Deep Woods

I ran over to them and fell to my knees beside them. I found where the bullet had entered and applied pressure. “Call for an ambulance,” I told the other cop, and he nodded and got on his radio.

Cal hunkered down beside me, ready to help if I needed it, but there wasn’t much we could do without medical gear. I did my best to slow the bleeding and talked to the cop, reassuring him it was going to be okay.

Cal gently cupped my cheek in one big hand, looking at me, and I saw his shoulders tense and his breathing tighten. For a second, I couldn’t figure out what he was looking at. Then I remembered how Ralavich had hit me there. I guess a bruise had formed.

I glanced at the dock. Ralavich was running down the dockside and heading for the maze of containers. Cal saw it too. He turned to the younger cop and pointed to his radio. “Can you get Nina in the control room on that thing?” The cop nodded, switched channel and handed it to Cal. “Nina! It’s Cal.” He waved in the direction of a building with big, sloping windows. “I got her, I got them all, but the guy who did this is running.”

I looked at him, amazed. He was talking to someone! And it sounded like he’d already connected with her.

There was a burst of static and then a woman’s voice answered. “I see him. He’s heading into the container stacks, but the cops are still a few minutes away.”

My guts twisted. “He’s going to get away,” I thought out loud.

Cal slowly rose, his whole body shaking with rage. “No, he isn’t,” he said.

72

Cal

He hurt her. I’d already hated him for what he’d tried to do to her, for how he’d treated all those other women. But there was something basic and primal about seeing that bruise on her cheek. I could feel the scalding anger boiling up inside me. He hurt my Bethany!

I pounded down the gangplank, Rufus hot on my heels. I saw Ralavich disappear into the maze of cargo containers. It was a sprawling area the size of a few hundred football fields and on the far side of it was the fence that marked the edge of the port. If Ralavich reached that, he could just stroll off into Seattle and we’d never catch him.

I found the dumpster I’d passed by before and I was in luck: no one had found the assault rifle. I realized I was still clutching the cop’s radio and shoved it in my shirt pocket, then picked up the rifle and ran into the container maze. As I reached the entrance, I forced myself to breathe slowly, calming myself. Gun up and ready, Rufus pressed tight against my legs, I advanced. Hunting him.

Except I’d never hunted in a place like this. I didn’t know the layout of the containers, had no idea when I was heading into a dead-end or when I’d turn a corner and find I was exposed. Ralavich had left no trail to follow: there were no twigs for him to break, no dirt for him to leave footprints in. And when I stopped and listened to track him that way, there was nothing: nothing here rustled or snapped and his rubber-soled shoes were silent on the concrete.

This wasn’t my world. It was entirely artificial and I didn’t know how to hunt in it. If I blundered in there, there was a good chance Ralavich would see me and ambush me. I knew the smart thing to do would be to wait for the cops. But he’d be long gone before they got there. How many more women would be hurt before someone caught him? What if they never did? Bethany would be looking over her shoulder her entire life. She needed to know he was in jail.

I crept deeper into the maze.

73

Bethany

THE OLDER COP had gone pale and sweaty but was hanging in there. The younger cop and I had been talking to him, trying to keep his mind off the pain. Then I heard footsteps running up the gangplank and paramedics were surrounding us, kneeling down beside us and politely but firmly taking over. I lifted my hands out of the way and stood up.

Police cruisers were arriving at the dock, but they were a long way from the maze of containers where I’d seen Ralavich heading. By now, Cal and Rufus would be in there, too.

A second team of paramedics was coming aboard, now, tending to the other women from the container, checking them for injuries and putting blankets around their shoulders. One of them saw the bruise on my cheek. “Hey,” she said gently. “Sit down, let me take a look at you.”

I wavered a little on my feet. I was exhausted: I’d been up all night and I’d spent most of it running for my life. The only sleep I’d had was when I was drugged and that had left me nauseous and with a thumping headache. All I wanted to do was sit down and let someone fuss over me.