Never Surrender (21 page)

“I’m not saying anything else,” Gabe rasped. “Let’s get to the van. It’s damned cold out here.”

Bay stood, paralyzed by his hoarse cry that plunged straight through her heart. Gabe had been there! Wherever “there” was. Her only memory was of the cave, of Khogani, ministering to the wounded Taliban soldiers and the rape. Her mind hadn’t given up anything else. She had no idea how she’d gotten out of the cave or how she’d managed to survive captivity. Her memory was a blank, and it wasn’t yielding anything. The look on Gabe’s tortured features gripped Bay, scared her, and she felt anxiety explode within her again.

With a croak, Bay suddenly turned away from him. She bent over, hands pressed against her stomach and throat, heaving, the sounds terrible and embarrassing. Tears stung her eyes, her mouth watered, and bile burned the back of her throat. She tried to wipe her tears away when it finally was over. Her hand trembled so badly that she couldn’t even wipe the saliva away from her mouth.

Gabe ruthlessly jammed everything into his kill box the moment Bay started to get sick. He walked to her side, sliding his arm around her hip, allowing her to lean against him as Bay retched her guts out. He felt as if someone had twisted and torn him in half. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a white handkerchief. He pressed it into Bay’s hand. He was a damn failure. He’d gotten angry and let fly with something Bay hadn’t recalled yet. He’d seen the gut-shot look on her drawn features. And he’d witnessed the result of his actions.

Son of a bitch.

Bay wiped her mouth and forced herself to stand up. Tears matted her lashes, and she rubbed them away with her shaking fingers. “Gabe, take me home, please?” She needed to get out of here, to get away from him. Bay desperately needed to be alone, to figure it all out. She saw his eyes filled with misery. With defeat.

“Come on,” Gabe muttered, “I’ll drive you back to the cabin.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“W
HERE
’
S
B
AY
?” P
OPPY
asked Gabe. It was the morning after the Halloween party.

Gabe scowled. “I guess she’s still sleeping. Why?” Last night after he’d driven Poppy and Eva-Jo home, he’d found Bay’s bedroom door closed when he’d finally got to the cabin around nine. And the inner door between the bedrooms had been shut, as well. Bay had needed some space, even though he’d wanted desperately to apologize for his words and actions out in the parking lot earlier.

“My old blue Ford truck’s gone. It was there last night when we came in.”

He froze. Moving across the kitchen, Gabe quickly went to the door of Bay’s bedroom. Pushing it open, he saw the bed was made. Panic started to eat at him as he saw a note lying in the center of the bed. He grabbed it. His gut began to crumble as he read it.

Dear Gabe,
I have to leave. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I have to go away. I have to try and figure out what’s wrong with me and figure out how to fix it. I’m so sorry I hurt you so badly. You were always loyal and you never gave up on me. Please tell Mama that I’ve taken her truck. Tell her I’ll call her and she’s not to worry about me. I wish I could repay you, Gabe. You deserve so much more than I could ever give you. Love, Bay

Reeling, Gabe took the note out of the room and handed it to Poppy. His mind moved at light speed, calculating when Bay had left. How the hell had he not heard her get up and leave? He’d been utterly exhausted by their argument last night, and he remembered falling into bed and immediately dropping off to sleep.

“Oh, Lordy,” Poppy cried softly, pressing her hand to her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears. She looked up at Gabe, a sob tearing from her. “What are we going to do?” she cried.

Raking his hand through his hair, Gabe sat down. He had to or his knees would buckle. “Sit down for a minute, Poppy. Let me think....”

She sniffed and blotted her eyes as she sat opposite him at the table. “Should I call the police?”

“No,” Gabe muttered. “Not yet. They won’t go after a missing person for at least forty-eight hours after they’ve turned up missing.” His heart felt so damned heavy in his chest, he could barely breathe.
Think!
He had to think! He jerked a look up at Poppy. “Where did Bay go when she was hurting? She must have had some kind of favorite place.”

“Wh-what?”

“Kids always have a favorite hiding place. Where was hers?”

Rubbing her brow, Poppy looked stunned. Her face had gone white.

Gabe held on to his deteriorating patience. What if Bay stopped for gas somewhere and some asshole made a pass at her? Gabe couldn’t shut off other horrifying possibilities.

“Oh, Lordy,” Poppy muttered. “She and her pa went fishing at Stony Bottom on the Greenbrier River. It’s a nice area on the river, and it was her favorite place to be with him. They went almost every month during the summer. She didn’t fish, but she loved being with Floyd and did a lot of hiking in the area. They were so close,” Poppy whispered. “I know Bay misses him terribly.”

“Where’s Stony Bottom?” Gabe asked, trying to sound calm. His stomach burned. His heart felt as if someone was slowly ripping it in half. Getting up, he grabbed a pen and paper from the telephone stand near the couch. He placed them in front of Poppy. “Can you draw me a map? Is it nearby?”

