Clayton had scattered pairs of men around Cochise County: Tombstone, Bisbee to the south and Benson to the north, all within a quick drive of each other. With his call, they had converged in four cars at the mouth of the canyon at dawn and drove along the winding road, stopping at houses and checking cottage colonies. He recognized the motorcycle in the parking lot outside a B and B.
He and his men pulled over, melted into the woods near the inn and watched the inn-keeper leave. Minutes later, Sutherland set off for the preserve with a hiking pack and disappeared into the canyon. Clayton stepped out of the woods and went over to the Harley. Damned shame to mess up a nice machine, but he couldn’t take any chances. He pulled his flip knife from his pocket and stabbed the tires.
He told Vinnie to stay behind to keep watch on their rear, then he took up the lead and the column of men entered the preserve. Clayton had studied the map and seen that it was a box canyon. He had caught a few glimpses of Sutherland moving on the upper trail, but then she disappeared. He told his men to double their speed.
Perfect.
When they caught up with her, she would be far into the woods where no one could hear her scream.
Sutherland didn’t know how Clayton had found her, but there was no time to ponder. She had to keep moving.
She stepped back onto the trail and began to climb. In her panic, she tripped over an unseen root and went flying forward. She pushed herself off the ground and picked up the glasses that had fallen from her face. Her knees and palms were scraped raw. She ignored the pain and used it to help her concentrate.
Think.
There was no way she could escape. She was already winded. She needed help.
She slipped the back pack off, pulled out her spare phone, went down her list of numbers and pressed the call button. After a couple of rings a man’s voice answered. He recognized her voice.
“Sutherland. What a relief. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mac. I mean-no. I’m in trouble.”
“We’ve been looking all over for you. Your house burned down.”
“I know my house burned down!” she said. “The guys who burned it down are after me. I need help.”
McHugh’s cool professionalism asserted itself. “Tell me where you are.”
“Ramsey Canyon.”
“Who are these people who are after you?”
“I don’t know,” she lied; she had no time to explain. “I just need help. Please hurry, Mac.” Her voice caught.
“I know where it is. That’s near the major crossing for illegals. There are always patrols in those mountains. I’ll contact one. Keep climbing and see if you can find a place to hide.”
“Thanks, Mac, but it’s too late for that.”
Her pursuers had stopped. One of them was pointing up the mountain. She peered through her glasses and saw Clayton looking directly at her through a pair of binoculars. Then he and the others picked up the pace.
Sutherland started up the trail. She needed time, but she was tired. She climbed with methodical, deliberate steps and forced herself to sit for thirty seconds at each bench before pushing on.
She cursed herself for eating all that pie the day before. She squinted ahead and back, and then decided to strike off through the woods and find a place she could hunker down.
The vines and thorns tore at her bare legs, and her progress was noisy and slow. Even worse, the woods ended and a rock-studded wall a hundred feet high blocked the way. She couldn’t go back, so she began to climb. There were plenty of natural hand and foot-holds and she was surprised at how quickly she was able to get to the top.
She scrambled over the ledge and stood on jelly legs. She was completely exhausted. Heat beamed from her sweaty cheeks. She put one foot in front of the other and walked twenty feet until she had to stop. She was at the flattened top of a pinnacle that dropped down hundreds of feet to the other side. The sheer rock face was smoother than the one she climbed on the way up. She was half-tempted to try to descend when she heard a wheedling voice calling.
“Suh-ther-land,” the voice said. “We know where you are. Don’t be shy lady hummingbird.”
Sutherland gazed down from her dizzying perch, and knew what she would do if she had no other choice. The jack-hammer beat of her heart began to slow as an inner calm took hold of her fevered emotions. She walked back to the ledge and looked down at the black-clad men standing in a curved line at the bottom of the cliff. One of them stepped forward and gave her a friendly wave.
“Hello, Sutherland,” he called. “Remember me?”
“I remember your ugly face, Clayton.”
“Remember the other part of me? That must have made a big impression on you.”
“Sorry, but I didn’t have my microscope with me at the time.”
There was a ripple of laughter from his friends, but Clayton kept his forced grin pasted on his face.
“I see you’ve still got the big mouth that spread lies about me.”
“How did you find me?”
He flapped his arms like wings. “I remembered how much you liked the little birds. You know, like the tattoo on your pretty shoulder and the paintings I burned along with your house.”
“You’ve already had your fun. What do you want from me?”
“We’ve still got a score to settle. I’m taking the balance out of your hide.”
He signaled his men. Then he and his men moved forward to the base of the rock and began to climb. They looked like big black ants climbing up the side of the hill. There was no escape. She turned around and took a deep breath. She would simply make a running start and jump off into space. Clayton and his men would have made the climb for nothing.
She closed her eyes for a second and when she opened them to prepare for her leap she saw a dark spot against the cloudless sky.
She turned and faced forward. Clayton and his men were about half way up the hill.
“Hey, Clayton,” she yelled down. “Did you ever tell your friends why you got kicked out of the army?”
The line of men stopped and turned toward their leader. “Don’t listen to that crazy bitch.”
“Not so crazy that I don’t know you liked pictures of naked little boys.”
She saw him reach for his holster and stepped back from the ledge. A pistol shot rang out, but the bullet harmlessly pinged off the rocks. As the echo faded she heard another, more reassuring, sound from behind her. She turned and saw that the black dot had doubled in size. She stepped forward again.
Clayton had holstered his pistol. He started to reach for it again, but realized that she could easily move out of the line of fire so he started climbing instead, moving past his men. He made it to the top of the ledge just as the Border Patrol helicopter swooped overhead in an ear-shattering clatter of rotors.
The chopper made a tight banking circle and came to a hovering stop over the side of the hill. As the men retreated down the rocks under the rotor downdraft, a stentorian voice issued from the helicopter’s loudspeaker.
“Throw your guns to the ground or you’ll be shot!”
Clayton’s men bolted for the woods, but the helicopter anticipated the move and rotated sideways. Muzzle flashes blossomed brightly in the open side door and the bullets kicked up fountains of dirt. The men who were trying to escape tossed their weapons aside and flopped down on their bellies.
Only Clayton was left standing. He wheeled around and saw Sutherland standing at the edge of the pinnacle, a big smile on her face.
The loudspeaker voice shouted an order: