Sylvie Kurtz - Spirit Of A Hunter

More deafening silence.

Nora cradled the receiver with both hands. “Mr. Mercer? Are you there? If Tommy’s off his meds, then Scotty could be in danger, too.”

Still no response. But in the background, a voice intoned some sort of incantation.

“Scotty has asthma,” Nora continued, compelled to plead her case. Surely Sabriel wouldn’t be heartless enough to let a sick boy die. “He left with an inhaler that’s almost empty. I need to get his medicine to him. If he has an attack out there, he could die.”

Her top teeth sank into her bottom lip and drew blood. He doesn’t care. Tommy was wrong. Sabriel wasn’t going to pay his debt. She blinked back the tears scoring at her eyes. “I think he’s planning on hiding Scotty from the Colonel. I think he thinks he’s helping Scotty. I think he’s gone into the mountains.”

“Was there a note?”

“Yes.”

“Read everything on the paper.”

She did, even describing the drawing of the moose.

“I’ll find him,” Sabriel said with a certainty she envied.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No.”

“Scotty needs his medicine. It’s cold out there, and cold is one of his triggers.” So was anxiety. She couldn’t help the desperation crowding her voice.

“I work alone.”

“Do you know what it’s like to not be able to breathe? He’s just a little boy, and those attacks scare him.”

Her body straightened against the hard skeleton of the phone cubicle. She was going with him. She needed to know Scotty was all right. She had to get Sabriel to come to her.

A cheer erupted in the background, drowning out Sabriel’s nerve-shredding silence.

“I can’t go back to the estate,” Nora continued, voice strong with resolve. “Not without Scotty. The Colonel’ll use my failure as ammunition to take more control over Scotty. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let him turn Scotty into another Tommy.” She flinched at the put-down of her ex-husband. She wasn’t the manipulative type. At least not usually. But if she didn’t stand up for Scotty, who would?

“Where are you?” Sabriel finally asked.

For the first time since she’d found the note, a sense of hope rose up to calm her. She was not alone. Somebody understood. Somebody would help her find Scotty. “I’m at a pay phone at a gas station in Camden.”

“Were you followed?”

Her gaze darted and flitted at the passing traffic on Main Street. Pickup trucks, SUVs and beaters in various stages of decomposition trundled by, but no black Hummer like those driven by the Colonel’s security staff. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you know where Black Swan Lake is?”

“North of Camden. But he’s not there. I’ve already checked the boat ramps.”

“There’s a camp on the west side of the lake. The Lemire Adventure Camp.”

Could finding him really be that easy? A pressure valve of release sagged her against the phone. “You think that’s where Tommy went?”

“No. A friend of mine runs it. I’ll meet you there.”

“How long will it take you to get to the camp?”

“An hour.”

An hour was a lifetime when you couldn’t breathe. “How long before you can find them?”

“Depends on their head start.”

The small thread of hope unraveled. She had no idea what time they’d left the estate. Would Tommy have made Scotty hike in the dark? That sounded so dangerous. How far could he get with a ten-year-old in tow?

The pulse of time running out ticked much too loudly in her brain. Find him. Find Scotty. Find him now. Today. Before night fell again. Night always made Scotty’s symptoms worse. “Hurry.”

SABRIEL CORNERED Falconer as he was leaving the church. Departing guests created a buzz that wavered through the high-ceilinged vestibule and grated against Sabriel’s already raw nerves. “I need some time off.”

Falconer hiked an eyebrow in question.

“Personal,” Sabriel said.

Although Falconer knew about Ranger School, about Anna, about the Colonel, Sabriel’s fingers twitched on the live wire of his shame. He couldn’t hide anything that was on record from the man who’d given him more than one second chance. But Falconer didn’t know about Tommy or the experiment gone wrong. Or the pact they’d made at fifteen to always watch each other’s backs.

Sabriel couldn’t let Tommy charge into a suicide mission. The Colonel was too strong for the broken man his friend had become. And Nora was right. He couldn’t allow the Colonel to turn Scotty into another Tommy. He owed his friend that much.

Falconer grinned. “Trying to get out of the reception?”

Sabriel shook his head, though missing the shindig would be a bonus. Answering the same curious questions about his mixed heritage made him feel like a gorilla in a cage. He loved every branch of his crazy family tree—Japanese, Irish, Abenaki and French Canadian. He just didn’t like discussing them.

“Everything okay with the family?” Falconer asked as if he’d been reading his mind.

“Something I have to take care of.”

Falconer’s eyebrows met in the center of his forehead. “How much time?”

“A week, tops. Harper can take the lead on the Carter case. Smuggling’s up his alley.”

“You haven’t missed a single day of work since you signed up with Seekers eight months ago. Not even after you broke your wrist and ankle tracking the piece of garbage who tried to kill Liv. Or when you were with the Marshals Service.”

Falconer’s keen gaze sliced into him, jabbing past the tough skin to the tender organs. Sabriel stood unmoving, gaze locked with Falconer’s, unflinching. Time off would have given him too much time to think. And some questions, he’d discovered, shouldn’t be answered.

“You’re overdue,” Falconer said.

Sabriel nodded once, relief calmed his juiced muscles.

“If there’s anything we can do,” Falconer said, “we’re here for you.”

The rest of the Seekers would stand by him, though he’d never given them a reason to. And that counted for more than he could admit out loud. Though he was loathe to ask for a favor, with the Colonel involved, Nora could be in danger. “A friend might need a safe house.”

“Call.”

Sabriel nodded, thankful Seekers had found him and given a purpose to his empty days. He cast a glance Reed and Abbie’s way, and a flash of Anna—head thrown back, laughing—leaked out of its locked memory box. Frowning, he squeezed it back in. “Give them my apologies.”

“I will.” Falconer’s curious gaze followed him out of the church, but Sabriel dismissed it. Falconer would give him space—no questions asked. That trust was why Sabriel was still at Seekers.

He pulled into the dirt drive leading to his half-finished log cabin in Harrisville in less than fifteen minutes. A record, even for him. He changed into hiking gear and grabbed the rucksack he kept at the ready.

Wait for me, Anna. The remembered plea in his voice was smoke in his brain. A slap of nausea rammed his shoulder into the wall, stopping his mad dash, leaving him panting. Anna, studying the sea, appeared on the screen of his mind. Her long blond hair whipped over her face in a silky veil. Always a little part of her hidden from him, just out of reach…

“I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“There’s a storm coming in,” she said, and he could hear tight despair in her voice. “I need to get the dive in before the rain hits. The sponsors—”

“Can damn well wait. I’m your safety diver.”

“I’ve got a whole crew to take care of me.”

The nausea swelled, lacing his throat with acid.

This wasn’t Anna. He wasn’t half a world away. He’d get to Tommy in time.

Don’t think. Don’t feel. Just do.