart pounding, she kept thrashing through the bushes, moving away from Katie, and yelling as loud as she could. No way Mac could miss hearing her.
She paused between thunder claps and looked around, listening. She heard the rain, her own harsh breathing… and something else. Scraping branches, breaking twigs… getting closer… coming this way.
Oh, Jesus, it had worked. She’d pulled Mac away from Katie, but now she had to find a way to keep herself alive until help came. Had to keep moving. But which way? Where was he? What direction was the noise coming from? The sounds mixed with the falling rain and seemed to come from everywhere—like the rain.
Suddenly, the loud crack of a breaking branch to her right. So close! Poppy bolted to her left, moving as fast as she could. The underbrush was thick here, and she had to move sideways to slip through. One advantage of being smaller than Mac—these thickets would slow him up even more.
She almost fell as the brush suddenly thinned and she stumbled into a small clearing. Now she could really move.
But she skidded to a halt when she saw the shadow a dozen feet ahead of her. She couldn’t see his face but she recognized his voice from the single word he spoke.
“Bitch!” As Poppy screamed and turned to run back the way she’d come, she saw a flash and heard a shot.
Missed!
She ducked into a crouch and veered left. She saw the house ahead. Please let me make it there! If she could put the house between Mac and her—and keep it there—she had a chance.
Another shot and suddenly she felt as if she’d been hit by a truck. A crushing, tearing, pain against her back, ripping into her chest, hurling her forward. She felt the ground slam against her front, felt the mud and pine needles slop against her face. And then she stopped feeling.
Her last thought before the darkness took her was terror… Katie… alone there… with no one to protect her… Katie… I’m so sorry!
Snake ran up to where Poppy lay and flipped her over onto her back. He dropped to his knees beside her and shoved the muzzle of the Cobra under her jaw. He wanted to pull the trigger now. Goddamn how he wanted to pull that trigger but not yet. He gritted his teeth and held off.
“The tape!” he shouted. “Where’s the tape? Tell me and I’ll let the kid live!” Not true. Not even close to true. But so what?
She didn’t answer. His fury surged. But as he raised his left arm to give her a backhand slap across her face, lightning flashed and he saw her slack features, the blood on her shirt and the dark trickle from the corner of her mouth.
“Shit!” Of all the goddamn luck. He’d never been more than a mediocre shot, and now, when winging Poppy was all he’d needed, he’d gone and killed her. He jammed the pistol into his belt and began poking through her pockets. He’d already checked that rat-hole room he’d found her in.
Empty. Nothing on her. Nothing. Snake jumped to his feet. The kid. She’d been running around without the kid. Which meant she’d left her somewhere. And maybe the tape with her.
He looked around, trying to remember where he’d heard her first shout for help… Over there, wasn’t it?
Snake started in that direction.
20
“Hear that?” Decker said as they stepped out of the car. “Sounded like a shot.”
John strained his ears and wondered how Decker had heard anything above the rain, thunder, and slamming car doors. He squinted through the dimness at the red panel truck tucked behind the motley array of pickups.
The Mulliner brothers had leapt from their pickup and were checking out the mud-splattered Jeep Cherokee that sat in the middle of the clearing.
“This don’t belong here, Luke,” the bearded one was saying. “This don’t belong here ay-tall.”
“We better get up the house,” the bigger one said as he and his brother returned to the cab of their pickup and pulled shotguns from the rack across the rear window.
“Is that where Katie is?” John said.
Both stared at him from under the dripping peaks of their caps.
“You the little girl’s daddy?” the bigger one said.
John nodded. “Is she all right?”
“She was this morning. Let’s go.”
John got directly behind the Mulliners as they miraculously found a path through the surrounding brush. He felt someone grab his arm.
“Better let us go first. Doc,” said Canney’s voice directly behind him.
John didn’t look back. He shook off his hand and kept going. Katie… he was almost to her and dammit he was going to be first to her.
Uphill, and then into a larger clearing where lightning strobes revealed a rambling, ramshackle house that looked as if it had been designed by a schizophrenic. The bigger Mulliner—by now John had gathered that his name was Luke—picked up his pace and headed directly for a rectangle of light pouring from an open doorway.
Inside, Luke darted to his left and cried, “Lester!”
John ducked in behind him and froze in shock at the sight of an old man with a scoliotic spine lying on the floor, gasping, his shirt covered with blood.
“Katie?” John said, barely able to get the word out as he whirled in a circle, searching the shadows of this filthy little room, praying to see her face looking back at him. “Where’s Katie?”
“Poppy took her,” Lester said. “And he went out after her.”
“Who?” Decker said.
“Guy with a patch over his eye.”
“Snake!” Decker said.
Canney nodded. “Got to be.”
“Shot me,” Lester was saying. “Then he went after Poppy! Go find her!”
“You need doctorin‘, Lester,” Luke said. “I’ll get someone to stay—”
“Git!” Lester said. “This looks a lot worse’n it is. You gotta help Poppy. That guy went outta here with murder in his one good eye. Gonna kill her sure!”
John didn’t wait to hear more. In a panic he dashed out into the storm and began shouting, “Katie! Katieeeee!” He heard someone come up behind him and give him a rough shove in his back. He turned as saw Canney glaring at him.
“Knock that off!” Rage flared. No one was going to tell him not to look for his daughter. John grabbed the front of Canney’s shirt, “She’s out here!” he shouted. “We’ve got to find her!”
“But we’re not the only ones looking for her,” Canney said, pushing John’s hands away. “If she answers you, Snake might be closer. Think about it.”
John realized Canney was right. “But what—?”
Just then, one of the Mulliners came out of the house carrying a shotgun. He started yelling.
“Poppy! It’s your Uncle Luke! Stay where you are. We’re coming to find you. Let us know when one of us gets near you. We’ll protect you.” He turned to Canney and began pointing to different spots in the bushy undergrowth that rimmed the rear of the clearing.
“Everybody fan out and move into the brush. Keep calling her name.” The two Mulliners moved off. John saw the three feds look at each other; then Decker shrugged.
“Unless someone can come up with a better idea,” he said, “I suggest we follow their lead.”
He turned to John. “Maybe you’d better stay here and—”
“Like hell,” John said. Without giving anyone a chance to stop him, he began moving off in one of the directions Luke had indicated.
The branches of the underbrush clawed at his clothes and his skin, raked at his eyes, but he kept pushing through, calling out, praying for a reply.
“Poppy, it’s me! Katie’s father! I’m here with your uncles.” Over and over. “Poppy, it’s me…” As he came to the base of a small rise, lightning flashed. He looked up and gasped. Someone was standing on its crest, someone huge, and he was holding something in his arms.