he saw the white T-shirt of the forest ranger he'd shot in the temple and then stripped.
He was just about ready to give up the chase when he suddenly spotted the couple. Avery's blond hair, so like her mother's, shimmered gold in the sunlight. Monk couldn't believe his good fortune. There they were, all right, walking down the mountain as pretty as you please, looking as ragged and worn-out as any two people he'd ever seen. His burst of laughter echoed around him. Wait until he told Jilly. He knew what she would say. She'd tell him he was an exceedingly lucky man.
He'd agree, of course, even though he knew luck had very little to do with finding his prey. After poring over his map, he'd anticipated that if they survived the white water, they would get out before that tremendous drop below Coward's Crossing.
Monk decided to meet them head-on. He climbed down the ladder and walked around to the path, his head down, the bill of his cap concealing his face.
When he reached the wide-open space between the trees, he ever so slowly turned and pretended to notice them near the peak. He raised his hand to wave.
Avery heard John Paul behind her. "Fall down, Avery. Do it now."
She didn't hesitate. Pretending to stumble, she went down on one knee. John Paul caught up with her and dropped to put his
arm around her shoulders to steady her.
"Act like you hurt yourself."
Rolling to her side, she clutched her ankle and gave an exaggerated grimace. She wanted to cry from disappointment.
"He's not a forest ranger, is he?"
"No."
She kept rubbing her ankle. "How do you know?"
"I saw his rifle. Forest rangers don't have scopes on their rifles."
She looked up at him. "You saw the scope from this far away?"
"The sun caught it just right," he explained. "I think it's him. I'm not saying it's Monk, but…"
"Thinking he might be is enough for me," she said.
"Okay, I'm gonna help you stand. You lean against me, and we start down the hill again, but we'll angle toward the west.
When we reach the trees, we run like hell."
"He'll come after us."
"Ready?"
He didn't give her a chance to answer, but hauled her up, lightly bracing her against his side.
"Limp," he ordered gruffly as they once again started down the hill. They were walking like two drunks, staggering toward the west as they moved along.
He was deliberately keeping them out of Monk's range. He was sure now that the man dressed as a forest ranger was the killer because he hadn't moved from his spot at the base of the trail. Rangers were helpful, weren't they?
"He's waiting for us to get within firing range."
"Oh, God."
"You scared?"
"Duh…"
Her response made him smile. "That's good," he said. "Okay, sugar. Start running."
She immediately bolted toward the safety of the trees. John Paul was right behind her, but he dared a quick look down below
and saw Monk running toward them. They had a good head start. Avery led the way steadily downhill, hoping to intercept the
road below Monk, all the way praying there would be campers or real forest rangers around who could help them.
Her ears were ringing. What was that sound? The wind whistling through the trees? Or was it the sound of gunfire sizzling?
No, that wasn't it.
The noise stopped as suddenly as it had begun; then it started up again, but it was louder, shriller this time. It sounded like a whistle.
"Hear… that…?" she panted.
"Yeah."
Then she heard a trumpet. Was she losing it? She kept running, her feet pounding into the soft earth as she raced along, still panting from her exertion.
The muscles in her legs were burning. Suddenly she lost her footing. She would have hurled headfirst into a gulley if John Paul hadn't reacted instinctively, lifting her off her feet as he kept stride.
He slowed as he let go of her, then kept pace just in case she went down again. All at once, they broke through the trees, crossed the road… and ran into the middle of Boy Scout Troop 183. Before he could stop, John Paul bowled over one pup tent and mowed down the troop master, who got the wind knocked out of him. The trumpet he was holding went flying into another tent.
"Cell phone," Avery shouted at the man sprawled on his back. "We need your cell phone."
"No signal up here," he answered as he came up on his elbows. His face was red with anger. "Who in thunder do you people
think…"
John Paul was frantically searching the road ahead of them. Monk wouldn't have any qualms about taking a couple of kids out as long as he could get his primary targets. One of the boys shouted when he saw the gun tucked into the back of John Paul's jeans. One blistering look from John Paul shut the boy up.
Avery dropped down on her knees next to the leader. "Listen to me. We need help. There's a killer coming this way. Where's your transportation? Answer me, please," she begged.
Her terror got through to him. "We've got a camper here, but my Ford four-wheeler is parked about half a mile down the road. The keys are in my jacket in that tent over there, the one with the troop numbers painted on it."
John Paul was lifting Avery to her feet. "Get in that camper and get your boys out of here," he yelled back at the man as he
pulled Avery toward the next slope, staying well hidden in the trees.
"Get to a phone and call for help," she shouted.
Her legs were trembling, and she didn't think she had it in her to run much longer. Concentrating on putting one foot in front of
the other, her heart feeling as though it were lodged in her throat, she suddenly remembered they hadn't gotten the keys.
"We have to go back… the car keys."
"We don't need them," he said. "Now move it, sugar. You're starting to drag."
She fantasized about hiding somewhere and waiting for John Paul to come back with the car. She could find a spot where Monk wouldn't find her, couldn't she?
Suck it up. Damn it, I don't want to. I can do it. I can do it. She kept up the drill until the pain in her side became excruciating.
She wondered if she could die upright. Sure she could.
Tears came into her eyes then, for she saw the old SUV parked in the gravel near the curve in the road. John Paul raced ahead
of her. He broke the back window, reached in, and unlocked the front door.
Avery ran around to the other side as he unlocked the door for her. It took less than forty-five seconds for him to hot-wire the
car, throw it into gear, and take off.
She was impressed. "Were you a juvenile delinquent growing up?"
The second they rounded the curve, she fell back against the seat and allowed herself to fall apart. A sob caught in her throat.
"Are you crying?"
"No."
"Sure sounded like you were." He gave her a sharp look.
"I'm joyful." She hastily wiped the tears of relief from her cheeks.
He grinned. He had the very same feeling, but it didn't last long. "Hell," he muttered.
"What hell?"
"The road's winding back around… he might be coming down, getting into position… ah, hell, that's what he's gonna do,
and there isn't any way we can go off-road here."
He leaned forward, pulled his gun out, and dropped it into his lap. He rolled down his window, then picked up the gun.
She frantically got her weapon out and then rolled down her window. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked.
"Getting ready just like you."
"No. Get down and stay down. If he's coming at us, you'll be on his side."
She ignored his order. "Just tell me when to start shooting. We'll keep him down until we get past."
It sounded like a great plan, and she'd said it with gusto, but that was only because she didn't believe Monk could have gotten down the hills that quickly.