His hand trembled. “It’s Deputy Bradford and there’s a lot of blood.”
“On our way. Check her vitals.”
The forest closed in around him. The killer had a million places to hide and watch his reaction, the sick son of a bitch. He dragged up his last ounce of courage and walked toward Bradford. At the sight before him, his chest constricted and he could not breathe. He wanted to look away and had to force his eyes to take in the gruesome scene before him. There would be no need to check her pulse.
60
The rough terrain ripped at Jenna’s jeans, and bushes whipped across her cheeks, but she pushed on, sliding and slipping down the steep canyon. With only her inbuilt sense of direction to guide her, she kept low and made her way toward Kane’s position. Time was ticking by, and every second could mean the difference between life and death for Kane. She bit back a sob of frustration as the loose gravel underfoot hampered her speed. Without her cellphone, she had no contact with her team. She had a tracker ring, which in an emergency sent a message to Kane’s phone. Damn lot of good that was with Kane down. If she could get to him, she could use his cellphone to call for backup.
The ground underneath her feet shifted, bouncing her in an uncontrollable slide into the canyon. In desperation, she looped one arm around a bush to slow her descent and grasped at clumps of grass to crawl to the base of a tree. She sat, gasping for air for a few seconds, then glanced up to check for any movement above her. Where is the shooter?
One thing for sure, the killer was up there and would be running through his trail cam footage to find out where she was heading. With half an hour to the next check-in time, her team would have no idea their plans had gone to hell. With the sun blinding them, they would be ignorant to the fact the killer had shot Kane and she was in danger. The moment Kane missed a check-in and neglected to answer his cell, they would move in. In the meantime, she had to outsmart a psychopathic killer and get to Kane.
She glanced around to get her bearings but the direct route to him would place her out in the open. I’ll have to find another way. The canopy of trees would cover her for a few more yards and she jogged along an animal path through the trees, lifting her knees to avoid the tangle of dry grass and ivy. When she came to the clearing, she could see Kane’s arm draped over a log twenty yards away. To avoid crossing the open patch to get to him, she would have to negotiate a small part of the perimeter of a fifty-foot drop to the bottom of the ravine.
With the urgency to get to Kane front and center in her mind, she pulled up her gloves, gripped the woody stalks of bushes, then lowered herself feet-first over the edge. Her legs hung in midair and her heart thundered in her chest as she felt around the crumbling rock wall for a suitable foothold. Gravel tumbled down behind her, sounding like rain as it peppered the bushes below. She chanced a look down and her stomach cramped. Fear held her motionless for a few long seconds, then grinding her teeth, she edged sideways, gripping the bushes and moving one careful step at a time.
The scrub moved under her grasp, threatening to uproot and plunge her to certain death. Shoulders aching with overexertion, she forced onward, edging along the perilous drop. Aware of the time her painfully slow progress was taking, she sucked in a sob of relief when shadows closed around her. The muscles in her arms screamed in protest as she dragged herself out of the ravine and lay panting in the grass. Not allowing herself a moment to recover, she belly-crawled into the cover of the tall pines then took in her surroundings. Kane was lying face down, legs sprawled. One arm hung over the fallen tree and he was still wearing the backpack. He had not made one twitch of a finger. Pushing down her instinct to run to his side, she scanned the area, making sure a shooter looking down from above would not see her, then moved closer.
Panic gripped her and she tried desperately to steel herself to deal professionally with what she would find. From the spray of blood from Kane’s head wound and the fall into the canyon, the chances of finding him alive would be close to zero but she had to be sure.
She moved from tree to tree, taking care to remain hidden, then belly-crawled to Kane’s inert body. Blood covered his hair and soaked the back and shoulder of his shirt. She removed her sunglasses and stared at the wound in surprise. The injury was not the gaping hole she expected and was bleeding profusely in a sign of life. Her survival training fell into place like a shield against her welling emotions of finding him alive. I must stop the bleeding.
