A stray thought slipped into her consciousness as she shifted into sleep. He wouldn’t have been so angry with her if he didn’t feel some affection for her. Would he?
****
She was about to leave the lookout for a day of hiking when she heard the familiar sound of a helicopter approaching. She slung her pack on her shoulders, then raised a hand to shade her eyes against the brilliant sky. Certain it was Alex, her heart pounded faster.
As the aircraft neared, she realized it was larger than the one Alex had first flown to the mountain. This one was sleek and black with tinted windows, and the identification letters were painted a discreet, almost indiscernible, grey. It performed its dragonfly landing, and she distinguished two figures in the cockpit. She swallowed her disappointment. Neither was Alex. The passenger reached up to remove the headset, and she recognized Richard Fleetham’s unmistakable cap of unruly curls.
Her breath caught and her mind raced. Did this mean the investigation had cleared him? Or was there a more sinister reason for his appearance?
She could only brazen it out. She had been caught in the open, and it was obvious the men had seen her. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.
They took their time getting out of the craft. Richard appeared to be arguing, making wide, sweeping gestures. The pilot sat stoically still, responding in short bursts. Her pulse ratcheted up yet another level.
Finally they stepped out of the helicopter. At first she couldn’t place the pilot, until memory spiked through her. It was the large, older man who had been with Richard at the restaurant.
Richard approached, hands outstretched in his usual welcoming manner. While June was used to his snapping energy, she sensed he was wound tighter than normal. Slight frown lines crumpled his brow, and he sounded slightly breathless when he spoke.
“My dear, how are you?” He grasped her hands in both of his.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. Afraid her sweaty palms would betray her nervousness, she eased her hands out of his clasp.
“There seems to be some excitement going on back in town, and I decided it was best to come see you.”
“How did you know I was here?”
He tapped his finger playfully on the end of her nose. “Oh, I have my ways.”
Over his shoulder, the pilot reached into the cockpit and pulled out a long, black case. He placed it on the ground then strode toward them.
“You haven’t met my partner, have you?” Richard said. “This is Walter Schwarz-Silber.” Schwarz-Silber stood behind Richard, a head taller and many pounds heavier. He gave no response, instead pinning June with a glare.
She shuddered, as if something slimy had oozed down the back of her neck. She dragged her attention back to Richard. “What do you mean, partner?”
“My, my, you are full of questions today, aren’t you?” He gave her one of his wide, open grins. “You seem ready for a hike. Why don’t we join you? I’ll get my pack from the helicopter.”
He took her arm above the elbow and led her to the machine. She yearned to dig in her heels and yank out of his grip, but Schwarz-Silber’s bulk was close behind. The muscles between her shoulder blades pulled tight.
“Actually, I was out already this morning,” she lied. “I was on my way in for a rest when you landed. I’ve always preferred hiking early in the day. It seems so much more primitive and wild.” Aware she was babbling, she bit her lip and continued more moderately. “You and Mr. Schwarz-Silber can go on without me, I’m sure. Besides,” she added, inspired, “I have to stick around the tower. I’m expecting Alex today. He said he’d be coming by sometime this morning.”
Richard released her to open the cockpit door and drag out a small pack. She controlled the urge to run. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll be coming out today. He’s going to be busy with other things.” He chuckled, and the sound sent spiders skittering up June’s spine.
“Why, what’s happened?” Fear was a hot knife at her throat. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing. Nothing to concern you,” Richard soothed, insincerity seeping. “We simply made sure he’d be occupied today, so the three of us could have a good visit.” He studied her. “Of course, he’ll have other things to worry about, soon enough. From all I hear, he’s quite fond of you.”
Her skin crawled at the oily tone in Fleetham’s voice and the veiled threat in his eyes. How could she have been so naive, never to have seen through to the egotism and arrogance? She clung to the door frame, damp fingers struggling for a grip. “I’m not going with you.”
His eyes slid over her shoulder. “Oh, I think you are.”
