J. Jance - Skeleton Canyon

“All right,” she shouted, cupping one hand to her lips in hopes of making her voice carry better. “You’d better give yourselves up. Now. Before someone else gets hurt.”

The answer to her challenge came in another well-aimed blast from the shotgun.

Joanna fumbled open the glove box, found a box of extra shotgun shells, and shoved those into her pocket. Dick Voland still hadn’t moved, but there was no time to check on him. With her chief deputy unconscious, Joanna knew she had no choice but to try to draw the suspects’ fire-to lead them away from the helpless officer before they could come down the ridge and finish him off.

Needing a decoy, she clambered over the backseat and found a loose gym bag full of clothes. Holding the gym bag ready at the window, she called out again.

“We’ve got reinforcements on the way. You’d better give up while you still can.”

It sounded like empty saber-rattling, even to her, but when the echoing cliffs of the Peloncillos played the last word back to her, “can… can… can”-it sounded more like a bad joke.

Joanna waited until the last echo died away. Then, heaving with all her might, she threw the gym bag out the window. Closing her eyes to avoid losing her night vision, she sent the bag tumbling down the embankment. It landed with a satisfying thump that sounded very much like a falling human body. The shooter-there seemed to be only one-must have been convinced as well. Another shotgun blast sent a hail of pellets pounding into the brush at almost the same spot where the bag had landed.

The diversion was enough to give Joanna a chance to slip out through the Blazer’s shattered passenger window. She sank to the ground and picked up a handful of rocks and gravel. “Do you hear me?” she demanded. “We know who you are, and we know you killed Brianna O’Brien. Give up while’ there’s still time.”

Hoping to keep the gunman off base by having to keep watch in more than one direction, Joanna tossed her handful of rocks and gravel near where the bag had landed and away from herself and Dick Voland. Again, the still twilight was shattered by yet another shotgun blast. With the gunman focused on more distant opponents, Joanna decided to attempt a frontal attack. That strategy would work only so long as she didn’t kick loose some rocks and gravel of her own, giving away her position.

Once the latest shotgun blast stopped reverberating through the rocks and mountains, Joanna heard the welcome but distant rumble of Adam York’s helicopter. The chopper was still too far away to do any good. The pilot seemed to be moving back and forth in a grid pattern. That probably meant they had temporarily lost the trail and were trying to find it again.

Joanna realized suddenly that while she was sitting frozen, listening to the approaching helicopter, up on the mountain, her armed opponent was probably doing the same thing. Counting on the helicopter to distract him, Joanna risked crawling a few more yards back up the steep hillside. She stopped and ducked behind a lush clump of bear grass. From there she threw another fistful of rocks off to the right.

This time there was no answering shotgun blast. He’s getting smarter, Joanna thought despairingly. Smarter and that much more dangerous.

As the helicopter drew nearer, she could see the widening beam from a searchlight as the helicopter pilot and passengers scanned the darkened landscape. With the chopper that close at hand, Joanna suspected that another flash from the shotgun would be visible from miles away. With any luck, it would draw someone’s searching eyes in the right direction. The problem was, the shooter hadn’t fallen for Joanna’s latest gravel ploy. In order to draw his fire, she’d have to come up with something a little more realistic.

After a moment’s consideration, she shrugged her way out of her jacket, blouse, and bulletproof vest. Once she had her bra off, she slipped the vest, blouse, and jacket back on. Reaching down, she felt around for a few small rocks. Feeling a little like a modern-day David battling an armed and dangerous Goliath, she tucked three small rocks into one cup of the bra to give it some added weight. Then, swinging the bra around her head, she sent it sailing through the air.

Months of throwing the Frisbee for an absolutely inexhaustible Tigger served Joanna in good stead. She managed to get some real lift on the thing. The bra sailed up into the air. Some fifteen yards to the right, it was blown out of the sky by an-other roar from the shotgun.

With her own ears ringing from the blast and suspecting that the gunman’s would be equally affected, Joanna risked another foray up the hill, this time making for the cover of a lumpy boulder just below the crest of the ridge.

As Joanna expected, the helicopter, drawn by the sudden flash of light, headed straight for them. She was close enough to the top of the embankment now that she could hear some-one speaking. “God damn it,” he mumbled. “Damn it all to hell!”

She was close enough, too, to hear the sound of hurrying footsteps-footfalls that moved away from her rather than toward her. The sound told her that the gunman was most likely retreating, scurrying back toward the Hummer. Joanna remembered the cane and the smears of blood she had seen in the camper. That meant the shooter was probably wounded. By now Joanna was fairly certain the man was alone. She had some confidence that she could outmaneuver him as long as they were both on foot. Once he regained his vehicle-once he was driving and she was on foot-the odds would change dramatically. For the worse.

She needed to keep him from gaining that advantage, but how? Maybe she could use Dick’s shotgun to put a hole in the monster Hummer’s metal-shrouded radiator, but she wasn’t sure that would work. Besides, she couldn’t risk taking a head-on shot at a vehicle that might have a hostage imprisoned inside.

At that moment, Joanna had no way of telling whether or not Dennis Hacker was still alive. Nevertheless, if there was even the smallest possibility he was, Joanna had to do her best to rescue the man without putting his life in even more jeopardy.

Clutching the shotgun in the crook of her arm, Joanna scrambled up the bank. She ducked behind another boulder. She was just raising the shotgun into firing position when the Hummer’s huge engine rumbled to life. Headlights flashed on in her eyes. Joanna had surfaced slightly to the left of where the Hummer was parked. Now, with the headlights temporarily blinding her, Joanna heard rather than saw the Hummer come straight at her. Convinced the driver had somehow caught sight of her and was going to try to run her down, Joanna hunkered back down behind the rock.

In the process of dodging back, the shotgun somehow slipped from her sweaty grasp and went skittering down the rocky slope. The Hummer roared past Joanna within bare inches of her face. There was no time to go searching for the fallen shotgun. Instead, she fumbled inside her jacket and drew the Colt. Without making any pretense of staying under cover, she scrambled out from behind the rock and assumed a two-handed shooting stance. She fired off three shots in rapid succession. The first two missed their marks entirely. One ricocheted off metal and the second zinged off a nearby rock. The third one, though, scored a direct hit on the Hummer’s right rear tire.

Joanna’s slender hope was simply to puncture a tire. She knew in advance that it wouldn’t put the Hummer out of business, but she thought that it might at least slow the driver down and give the backup team a chance to catch up. Instead, the tire decompressed so quickly that it made the truck lurch sharply to the right. First the back passenger wheel and then the front one slipped off the edge of the ridge. With the engine whining in protest and with all four wheels spinning uselessly in the air, the Hummer slowly pitched over on its side and went tumbling down the mountain, following almost the exact same path taken minutes earlier by the falling Blazer.