Conjuring up a map of the peak in his mind, he mentally juxtaposed the two roads, the main one and the one on the western face. He’d been running away from the westernmost, in the general direction of the other. But how far had he gone? How much farther would he have to run before he reached Mountain Laurel Road? Whatever the distance, could he make it with the strength he had left?
He had to try. Dutch and Wes were stronger and better armed, but he had two distinct advantages. His innate sense of direction. And his will to live.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he came up onto his knees. His muscles, particularly the sprained ankle, protested even that. But he forced himself into a crouch and set off again, keeping as low as possible and trying not to give his movement away by disturbing branches or making noise.
He hoped Dutch and Wes would waste time creeping toward the boulder in order to surprise him, only to be surprised themselves when they discovered he wasn’t behind it.
It was too much to wish for.
“Dutch, on your left!” he heard Wes shout.
Tierney sprang to his feet and began running. Or tried to. His legs churned through the snow that in places came almost to his waist. His arms thrashed through snow-shrouded brambles. He stumbled over hidden tree roots and undergrowth. Ice-encased branches whacked his face.
But if the grunts and groans of those tracking him were any indication, they were having just as difficult a time as he. Tierney sensed the desperation that propelled their chase and knew his deduction had been correct—Dutch Burton wanted to dispatch him before another law enforcement agency’s arrival prevented him from doing so.
As before, the road found him almost before he found it.
With little warning, he reached the edge of the embankment. Quick reflexes saved him from plunging down it this time. He sat on his butt and worked his way down.
The sunlight was bright on the undisturbed ribbon of white. After the shadowed forest, he was momentarily blinded by the glare. Shading his eyes, he frantically searched the sky for a sign of the helicopter. It was so loud, one would have thought it was directly overhead, but he couldn’t see it.
“Ben Tierney!”
Wes and Dutch had emerged from the woods and were standing on the edge of the embankment. Two rifles were aimed at him. Their long, sleek barrels looked menacing in the harsh sunlight. Dutch had both eyes open. So did Wes. These guys knew how to shoot. How to hit. How to kill.
Like shooting fish in a barrel.
He could almost hear his grandfather saying the adage as he raised his hands high above his head. He dropped the pistol and kicked it away. “I’m unarmed!”
“Perfect.” He read the word on Dutch’s jeering lips just before he squeezed the trigger.
• • •
“There’s the cabin, sir.” Collier spoke to Begley through his headset. Hoot had also been provided one. As a courtesy, he was sure. Not because he had any strategic reason for being here.
“What do you know? They made it,” Begley said, pointing out the snowmobile in front of the cabin. “At least one of them did.” Addressing the pilot through the headset, he said, “Can you set this thing down?”
“The clearing is small, sir. In this wind, it’ll be difficult.”
Collier said, “Get us low enough, we’ll use the ropes.”
But just as he suggested it, the chopper was broadsided by a gust of wind. Acting quickly, the pilot prevented the craft from being swatted to the ground. As the chopper swung around, Hoot felt his pager vibrate against his hip.
He fished inside his coat and removed the pager from his belt. Perkins had punched in their code, indicating urgency. Hoot dug out his cell phone and hit the auto dial he’d assigned to Perkins’s number.
• • •
“In here! I’m in here!”
Lilly had been shouting since she’d first heard the approaching snowmobile. Knowing she couldn’t possibly be heard above its noisome whine, she continued shouting anyway until it stopped.
“In here,” she shouted into the sudden silence, her eyes trained on the door.
“Mrs. Burton?”
She didn’t bother correcting the name. “Yes, yes. I’m in here.”
The door was pushed open, and a man swaddled in ski clothing rushed in. “Thank God you’re all right.”