Authors: Nancy Radke
Connor’s attack on Judd caught Mary off guard. It must have surprised Judd too, because he didn’t get his gun raised before Connor hit him. As the two struggled for possession, Mary ran for the door.
Wes' gun had landed next to it and he retrieved it before she could get past. He pointed it at her, his hands shaking. Raw anger clouded his features. He looked ready to kill her, his face twisted and marked by evil.
She held her breath, trying not to move.
"Stop, or I'll shoot her," he shouted.
Connor, who had somehow knocked both Judd and Ira down, froze at his words, then turned slowly. "No, you won't. She has the information you need. You won't kill her."
"Then you die, McLarren."
Wes swung his gun at Connor. Judd and Ira scrambled to their feet and hastily moved out of the line of fire.
"No!" Mary screamed, throwing herself at Wes, who knocked her aside. She struggled to regain her balance, shouting as she did so. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but not if you shoot him. If you do, I won't tell you anything."
"Don't tell them, anyway, Mary," Connor commanded, his voice harsh and bitter. He stood alone in the middle of the floor, feet planted firmly apart. "They'll kill us as soon as they've got—" He stopped as Judd chambered his gun, the noise louder than a shouted warning.
Mary's neighbor shouted and thumped the ceiling. She prayed that this time he’d make good his threats and call the police.
"Who's that?" Judd demanded, glancing down as if he could see through the short-napped gray carpet.
"My neighbor. He always thumps on the ceiling when things get loud up here."
"You’d better hope he does nothing more than thump." With an angry snarl, Judd shoved Connor to his knees and placed the muzzle against the back of his head. "Tell us where they’re at. Now!"
Mary caught her breath in a sob. These men were crazy. How could anything be worth a life? "Leave him alone. He doesn't know—"
"But you do!"
All eyes turned expectantly on her. Connor's gaze burned desperately, pleading for her not to talk. Yet she had no other choice.
Or maybe she did. She could tell them the chest was here. They’d have to search.
But they wouldn’t. They’d beat Connor until she showed them—and she couldn’t. So, she had to claim it was at the cabin. Which perhaps it was.
"All right, I'll tell you."
"No, Mary!" Connor shouted— and Judd slashed the barrel of the gun across the back of his head, knocking him to the carpet.
Her spirit shaken by Judd's brutality, Mary ignored Connor's pleas, wanting only to be rid of these beasts. "I don't care why you want it. You can have it with my blessings."
"Smart," Judd said, his lips twisting into a mockery of a smile. "Smarter than you, McLarren."
Mary looked to see Connor trying to get back up again. He wasn’t unconscious. Relief gave her courage to continue.
"I’ve never seen it, but if my father did own it— as you say— it’ll be at his cabin. It isn’t here." She indicated the room. “You can look if you want.”
Connor responded with a loud groan, and the men nodded in triumph at his evident defeat.
"That's it, boss," Wes exclaimed. "The cabin was in those letters we read. He mentioned it all the time."
"Okay," Judd replied, as the ceiling below was again thumped angrily. He holstered his gun, walked over to the kitchen and drew himself a glass of water. "We'll go there next. Where is it?"
"In the mountains. The Cascades— here in Washington. I'll draw you a map," Mary offered, chilled by the harshness of Judd's voice. Would these men kill Connor? Or were they only bluff? "I won't call the police."
"Do you think I'm stupid? You'll take me there while Wes and Ira stay with Rambo here," Judd snarled. “Tonight.”
"Connor must come, too," she said, knowing she had to keep him with her. It was selfish— the police might arrive and save him— but his presence was her only protection. She spoke louder. "I won't go anywhere without him."
"Sure. No problem," Wes said with a laugh. "I'm gonna be there when you git the chest, boss."
"Don't you trust me?"
"What d' yuh think?" Wes sneered, showing a mouth full of rotting teeth. "Your own mama wouldn't trust yuh."
Amazingly, Judd chuckled, nodding agreement, and Wes nodded back.
Unable to comprehend such "friendship," Mary ran to Connor. He hardly knew her, yet had sacrificed himself so she could escape. Amazing.
"Are you all right?" she whispered, sickened by the blood glistening on his hair. Like a scene from a horror movie, nothing seemed real except the pain.
Connor sat back on his haunches and stared at her, his expression sad. "You should've slowed them down by making them search this place," he whispered back. "The police will get here— sometime soon."
Mary bent closer to examine the wound on the back of his head. It bled freely, cleansing the gash. She wished she could do something for it. Her jaw still throbbed from Judd's blow, so she could imagine how Connor felt.