She swivelled her head. Schwarz-Silber knelt before her, his pose anything but subservient. He had opened the carrying case, and was methodically assembling a large rifle. Her legs threatened to buckle. She forced herself to stay upright. Schwarz-Silber looked at her, his cold blue eyes professionally calm. When he spoke, his voice was deep and gravelly, with a strong, coarse accent, but his English was precise. “You will come with us,” he said. “And you will do everything we tell you to.” He snapped the case shut and rose to his feet, the rifle held loosely in both hands. “Let’s go.”
June focused fiercely on where she placed her feet as Fleetham led them over the edge of the mountain. If she engrossed herself in what was directly ahead, maybe she’d be able to ignore what was too close behind. She’d seen the ease with which Schwarz-Silber carried the heavy rifle, one hand at the trigger and one on the barrel. Her head spun, thinking of all that firepower less than a heartbeat away from her undefended back. The sky darkened as light-headedness greyed her vision, but she breathed deeply and it cleared.
Travelling in silence, they dropped down to the valley floor, then moved along the edge of the natural depression. She trod carefully, left foot, right foot. After a few minutes her first fright receded, and she was able to plan further than her next step. This was her mountain, her place. She was going to get away. All she had to do was be ready.
They headed toward the first kill site June and Alex had discovered, with Fleetham continually scanning the sky above and keeping in the shadow of the rock wall to their left. When they reached the narrow crevasse where the grizzly’s carcass had been hidden, Fleetham stopped. “We’ll rest here for a bit,” he said. “I do hope you have water with you, because Walter and I didn’t bring enough for you to share.”
June released her canteen without taking off her pack. No freaking way was she going to be separated from her supplies, even for a second. If—no, when—she escaped, she might need what was in it. The water was a balm to her dry throat. She drank sparingly.
Schwarz-Silber sat quietly, sipping from his own bottle. She ignored him, afraid if she worried too much about the weapon he carried, she’d never get the courage to flee. Fleetham wandered over to the crack in the rock wall and peered inside. “Not much left of him,” he said wonderingly. “And he was a big guy, too.”
What a sad epitaph for a proud, perfect animal. Her memory of the pitiful remnants was vivid. Fleetham’s dismissive words kindled rage, at his callousness, his disrespect. And how big a step was it, from killing protected animals to snuffing the life out of a human being? She shoved away the thought of Iain’s murder.
“Why, Richard?” she asked.
A drop of water clung to the short hairs of his beard. It flashed in the light as he turned to her. “Money, of course,” he said. “And lots of it.”
June wanted to slap the self-satisfied look off his face. She jammed her hands between her knees to curb the impulse. “But what about RiverForce? What about your beliefs, your goals? What about all those things you said in meetings, the conferences you spoke at?”
“Getting involved with RiverForce was the brilliant idea of a friend of mine. You see, Walter and I were searching for new—business opportunities, shall we say?—which was one of the reasons I took my position at the university. Northern British Columbia was a prime location to expand our enterprise. My friend suggested I join RiverForce, as a smokescreen, you see?”
“I see,” June said bitterly. “I see I was too stupid to see through you.”
“Don’t worry about that. I was very good, very clever. You weren’t the only one fooled.” Fleetham’s pleased expression darkened. “Everyone was, until that conservation officer of yours. He’s the one that set all this off. I still don’t know why.” He waited for her to answer. She gave no reply, not about to mention Sean’s chance sighting. “I am afraid he is going regret his involvement, almost as much as I regret yours. It is too bad. I did like you.”
His use of the past tense did not escape her.
Less than a kilometre from the first kill site, Fleetham began to ascend the west wall of the valley. He moved, surefooted but slow, up the steep slope. When they reached the top, he paused, panting heavily. In this state, she could outrun him. But Schwarz-Silber appeared at her shoulder, and he betrayed no signs of fatigue. Testing her limits, she walked a few feet away and scanned the view.
Although they had been hiking for more than an hour, they had climbed back up the mountain on the same side as the tower. She spotted the Fraser River glinting and a break in the trees revealed a short stretch of railway tracks far below. It was an immense relief. Had Fleetham led them further east and north, she would have been out of familiar territory. But now, if she escaped soon, all she would have to do is head downhill, and she should be able to reach the road without too much trouble. Even though it wasn’t heavily travelled, there was still enough traffic to ensure she would find help.
