CHAPTER 47
Jericho attempted to lay back down to sleep, but try as he might, his mind couldn’t stop its restless excitement. Melinda, the architect of his downfall, was within his grasp. And with the reporter, he thought, as he glanced over at the cage in the dark corner, he could use her to draw Melinda out. Melinda, who he once thought would be his salvation, but had instead turned into his ruination. She would pay, she would bow, she would learn. Involuntarily, he glanced over at the table with his tools, and caught a brief wink of light. His phone! He rolled off of the air mattress silently, and quick as a cat, grabbed the phone and flipped it open. Only one person had this number…
The phone brightened as he opened it, displaying “1 message” on its softly lit screen. Shielding the phone’s light with his hand, he quickly glanced over at Angie, but she hadn’t stirred. He pressed a button and the message opened.
Jericho, you bastard. It read. It’s me you want. Leave the reporter alone. Tell me where you are.
Excitement coursed through his veins as, with trembling fingers, he typed in his terse response. Then, as his exhaustion melted away, he hit “send”. So close, finally, he thought as he gazed up through a jagged hole in the roof of the hut, staring back at the stars shining down, thinking. But she won’t come alone. She is weak, but her partner, there was something about him. At the cemetery, the way he walked, the set of his shoulders. Self-assurance, awareness. Possibly military. He had to be careful, set a trap. He looked over again at Angie, huddled in the corner. He hadn’t had time to teach her the lessons yet, but she could still be useful. He rolled his neck and flexed his back, wakening his slumbering muscles. Preparations needed to be made, he thought as he reached for his duffel bag. Melinda, my meddling bride, you have so much to answer for.
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Reaching the outskirts of Wolf Hollow, Medora’s concentration on the road was briefly interrupted by the hum of her flip phone, announcing an incoming message. Looking away briefly from the deserted road, she reached for the phone and flipped it open. Channelwood Logging Camp. I’m waiting, the message read. Medora smiled grimly as she closed the phone and stepped on the accelerator. This validated what Harper had already discovered. Her dear husband Colton didn’t realize that she was already on her way. If she was lucky, she could catch him by surprise. She hadn’t decided yet how to handle Harper, and now with Brian along as well, things were getting complicated. But there would be no doubt, Jericho was hers. Harper do the civil thing and try to arrest him, which was simply unacceptable. He needed to suffer. As he had made all those innocent girls suffer. As he had made her suffer.
After Medora had freed Sabrina and sent her on her way to the Manitou police department, she had hurried back to her car. She figured that she had about twenty minutes before Sabrina reached the station, and she wanted to get home, pack some things, and disappear into a hotel and wait there until Colton was arrested and confirmed in custody.
Fifteen minutes later, after driving recklessly through Colorado Springs to their house, she pulled into her empty driveway. Heaving a sigh of relief that his undercover car wasn’t there, she hopped out and hurried to the front door.
Quickly turning the key, it hadn’t even registered that the door was unlocked. She pushed inside and was heading towards the stairs to their bedroom when she froze as she heard the front door snick closed behind her. Turning slowly, she saw her husband, decked out in his state police duds, leaning against the door, looking at her with an angry glare.
“Melinda,” he had growled, moving forward menacingly “you’ve been prying into things that don’t concern you.”
Melinda had retreated backward toward the stairs as she fumbled for her holster. Jericho saw her movement and had instantly leapt forward, grabbing her arm and pinning it against her side as he pushed her sideways into the living room. She had fought valiantly, using self defense techniques that the academy had taught her, but between his Ranger training and greater strength, he had managed to subdue her with a violent hit to her temple.
The hit had knocked her unconscious, and the next time she woke, she was handcuffed in the back seat of her own car, a kitchen rag stuffed in her mouth. Raising her head and looking around she could see that he had taken her deep into Hurricane Canyon. After a long drive on a thin rocky dirt road, he had parked and yanked her out of the car. With one hand firmly grasping her wrist, he had pulled her up along a narrow trail. After almost an hour of crossing trails and taking forks, he finally ended at a fast-running stream. Impatient with her resistance, he has slung her over his broad shoulders and began hiking up the stream, the water washing away any indication of their passing. Thirty minutes later, he veered off the spring into dense underbrush and angled further up the canyon. Based on his certainty of path, she assumed that he had been this way before. And sure enough, twenty minutes later, they emerged from the underbrush into a small clearing where a staked camouflage tarp covered four large duffel bags. Taking a rope from one of the bags, he had securely tied her to a tree while he proceeded to set up a tent, and air mattress with four stakes and chains set at each of the corners, and a small collapsible table on which her arranged a variety of items. She found out later that she had been kept there for almost six months, and while there, he had subjected her to the many abuses that she had read about the Angel Slayer performing on his victims. Often, he would leave her alone, chained to a tree, as he went off to “procure” supplies. But try as she might, she was unable to free herself from the cuffs. Then one day, in an ironic twist of fate, as she was struggling with the chains and contemplating how to break the bones in her hands to be able to slip them through the cuffs, she had shaken her head in furious frustration, and a barrette had fallen from her hair. Staring at it dumbly, she couldn’t believe her incredible stupidity, or that the endless torment that she had been subjected to could have been prevented a long time ago.
She had quickly snatched the barrette, and within minutes, freed herself from the cuffs. Dressed only in her underwear, she had hastily grabbed a blanket, some granola bars, bottled water, and a knife, and set off. As much as she wanted revenge on her vile husband, she knew that in her current crazed and exhausted state, she would be no match for him. No, she had to escape, heal, and plan. But, no matter how long it took, she had thought viciously, she would find him, and she would make him pay.
