Deana screamed.
“Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me…”
Her screams trailed off into tiny whimpers. She pressed blood-streaked hands to her mouth, her eyes desperate, pleading.
“Warren? Is it really you?”
She peered at him through narrowed eyes.
“I guess they do things like this to mad people,” she said slowly. “Fuck about with their brains… Like get their hopes up, then…”
A cold, wet nose snuffled at her knees.
“Down, Sabre. Sit!”
Warren—and Sabre.
Oh thank you God thank you God!
Warren’s voice came low, urgent. “Gotta get you outta here, Deana. Fast. Can you walk?”
Dumbly, she shook her head.
“No? Then I’ll carry you…”
He bent down, lifted her in his arms.
She flinched as he held her, her body hurting all over… Still not believing Warren was here. That he’d found her. Just when she’d given up hope he ever would…
The woman’s voice hissed out.
“Gotta hurry, Warren. I can hear an engine…”
“Open the car door, Sheena. I’ll be right over.”
Sabre loped ahead with the woman.
Picking up speed, Warren ran the last couple of yards over dry, sparse grass roots and scrub snagging his boots, fresh mountain air keening at his lungs.
Frowning anxiously, willing him on, Sheena stood by the open door of the Chevy. The vehicle the other side of the ridge was getting closer. They heard its engine chugging, whining, the tires skidding over rough dirt road.
Hunching herself into the driver’s seat, Sheena revved up the Chevy, eager to be gone. Looking back anxiously as Warren laid Deana across the backseat, pulling a blanket over her.
He climbed up front beside Sheena.
Sabre, panting out hot steamy breaths, leapt in and curled around his feet.
Warren slammed the door shut.
Sheena, her white-knuckled hands clenching the wheel, stepped on the gas, swung the Chevy around, the tires squealing and racing as they hit ruts and rocks.
Then she let it ride, manhandling the wheel with strong, capable hands.
The black customized Commando mounted the hill. It headed toward them.
Through the dust-covered windshield, they saw Mace, his teeth bared, snarling. He was picking up speed.
Sheena drove at him hard and fast. Aiming to go straight through the Jeep or knock it off the mountain path. Mace hesitated slightly, then rammed the gas pedal to the floor.
Sheena yelled, “Hold tight!”
She went for Mace.
The Jeep swerved to the left, then skidded to a halt, showers of dust belching up behind. The left-hand door swung open. Mace slid out, jerking his revolver out of its holster.
Scurrying, crablike, darting behind rocks and bushes, he dropped on one knee, both hands on the gun. He got Sheena in his sight.
Aiming to take her out, he pulled back the trigger…
Warren ducked. Sheena drove. Smashing into the blacked-out Jeep. They watched it teeter, then topple over the ridge with a rattle of dirt and stones. Shots rang out. Whining by. Missing them by only a fraction.
Quickly, Sheena zigzagged the Chevy out of range. Hanging on to the wheel, speeding, slipping, sliding down the trail in a shower of dust and stones.
Warren straightened up.
He peered through the rearview mirror.
Mace was gone.
SIXTY-EIGHT
“Leigh, we got Deana.”
“Christ, Warren! You’ve GOT her?”
“That’s right, Leigh. Is Mattie there?”
“She sure is,” Mattie snatched the phone from Leigh’s hand and yelled into it. “I should tan your butt, Warren Hastings. Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this before you went chasing off? You coulda wrecked this case, y’know that? Coulda got Deana killed…”
“Sorry, Mattie. There just wasn’t time. We had to go. Anyway, we’re coming in now. And Deana’s alive, okay? She’s had a rough time, but s’far as I can see, her injuries look kinda… superficial. Can’t say for sure, though… She’s a little bewildered. Got an injured jaw. Black eyes. Otherwise okay.”
Wrapped in blankets, Deana lay on the sofa, Leigh by her side, holding and stroking her hand.
“How did you find me?” Deana asked Warren. Her words came out thick and slurred. She was weak as a kitten, couldn’t stop shaking, not yet believing the nightmare was over.
Warren’s brows went up. He looked across at Sheena, standing silent by the glass wall, staring out at the view. “Over to you, sis,” he called out with a grin.
She turned nonchalantly, lifted a shoulder, and tilted her head. “Yeah. Right…,” she said, looking at Deana. “I’ll tell y’about it sometime. Just say I wander around those parts myself now and again. When I need to think, get my head straight, know what I mean? I just take out the old Chevy and have me a little campin’ trip up there in the mountains.”
“Yeah, but… that… that place I was in, it was so well hidden… It couldn’t have been easy.”
“Persistent li’l gal, ain’t ya? Let’s just say my woman’s intuition played a part—it led me to where you were.”
Leigh broke in. “And I’m sure glad it did. I can’t begin to thank you both…” She paused, still stroking Deana’s forehead, throwing Sheena a grateful smile.
Looking over at Mattie, she said, “So, what do we do now, Mats? Take Ava’s advice, fly out to Wisconsin? How about backup?”
“Don’t you worry about that, Leigh. FBI, local troopers, you name it, every fucker with a badge is about to descend on Lake Country as we speak. I’m shippin’ out later today.”
“And I’m coming with you,” Leigh said.
Mattie looked doubtful.
Warren met her eyes.
Quietly, he said, “I think Sheena should also go along.”
There was a pause while Mattie did a double take.
“You do? Why?”
“Apart from being pretty useful when it comes to one-to-one combat,” he winked across at Sheena, “she has a… vested interest.”
Mattie’s eyes narrowed.
“Whadyamean? A vested interest?”
“I’m Tania,” Sheena said. “Mace’s sister.”
SIXTY-NINE
The lake looked pretty much the way she remembered it.
The same clear, bright air. Inlets, sandy coves, sunbathers stretched out like fish to dry. Dark stands of pine to the south. Water lapping gently around the pilings. The sputter of motorboats. Canoes, one or two rowboats…
Charlie’s was green, she remembered.
Could I forget…?
And loaded with baskets.
The sound of vacationers laughing, shouting to each other from the smartly painted piers, floated across the water. Bringing up an arm, shielding her eyes from the sun, Leigh saw them, the size of ants, from her side of the lake.
A motorboat with a water skier tagging behind, zipped by on a crest of white foam…
Leigh smiled softly, remembering how it had been, eighteen years ago. After the accident, Uncle Mike and Aunt Jenny moved camp. Away from Wahconda. They’d sold the cabin and summered in Colorado from then on.
Back in the eighties, they’d retired to Florida.
Carson’s Camp was under new management. All modernized and spruced up with a change of name—Lakeside Holiday Homes. In place of the old log cabins were smart new ones, in varnished pinewood, with porches, loungers, and barbecues out front.
Over to her right, Leigh could see the new cabins, shiny yellow in the sunlight. She saw a twist of smoke, caught a drift of grilled burgers hanging on the air. Nothing really changes, she thought with a smile.