The Bones Will Speak (28 page)

The truck stopped moving.

Mattie froze and drew short puffs of air, concentrating on sounds.

“Remember,” Aynslee's voice whispered in her ear. “Mom and Beth talked about it. Mom called him a thrill seeker. He'll want us to run. No matter what he says, run downhill. That's where we'll find roads and people. He'll untie our ankles. That's when we'll make our move.”

A cool wind pushed through the seams of their tiny cubicle.

Mattie shivered. Even with Aynslee's body next to her, neither one wore thick enough clothing, and they were cold.

Mattie tried to make her brain work. The drugs numbed her hands but also muddied her thinking. “But if all he's going to do is make us run—”

“We have to make sure he doesn't hurt us first.”

The top of their compartment opened.

Mattie blinked. Somehow she'd expected it to be nighttime.

The killer's face appeared above them. “Hello, girls. Are you ready for some fun?”

The county road dead-ended at Copper Creek Lake, and no one lived east between my place and the lake. Numerous wooden bridges spanned the winding Copper Creek, and distances
were often measured by how many bridges were crossed. Given the steepness of the ridge, I figured at least two bridges before a road could be a reasonable grade for a logging truck to use.

The mountain crowded the road, offering a sheer, rocky wall.

Another bridge.

The sun just tinted the tops of the trees as it settled for the night. “Come on. Come on. I have to find it. Lord, I have to find that road.”

Yet another bridge.

He reached in and grabbed Mattie by her arms and slung her to the ground in a heap.

She struggled to stand.

He slapped her face.

Tears filled her eyes and she slumped to her side.

Aynslee slammed to the ground next to her. She opened her mouth and seemed to gasp for air.

“I've been looking forward to this for a long, long time,” the man said.

“You . . . you won't . . . get away with this,” Aynslee said, still trying to breathe. “The police are everywhere.”

The killer cocked his head to one side. “Is that what you think?”

“They'll be here any minute.” Mattie couldn't see his reaction from the angle she was lying.

“I wouldn't count on it. There's a little matter of a torchlight parade by a bunch of neo-Nazi wannabes. Every law enforcement officer in the county will be tied up with that. One of my little diversionary tactics. I have all the time in the world with you two.”

“Then are you going to go out and shoot up that school tomorrow?” Aynslee asked.

The man gave a sharp intake of breath. “Well now, aren't you the clever one. But my plans are much bigger—”

“The University of Montana?” Aynslee asked. “Or the Jewish—” A slap. Aynslee grunted.

Mattie felt something sharp on her ankles, a tug, and her legs were suddenly freed. Blood rushed to her feet, and she winced at the sharp, prickly feeling. He shoved her to her stomach and, with another pull, freed her hands. She rolled to her side. Something dropped over her head.

Mattie yelped and swatted at it, pulling it from her face.

A coat.

“You'll need that,” he said. “It'll be dark soon. There's a map and compass in the pocket.”

He bent over Aynslee and cut the zip ties on her ankles. “You are far too clever. You, I'm going to—”

She kicked him.

He stumbled backward.

“Run,” Aynslee screamed.

Mattie got to her knees.

He stepped back to Aynslee and wrapped his hand in her long, red hair.

“Run,” she screamed again.

He smashed her face into the earth.

Mattie was on her feet. She ducked her head and ran. Her head slammed into his side, sending both of them tumbling. Sparks flickered behind Mattie's eyes. She grunted in pain.

He recovered first. A vein throbbed in his temple as he glared at her, then looked around as if seeking something.

She spotted the gun first. It was lying next to the truck.

He reached for it.

Aynslee, arms still tied behind her, crashed into his back, sending him forward. His head connected with the bumper. Mattie stood, lifted the coat, hooked her arm under Aynslee's, and yanked her upright. Steaming blood gushed from her nostrils.

“Grab his pistol,” Aynslee whispered.

Mattie used the coat as a basket and scooped up the gun. As one, they turned and ran.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

MY EYES BLURRED, AND I ANGRILY SWIPED AT
them.
Not now
. I rolled the windows down, ignoring the chilly air, and slowed my car. The road had to be around here somewhere. The sun set and the forest crowded the road, sucking out the last of the light.