Medora would later find out, much to her extreme anger and dismay, that Sabrina had not listened to her, and had instead flagged down a schoolteacher, who had taken her directly to the Colorado Springs police station instead. Medora then assumed that somehow Colton had heard that Sabrina was found, and he had then quickly returned home to gather some supplies before fleeing. And it was her extreme misfortune that he had gotten there earlier than she had anticipated, seen her pull in, and had then lain in wait for her.
Now, three years later, she was tearing down a backwoods road outside of Wolf Hollow, minutes from getting her revenge. This time, she thought savagely, stamping on the gas, I’m the one who’s going to be early.”
CHAPTER 48
I slowed down and turned my headlights off as I reached our destination. It was completely dark here, with no streetlights this far outside of Wolf Hollow. Looking out my window, I saw that Abbot’s Trail was in fact a narrow dirt road, with a chain and two metal posts barring entrance. Jamming the car into park, I looked over at Brian and pointed my finger. “Stay here.”
Brian nodded mutely as I reached across him to the glove compartment and grabbed my Cree flashlight. Opening my car door quietly, I drew my gun and crouched down as I crept towards the chained gate. The moon was shining weakly behind the scudding clouds, but the starlight was enough for me to make out that the lock on the chain had been cut, and it was just hanging on the post, only appearing to keep intruders out.
Sweeping the tree line with my eyes, I listened for any unusual sounds, but all I heard was the gentle wind through the trees and the soft chirruping of crickets celebrating the night. Looking up past the chain, I could dimly see the rutted dirt road rise gradually, before bending slightly to the left. According to the GPS signal that I had seen back at the station, the camera was approximately eight hundred yards up the trail from the entrance onto Channelwood.
As I thought out my next move, I heard a noise that grew gradually into the roar of the engine of a fast-moving car. Turning, I watched the rapidly approaching headlights paint the road closer until they fell on my car, when they suddenly flicked off, and the engine died down as the driver decelerated and pulled in behind me.
Recognizing Medora’s car, I whipped my head back around to survey forest, but nothing had moved. Hearing a quiet click, I didn’t take my attention off the forest, but hearing a second click behind me caused me to turn my head as I retreated backwards towards my car.
As I feared, the first click had been Medora getting out of her vehicle, gun drawn. But the second click was Brian, in all his gallant stupidity, opening his passenger door and stepping out, despite my admonition, with my backup nightstick in his hand.
“Dammit Brian!” I hissed, “get back in the fucking car!”
Brian glared at me, brandished the nightstick and responded defiantly, “No! This is my fault Harper, and dammit, I’m coming with you!”
Grinding my teeth in frustration, I took another look back before stalking over to Brian. Medora, her eyes on Abbot’s Trail, came up behind Brian, and looked at me and smiled. “Fancy seeing you here, come here often?”
Giving her a tight smile, I replied, “Not if I can help it.” I nodded towards the dirt road. “That’s Abbot’s Trail. The signal came from about a half-mile up. Did you get hold of anyone?” I asked, referring to Riley and Sears.
Medora shook her head. “No, they weren’t at the beach before I left, and I don’t have their numbers.”
I grimaced. “Alright. Well, Barnes tried to call me on my way over here, but I didn’t pick up. I’m guessing he’ll have found the GPS tracker at the tv station by now and is probably on his way here.” I paused, then looked up at the mountainside, and made a decision. I was fairly certain Barnes didn’t have experience in assaulting a forested position at night with a civilian involved. Fortunately, I did.
“I’m not waiting.” I abruptly decided, looking at Medora, then pointing up the trail. “I’m gonna head into the trees, about thirty, forty feet from the edge of the trail, and follow it up. Give me about five minutes to do some forward recon, then you head up the path slowly. Keep your phone on, but the light off and volume low. We’ll use them like walkie talkies, and I’ll let you know if I see anything. But go slow, so I can stay ahead of you.
Medora looked at me, her face taut, then nodded. “You sound like you’ve done this before.” She pulled out her phone and began making the adjustments.
I grinned wolfishly. “Something like it.” I put my gun and flashlight down and took off my coat, so that my black shirt underneath would hide me better.
Finished setting her phone, she glanced at Brian, who had been silent this whole time, his body tense in its defiance. “What about him?”
I looked up at Brian’s determined face as I turned towards the woods and made a decision. “Cuff him to my steering wheel.” As Brian opened his mouth to protest, I snarled, “and if he makes a sound, gag him too.” I gave her a quick nod, and turning back, I crept towards the trees by the trail. A minute later, I had vanished noiselessly into the gloom.
Medora pulled out her cuffs, and as Brian began to pull away to resist, she slapped one of them around his wrist. As she was about to open my driver’s side door, she paused as a thought occurred to her. He might actually be useful. A wild card. With Brian looking at her questioningly, she quietly undid the cuff on his wrist and gave him a hard look.
“I’m going to let you come.” She whispered quietly. “This guy is really dangerous, and Harper and I need all the help we can get. But,” she gave him a stony stare, “you follow me, stay quiet, and do exactly as I say! Got it?”
Brian looked back at her with a combination of surprise and excitement in his eyes and nodded, brandishing the nightstick as if to show his martial worth.
Looking up the trail and at the surrounding woods, Medora couldn’t detect Harper. But she wasn’t going to give him five seconds, let alone five minutes. Jericho was hers, and she wanted her revenge. Now with a slightly maniacal look in her eye, she turned to Brian. “Keep low, let’s go.” And with that, they crept around the chain and up the trail.