"I had to speak up. They were going to kill you," she explained.
"They still will. As soon as they’ve got what they want."
"You don't know that."
"It's a chance we can't take."
"I see." Had she killed them both, by ignoring Connor's warning? Under the pressure of the moment, her search and rescue training took over and she found herself able to think. A plan formed swiftly in her mind.
"What're you whisperin' about?" Wes demanded, striding toward them.
"Just checking to see if he's okay." She lowered her voice one more time. "Maybe I can delay them another way."
She stood up and walked toward Judd. "We can't go without clothes and equipment, you know."
Judd scowled at her. "What do you mean?"
"It's off the road. We have to walk," Mary said. If they thought they had to gather supplies, she could keep adding items until the police arrived.
"So, what's the problem?" he demanded, suspicion lowering his heavy brows.
"It's a long trip, even in summer. Much longer in the snow. The best thing would be to wait until late spring."
"Impossible. We go now."
"You’ll need snowshoes," she explained, picturing the Cascade Mountains under their winter covering. "The snow pack is almost ten feet deep this year."
"Snowshoes?" Judd snorted in disbelief and began to pace the floor. "How long will it take?"
Her plan was beginning to work. She had to act like everything she said was fact. "Several days, at the very least. We'll need to pack clothing and food. I've probably enough for—"
Judd paused and swore angrily. "Days?"
"It's a good distance."
"You're lying. No one owns a cabin you can't drive to."
"My dad was an outdoors man. He liked being far away from people."
"That's no reason—"
"He was also a geologist." That was the truth. "The cabin is located close to an area full of pegmatite. Those are mineral veins with lots of crystals. He collected rock crystals as a hobby. I've a whole box of them in storage, plus those few on the window sill."
She pointed over to the window. First Wes, then Ira and Judd looked at the display. She glanced at Connor to see how he fared. Alert, he watched her intently with his one good eye and she gave him a shielded "thumbs up" sign. His slight nod showed he had caught the message and her heart warmed at the thought of having him as an ally.
The lure of the crystals caused Wes and Ira to walk over for a better look, picking up the heavy chunks and turning them over and over. Wes pocketed two of the better samples, and Mary's temper flared. They weren’t valuable, but each represented a different trip taken with her father.
She could look at the crystals and remember where her father and she had found them, what they said and did. They brought her father closer than his photograph. They were her memories— not this two-bit crook's— and his arrogance angered her more than anything he had done so far.
Her rising temper further sharpened her thoughts. She turned to Judd. "It doesn't take all that long to reach the cabin in the summer— you can hike there in a few days. But in the winter, with less daylight " she added, pointing outside at the darkness, “it'll take a lot longer. We need to be equipped for at least a week. Maybe two. You must prepare for accidents when you travel the back country in the winter."
"A week? You just said ‘days.’"
"In the summer. Winter travel is different. I had momentarily forgotten the avalanche hazard. It's high this time of year. We'll have to go around certain slide areas— and that takes longer. Plus we’ll need to walk back."
"How did your old man get supplies to this cabin?"
"He made some of the furnishings and took the rest in on pack animals,” Mary said, picturing the twenty feet from the cabin to the paved access road.
"Why not use a snowmobile?"
"It's in a deep canyon. No one dares to take snowmobiles in there. The noise would set off an avalanche and the cabin would get buried."
Judd looked at the crystals. Their gleaming presence seemed to help him decide. "So we get some stuff and go. Can you find the way?"
She felt tempted to say "No," but if they took a good look at the picture wall, they’d know better. She wanted them to start believing everything she said. Then, when she changed a fact, they wouldn’t be suspicious. "Yes. All my gear's ready to go. I do search and rescue work."
"Search and rescue?" Judd sounded doubtful again.
"Yes." She pointed to the wall filled with photographs and framed letters. "Most of those are my father's, but I've added quite a few of my own."
Ira, the tall man with the knife, walked over for a closer look. "She's telling the truth, Judd. This one's hers." His lips barely moved when he talked, so she had to listen sharply to hear him.
"We’ll need to pack food. I have some trail supplies here. Plus I'll need my packs and clothes and tent. And my fathers' stuff for Connor. They’re about the same size."
"And us?"
"You'll need to go out and buy equipment, once the stores open tomorrow morning. I'll tell you what to get."
"Make a list."
"Of course." Mary walked over to the phone table and picked up a pen. She planned to make a list so long it would outfit a party for Mt. Everest. "Let's see. We'll need food for two weeks, plus extra—"
The phone rang. Mary flinched, the tension inside her so great she couldn’t handle the familiar sound.
