Chapter 17 #2
He had chosen the building with the most lights still on, which meant there would be more people in there to choose from, and he was scoping out every woman who came and went.
He was still there when he saw a pretty girl with long brown hair go into the building.
He never knew their names, but liked the way this one looked, and waited.
About an hour later, she emerged. He was hard and ready and, at first, kept his distance, moving through the park instead of on the path.
Usually, the girls he picked were listening to music and had earbuds in their ears.
But this one didn’t, and it soon became obvious that it was going to cause a problem, because when he moved onto the sidewalk in a hasty stride, she heard his footsteps and turned to look.
He’d been made! And then she took off running.
“Damn it,” Dallas muttered, and kicked into high gear.
She was faster than he expected, but he was gaining on her, already anticipating what came next, when he suddenly went airborne.
Someone grabbed him by the back of his hoodie, yanking him backward into the bushes and slamming him so hard against the trunk of a tree that he lost his breath.
A huge, muscular arm snaked around his neck from behind, choking off enough of his air that he thought he was being murdered, and then there was a deep, raspy whisper in his ear.
“You have one choice before I break your damn neck. You get in your car and don’t set foot in New Orleans again.
You go anywhere near that woman for the rest of your life, and I will know it.
I will find you, beat you within an inch of your life, and feed what’s left to the gators. Do you understand?”
Dallas saw his life flashing before his eyes. “Understood,” he squeaked.
Suddenly Dallas was alone. He never saw the man and didn’t hear him leave. He dropped to his knees, gasping for air. His throat was burning. His eyes felt like they were about to pop out of his head, and he realized he’d just peed himself.
He laid belly down until he quit shaking, then dragged himself to his feet.
He didn’t stop to look for the man, he just turned and ran to the parking lot where he’d left his car.
He was fumbling for his keys when he saw his tires.
All four were flat, slashed. The man had fired a warning shot he could not ignore.
In a panic, he got in the car and drove off with sparks flying from the wheel rims and the rubber flapping on all four tires.
It cost him over a thousand dollars to get new tires and get home that night.
When morning dawned, he packed up everything he owned and left Baton Rouge heading west. He’d always wanted to see New Mexico.
* * *
By the time Briar got to her dorm, her heart was pounding and she was out of breath. Her side hurt, and she couldn’t stop shaking. She let herself into her room, locked the door, then collapsed on her bed and reached for her phone.
That’s when she realized it was on mute. When she saw how many calls she missed from Tate, then read his text that came last, she realized he’d been trying to warn her.
He will never bother you again. I told him I’d beat him within an inch of his life, and feed what was left to the gators. He’ll never show his face in NOLA again. Love you more. T.
“Oh my God,” Briar mumbled. “I didn’t know his plane had even landed.”
She sent him a brief text that said it all.
You’re home! I’m still shaking. My phone was still on mute from the class. Thank you, my love. You saved me. Again.
Tate read her reply and replied one last time.
Mine to love. Mine to keep. Mine to protect even when she sleeps.
She rolled over on the bed, tucked Star Wish Bear under her chin, and listened to his voice over and over until she cried herself to sleep.
When she woke again, it was morning, and she had to hurry not to be late for class. A couple more weeks of classes, a round of testing, and college life would be over.
* * *
Knowing that Briar got back to the dorm okay was a relief, but before Tate had a chance to see her in person again, he got a call from a woman named Patti Wilson.
Her husband, a wealthy industrialist named Cornelius Wilson, had gone hiking a week ago and never came home.
His family had a fifty-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to his return or recovery, but no ransom demands were made.
The police didn’t have any new leads, the park rangers had hiked every offshoot of the trail he’d taken without finding a single clue as to what happened, and the ranger service spent three days searching by air, but to no avail.
Patti was distraught. She kept picturing him injured and unable to call for help. She hadn’t slept in days and was at the point of needing it to be over, regardless of the outcome. In a last-ditch effort, and despite family arguing against it, Patti contacted Tate Bandy.
After a brief discussion over the phone and a face-to-face call, the images Tate kept getting were inconclusive. Finally, he dumped it all out in her lap and let her decide what came next.