CHAPTER 49
Up above Channelwood road, Jericho was padding around silently, preparing for Melinda’s imminent arrival. The wind whispered quietly through the logging encampments long grass, weaving between the rusted machinery in the abandoned clearing. Around the encampment, the crickets teemed with life, chirping in harmonized cadence as lightning bugs flitted through the foliage, lending a supernatural spectral feel to the night. The crickets were Jericho’s friend, an early warning system that would be his first indication of unwanted company.
First, he prowled the perimeter of the small camp, silently melting into the darkened shadows under the dim starlight, his Ranger training began to kick in, the instincts honed from years of fieldwork in the mountains of Afghanistan started going into overdrive.
After completing a circuit, satisfied that for the moment he was alone, he returned to the shack, quietly slipping through the broken door, not even disturbing Angie, who was sleeping a troubled sleep in the cage. He moved over to his duffel bag, and pulled out his Ranger-issued Trench M3 military knife, three sheathed SOG throwing knives, a Taser 10, two cans of lighter fluid and a Zippo lighter. Finally, he reached for a three-foot-long sturdy branch that he had fashioned into a pole, and tipped with another Trench M3 knife, strapped tightly with wraps of duct tape. Satisfied, he turned to Angie, who by now was awake, and was watching him with wide eyes from the corner of the cage, the dirty blanket clenched tightly around her dim form.
Jericho decided to be blunt with her. “Look,” he began “your lessons aren’t done. Shit, I haven’t even started yet. But I am going to have some visitors that I need to…deal with.” He walked over and crouching, undid the lock on her cage. “Now, this is going to be your first lesson on obedience. If you do what I say, we can move on. If you don’t, then there will be…consequences.” At this, Jericho fingered his Trench 3, and Angie’s eyes widened in fear. “Do we understand each other?”
Unable to take her eyes off of the knife, Angie nodded shortly. Jericho looked hard at her, then said icily, “Good. Now come out of there. I need you on the mattress.”
Trembling, Angie crawled out of the cage slowly, keeping the blanket clenched tightly around her. With her eyes on Jericho, she hesitantly lay down on the air mattress and spread her arms. Jericho reached down and fastened the chains around her wrists and ankles, not taking his eyes off of her frightened face. When he finished securing her, he grabbed the blanket and ripped if off, exposing Angie in just her ripped bra and torn panties. Jericho didn’t get any perverse pleasure out of her nudity, this was strictly tactics, shock value. Lastly, he reached over to the desk, grabbing the jar of Vaseline. He unscrewed the cap slowly and dipped his finger in, covering his grimy nail with some of the petroleum jelly. Then, he crouched down as she stared up at him with her big round, tear-streaked eyes. He then gently brushed his finger across her forehead, smearing some of the jelly onto her sweat-stained skin. Finally, with an air of almost fanatical reverence, he moved over her head and delivered a gentle kiss on the spot of Vaseline, holding the macabre contact for a few seconds, then quietly pulling away.
His ritual complete, he then tossed the blanket aside, and leaned down until he was again inches from her face, his warm rancid breath causing her nostrils to crinkle. Gazing hard into her eyes, he whispered menacingly “Not a sound, y’hear? Or I will come back, and you’ll regret it.” He held her gaze and waited until she gave a whimper and a nod, then pulled away and stood up, grasping his makeshift spear. With his other hand, he seized the two kerosene cans and made his way towards the door. In truth he thought grimly, once he set the trap, what he really wanted was for her to scream her head off, but just not before.
Outside the shack under the innocent stars, he unscrewed the caps off of the kerosene cans, and starting at the front door, began splashing the fuel at the base of the hut, working his way around until he came back around again to the entrance of the shack.
Suddenly, Jericho paused. Something just changed, was odd. Off. He cocked his head, listening intently. The crickets and nightlife were still chirping away, but they sounded different, slightly off-balance. He leaned down and dropped the cans in the high grass soundlessly, then made a slow circle in place, concentrating. When he came to face down the mountain, where Abbot’s Trail led, he stopped. There! The crickets had stopped their symphony in that direction, while all around, they rest of the insects kept up their steady cadence.
Something had caused the crickets to stop their racket, undoubtedly an intruder. Jericho gave a crooked smile. Medora my dear, he thought savagely, you’re early. No matter, I’m ready to play, so let’s finish this. As if in response, a slight breeze picked up around him, bringing the smell of rust, rotting grass, and the pungent odor of gasoline to his flared nostrils. Looking back at the silent hut, he paused. I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish our lessons mother, he thought silently as he fished the Zippo out of his pocket. But we’ll meet again soon.
Keeping his eyes on the clearing entrance, he crouched down and flicked the lighter. Instantly, a spurt of flame was created, which he touched to the base of the hut. Almost instantly, the flame leapt to the old, dried gas-soaked wood. The small fire immediately began devouring the wood and spread as it tried to sate its hunger. Within seconds, the front door of the hut was covered in flames.
Cognizant that he was now silhouetted against the fiery backdrop, Jericho, gripped his spear and began to accelerate toward the near edge of the clearing. But as he darted from the front of the hut, he heard two distinct cracks, coming not from the trail, but from the forest on the opposite side of the clearing. So there’s two dangers, he thought, as he instinctively crouched down in the tall weeds. The bitch has help. Probably that cocky partner of hers. He paused and gathered himself, then resumed a crouched run towards the clearing’s edge. Then, there was a third crack, and he felt a searing pain tear through his left bicep. He winced but didn’t stop. Seconds later he reached the forest’s edge, and instantly melted into the shadowy trees. The crickets, sensing that danger was now all around, had gone silent, giving way to the frantic screams that began to emanate from the flaming pyre in the clearing.
CHAPTER 50
I was creeping as silently as I could up the south side of Abbots Trail. Through the brush, I could dimly see the thin dirt road, and was trying to track as close as I could get to it. Fortunately, I had come upon a deer trail that more or less mirrored the road, so I was able to make some progress silently, without disturbing the crickets.