The bullet had gouged a four-inch path across his scalp just above the right ear, exposing the titanium plate in his head. She shuddered at the sight of the dented metal. How close did he come to dying? She removed one of her gloves and slid her hand under his neck to check his pulse. Under her fingers, she felt the thump, thump, thump of strength, not the weak flutter of someone bleeding out. Relieved, she went through his pockets to search for his cellphone, dragged it out, and groaned in dismay at the shattered screen. With Wolfe only a call away, Kane would have gotten the expert care he needed. She glanced up the canyon to the top. Nothing moved through the long grass or disturbed the loose rocks. The killer hadn’t found her yet. “I figure it’s just you and me, Dave.”
With gentle care, she ran her hands over his arms and legs, checking for injuries. She found no broken bones but blood pooled around his left knee and he could have damaged his spine. She eased off his backpack and moved his arm from over the log. With the trees hiding them from above, she could tend to his head injury without the killer seeing her. Apart from energy bars and water, Kane made a habit of carrying a Combat Lifesaver Kit complete with wound stapler. At least she could stop the bleeding. She pulled out the kit and went through the supplies. After pulling on surgical gloves, she trimmed away the hair, cleaned the leaves and other debris from Kane’s wound, irrigated it, then stapled the edges together. After dressing the wound, she stared at him, willing him to open his eyes.
He had bruises all over, and deep scrapes and scratches on his face. Not wanting to move his head, she dabbed at what she could reach then turned away to pull a blanket from the backpack. As she turned back, Kane lifted one arm and had her by the throat. She stared up
into the eyes of a man she did not know. Cold and intimidating, they bore into her, examining her face. He weighed a ton and she gasped for air. “Get off me.”
“Who the hell are you?” Kane touched his head and winced. “You sure made a mistake trying to kill me, lady.”
She gaped at him, trying to inhale under the weight of him. “I’m Sheriff Jenna Alton and your superior officer. We are chasing a serial killer and he shot you.”
“I wouldn’t be anyone’s deputy, not in this life.” Kane’s fingers tightened around her throat. “Think again and I might allow you to live.”
Jenna tried to think back to the stories he’d told her about working for POTUS. “Calm down and I’ll tell you what I know. You’re off the grid and I know you as Dave Kane.” She looked into his eyes but not one glimmer of recognition showed there. “You told me once one of the agents guarding POTUS left his com on when he went to the bathroom for an explosive visit. You had to listen and guard POTUS without laughing.”
“Go on.” Kane’s grip loosened.
Desperate to get him back on her side, she gave him an abridged version of his life. “Your wife’s name was Annie and she was killed in a car bombing. You have a plate in your head because of that attack and ended up as my deputy in Black Rock Falls.”
“I don’t remember you or being a deputy.” Kane’s troubled gaze scanned her face. “The rest was yesterday. What’s the date?”
Jenna told him then pushed her hand into her pocket and pulled out her creds. “Here, look. I am who I say.” She waited for him to examine her ID then gave him a quick rundown of their situation in the hope it would trigger his memory. “We’ve been working together for a year. You live in a cottage on my ranch. You have a dog named Duke, a bloodhound.”
“I don’t remember but you check out and we are in the forest, so I guess I’ll have to believe you.” He rolled off her then grunted and his face paled to sheet-white. “Dammit, my knee is shot.” He pulled himself onto a sitting position behind a tree and peered at a ripped hole in his blood-soaked jeans. “Smashed my kneecap.”
“Let me take a look.” To keep his mind off his injuries, Jenna gave him what information they had on the killer and what had transpired in the last hour. She dragged over the medical kit and bent over his leg. “You’ll need this tended by a doctor. I stapled the cut on your head but this needs a specialist. All I can do is clean and dress it for now.”
“Do it but I don’t have one chance in hell of climbing up that slope.” Kane winced as she poured antiseptic over the wound. “Have you called for backup?” He reached inside his jacket, checked his cred pack, then removed his weapon and searched his pockets.
“No, the cellphones are smashed.” Jenna noticed how slow he was moving and frowned. “Any other injuries?” She took bottles of water from the backpack and handed him one then sipped the other.
“Too many to count.” His glance was softer this time.
She finished dressing the wound and looked up at his pale, drawn face. “There’s morphine in the kit.”