40. Chapter 40
Chapter 40
Elise
O nly a mile to go before we reached the top, and we still hadn’t seen a single person. If I wanted to live, I’d have to make my own escape.
Over the last few bends in the trail, I’d stolen glances at Pete. His grip on his gun had grown more lax, though his gaze never strayed from me.
Ahead was a sharp outcropping of rocks. If I hurried past them, I’d get a few seconds of cover before Pete would be able to see me.
I flexed and tightened my fists, drawing deep breaths. This might be my last chance to get away.
With nimble feet, I weaved between the stones and boulders. The second my foot touched the dirt on the other side, I took off. I pumped my arms and kicked my legs with everything I had.
Pow, pow!
Pain sliced my upper arm. I sucked in a breath and kept sprinting.
Footsteps thudded behind me. I had to go faster. My legs practically flew over the uneven ground… until my foot caught on something solid.
I went down hard, rocks stabbing into my knees. My hands pushed against the leaf-covered ground. A blaze of heat pulsed through my injured arm as I rose. I lunged into a run. And was tackled from behind.
Whack. My skull bounced against the ground. I stared up at the blur of yellow and orange leaves above me as Pete’s silvery hair came into focus.
“That was dumb, Elise. Really dumb.”
Dylan
“Get in front of me one more time Harper, and I’ll shoot you,” growled Sergeant Wyath.
“Sorry.” I moved back into position behind the guy, but that didn’t stop me from wishing I were a Jedi and could move him and Officer Ellison along a whole lot faster. Sure, we were trucking along at about an eight minute mile pace— not bad for how steep the trail was— but I knew Elise and Pete could go at least that fast, and they had a head start.
Looking ahead, we probably had a good two miles before we reached the peak. I was going to lose my mind if we kept going this slow. Automatically, I started looking for places where the trail widened, and I could get ahead of the sergeant. Would he really shoot me if I passed him?
Pow, pow! Gunshots sounded from somewhere higher on the mountain.
Before they could react, I barreled past Wyath and Ellison.
“Get back here, kid!”
Not a chance.
I darted into the trees, just in case one of them was feeling trigger happy. No shots followed. A little further up, the path cut back toward me in a series of switchbacks. I booked it up the dusty hill. If I didn’t want to become target practice, I needed to be beyond those switchbacks by the time the two men reached them. Hey, just one more reason to pour on the speed and get to Elise. Hopefully, she wasn’t already dead.
Elise
“Help,” I breathed to anyone or anything that might be listening as I looked out over the clear as a mirror waters of Lake Delilah. The oranges, reds, yellows and browns of the surrounding trees made it look like nature was putting on a firework show, but now was not the time to celebrate.
“Keep movin.”’ Pete’s gun dug between my shoulder blades.
I shrugged away from the contact, then trotted forward at the slowest possible pace. My raw kneecaps ached with each step. My left arm was going numb, and my head felt like someone was doing a tap dance on my brain.
“Hurry it up.” Again, the gun stabbed me in the back.
“Can’t you see I’m hurt?” I gestured at the blood dripping down both shins.
“Not my fault,” Pete snarled. “You’d be just fine if you hadn’t pulled that stunt.”
Would I be “just fine,” or would I already be dead?
“I’m doing my best,” I lied. “You shot me, so now you’re going to have to deal with the pace. I’m in a lot of pain.”
Pete snorted. “Bullet barely grazed you, you’re fine. Besides, if you wanted me to believe you were such a wimp, you shouldn’t’ve run for me. I’ve seen your grit. You can take way more than this.”
Sure. I could go about twice as fast as this, but I wasn’t about to.
“Think about it, Pete. Now that you’ve shot me, there’s no chance you can pass whatever it is you’re going to do to me as suicide. Dylan knows what you’ve done too, and I bet he already has half the county out looking for us. Your chances of getting away with this are zero. Wouldn’t you rather have one less murder on your conscience?”
Something hard slammed into my back, and I stumbled forward. “Shut up. Besides, by the time anyone finds you, those marks’ll be long gone, if you know what I mean.”
Rubbing my back, I turned to face him. “Really, picturing my decaying body does nothing to your conscience? When did you become such a sicko?”
“Dave’s death was an accident. Tara got what was comin’ to her, and you, unfortunately, are collateral damage from her boneheaded mistakes. If you’re lookin’ for someone to blame, blame her. I didn’t start any of this. I’m just the one who has to clean up the mess.
“I’m a survivor, plain and simple, always have been. I’ll do what I have to to make it through this, and then move on.”
Interesting that the whole time he spoke, the gun shook in his hand. Pete belonged in a straitjacket in a round, rubber room. Maybe he always had, and this situation just brought it to light.
“Now, get movin’ before I kill you right here and now. Come on; this way.” He gestured to the ridge just beyond this lake. The one that overlooked the whole valley. Mom’s ridge.
Would some form of her still be there, ready to help, guide, even defend me, or would her spirit stand as a silent witness to my murder?