Slipping back into this mode brought me back to my experiences in Bosnia in the mid-2000s, when I was hunting down the Serbian warlord Radovic Karadzic in the mountainous forests outside of Kraljevo, where it had been rumored that he had been hiding. At the time, I had led a small elite army unit that was tasked with his capture, and we spent weeks in that overgrown jungle, avoiding traps, dodging patrols, shooting down drones, and suffering the elements. Ultimately, we weren’t able to get Karadzic, but the hell we went through as a team still haunted me to this day.
Focusing back on my footwork, I pushed forward slowly, gun drawn in one hand while my other quietly pushed branches, spiderwebs and vines out of my path. I hoped that Medora was progressing silently as well, and most of all, I prayed that Brian kept his damn mouth shut back in the car.
The deer path turned slightly up ahead, and through the gloom and trees, I though I saw what looked like possibly a clearing. Crouching lower, I crept forward, keeping my eyes focused ahead. After another fifty feet, I could see that there was indeed an open space ahead, with the deer trail heading straight towards it. The grass in the clearing looked overgrown, maybe eighteen inches tall. I could see dim inert shadows rising out of the grass, small monoliths of successful times past. Towards the back end of the clearing, I could just make out what looked like a small structure, possibly a shelter of some sort for the loggers.
Suddenly, a branch snapped off to my left, and I instantly swung around, my Glock pointing into the brush. Squinting through the semi-darkness, I couldn’t make out any movement in the foliage, and the crickets hadn’t stopped chirping, which was a good sign. Probably an animal, I thought. Deer, raccoon, fox. I paused for a few seconds longer staring into the darkness to make sure that there wasn’t a threat. As I was about to return to advancing on the clearing, the crickets to my right suddenly went abruptly silent. Shit, I thought, swiveling in that direction. The deer path had taken me about twenty yards off of Abbots Trail so that now I couldn’t see the road any longer. But if I had to guess, Medora had done something to alert the crickets. Which meant that if Jericho was a hallway decent Ranger, then he would have been alerted, and now knew that something was wrong.
I looked towards the trail for a few moments longer but couldn’t see any movement through the dense underbrush. If Medora was indeed there, I hoped that she recognized the warning sign too, and took defensive measures.
I swung my attention back to the clearing and froze. By the hut, I could now see another shadow, that had the hulking outline of a large person. The shadow was still, then abruptly shifted, and got smaller, as if crouching down. A second later, it stood up as a wreath of flame suddenly appeared behind, as the front of the hut began to be consumed.
The fire’s glow revealed a large bald man, dressed in camo pants and a black t-shirt stretched taught over a heavily muscled frame. He grasped what looked like a makeshift spear, and his attention was directed down the mountain, towards the trail.
Immediately I stood up and raised my gun to take aim. Just as I was about to squeeze off a trio of shots, the man turned and leapt towards the forest. Not anticipating his abrupt movement, my first two shots went where he had been standing and tore through the flaming wood behind him. Hastily, I adjusted my aim for another shot, and squeezed one off just before he disappeared into the brush. I wasn’t sure if I had winged him or not, because my attention was suddenly directed back towards the hut, where I could hear frantic screams beginning to pierce the night.
CHAPTER 51
Medora and Brian crept slowly up the side of Abbots Trail, Medora with her Glock drawn and Brian with the nightstick clenched in his shaking fist. As they made their way up, Medora constantly scanned ahead, reassured that the crickets were keeping up their steady cadence. Rounding a bend about fifty yards ahead, she spied a bulky silhouette blocking the trail ahead. Colton’s car, she thought, moving slowly forward.
As she reached the car, she turned and motioned for Brian to go around the other side. She doubted anyone was hiding in or around the car, but with him, you never knew. She approached the driver’s window and looked in, seeing nothing. Then, she saw a steadily winking light on the passenger’s seat. Looking closer, she made out what looked like a large camera on a strap, which erased any lingering doubt that Jericho wasn’t here somewhere. Looking up, she met Brian’s eyes over the roof and nodded, then motioned up the trail. He’s gotta be up there somewhere.
Brian took a deep breath, then nodded back and turned to resume their trek, now with him on one side of the trail and Medora on the other. Twenty yards further, they came to another bend. As they rounded this turn, the trail ended in what appeared to be an overgrown clearing. At the back of the clearing, he could see a hut, and what appeared to be a person moving around the side of it, shaking something, and the sound of splashing was reaching his ears.
Medora looked over at Brian, trying to get his attention. She wanted him to stay put until she could send a message to Harper of what they saw. But Brian was staring at the figure straight ahead, and still moving forward slowly. Suddenly, she saw him stumble as one of his dress shoes caught a large stone embedded in the trail, and she heard him involuntarily utter a muffled curse. Instantly, the crickets around them went silent. Medora froze while Brian looked over at her with a panicked expression. She looked back at the person by the hut, which she was sure now was Jericho. He had finished whatever he was doing, but now had his head cocked, and was looking down the trail directly towards them. He suddenly crouched, then stood up as she saw flames begin to lick the structure behind him. He glanced one more time down the trail, then turned and moved off to his left, towards the trees bordering the glade.
Next, she heard the two gunshots from her left, about where she thought Harper should be. Neither shot appeared to hit Jericho as he spun away, but a third shot that followed seemed to give him a brief pause before he continued running and melted into the darkness.
Brian saw Jericho move towards the trees and stood frozen as he too heard the gunshots. Then, as Jericho disappeared into the forest, he could discern the screams beginning to emanate from the now-flaming hut. Angie! He thought wildly, she’s trapped!
