Jeffery Deaver - The Bodies Left Behind

“Somebody else. This way.”

They climbed the hill back to the blackberry tangle, where the bearded man was sitting on the ground, head low between his legs, nursing his torn ear. He looked up at Michelle, blinked. Then nodded, wincing.

Brynn explained that she’d beaned him with the billiard ball and was charging forward to spear him when he’d glanced back, having heard her footsteps.

She’d stopped just before she stabbed him, seeing his bearded face, realizing her mistake. Not expecting to find anyone else out here, armed and stoked by adrenaline, Brynn had missed that he was carrying a deer rifle, not a shotgun, and that his build seemed different from Hart’s partner’s.

Brynn had apologized profusely. Still, she was a law officer and, after showing her ID and badge, took control of the weapon and asked to see his driver’s license.

His name was Charles Gandy, he, and his wife and some friends were camping in a Winnebago not far away.

“Are you okay to walk?” she asked him. Brynn wanted to get to the camper as soon as they could.

“Sure. It’s not bad.” He was holding the sock, from the bolo, against his injured ear. It seemed most of the bleeding had stopped.

Which didn’t mean he wasn’t going to sue the department. But that was fine with Brynn. She’d insist that the county pay whatever he wanted. She couldn’t describe the reassurance she felt having found a way to escape from the park-and with a rifle in her hands.

Control…

While Brynn kept guard, Michelle helped Gandy up.

“You’re hurt too?” he asked, nodding at the pool cue.

“It’s okay,” Michelle said absently, looking warily over the overwhelming tangle of branches, brush and trees.

“We should get moving,” Brynn said. “Lead the way.”

Charles Gandy knew the woods well, it seemed. He directed them past the dry streambed and along paths that Brynn hadn’t even seen. This was good, since they avoided entirely the noisy leaves and branches that could have given them away. They moved up an incline then he led them around a clearing, going steadily higher. The general direction was north. Michelle limped along as quickly as she could, now using the spear as her walking stick.

Brynn, gripping the rifle, followed, looking behind more often than she looked forward.

They paused, hiding behind a seven-or eight-foot outcropping of granite. Gandy touched Brynn’s arm and pointed.

Her heart jumped.

Across a long ravine was a bare ridge. Hart and his partner, holding the shotgun, stood there, scanning the ground. Frustration seemed evident in their posture.

“Is that the ones you were telling me about?” Gandy asked softly.

She nodded.

It was then that Michelle whispered, “Shoot them.”

Brynn turned toward her.

Wide-eyed, the young woman said, “Go ahead and shoot them.”

Brynn looked down at the rifle in her hands. She said nothing, didn’t move.

Michelle’s head turned toward Gandy. He said, “Hey, don’t look at me. I work in an organic grocery store for a living.”

“I’ll do it,” Michelle said. “Give me the gun.”

“No. You’re a civilian. If you killed one of them it’d be murder. You’d get off probably but you don’t want to go there.”

Then Brynn leaned over a large rock. Set the rifle on it, the muzzle in the men’s direction.

They were about one hundred yards away, and Gandy’s rifle didn’t have a telescopic sight. But Brynn was familiar with rifles-from the training courses mostly. She’d also been hunting a few times though she gave it up years ago on a trip to Minnesota; Keith had been reloading his rifle when they’d been charged by a wild boar. Brynn had killed the crazed animal with two fast shots. She’d quit the sport after that, not out of fear-she’d secretly enjoyed the rush-but because she’d killed an animal whose only crime was defending its invaded home.

She’d been prepared to kill the partner with her spear a few minutes ago. But this seemed different, shooting somebody like a sniper.

Well, are you going to do it or not? Brynn coolly asked herself. If so, now. They’re not going to be standing still forever.

Brynn decided to aim about two inches high to compensate for the arcing of the bullet over that distance. The breeze? Well, that was anybody’s guess; it whipsawed back and forth.

Have to hope for luck here.

Brynn gazed down the notch in the back of the rifle and the blade sight in the front.

Both eyes open. She flicked the safety off. She started to squeeze the trigger. The trick was to keep the sights aligned on the target and apply pressure until the gun went off; you never actually pull the trigger.

But just then the men separated. What had been a cluster of target became two distinct ones. Hart had apparently seen something and had moved forward. He was pointing.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Gandy asked. “Are you sure it’s them?”

“Yes,” Michelle snapped in a whisper. “It’s them. Shoot!”

But which one? Brynn asked herself. Assuming the one I don’t hit gets under cover, who should I target?

Choose. Now!

She aimed at the partner, the man with the shotgun. She lifted the muzzle high. Began to squeeze the trigger again.

But at that moment the men started down into the ravine. In an instant they were simply dark forms moving through the brush.

“No!” Michelle cried. “Shoot anyway!”

Then there was no target. They’d disappeared.

Brynn lowered her head. Why had she hesitated? she wondered. Why?

Gandy said, “We better go. They’re headed in this direction.”

Brynn didn’t look at Michelle. It was as if the young woman, the spoiled princess, the dilettante, had been more in control than she.

Why didn’t I take the shot?

She clicked on the safety and stared at the pool of gloom where Hart and his partner had disappeared. Then turned away to follow the others.

“The camper’s not far,” Gandy said. “A quarter mile. My friend’s got a van and he should be back now. He was getting some food and beer. We’ll all jump in it and get out of here.”

“Who’s there?” Michelle asked.

“My wife and stepdaughter, a couple of our friends.”

“Stepdaughter?”

“Amy. She’s nine.” Gandy touched his ear and examined his fingers. The bleeding had stopped.

“She’s with you tonight?” Brynn asked, frowning.

“It’s spring break.” He noted her troubled expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t know you had a child,” she said softly.

“You’re not bringing us trouble if that’s what you’re thinking. Imagine what’d happen if I hadn’t found you. Those guys might’ve stumbled onto our camper and who knows what they would’ve done.”

“You have a phone?” Michelle asked.

Brynn’s first question, after she’d made sure Gandy wasn’t badly hurt.

“I was telling your friend,” he replied, “I’m not a big fan of microwaves in the brain. But we’ve got one back at the camper.” He asked Brynn, “Say, you have a helicopter? You could get officers here pretty fast with one of them.”

Brynn said, “Just medevac. Not tactical.” She was thinking about the daughter and the man’s family. Here, she’d tried all night not to bring this horror to innocent local residents…and now she’d endangered a family with a child.

Walking fast, breathless from the largely uphill route, they’d put the ravine far behind them. Brynn shamefully thought of it as “the place where I balked.” She was furious with herself for the lapse.

Gandy said to Brynn, “You just said they were after you. You didn’t say why.”

Michelle, wincing as she limped, said, “They killed my friends. I’m a witness.”