“It’s only about five miles southwest of us,” Poppy whispered, drawing the map on the paper. “Bay would hike along the Greenbrier River Trail. She particularly liked the area where a small bridge crosses it. There’s a nice grassy meadow on the other side with a hill that’s about twenty-eight hundred feet high behind it. She’d take her watercolors along with her and paint over there. It parallels the Greenbrier River, Gabe. It’s deep backcountry. Hikers during the day, but black bear, deer and smaller animals most other times. It’s all national or state forest land. That’s where Floyd would go to take down bucks for the poor people on our mountain. He and Bay would go down there every fall and hunt. It’s rich, beautiful woodlands. Real Hill country.”

“I’ll get a map of it up on my iPhone,” he muttered, taking the piece of paper.

Gabe’s gut told him that was where she went. Bay wanted to be alone. To think. To cry. She had no one to hold her or help her now. He felt so damned miserable he couldn’t even cry. “Did you find anything else missing? Anything she might have taken with her? That could give us a clue as to what she was thinking.”

“I don’t know.” Poppy rose to her feet. “Let’s go out to the shed. All of Floyd’s tent and hunting gear are stored in there.”

The door to the shed stood open as they approached it. He figured Bay had come and taken camping gear, maybe a sleeping bag, and grabbed some food from their refrigerator before she left.

Poppy peered in the door, turned the light switch on and looked around.

“You’re right, she took the tent, two sleeping bags, the Coleman stove, a fishing rod and Floyd’s tackle box.” Poppy stepped inside and walked over to an old, battered military trunk that her husband had gotten when he joined the Marine Corps. Lifting the lid, she whispered, “Oh, Lordy. Floyd’s KA-BAR knife is gone!” She whirled toward Gabe. “She wouldn’t cut herself, would she?” Poppy blanched, her voice quaking with terror.

“Bay isn’t someone who gives up. I don’t think she took it for that reason.” Gabe scowled. “Your husband had a Win-Mag .300 rifle. Where is it?” He wasn’t going into deep woodlands without a weapon. God only knew who or what was out there. Bay could have taken the knife for protection purposes, maybe to cut bait or gut fish she caught, not with the idea of slicing her wrists and bleeding out. She was too damn strong to do that.

“It’s in the house. Come on!” Poppy practically ran back to the main cabin. Inside, she led Gabe to the rifle on the wall. Gabe brought it down. It was a beautiful piece, well cared for, the stock a rich honey oak color. “Do you have his rifle cleaning kit? Any shells?”

“Yes, everything’s in that drawer.” She pointed to the cabinet below where the rifle was displayed.

Crouching down, Gabe found what he needed. There was a box of shells for the Win-Mag. He also found two .45 pistols in holsters and a cleaning kit for them, as well. He took the pistols along with the ammo. Feeling a little better, Gabe put everything in an old canvas duffel bag and hauled it out to the newer pickup, a dark green Ford F-100. Poppy followed him.

“What are you going to do?”

“Try and find her.”

“Lordy, Gabe, that’s thick backcountry. You can get lost easily. Turned around.”

He gave her a patient smile. “I won’t get lost, Poppy. If I could find my way around with a compass and map in the Hindu Kush mountains of Afghanistan, I won’t have any problems here with these hills.”

“Oh...of course. I forgot, the military taught you that kind of stuff.” She touched her brow, rattled by Bay’s disappearance.

“Can you pack me a sack of food, Poppy? I’m going to get my military gear from the other cabin, and I’ll meet you here at the truck.”

“Yes, yes I can!” she said before turning and hurrying back to her cabin.

Gabe felt better now, having a focus, a plan and, most important, an objective.
Stony Bottom.
Well, hell, that about summed it all up regarding their relationship, didn’t it? Bay was hitting rock bottom. Mouth pursed, he trotted back to change into his cammies and get out his military gear packed in a large duffel bag.

* * *

B
AY
SANK
INTO
the warmth of the two sleeping bags she’d combined in order to stay comfortable in her tent. She’d spent the morning hiking to her favorite spot not far from the bridge across the Greenbrier River. The sky was cloudy, a gunmetal gray, the wind cold from the north. She wasn’t sure if it was going to rain or snow.

Earlier, she’d called her mother, who was relieved to hear she was all right. Bay didn’t want to cause her mother any more stress than necessary. She kept the call short and told her she was safe. That she was going to be alone for at least two or three weeks. She didn’t ask about Gabe, feeling too guilty for running out on him after their argument.

The tent breathed around her, night falling, the wind picking up. Emotionally, Bay felt numb. Outside, she could hear the nearby gurgle of the river, the sound soothing away her anxiety. Closing her eyes, she saw Gabe’s face hovering gently before her. A ragged sigh tore from her lips, and Bay felt tears well up in her eyes. She loved him, and she’d taken advantage of his good nature and kindness. She should have sent him back to the SEALs, back to his platoon a few weeks after she returned home. Bay didn’t know who felt more helpless: her or Gabe. There was a desolate look in his eyes, raw agony for her reflected in them. And she didn’t have the emotional strength to support him at all. That had torn her up.

