The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

The poor things, nearly asleep, were covered head to toe with dirt. As much as she wanted to give them more time, she didn’t dare. “Up and at ’em.”

They hauled themselves to their feet. Remi, about to offer words of encouragement, stopped when she heard voices carrying toward them from lower down the slope. Their meager cover would leave them vulnerable. She put her finger to her lips, warning the girls.

Up or down? The choice of which direction turned dire.

She judged the distance to the trees above. They’d never make it in time. The only place was down to the ledge below. “This way,” she whispered, urging them toward the cliff. They balked when she told them they’d have to climb down the narrow channel between the granite slabs. “It looks scary. But it’s easier than you think. You put y

our hands and feet on one side and push your back against the other, using the pressure to hold yourself up. Like Santa in a chimney.”

Amal stepped to the edge. “I’ve done this before. I’ll show them.”

The younger woman lowered herself between the rocks and worked her way down, clearly experienced at climbing. Even so, she hesitated at the end of the fissure, perhaps gearing up for the several-foot drop to the ledge below. The moment she was safely on the ground, Remi turned to the girls. She was not surprised when Nasha volunteered first, intuitively finding toe- and footholds until she reached the end. Amal was there to help her make the jump onto the ledge. After seeing how easily Nasha managed the climb down, the others quickly followed.

Remi took one of the branches she’d torn from her stick to brush away the footprints near the cliff’s edge and scattered leaves over the top to help disguise them even further. She was about to climb into the fissure when she caught sight of a number of fist-sized rocks that had tumbled down the mountainside near the base of the boulder the girls had rested against.

She quickly arranged them into an arrow aimed at the mountainside route she had considered taking earlier, then handed her walking stick to one of the girls before lowering herself into the crevice. And none too soon. The voices on the trail grew louder.

She dropped to the rocky ledge, grateful to find that the overhang, though not quite a cave—and definitely not tall enough to stand beneath—actually offered some protection from the rain. She guided the girls beneath it, as far back as they could fit. Above them, the men started a heated argument as to which way they should go.

“That way,” one said. “Before the rain starts.”

“Pili,” another called out. “Does that look like an arrow?”

Remi glanced up, shocked to see that one of the men was practically straddling the fissure. He leaned forward. She pressed back against the girls as he spit almost straight down at them.

“Look at that,” he said. “It looks like—”

“Listen,” Pili said. “I think I hear that helicopter again. Get to the trees. Before they see us.”

She breathed a sigh of relief as they moved off, their voices fading. A sharp gust of wind swept across the cliff face and moaned through the rock fissure. As if in answer, a cow mooed plaintively down in the valley. Remi signaled for the girls to remain where they were, then edged out, looking between the large boulders. A herd of white longhorn cattle grazed in the meadow below.

Remi glanced upward, grateful to see no sign of the kidnappers on the trail above. Nasha crept out next to her, pointing to the approaching helicopter. “Look. It’s coming this way.”

Remi returned her attention to the aircraft, knowing that even if someone was looking exactly this direction, they were hidden by the line of boulders at the edge of the cliff. Somehow, they’d have to get up top.

A sharp crack echoed across the valley.

Nasha ducked back, throwing herself at Remi.

The other girls looked up, thinking it was thunder.

Crack! Crack!

“Stay down,” Remi said as the helicopter suddenly veered off.

“What happened?” Amal asked.

“Someone down there’s shooting at them.” Remi wrapped her arms around Nasha, feeling her heart beating hard against her chest. “Are you okay?”

She looked at Remi through a sheen of tears, her hand shaking as she brushed them away. “They’re the ones who killed my parents. And my aunt.”

“Who did?” Remi asked.

“Boko Haram.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will take you there.