Judd stepped quickly to her side and with a swift yank pulled the phone cord out of the wall. His action startled Mary, who jumped backward, knocking over the small table. The phone and everything clattered to the floor.
Judd righted the table, but kept the phone cord in his hands, a big smirk on his face.
It didn't matter to Mary. She just had to keep these creeps here until they arrived. And that was probably Angie on the phone. She would try again. Or try Mary’s cell phone.
When she didn’t get any response, she’d call the police and tell them about the man who had accosted Mary in the park.
"Do you mind?" Mary asked, picking up her pen from where she had dropped it. "You don't need to—"
"What's going on here?"
The loud, blustering voice of her downstairs' neighbor shocked Mary into silence. He stood in the doorway, his face red with rage as he kicked at the wreckage at his feet. A big and powerful man, he towered over the shattered remnants of her front door, his hands raised, huge fists shaking as he glared first at her, then the men around her.
His head seemed to swell out of the white turtleneck shirt he wore. He clutched a chicken drumstick wrapped in a napkin in his left hand, a fork in the right, so outraged he hadn’t even put them down before storming upstairs.
He stared at her as he continued to shout. "No loud parties! I'm calling the police! And terminating your lease. Somebody’s got to pay for this door and any other things I find broke. You think just because you pay rent, you—"
His expression suddenly changed from rage to fear, from attack to retreat as the true aspect of the situation hit him. The knife in Ira’s hand, the guns in the hands of the others....
"What in the—" He stepped backward and dropped the chicken as he clutched his neck. A knife protruded from between his fingers. His eyes opened wide as he gasped, staggered, and then fell, crumpling like an oversized rag doll dropped by a careless child. He coughed once, then lay still, his unseeing eyes staring at them.
The throw had been so swift that Mary hadn't seen Ira's hand move. It took her a moment to comprehend what had happened. The man was dead. As dead as her father when the hospital monitor had emitted a continuous shriek.
Judd and his men weren’t bluffing. She screamed, building to a crescendo as Ira drew another knife. The room swirled as the black curtain descended, threatening to close her mind forever.
With an angry shout, Connor hurled himself upon Ira, flattening him alongside his victim. "You murdering—"
Judd grabbed Mary and clamped his large hand over her mouth, gagging her. Strangely, his action cleared her mind.
"I’ve had enough of this," Judd ordered, his voice calm. "McLarren's more trouble than he's worth. Shoot him."
As Wes raised his gun, Mary raged against Judd's hand, trying to warn Connor. Judd clamped his fingers tighter, smothering her shout and holding her jaw shut. She scratched and kicked and twisted her body, but Judd simply tightened his grip.
She watched in horror as Wes moved closer to where Connor and Ira wrestled amidst the ruins of the door. They were evenly matched—Ira with the longer reach, but Connor with more strength. They stayed clenched together. Wes hesitated, trying to get a clear shot.
"Hurry up," Judd snarled. "They're making too much noise."
Wes moved first to one side of the struggling men, then the other. "Cain't, Boss. Not without hitting' Ira."
"So? Get them apart. I want him dead."
The small man did this by simply reaching in and whacking Connor over the head. Ira shoved him away and Connor lay sprawled on the floor, groaning.
"He's strong," Ira commented as he stood up, his hand testing his jaw. "We'll have to watch him."
Wes laughed, the sound chilling Mary. "No, we won't. Move outta the way." He waggled his gun from side to side.
"You nuts?" Ira said, standing still. "Shoot him, and she's no good to us."
"Whadda yuh say, Boss?" Wes kept his gun lined up while he spoke. It shook with his desire to kill.
Mary fought harder to free herself, her terrified gaze darting between Connor, Wes, Ira, and the body on the floor.
Death. So instantaneous. The inert shape laying on the carpet was no longer her neighbor. Black nausea swirled through her as she stared at the dead man, smelled the pungent odor of gun oil on Judd's hands.
Connor was right. To these monsters, murder wasn’t a problem. His life hung on Judd's whim. She started to pray as she had never prayed before.
"Shoot him," Judd said, making Wes grin with delight and hurry to a better angle. Mary’s legs collapsed. Her mind screamed against the evil around her.
"Wait!" Ira said.
He stepped over to stand in the way again. "Think about it. Do you plan to beat her up every time you want her to do something?” He spat the words out, as if he found them distasteful. “You know how I feel about that. Besides, you hit her too hard once and we lose a fortune."