“I’m a mess,” she muttered into the jacket that she’d rolled up to become her pillow. Bay refused to allow Gabe to continue being tortured by her PTSD symptoms. He deserved better than that. All he got out of this raw deal was to take care of an emotional invalid. That wasn’t what she wanted from him. Gabe had stood loyally by her, asking nothing for himself. He’d given her everything. And now she’d broken his trust. Her heart bled for him. She loved him so much. But he’d never know. Not now...

She heard the first splatters of rain on the canvas tent. She loved rain because it always soothed her, calmed her busy-bee mind. Soon, Bay drifted off to sleep.

* * *

G
ABE
IGNORED
HIS
discomfort, the rain pelting down around his newly constructed hide on the thickly wooded hillside. He’d located Bay near midafternoon. He was relieved to see her and called Poppy immediately to let her know. It was then that Poppy had told him Bay had phoned minutes earlier so she wouldn’t worry. Bay hadn’t told her mother where she was, but that she was safe. Poppy could now rest and not worry. He promised to give her daily updates. Poppy had cried, grateful for his care and thoughtfulness.

Gabe had created a hide about a thousand yards from where she’d put up her tent on the other side of the bridge in a yellowed grass meadow located three hundred feet away from the bridge over the river. Gabe watched Bay through the Night Force scope, clearly able to see her face. Seeing the anguish in it. Damn, he hurt for her.

Twice, he’d almost gotten up and left his hide made of brush, branches and dried leaves sprinkled over it like roofing, and gone down to talk to her. But what would that have accomplished?
Nothing.
Instinctively, Gabe knew Bay had to have this time alone to think and figure things out. Her life was in shambles, just so many puzzle pieces lying around her. And God knew, he wanted to help her pick them up and help her put them back together. But Poppy’s words months earlier echoed in his memory, that he had to sometimes let her stumble, fall and pick herself up. This was one of those times.

He kept the Win-Mag pointed in the direction of the tent. He’d covered it with some light gray netting so the barrel wouldn’t shine and accidentally be seen by others. The scope gave him what he really wanted; clear access to the location around Bay’s tent. He’d noticed as he’d created his hide, there were plenty of hikers crossing the bridge to get to the main trail, people riding horses, tons of bicyclers along the trail, as well. Just before sundown he spotted six men, all but one Latino, carrying very heavy packs on their backs. The leader was a tall, powerfully built bald white man. They looked focused, as if they had an objective, hurrying across the bridge, oblivious to the beauty surrounding Stony Bottom. They didn’t stop, take photos or simply stand and breathe in the natural beauty around them. That made them stand out, and Gabe was suspicious.

Bay hadn’t exactly chosen a quiet spot, Gabe thought. But this was her childhood haunt. And he understood it probably gave her a sense of continuity and nurturing that she was so desperately seeking. His mouth pursed. Something he hadn’t been able to give her. Wincing inwardly, Gabe thought he would never stop loving her. If anything, he loved her more. Right now, Bay couldn’t even love herself.

He’d taken some blankets off the beds in the smaller cabin and made a comfortable, dry nest inside his hide. It was a good six feet wide and ten feet in length. No one would find him on the slope of the woodlands-coated hill. The trail was down below him, and he seriously doubted anyone would wander up the hill toward him. He didn’t realize until he consulted Google, how popular the seventy-six-mile Greenbrier Trail was. He did now, watching the trail clear of hikers as night fell.

Gabe was thirsty. Water was the one thing he’d forgotten. His SEAL buddies would never allow him to live this one down. Water was a first-line gear. Even rookie BUD/S graduates wouldn’t ever forget to bring water. He had. Once he’d located Bay, he’d hiked down the trail after dark with his night vision goggles in place. Gabe had taken along his ruck, driven into a nearby small town and bought ten gallons of water and some more food and batteries for his radio and NVGs. Packing his supplies in, Gabe settled in for the long haul, whatever that meant. He kept watch until one in the morning, the rain softly falling around his hide. No one was walking the bridge and the trail at this hour. It was clear. Everything was quiet.

Gabe spotted a small band of whitetail deer as they emerged from the wooded slopes of the hill right behind Bay’s tent. They were spooked by the tent and walked warily around it, heading for the river to drink. There was something peaceful about rain falling and watching the deer drink and then go back into the meadow and start munching on the yellowed grass.

Gabe dozed off at the Win-Mag. His head fell forward, and it immediately jerked him awake. Automatically, he scanned with the scope, making sure Bay was safe down there across the river. Glancing at his Oyster Rolex on his wrist, it was 0130. He crossed his arms on the dirt embankment and laid his head down next to the rifle, closing his eyes. Very shortly, Gabe fell into an exhausted sleep.