Instantly, Brian’s paralysis disappeared, and he began to run towards the hut, intent on rescuing Angie from its fiery depths. Medora was about to shout at him to stop, but then she paused. This is why I wanted him here, she thought. Here’s my distraction. With that, she crossed Abbots Trail to the other side where Jericho had disappeared, and plunged into the underbrush, intent on finding him before Harper did.
Brian dodged around what looked like an old rusted woodchipper and ran towards the fiery hut as fast as his well-heeled Ferragamos could take him. Angie’s screams had now reached a piercing crescendo, spurring Brian on faster, his eyes laser-focused on the burning door that was rapidly getting closer.
Unfortunately, because of his singular mindset and focus, Brian didn’t see the shifting darkness in the brush off to the side of the clearing. Abruptly, he felt what seemed like a painful punch to his chest. He stumbled drunkenly to the side as his forward momentum was suddenly broken. Looking down, he saw the handle of a knife protruding from his sternum, with a blossoming flower of red around it. Weakness suddenly overcame him as he realized he had been hit, and he fell to his knees. With one hand on the ground supporting his torso, he used his other hand to grab the hilt. But the knife was buried to deep in his chest, and with his strength failing him, he lost his balance and fell over, still futilely clutching the hilt. Now lying on his side as blackness began to close around him, his last view was the flaming door, twenty feet away, with Angie’s screams piercing through it, burying deeper into him than the knife ever could.
CHAPTER 52
Angie! I thought as the screams tore through the night. He’s trying to burn her alive! I lowered my weapon, and, keeping my eyes focused on where Jericho had disappeared into the night, crashed through the underbrush towards the clearing.
As I reached the edge of the overgrown glade, I sensed movement to my right, and abruptly stopped and turned in that direction, raising my gun. What I saw caused me to open my mouth in stunned surprise. It was Brian, running haphazardly up from the trail, his suit jacket flapping behind him, arms pumping, with the nightstick firmly clenched in his hand. Brian? I thought in shock, what the fuck are you doing here? You’re supposed to be cuffed to my goddamn steering wheel!
As I recovered from my surprise and opened my mouth to warn him about Jericho, I saw him suddenly stop, and stagger to the side. He then looked down in abject surprise, at the knife protruding from his chest. Sinking to his knees, I saw him grab for the handle unsuccessfully, then topple over and disappear from view in the tall grass.
Instantly, I dashed for the woodchipper, putting it between me and where it seemed like the knife had come from. Looking back towards the trail, I tried to pick out Medora in the gloom, but couldn’t see her anywhere. Dammit, I thought grimly, well this went to shit fast. Reaching the woodchipper, I ducked behind it, and took a second to assess. Medora was either down or otherwise engaged. Brian was down, quite possibly dead. It sounded like Angie was restrained inside the flaming hut, with Jericho somewhere in the woods to the side, lying in wait.
You used her as bait, I thought grimly, staring at the unmoving form of Brian lying on the ground. And it worked. I peeked quickly over the chipper at the hut, which was now almost fully engulfed in flames and made a decision, as Angie’s desperate screams reached a frightening crescendo. And Jericho, I thought as I steeled myself, it’s gonna work again.
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Working her way through the dense foliage as quietly as she could, Medora crept around the clearing’s edge, gun raised. Through the trees, she could see Brian sprinting towards the hut, intent on saving Angie from a horrid fate. Suddenly as she was watching, Brian stopped and fell, clutching at his chest. She hadn’t heard any gunshots, so she had to assume that Brian was hit with a silent projectile of some sort. An arrow, a crossbow bolt, or a knife. As she continued to stare silently, Brian slowly sank, and then disappeared into the tall grass. Seconds later, Harper burst through the trees on the opposite side, ducking low and heading for the woodchipper.
Not wanting to waste the distraction that Brian and now Harper had provided, Medora ducked back into the brush, aiming for the spot where she had seen Colton disappear into the darkness. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Harper had made it to the chipper, and was now staring at the hut while also looking over at the forest. Suddenly, she saw him leap up and race towards the hut, running low and weaving a zigzag pattern in an attempt to avoid Jericho’s aim. Then, straight ahead about a hundred feet through the darkened brush, she saw a shadow rise next to an enshrouded oak, and then an arm pulled back, as if preparing to throw. Ignoring the danger to Harper, Medora raised her gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger as Jericho rotated forward, flinging a projectile towards the racing detective.
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Taking one last look over where I thought Jericho was hiding, I suddenly leapt out and began to race for the hut, weaving back and forth in an evasive fashion. Ten feet from the hut, I braced myself as I prepared to crash through the flaming door, which had partially broken away from the frame, and was now creaking wildly on its broken hinges. Taking one last juke, I was preparing to leap when I felt a sudden sting on my right shoulder. Staggering slightly, I finished my leap, and exploded through the door with Angie’s now hysterical screams punctuating the smoky air. Falling awkwardly through fiery embers and hazy smoke, I tumbled into the hut and rolled to a stop in the middle of the floor. Rising to my knees, I looked around through the murky darkness as my right shoulder pulsed painfully. By this point, all four walls were on fire, the flames licking up towards the rickety ceiling, where smoke coalesced and escaped through worn flame-rimmed holes. In front of me to my right, next to an ash-covered table was a half-inflated air mattress that was gradually losing its rigidity from the hot embers that were landing on it.
Angie was splayed out on the mattress, her nude body only partially covered by her tattered underwear. She was desperately thrashing about as hot coals rained down on her bare skin, and she was now screaming bloody murder. Her wrists and ankles were chained to what looked like pieces of rebar that had been driven deep into the earth at the four corners of the bed. As I rose painfully, Angie’s wild eyes locked onto mine. “Harper!” she screamed frantically, straining against the chains. “Get me out of here!”