"Hum." Mary could almost feel Judd's reluctance. "He's dangerous. I don’t like it."
"So, tie him up. He fights too good to be left loose." Ira stared down Wes, who lowered his gun with a snort of disgust.
Mary stopped struggling, her body tense. After an extended pause, Judd spoke. "All right. Tie him, then. And make it good."
With a snarled oath, Wes stuck his gun back in his belt, jerked Connor's hands behind him and wrapped the phone cord tightly around his wrists.
Mary had stood quietly during this. When Judd finally released her, she grabbed the top of a ladder-back chair for support.
Connor's hands turned white.
"That's too tight," she protested. "He'll lose his hands."
"So what?" Wes snarled, his pleasure evident as he yanked the cord tighter, ready to tie the knot.
"So..." she paused to capture her thoughts, reeling under the events of the past moments. They were more than she could handle, yet she had to, to keep Connor alive. He had to stay alive— and healthy.
"So he can help me carry my tent. Food. Sleeping bags." What else? “Uh...water. Ropes.”
Judd stared at her suspiciously, his cold blue eyes almost disappearing under his heavy brows. "You'll lead us there?"
She gripped the chair harder. "Yes. But only if Connor stays healthy. Including his hands." Leverage could act both ways, she decided, as Judd frowned, then nodded.
"Fix it, Ira."
"Mine was plenty good," Wes said stepping back while Ira re-tied the cord. "He'll git loose if yuh don't cinch it down."
His complaints barely registered with Mary as she watched Connor stagger to his feet and drop into the chair where Ira shoved him. He kept his head down, moving it slowly back and forth.
Was he all right? She tried to catch his eye, but couldn't.
Why had he keep provoking these animals? He was going to get himself killed, just like her neighbor. Her mother had fought the drunken soldiers who had broken down the door. Her father had challenged the thieves at the jewelry store.
Physical resistance brought death. The stronger always won.
If only prayer worked for her, like it seemed to work for others. Why couldn’t she get an answer when she prayed for help?
So...she was on her own. She couldn’t physically overpower these thugs, so she and Connor must outwit these killers. Somehow.
Ira grabbed the lifeless body of her neighbor by its arms and yanked it further inside the room, then stepped out into the hallway, checking the short corridor and enclosed staircase.
Mary had often wished dire consequences on her neighbor. But not this. Never this.
He hadn’t needed to die. He should’ve called the police and let them handle it. A bully, he had frightened her more than once. Yet if she hadn't provoked him during the last few months before he became manager, he mightn’t have felt annoyed enough to come to her door. Actions often had unforeseen consequences. She felt partially to blame for his death.
"Anyone else out there?" Judd called to Ira.
Ira stepped back inside. "Nope. All clear."
He bent down and removed his knife. As he started to wipe it clean on the man's white turtleneck, Judd stopped him.
"Wait. Make it look like she did it."
"Her? How do you figure—"
"Simple. Her neighbor broke down the door and she knifed him. Wash that in the kitchen sink and find a knife that matches blade lengths."
"Got it. They'll think she ran."
"Right. They won't be looking for us."
Ira retrieved a slender carving knife from her kitchen and used a towel to carry it by the blade. He smeared it with her neighbor's blood and laid it beside the body.
Her prints would be on that handle. How horrible, if she escaped from Judd and found herself facing a murder charge.
But Judd's prints would be on the drinking glass he had used. She focused on that. The police would know that he had been here.
"We've got to move. Where's your stuff?" Judd asked.
"My stuff?" She looked at him blankly, unable to recall what he was talking about.
"Your supplies. Where are they?"
"Oh. In my closet. My bedroom." She pointed.
"Okay."
He turned and walked through the open door and Mary followed, willing her mind to work again. "This it?" he asked, looking at the equipment stored overhead.
"Almost. There are boots and snowshoes down below, and woolens in the cedar chest. We'll need cardboard boxes to pack things in. There are some in my outside storage locker, down by my car."
"Wes, give me a hand. Try not to touch anything we're not taking."
The men yanked things out haphazardly, while Mary opened her suitcase to pack. Connor had packed for her, she noticed, a touch of tenderness floating across her as she examined his choices. She didn’t want these things with her. Not now. She placed the outer garments back in the drawers and pulled out the clothes she wore for search and rescue work. Slowly she moved her shaking hands over the fabric. The familiar action of folding and smoothing helped steady her.
"I'll show you where the boxes are," she offered, knowing they were under a pile of books and furniture she had brought over from her father's house.