“I’m sorry to tell you, but I know for certain your husband is deceased. When I try to picture the exact location, all I see are trees and mountains. If I was on-site, I could find him, but it would take me a while to drive there if you’re willing to wait and pay mileage.”
The moment Patti heard the word deceased, she was crying.
“I knew in my heart he was gone. I’m relieved to know he’s not lying somewhere in need and in pain, but I want him back.
I need to lay him to rest to be able to move past this.
If I send a helicopter to New Orleans to pick you up, would you come?
And this is a round-trip promise. If you find him, the reward is yours. ”
“Yes, I will come,” he said.
“Can you leave today?” she asked.
Tate glanced at the time. It was just past eight a.m., which meant it was an hour earlier there. “Tell me what time my ride will arrive, and I’ll be at the airport, waiting.”
“Thank you,” Patti said. “I’ll call our pilot, then let you know when to expect his arrival.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be waiting.”
Tate packed a change of clothes in his backpack, although he didn’t think it would take even one whole day, and was at the airport when the chopper came in. He loaded up, and they were off.
A little over three hours later, the chopper set down in the parking lot of the trailhead where Cornelius Wilson’s hike began a week ago.
There was a small contingent of searchers on-site, waiting.
A few park rangers. A couple of deputies from the county sheriff’s department, Patti Wilson, and her two sons, Phillip and Jake, ages eighteen and twenty.
They were eyeing Tate with a mixture of disapproval and disdain when their mother went running under the rotor wash to meet him, then took him by the arm and led him out.
The chopper flew off.
After brief greetings all around, Tate paid no more attention to the crowd. He was focused on the narrow hiking trail before him. He stood there for over a minute in total silence and then started talking.
“We go up to where two trails converge…just beyond a sign that says Beaver Bend Trail, and go right.”
The sons pushed past their mother and immediately challenged him to his face. “How would you know that? What did you do…look at a map and make up a story to fit?”
Tate sighed. He hated having to prove a point. “I know what I know, the same way I know Phillip is failing chemistry and Jake is dating a married woman.”
The looks on their faces were somewhere between shock and horror, but he was already done with them.
“Mrs. Wilson, I think it might be a good idea if you waited here with your sons. The rangers and I will go—”
Patti interrupted. “I’m going. My sons will stay, and they better be here when we get back too.” Then she glared at both of them. “We will talk when this is over, and don’t think for a second I’ll let that shit pass.”
Tate was already on the move, with three rangers and one sheriff’s deputy behind him and Patti bringing up the rear.
The farther he walked, the clearer his vision became.
When they reached the place where one trail became two, he paused, frowning.
But when he saw the rest of what happened, he shuddered.
Without speaking, he turned right and started into the woods.
One of the rangers shouted. “Wait. You’re leaving the hiking trail.”
Tate didn’t stop. “So did he,” he shouted. “He was being chased by a bear and running for his life.”
Patti moaned, then quickly turned to look behind her, but Tate kept moving deeper into the woods. They’d been walking for less than five minutes when he stopped abruptly and held up his hands.
“Stop! Don’t go any farther!”
A deputy stopped beside him, frowning. “Why not?”
Tate pointed. “See those bushes with the jagged leaves? There’s nothing beyond them but a long drop into the canyon below. Mr. Wilson wasn’t killed by a bear. He fell off the mountain. The bear’s down there too. It landed on top of him.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” the deputy snapped.
Tate shrugged. “Then proceed at your own risk, and don’t let go of those bushes as you push your way through. His body is straight down beneath the bear. It’s probably why search and rescue never spotted it.”
They started forward, then realized he wasn’t coming.
One of the rangers turned and asked. “Don’t you want to know if you’re right?”
“Sir, I already know I’m right. I’m looking straight at them in my mind, and it will take a while for me to get past the sight. I don’t need to reinforce it with a second look.”
The ranger shrugged, but when Patti began to follow them, Tate held her back.
“No, ma’am. You do not want that to be the last memory you have of the man you love.”
A few seconds later, Tate heard the first ranger cry out. “Holy shit! There’s the bear, and Wilson beneath him, just like he said.”