Tearing my gaze from her scarred and battered body, I briefly reached for my injured shoulder. I didn’t have any strange object sticking out of me, so whatever it was just missed, but its razor-sharp edge had sliced along the top of my shoulder, causing a deep furrow that was now beginning to bleed profusely. Looking around for something to free Angie with, I could see that I was rapidly running out of time. The flames were causing the walls to start leaning inward, as their charred bones began to give way to the weight of the smoking roof above. Not seeing anything in the dim light that could help me free her, and acutely aware of her screams, I crouched next to her, grabbed a flailing wrist to steady it, and looked her in the eye.
“Angie!” I said loudly, cutting off her wail. “I need you to stay still! There’s no time, so I’m going to shoot the chains off! Stay still and close your eyes! Do you understand?” I yelled, over the gradually increasing roar of the fiery maelstrom surrounding us.
Angie stared at me with tear and soot-streaked eyes and sobbing, nodded shakily. “Get me out of here Harper, please!” she pleaded.
Nodding quickly, I cupped my hand over her eyes, signaling her to shut them. When I pulled my hand away, her eyes were screwed tightly shut, and she was whimpering silently.
Gazing once more at her terrified face, I felt a ball of anger begin to rapidly well up, threatening to consume me. Not now, I admonished myself, tamping it back down. Taking a firm grip on her wrist, I aimed the barrel of the gun an inch from the chain, closed my eyes, and pulled the trigger. With ricochets, you could never be sure. I had heard a story in Serbia of a guy who was freeing a Bosnian prisoner with this method. He had fired, breaking the chain, but the bullet had ricocheted off the concrete floor, and he had lost an eye.
The sharp crack of the pistol cut through the roar of the flames, and Angie’s arm was suddenly free. Quickly, I reached for her other limbs, and three gunshots later, Angie was free from her restraints. By now, the greedy inferno had reached the roof, and the small room was completely smoke-filled, and the walls were verging on imminent collapse, which would effectively bury us in a fiery grave.
Grabbing Angie’s arm, I hauled her up. As she reached her feet, she abruptly sank back down, her legs not willing to hold her up. Shit, I thought. I holstered my gun quickly as Angie tried to again struggle to her feet.
“No time!” I shouted, reaching down for her. Grabbing her under her armpits, I lifted her up, and in a burst of adrenaline, threw her over my shoulder. Turning, I was about to charge through the now-flaming door, when I paused. Wrong move. I thought to myself. Instead, I turned to my right, to the wall away from where Jericho was lurking. Picking a spot in the wall that looked the weakest, I bunched my muscles and shouted over my shoulder, “Close your eyes!” Then, taking a firm grip on Angie, I lowered my head and charged through flaming wall.
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Jericho had initially thought that the first man charging towards the hut was Medora’s partner. However, upon seeing the man dressed in slacks and a jacket, and demonstrating no situational awareness, he realized that this couldn’t be the detective. Regardless, he had to go down, and Jericho was pleased to see that his knife-throwing skills hadn’t diminished at all. Now, hidden in his spot by a large oak, he saw a second man dash from the opposite side of the clearing towards the woodchipper. This, he thought gleefully, was Belinda’s partner. The man was too far away for a good shot, so Jericho waited, while keeping a peripheral eye on his surroundings. Belinda was still out there somewhere, he had no doubt. Suddenly, her partner leapt up from behind the woodchipper, and began racing towards the flaming hut. He was using evasive techniques that they taught in the army, he noted. Tracking his weaving movements, Jericho rose from his crouch and cocked his arm. Just as Jericho was rotating forward to release the throwing knife, he heard a crack and felt a punch in his upper shoulder. The knife whipped through air towards the man, slightly off trajectory now, resulting in a near miss over the man’s shoulder.
Spinning towards where the shot came from, he crouched down and winced. With his other hand, he felt for the wound. Not bad, he assessed. A through and through flesh wound. Painful and would limit the movement of the shoulder, but certainly not fatal. Looking up, he could see Medora’s silhouette against the semi-darkness. There you are! He thought malevolently. Time to pay you back for ruining my life!
Flexing his injured shoulder, he grasped his spear and glided off through the brush towards his prey. Angie’s horrific screaming had abruptly stopped, he noted, in the sudden silence. And another one who didn’t learn her lessons had now been sent on her way.
CHAPTER 53
Medora saw Jericho stumble and give a low grunt. She hadn’t been able to stop him from throwing the knife, she could only hope that she had caused him to lose his aim. She couldn’t tell if she was successful, because by now Harper had crashed through the flaming doorway, possibly with a knife buried somewhere in his body.
Squinting into the near darkness, she could see that the silhouette of Jericho had lowered. Looking towards him, she raised her gun again, searching for a clear shot. Suddenly, she could feel a palpable sense of rage that seemed to emanate from his direction, and she felt as if his eyes, indistinguishable in the shadows, were boring right into her, into her soul. Shaking her head, she refocused, but in that instant, he had disappeared. Shit! She thought with a quick shot of panic. She looked wildly around. Going into the firelit clearing would be suicide, she decided quickly. Who knew how many of those knives he has, and he’s obviously expert in using them. No, her safest bet was to stay in the forest. Put her back against a thick tree and wait for him to come to her. So she slowly backed up against a large white pine, arcing her gun slowly across the space in front of her. With her off-hand, she reached for her nightstick, and briefly wished that she had thought to bring her taser. Firmly against the tree now, she waited, trying to penetrate the shadowed foliage in front of her with her eyes.
