Chapter 6
Six
Itrudge through the muddy terrain, leading the marshals toward the river.
But as I do, I'm becoming more convinced these men aren’t who they say they are.
They move wrong. Not like they don't know what they're doing.
Just the opposite. Their formation and movement are impeccable.
Little details most wouldn't catch, like eye movements and positioning.
It's all too clean.
Too perfect.
But am I grasping for something? Because I want to save Naomi. Ever since I met her, my radar has been off.
"What brought you out here in this weather?" one of them asks, casual-like. Davis, he said his name was. "Not a great couple of days for hunting."
"Or fishing," Reynolds adds.
I run my palm down the back of my neck. Sheepish. "Well, I'm not sure I should admit this to law enforcement."
They share a look. "As long as you didn't kill anyone, I don't think you have anything to worry about," Davis says.
"Well, that bear she killed attacked a kid. And no one was given a green light to hunt it, but that didn't really sit right with me, so I just sorta wandered out here with my gun…"
Reynolds laughs. "To see what happened?"
I chuckle too.
Look at us, all friendly.
Reynolds catches up, falling into step beside me. "Did she talk to you at all? Tell you anything?"
"Not much. Said the prison van crashed, and she took the opportunity to escape."
They exchange another look.
"That all?" Reynolds presses.
"Yeah. I was more concerned with staying alive than having a heart-to-heart." I add a chuckle. They crack smiles too. Oh yeah, we're all nice and chummy out here in the woods.
But underneath that false pleasant veneer, I can tell they’re treating me like a possible threat. Though I know they don’t know just how much. But I can’t figure out why. Are they just regular law enforcement who think I’m working with her? Or are they the they Naomi was worried about?
We reach the edge of the rushing stream. It's died down a little but is still swollen. The fallen tree I cut lies across it, marking it as the right spot.
"Should be about here, if the stream didn't carry it too far.”
Neither of them looks surprised. Neither of them scans the area, searching.
And that's when it all clicks. Why my dander was up. The direction they pointed when he asked me to lead the way. He pointed directly to where the Glock had fallen. He had 360 degrees to choose from, and he settled on the exact right one.
They don't need me to show them where it is.
They already know.
The Glock. There was a tracking chip in it. That's why they knew where it was without me telling them. That's how they found us in the vast Montana wilderness.
I make my way down with Davis, and he makes a show of looking around for it. "Got it!" he says, pulling the gun out of the mud.
Reynolds trails a few feet behind us and racks my rifle. "This is a beautiful weapon."
I nod. "Thanks."
I can't see Davis’s eyes behind me, but I can see Reynolds check in with him.
I feel that same change in energy for the second time today. The stillness before the storm. The violence imminent, the darkness right before dawn breaks.
I wasn't going to harm them if they were true-blue officers of the law.
But I know men who have murder on their minds. And these men are aiming to kill me.
I know it deep in my bones.
I haven't killed anyone in a long time. I wanted that left behind me. More than anything. And if it were just me, maybe I would simply let that violence take me. End it right here, once and for all.
But Naomi needs my help, which means if it’s them or me, it’s going to be me.
"Bet you're glad she had it when that grizzly ran up on you," Reynolds says.
"I sure was."
"Yeah, terrible things can happen in the woods if you're not careful." Davis looks up at me from the shore. He says it with a warm laugh and cold eyes.
I nod. Affable. Loose but coiled. "Yeah. Like a couple of guys pretending to be US Marshals." I could have just struck. I’m squandering a tactical advantage. But if I’m going to take a life again, I’m going to be sure. Absolutely sure.
Davis squints, his finger moving to the trigger of the Glock. I know the safety’s off. "What?"
My face goes hard. I'm no longer the affable lost, grateful civilian. "If you were marshals, you would have given me back my rifle. You wouldn't be handling that Glock. You'd be bagging it for evidence. Instead of planning on shooting me with it and framing her for that, too."
Stillness. Reynolds points my rifle at the ground. Davis has the Glock lowered. But he's close enough.
They strike in the same instant, Reynolds snapping the gun at me at the same time Davis whirls on me with the Glock.
I'm ready as I grab Davis's arm and use his momentum to bring his gun arm past me out of harm's way and closer to my body.
Reynolds takes a shot and shoots Davis in the back.
Davis is wearing body armor, and I'm thankful he is.
The caliber of the round that took down the bear would have blown a hole through the both of us.
Instead, it cuts through his back and lodges in the front of his armor.
I hear Reynolds cock the gun again. I drive Davis's body toward him, using his body as a shield.
Another shot that Davis's corpse absorbs.
Reynolds cocks my rifle again, but I'm on him at that point and collapse on him with Davis and my weight.
Reynolds, trapped under our combined 400-plus pounds, can't move.
I pull my knife and stab him three times in the ribs, neck, and eye.
Blood gurgles up from his mouth, and he stops moving.
Rising, I collect my rifle and tuck the Glock in the back of my pants.
Then I head in the direction where they took Naomi. I expect the return of death to weigh me down. But I’m not.
I’m relieved.
Nothing's going to keep me from saving Naomi.