I almost missed it.

Coming around a curve, the road widened slightly. I stopped and stared. In the gathering dusk, a few tiny pines were growing crooked on the side of the road.
Or a truck drove over them.
I backed up and turned left, wincing at the sounds coming from under my car as I crushed the small trees under my wheels.

Noting the odometer reading, I knew I'd need to go about five miles west to put me above my place on the ridge. But since I was also climbing uphill, I'd need to increase that number. I wanted, needed to drive faster, but the track was more an impression than a passageway. The seconds ticked away in my mind. I jammed down the thoughts of what he might do to my daughter. I found myself chanting, “Lord, protect her. Save her.”

I thought I heard something. I stopped the car and shut off the engine.

“Ruff . . . ruf . . . aaaaeeeeeeeeee.”

Coyotes. I started the car and pushed forward. The lane cleared somewhat and climbed toward the top of the ridge. I was now running parallel to the county road far below to my left. This had to be the road suggested by Google Earth.

I had to turn on my headlights to see the bent grass in front of me. The temperature dropped still lower. I turned up the heat to offset the open window.

A mile, two miles, three. The road grew steeper, switched back, and widened. I'd reached a landing, a place where loggers assembled the cut trees waiting to be picked up by the trucks that would haul them. The mountainside had been thinned in the past year, and the remaining seed trees were widely spaced. The ground was rocky and the road split, with no indication as to which direction I should take. I got out of the car and inspected the ground with the illumination from my headlights.

Faint tire marks and a dislodged rock indicated he'd taken the upper road. I got back into my car and shifted into low. The way was steep, and the rocks gave way to dirt and mud, with a raw, bulldozer cut on my right and a sheer drop on my left, bare of trees, indicating a skid trail. Twice my tires spun in the thick muck before finding purchase. I'd only gone a short distance when I spotted the downed tree across the road. Scraped bark on the top showed where tires passed over it.

My little Audi didn't have the clearance of a truck. If I got high centered, my car would be stuck. I pulled the emergency brake and stopped.

Mattie hauled Aynslee as fast as they dared down the steep slope. With her arms tied behind her back, Aynslee stumbled over hidden roots and downed branches. Pausing under a pine to catch their breath, Mattie draped the coat over Aynslee's shoulders.

“You put it on,” Aynslee said. “You're shaking in the cold.”

“So are you.”

“Then we'll share it. Next time we stop, you put it on.”

They ran. Both of them fell and rolled over a thick bramble of snowberries. The coat flew off Aynslee's shoulders. The pistol, now tucked under Mattie's arm, dropped.

“Ouch.” Aynslee sobbed.

“Are you okay?”

“No. My foot's tangled up.”

“Maybe we can hide here?” Mattie looked around.

“No. We have to keep running.”

“But I dropped the gun.”

“Leave it. The important thing is
he
doesn't have it.”

Mattie's hands, still wrapped in their filthy, tattered bandages, were starting to ache as the drugs wore off. She used her feet to feel Aynslee's legs and trace back to the tangle of brush enclosing her ankle. “I'm going to stomp this branch down. See if you can free your foot.” She stepped on the limb, then pushed her weight against it. The
snap
seemed deafening.

“Shh,” Aynslee whispered. “I'm free. Where's the coat?”

“Ah . . . here it is.”

“Your turn. Put it on.”

“I can't. My hands.” Mattie could just make out Aynslee in the darkness.

The other girl rolled to her knees. “I see it. I'm going to grab
it with my teeth, then stand. You should be able to slip it on if I hold it, right?”

Mattie nodded, unable to answer past the lump in her throat. The coat was oversized and slipped easily over her hands. She looped her arm through Aynslee's, and they continued their headlong race through the trees.

Something howled behind them.

Mattie screamed.

I got out of my car.

Excited howls echoed from the road above me. Not coyotes.

My blood ran cold.

A distant scream. I plunged off the muddy track and raced downhill.