Medora didn’t have long to wait. A minute or so later, she heard a crash from the clearing, and involuntary looked over to see the hut suddenly collapse in on itself in a fiery display of red embers exploding skyward. Feeling a small twinge of regret, she swung her attention back to the forest as, in a frenzied burst through a large bush, Jericho barreled out towards her, with what looked like a spear in his right hand. Medora raised her gun to aim, but Jericho was too fast, raising his spear and bringing it crashing down on her wrist, causing the gun to discharge wildly as it spun away into the underbrush.
Jericho continued his assault, reversing the direction of the spear, aiming the butt-end towards Medora’s gut. Medora, with her nightstick in her other hand, desperately parried the blow to the side as she backed up around the tree.
As the initial shock of Jericho’s surprise assault wore off, her self-defense training began to kick in. After she had escaped him years ago in the Colorado mountains, one of the things she had done was to begin classes in Krav-Maga, the Israeli martial arts discipline that was used by the Israeli military. The system specialized in defense, and specifically, “using whatever works”. Now, she circled behind the tree, using it as a shield, and quickly scooped up some dirt from the forest floor. As Jericho jabbed on both sides of the tree with his spear, effectively preventing her from coming around, she slowly backed up towards the clearing.
Jericho circled around the tree and followed her, spear held in both hands out in front of him. She could see the fresh blood stain on his shoulder, where she had shot him, as well as another bloody spot on his left bicep. “I guess Harper got you too”, she said in a baiting voice, her eyes fastened on the spear.
“Bitch.” Jericho snarled. “This has been a long time coming. You ruined my life, so now I’m gonna end yours!” And with that, he leapt forward, the spear thrusting towards her chest.
Medora had been expecting the attack and took a half-step back and parried the spear to the side with her nightstick, while simultaneously throwing the dirt into Jericho’s face.
Jericho, surprised by the move, shook his head to clear his vision, but Medora, pushing off her half-step back, now launched forward inside the range of the dangerous spear tip. As Jericho tried to retreat a step, she swung the nightstick at his head, but Jericho, in a defensive posture now, used his other arm to block the strike.
Her nightstick hit his arm with a solid crunch, and he let out a howl of anguish. If it didn’t break his forearm, she thought, it’s at least a deep, painful bruise. She pulled back her arm for another blow, this time aiming for the gunshot wound in his shoulder. Strike vulnerable parts of the body – Krav Maga 101, she thought.
Jericho, realizing that his spear was useless in close quarters, dropped it and instead, quick as a snake, grabbed the nightstick as it was coming down. With his left hand, the arm throbbing, he then reached for his Trench knife at his belt. One of the tenets of being a Ranger was learning the skill of ambidexterity, and Jericho had been an excellent student.
Freeing the knife, he began to strike towards Medora’s abdomen. Medora, seeing the danger and not able to free her nightstick from his grip, didn’t panic. Instead, still focused on his gunshot wound, she took her free hand, and dug her thumb savagely into the bloody shoulder.
Instantly, electric pain shot through Jericho’s torso as the finger found the wound. His knife hand became instantly paralyzed as the injured shoulder refused to follow through with the thrust. Quickly, Medora pivoted and placing her right leg behind his left knee, pushed him backwards, causing him to fall hard on his back.
But even while falling, Jericho managed to maintain an iron grip on her arm holding the nightstick and caused her to fall awkwardly on top of him, her thumb jarring loose from his injured shoulder. As Jericho recovered from the haze of pain, Medora moved quickly and pinned the wrist holding the dagger to the ground with her knee.
Now, their faces were inches from each other, locked in close combat. Unfortunately, Medora knew that given his weight, strength advantage, and training, unless she could disengage, he would gradually overpower her.
Staring into the dark depths of his maniacal visage, she briefly wondered how she had ever thought that this was the man that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Now, she could feel his muscles bunching beneath her as he attempted to throw her off of him. But before he could, Medora pulled her head back, and with all the strength she had left, smashed her forehead into the bridge of his nose, and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch.
Jericho roared again as the pain of his broken nose flooded his head. He violently thrust his torso off the ground, flinging Medora up and over his head as she let go of the nightstick.
Now though, Jericho, despite his wounds and pain, had the upper hand. He rolled up into a crouch with the knife in one hand, and Medora’s nightstick in the other. Medora, cat-quick, was also now on her feet, with the fire-lit clearing in the background behind her. Looking at Jericho crouched ten feet from her, she knew with a sinking heart that she was done. His glare was feral, and he was breathing heavily from excitement and rage. He could feel that the fight was nearing its destined conclusion.
Grimly, Medora assumed a defensive stance, and glared back defiantly. “Fuck you Colton.” She growled. “I ruined your life? You destroyed mine, and now I’ve spent my last eight years thinking about how I was going to kill you for what you did to me! I brought you here, not so you could take another defenseless woman, but so I could send you where you so richly deserve to go!”
“Yeah?” he snarled in reply as he took a step forward, sweat glistening off his bald head. “And how’s that working out for you?”
Taking a step back to match his, she silently regarded this hulking demon of a man in front of her. She had no answer.
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CHAPTER 54
Crashing through the fiery wall of the hut, I stumbled into the clearing and twisting, fell to the ground with Angie on top of me. Quickly, I rolled her off of and came up in a crouch, grasping my Glock. Mental math told me I still had eight rounds left in my gun, so I didn’t need to reload yet.
Scanning the clearing, I saw no sign of Medora or Jericho. Through the rapidly deteriorating haze, I could barely make out the still form of Brian, lying near the front of the hut. What the fuck was he doing up here? I wondered again.