"Don't bother," Judd snapped, throwing aside the comforter on her bed. "Wes, take the boots and snowshoes down to the van, then come back. Throw everything else on the bed. Hurry."
Mary watched helplessly as Judd used her top sheet to wrap everything into one bundle. "I have to use the bathroom first," she said, in one last attempt to slow them down.
"Later," Judd said. "Get your purse, though, so it looks like you left on your own."
Mary walked over to where she kept her purse, remembering that it had writing materials inside. Perhaps she could leave a note.
Except for the ivory dragon, the top of her dresser was bare. No purse. "It's not here," she said, bewildered, glancing around her bedroom. She always put things back in the same spot. Always. Important things, at least.
"Quit trying to stall."
"I'm not," she denied, picking up the pendant and dropping it over her head. "This is where I usually keep my purse." She must’ve been so upset when she entered the apartment, she had omitted putting it back in its place.
She closed her eyes trying to visualize where it was. "The other room. I must’ve left it—"
"Let's go then."
Connor's head was up when she re-entered, the fire back in his eyes. She met his gaze and tried to smile in reassurance, but she felt so tense she could barely grimace. His face was even more battered than when she had first seen him, but the sight didn’t frighten her. Instead it gave her comfort and hope. He was a source of strength. He was alive.
No longer was Connor the enemy, the unknown threat. The instant Judd had forced his way into her home, her mind had flown to Connor and anchored there, desperately clinging to him. When Wes had first gone into the bedroom, she had been terrified he would kill Connor. Then Connor walked out. Her relief over-rode her regret that he hadn't been able to escape.
They were in this together. As long as Connor stayed alive, she could.
"My purse," she said to him. "Have you seen it?"
"No."
Mary moved around the room, hunting. The cold air from the stairwell had swept the warmth from the room and she hugged herself against the chill. She checked the kitchen first, then re-entered the living area and mentally tried to retrace her steps.
The tablet she had used to begin the list still lay on the floor, next to the telephone. She walked over and looked beneath the table, but her purse wasn’t there. The pen was, and she picked it up. Shielding her actions with her body, she scrawled "CABIN!" across the tablet and laid it on the table, face down.
It wasn't much of a note, but Alison knew where her father's cabin was— she had gone there once with Mary. If the police were any good at all, they’d check out the numbers programmed into her phone, find Alison, and ask her about it.
While Wes and Ira carried her clothing and supplies away in the bundle, Mary continued to look around her apartment. She finally saw her purse, half under the overstuffed arm chair she had sat in when first coming home. Her mother's chair. She nudged her purse further under the skirts with her foot and kept on "searching."
Nearing Connor, she managed a genuine smile this time. Things were looking up.
"Everything's loaded, Boss." Wes stood in the doorway, arms empty. "Anything else?"
"Wipe the bedroom door handle. Then we'll go."
"But my purse—" Mary really wanted it, so moved closer to the chair.
"Forget it. Get your coat. We're leaving."
Deciding that her credulity would be better if she left her purse "unfound," Mary opened the door to her coat closet and pulled out her bright orange Search and Rescue coat with the wool cap in the pocket.
As she joined Connor, she noticed Judd glancing around the room. He held the drinking glass he had used, and Mary felt the situation tightening about her. She prayed he wouldn’t notice the tablet had been moved. Not much got by the man. She breathed a sigh of relief as he motioned them out.
"That's it then," he said. "Let's go."
He stepped over her neighbor's stretched-out form as if it were a roll of old carpet abandoned on the floor.
Mary edged around the body, followed by Connor. Her neighbor had been a strong, powerful man, but his strength hadn’t protected him against these killers. Connor was a strong man, but what chance did she and Connor have against three men? They were as good as dead already.
"Goodbye," she told it silently as she stepped over the legs. “I’m sorry for you. Sorry you got entangled in this mess. Someone’ll give you a decent burial."
Wes stuck his head out the door behind them. "Yuh want paper for that list, Judd?"
"Yeah. Get some."
Mary's spirits plummeted. It’d be too much to expect him to take the notepad from her kitchen.
"You're gonna have to watch her better, Boss," Wes called as he came out behind them, the tablet held up for Judd to read. "Want me to go back and check for more?"
Judd glanced at Mary's devastated expression— which she didn’t have time to change— and a smile of satisfaction lifted his heavy jowls. His eyes gleamed with evil humor.
"Don't bother. She looks like you just ate her last candy bar."
Without further delay she and Connor were hustled to the parking lot and shoved into a windowless van.