his
vantage point a few yards away. He saw Keir step off the main path
onto a narrower one that wended its way down to the river. Seconds
later, Teague thought he saw something move in the deep shadows
about a hundred yards ahead of him and froze where he was standing.
Straining his eyes, he tried to determine what was there—if
anything. When nothing moved and there was no sound other than that
of the river well off to his left, he inched forward and, deciding
it was safe, quickly crossed the path to the one Keir had gone
down.
It sloped steeply as it wound through the
trees and low brush. At one point Teague heard a muttered “Shit”
through the ear phone and wondered what Keir had tripped over. As
dark as it was, the only light coming from the three-quarter moon,
Teague almost tripped himself a couple of times. Then, as he came
around what he hoped was the last curve before the river, he
spotted Keir. The young man was barely visible, crouching by a
thicket. Then he disappeared completely, so quickly it was as if
someone had pulled him into the underbrush.
“Keir,” Teague murmured, hoping he could be
heard in Keir’s ear phone. There was no reply. Nothing but silence.
“Damn it, acknowledge!”
More silence. Then Teague heard something
rustling not too far from where Keir had vanished. Seconds later
came three words. “What a night…” The last word cut off
suddenly.
A second voice, Holt’s, came over the ear
phone, asking “Trouble?”
“Yes!” Teague spat out as he made a dash to
the thicket. When he rounded it into the trees, he spotted Keir’s
backpack. It would have been invisible it hadn’t landed in a tiny
clear area next to a pine tree. Ahead of him, there were sounds of
a struggle. He raced in that direction, ignoring branches that
whipped his arms and face. The sounds continued, moving away but
more slowly than Teague was approaching them. He burst out of a
stand of trees into a small clearing.
Ahead of him the figure of a man came into
view, holding a short length of rope. The other end of the rope
seemed to be wrapped around his captive’s throat. With a sharp
shove, the man forced his victim to his knees and for a second the
moonlight lit Keir’s face before he tumbled prone into the weeds.
Teague realized in an instant that Keir’s hands were bound behind
him.
“Stay where you are,” the man growled. He
pulled the rope hard and Keir’s head was yanked a foot off the
ground. “I will kill him. Slowly. While you watch.” The man reached
behind his back and when he brought his hand forward again Teague
saw the glint of metal that told him the man had a gun. “And then
you’re next, Don. If that’s your real name.”
“Will?” Teague said in disbelief.
Will chuckled. “In the flesh. Now hands in
the air, then move closer.” Teague did as he was ordered until Will
told him to stop.
“He’s going to choke to death,” Teague said
angrily.
“You bet he is, but not immediately.” Will
lowered the hand holding the rope and Keir was again face-first in
the weedy dirt. “Turn and back up to me,” Will said. “Slowly. Keep
your hands up.”
“If I don’t?”
Teague got his reply when Will fired. The
bullet grazed Teague’s thigh, leaving a trail of pain behind.
“Next time, it will be higher. Maybe in your
arm. Your shoulder. I’m an expert shot.” Will jerked the rope
around Keir’s throat again and the young man gurgled as his head
and shoulders left the ground.
“Drop the gun!” Hoyt ordered, his voice
filled with fury as he stepped into view behind Will. “Now!”
Will whirled around, firing as he did.
Teague heard Hoyt swear, but not before he
also shot. Will went down and as the moon rose above the tops of
the trees Teague saw blood pouring from a wound in his side. Teague
took two limping steps, bent and picked up Will’s fallen gun. Then
he moved to Keir, unfastening the rope around the young man’s neck.
“Knife?” Teague asked after removing
vantage point a few yards away. He saw Keir step off the main path
onto a narrower one that wended its way down to the river. Seconds
later, Teague thought he saw something move in the deep shadows
about a hundred yards ahead of him and froze where he was standing.
Straining his eyes, he tried to determine what was there—if
anything. When nothing moved and there was no sound other than that
of the river well off to his left, he inched forward and, deciding
it was safe, quickly crossed the path to the one Keir had gone
down.
It sloped steeply as it wound through the
trees and low brush. At one point Teague heard a muttered “Shit”
through the ear phone and wondered what Keir had tripped over. As
dark as it was, the only light coming from the three-quarter moon,
Teague almost tripped himself a couple of times. Then, as he came
around what he hoped was the last curve before the river, he
spotted Keir. The young man was barely visible, crouching by a
thicket. Then he disappeared completely, so quickly it was as if
someone had pulled him into the underbrush.
“Keir,” Teague murmured, hoping he could be
heard in Keir’s ear phone. There was no reply. Nothing but silence.
“Damn it, acknowledge!”
More silence. Then Teague heard something
rustling not too far from where Keir had vanished. Seconds later
came three words. “What a night…” The last word cut off
suddenly.
A second voice, Holt’s, came over the ear
phone, asking “Trouble?”
“Yes!” Teague spat out as he made a dash to
the thicket. When he rounded it into the trees, he spotted Keir’s
backpack. It would have been invisible it hadn’t landed in a tiny
clear area next to a pine tree. Ahead of him, there were sounds of
a struggle. He raced in that direction, ignoring branches that
whipped his arms and face. The sounds continued, moving away but
more slowly than Teague was approaching them. He burst out of a
stand of trees into a small clearing.
Ahead of him the figure of a man came into
view, holding a short length of rope. The other end of the rope
seemed to be wrapped around his captive’s throat. With a sharp
shove, the man forced his victim to his knees and for a second the
moonlight lit Keir’s face before he tumbled prone into the weeds.
Teague realized in an instant that Keir’s hands were bound behind
him.
“Stay where you are,” the man growled. He
pulled the rope hard and Keir’s head was yanked a foot off the
ground. “I will kill him. Slowly. While you watch.” The man reached
behind his back and when he brought his hand forward again Teague
saw the glint of metal that told him the man had a gun. “And then
you’re next, Don. If that’s your real name.”
“Will?” Teague said in disbelief.
Will chuckled. “In the flesh. Now hands in
the air, then move closer.” Teague did as he was ordered until Will
told him to stop.
“He’s going to choke to death,” Teague said
angrily.
“You bet he is, but not immediately.” Will
lowered the hand holding the rope and Keir was again face-first in
the weedy dirt. “Turn and back up to me,” Will said. “Slowly. Keep
your hands up.”
“If I don’t?”
Teague got his reply when Will fired. The
bullet grazed Teague’s thigh, leaving a trail of pain behind.
“Next time, it will be higher. Maybe in your
arm. Your shoulder. I’m an expert shot.” Will jerked the rope
around Keir’s throat again and the young man gurgled as his head
and shoulders left the ground.
“Drop the gun!” Hoyt ordered, his voice
filled with fury as he stepped into view behind Will. “Now!”
Will whirled around, firing as he did.
Teague heard Hoyt swear, but not before he
also shot. Will went down and as the moon rose above the tops of
the trees Teague saw blood pouring from a wound in his side. Teague
took two limping steps, bent and picked up Will’s fallen gun. Then
he moved to Keir, unfastening the rope around the young man’s neck.
“Knife?” Teague asked after removing
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