Fleetham started down. June hesitated, just for a moment. That was all it took to have the muzzle of Schwarz-Silber’s rifle jabbing into her back.
She whirled to face him, arms crossed to ward off another strike. Her eyes met his defiantly.
Slowly he raised the gun in his massive arms. His gaze was empty. Soul-less. It made the slight upward curve of his lips all the more unnerving.
“What is it the English say? You are a cat with nine lives? Once I had you, like this, in the crosshairs. And yet you live.”
Her arms fell to her sides. “You? It was you who shot at my truck?”
“Not at your truck.” Disgust tinted his voice. “At you. I followed you, crept through the woods, found your truck parked by that very odd house. I watched through the window until I saw you readying to leave. I slashed your tire. I knew it would not be long before you had to stop. It was easy to slip around, find a place from which to shoot.”
He knew where her parents lived. She wanted to vomit.
He sighted down the barrel. The muzzle gaped before her. She couldn’t look away, horribly fascinated by the blackness staring back at her.
“Walter!” Fleetham’s voice tugged June out of her daze. “We talked about this. You are not allowed to shoot her.”
She would have been more relieved if she believed Fleetham had a more merciful plan for her. But his tone was playful, as if holding out a treat to a family pet to make sure it behaved.
Seconds passed. Schwarz-Silber held his position. When he lowered the rifle, June’s knees wobbled. He gestured with the gun, and she turned to follow Fleetham.
When she decided to make her move, she’d have to be sure there was lots of cover—or that she disabled the German somehow. A boulder to the head might do it, she considered longingly.
They entered the tree line. She stayed alert, ready to dive into the scrub. But a few metres in, Fleetham stopped next to a large, tangled deadfall.
“Here we are,” he said jovially, as if they’d entered a cafe and were about to order mocha lattes. “This should do.” He turned to June. “All right, give me your pack.”
“No.” June shook her head and backed away, but Schwarz-Silber blocked her path. “I’m keeping it with me.”
Fleetham sighed. “You’ve cooperated so nicely. Don’t stop now. I want your pack and I will have it.” With a casualness more stunning than the blow, he stepped forward and backhanded her across the face.
Her head snapped sideways and she careened into Schwarz-Silber. He shoved her and she fell to her knees. Trembling, she raised one hand to her stinging cheek and willed back the tears burning in her eyes. The humiliation was harder to take than the pain, as was the shock of having a man she’d once admired strike her.
Gone was the jovial, charming professor. In his place stood a cold, hard stranger. A murderer.
She rose to her feet, letting her shoulders sag in defeat.
Then she bolted.
She sprinted downhill, zigzagging through the trees, braced for the boom of the big rifle, the hammering pain of a bullet. Her pack jounced up and down, digging into her shoulders and catching on branches. She lurched over roots and rocks. Fleetham and Schwarz-Silber cursed as they crashed through the bush behind her. She raced doggedly on.
Until her boot caught on an exposed root and sent her flying.
Schwarz-Silber was upon her immediately. She fought him wildly, clawing and biting, but he was too big, too strong. He captured both her wrists in one large hand and punched her in the stomach.
Absolute terror is not being able to breathe.
Schwarz-Silber released her. She collapsed to the ground, writhing. Her mouth opened and closed, but no air reached her starving lungs. The spasm passed, leaving her retching and gasping, cheek pressed to the needle-strewn ground.
Fleetham stood wheezing above her. He reached down and picked up a long, thick stick.
“You shouldn’t have run,” he huffed out. “Really, you shouldn’t have.”
The muscles bunching in his shoulders warned her a fraction of a second before he savagely swung the makeshift club. She tried to avoid the blow, but it caught her above the ear.
It was as if she’d been thrown in the deep end of a swimming pool. The world tilted and turned, spinning uncontrollably. There was no up, no down, no here, no now.