Dave's ear hurt from all the phone calls he'd made. Now he'd have to pray that nothing else went wrong. The torchlight parade officially started at seven thirty with a speech in the grocery-store parking lot. The parade application said the church group would walk down the main street of town. Missoula had loaned him three officers in riot gear, and Dave had assigned them to pace with the marchers.

Both sides of the street held protesters carrying signs. His own men covered the six-block route the best they could, but it was a circus.

Dave glanced at his cell for the hundredth time. He still hadn't heard from Gwen.

Gwen's and Beth's words kept rewinding in his mind. The
Phineas Priesthood liked to use bombings, and the vet hospital
had
been bombed. But why? It wasn't connected to the government. Could it be a cover-up for the missing Ketamine? Or was it to kill Gwen's dog? If an entire animal hospital were leveled just to kill an innocent dog, then Gwen was facing a level of destruction, hatred, and revenge beyond imagination.

What about Beth's suggestion of a terrorist attack tomorrow at eleven? He'd called that one in to the FBI. They said they'd look into it.

A scuffle broke out ahead of him and he raced forward. “Okay, now, break it up. Come on, fellows.” The pushing stopped, but the jeers and chanting didn't.

The marchers formed a raggedy group behind three men carrying a banner stating
White Man Awake
. Behind the banner was a pickup truck with the name of the church, followed by the rest of the participants. Four men lit torches and positioned themselves at the front and rear of the marchers. At some unseen signal, all the church members lifted small American flags and started forward. The yelling from the sidelines increased.

His deputy, Craig Harnisch, suddenly appeared beside him. His face was pale and eyes bloodshot.

“Don't you have the flu?” Dave asked.

“I'm better. Thought you could use a hand.”

Debating only briefly on sending the man home, Dave pulled out his car keys. “I shouldn't be long.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

I REACHED A ROW OF TREES AND STOPPED TO
catch my breath and get my bearings. The moon was out, but passing clouds allowed it to cast only intermittent light. The girls would be west, and going by the scream, almost parallel to me. Aynslee would know to run downhill. If he'd given her a map and compass like he did the girl in the cow pasture, she'd be able to locate the McCandless farm. If I ran diagonal, I could hopefully intercept them. I had to find them before he did.

Another howl, higher up on the ridge.

I leaped ahead.

Mattie's hands throbbed. Branches slapped her face. Aynslee, bent forward to protect herself from the reaching limbs, panted beside her. “Where are we?”

“I'm . . . not . . . sure.” Aynslee slowed, then stopped, breathing hard, and looked around her.

“What's that howling?”

“Coyotes.”

Mattie knew she was lying. Whatever they were, they were big. And following them.

It was dark by the time Dave pulled up next to Gwen's house. No lights shown from any of the windows. He parked, pulled out a flashlight, and got out of the car. Gwen's vehicle was missing, so she must be out looking for the girls. He checked the front door, then the door to the kitchen. Everything locked. He turned to leave.

A Forest Service truck sat next to the garage. Dave strolled to the pickup and flashed his light into the cab, illuminating a forensic art kit. Wes Bailor.

Dave gazed back toward the house. Gwen really disliked Wes, but her car was missing, and so were both of them.

Did they join forces to find Aynslee and Mattie? He trotted to his car and got in.

Wes was at the vet hospital when it was bombed, had been in his office reading reports, showed up at
both
the McCandless place and the cow pasture.

Dave started the engine and turned the sedan around. Was Wes on some misguided scheme to catch the killer? With Gwen's help?

Or was
he
the killer?

Headlights poked through the trees and a car pulled up next to him. A gray, 911 Turbo Porsche. Robert.

Dave rolled down his window. Robert did the same. “I suppose Gwen called you to keep me from picking up Aynslee,” Robert snapped. “But it's within my legal rights—”

“That's not why I'm here. You didn't get a call from Beth or Gwen?”

“No. I turned off the phone. I knew they'd try and talk me out—”

“Robert, Aynslee's missing.”

“What do you mean, ‘missing'? Has Gwen concocted some harebrained plan to—”