Angie suddenly started to thrash next to me as hot coals from our violent exit began to singe her body. Keeping one eye on the clearing, I reached down to help brush them off, when she suddenly leaned up, wrapped her arms around my neck, and buried her head into my shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.
With one arm, I tried to give her a comforting squeeze, while I continued to survey the glade. Jericho was still out there, Medora too. And last I knew, he was in the woods on the other side of the hut, though that could have changed.
“It’s ok Angie, you’re safe now” I murmured. “Thank me later, but he’s still out there” As I gently tried to disengage her arms.
She suddenly released me and stared wetly up into my eyes with deep gratitude. Instantly, my heart lurched as I recalled that look from our times together, and for a moment I lost myself, tenderly stroking her soot-stained cheek. Angie responded by raising her head and giving me a soft and tender kiss, and I momentarily lost control as my emotions for her came flooding back to overwhelm me.
After a minute, I came to my senses and pulled away. I’d have to figure this out later, but for now, we still had a serial killer stalking us. I looked at Angie, who was looking back at me with her big, moist doe eyes.
“Angie,” I said urgently, breaking the spell, “go that way.” I motioned towards the woods edge, opposite from where I thought Jericho was. “Run now. Hide in the bushes, and don’t come out until I call for you.”
Angie, back in the moment, scrambled to her feet. I briefly appreciated her beautiful nudity, then shook my head. Head in the game, I told myself, it ain’t over.
Gesturing towards the woods, I whispered, “Go. Now.”
Angie took a deep breath and nodded. Then, she cupped my cheek and looked deeply at me again. “Thank you.” She whispered, then turned and ran towards the forest.
Not recalling the last time I had heard those words come out of her mouth, I took a deep breath and turned. The foreman’s hut had collapsed completely inward now, and it resembled a ten-foot tall, tepee-shaped bonfire, roaring loudly as sparks snapped and crackled, shooting upwards towards the starlit sky. The clearing was now fairly well illuminated from the fire, so I stayed low as I crept around the hut towards Brian’s prone body. Reaching him, I carefully leaned down with my eyes glued to the tree line as I felt for a pulse. Nothing. Goddamit, I thought. Barnes ain’t gonna be happy with this. Although come to think of it, he wasn’t going to be happy about any of this.
Leaving Brian, I was slowly moving away from him towards where I had last seen Jericho disappear, when I caught a flash of movement off to my right. Wheeling, through the reddish haze, I saw Medora, weaponless, in the woods near the edge of the clearing, backing up slowly as Jericho was stalking her, matching her step for step. I immediately raised my gun, but Medora was in my way, and I didn’t have a clear shot. I could see that Jericho, with a knife and what looked like a nightstick, was readying to pounce. Desperately, I shouted “Medora! Get down!”
Medora hesitated, but Jericho did not. Instantly, he looked over Medora’s shoulder and saw me with my gun raised. He quickly flung the nightstick at Medora, striking her in the head, then rolled to the side in an evasive maneuver as I let two shots fly.
Medora staggered backwards from the nightstick, and then seemed to trip over something in the tall grass, as she suddenly went down. Cursing, I raced forward, my gun sweeping the area where I had last seen Jericho. I reached Medora, who was struggling to sit up, having stumbled over a tree stump. She looked up at me as I arrived, and I saw she had a nasty laceration on her forehead where the nightstick had struck her.
“You ok?” I shouted as I continued to scan the woods.
Medora nodded dazedly as she tried to rise. “Stay down!” I shouted, “You’re hurt!”
Medora gave up, and sank back in the grass, breathing heavily. I continued to crouch over her, looking for any movement in the woods. Finally, after five minutes of silence, I saw the red and blue lights of police vehicles flashing through trees from down Abbots Trail. Seconds later I could hear car doors slam and was able to make out figures moving quickly up the trail.
Relaxing slightly, I looked down at Medora. “Cavalry’s finally here.” I said. “I don’t think Jericho’s coming back now.”
Medora looked at me and smiled weakly. “Well that went well, don’t you think?”
I could see the unmistakably bearish form of Barnes making his way up the trail, with two figures in what looked like FBI windbreakers trailing him. With questions swirling around in my head, I looked down at my partner. “If you think that went well, then you’re gonna absolutely love how this is going to go.” I holstered my gun and stepped away, preparing for the volcano that was Barnes.
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A hundred yards back in the woods, hidden from sight, Jericho watched the scene unfold as the Wolf Hollow police joined the scene. His shoulder throbbed from the gunshot wound, only matched by the pain coming from his broken nose and the bone bruise on his forearm. But nothing could compare to the humiliation he felt from being bested by Medora.
As he watched her get up with assistance from the detective, he felt his rage rising in a tidal wave, almost to the point where he wanted to charge into the clearing and take her down despite the overwhelming odds.
Before he had retreated from the area where he had engaged Medora, Jericho had rapidly searched the ground around the tree, and in a minute had found her gun wedged under a bramble bush. Now, he raised her gun and sighted it, training it on the detective’s heaving torso.
But fortunately, his common sense and ingrained training prevailed. He was a hundred yards plus from his target, and he knew the Glock had a typical range of 55 yards. Even with his expertise in marksmanship, it wasn’t a high percentage shot, and if he missed, he became a target for not just the detective, but the entire police force that was beginning to swarm into the clearing. Besides, he had been here before, banished to the mountains. And he wasn’t done, not by a longshot. Medora was his to destroy, and he still had lessons to give, for his mother had to be honored. He didn’t know if the reporter had survived or not. If she had, then he would find her. Sabrina had escaped his grasp, but this bitch, if she was alive, would not.
Turning from the hellish scene in the clearing, he silently vanished into the night. Tomorrow, after all, was a new day.
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