Dangerous Minds (Knight and Moon #2)(30)

Riley clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from retching. The smell, the dead animals, the brutality at the bottom of the pit was overwhelming. The only thing stopping a flood of tears was the fact that she was completely dehydrated.

“Remember this,” Tin Man shouted, pointing at Emerson. “I worked with this man for the past seven years, and I liked him. He’s dead because of you. I want you to take a good look so you know exactly what I’m going to do to you the next time we meet.”

“We’ll see,” Emerson said. “Now I have a hatchet too.”

Riley thought it was a good thing the flashlight was at the bottom of the pit with poor dead Bob, because without it the rifle was hopelessly lost in the brush. She knew for certain if she had the rifle she’d shoot Tin Man, and it would put a big black mark on her karma.

Emerson led the way out, and everyone found it easier to follow the path with their hands free and the moon shining down on them.

There were occasional rustlings in the brush, and Riley caught the sound of what she suspected was an animal gnawing on a bone, but she kept her head down and forged ahead. Relief washed over her when she saw the brush give way to the road and the parked SUV.

The Tahoe was unlocked, and the keys were in the ignition. Not much chance of auto theft in grizzly backcountry.

Riley looked in the glove compartment and under the front seats.

“What are you looking for?” Emerson asked.

“A gun,” Riley said. “I’m contemplating shooting Tin Man.”

“That would not be a good thing,” Wayan Bagus said.

“He’s a killer,” Riley said. “And he’s going to continue to kill. He needs to be stopped.”

“I’m with Riley,” Vernon said, “but it doesn’t matter, because there doesn’t appear to be another gun.”

Riley looked at the hatchet Emerson was carrying.

“No way,” Emerson said. “It’s too risky.”

He was right, she decided. Her daddy had taught her how to use a gun. She had no experience with a hatchet.





FOURTEEN




IT WAS CLOSE TO MIDNIGHT WHEN RILEY PARKED the Tahoe behind the Old Faithful Inn. It had been decided that they would all go to their rooms, ransack their minibars, and meet back in the parking lot in no more than ten minutes.

Riley and Emerson were the first to return to the SUV.

“I’m not comfortable with this,” Riley said, chugging a bottle of water and tucking into a granola bar. “This is the first place anyone would think to look for us.”

“If Tin Man succeeds at getting out of the pit, it will take him at least another hour before he can make his way back to park headquarters in Mammoth.”

“You don’t know that for certain,” Riley said. “He could know a shortcut. He could already have a search party out looking for us.”

“Unlikely,” Emerson said.

“Why are you and Vernon and Wayan Bagus so calm about all this? It’s like I’m the only one who worries about anything.”

“Vernon isn’t smart enough to worry. Wayan Bagus is at peace with the universe. And I’m pure bravado. I’ve found that I can bluff my way through almost anything and talk myself into believing it.”

“Wow.”

“You hadn’t figured that out?”

“No,” Riley said.

“Well, then, I’m sorry I told you. I suppose I’ve ruined my image as a hero.”

Riley smiled at him. “You have your moments. You saved my life in the museum.”

“I did,” Emerson said. “I was excellent.”

“As long as I’m the designated worrier, let’s think about this stolen Tahoe. We can’t ride all over creation in it.”

“We aren’t riding all over creation. We’re going to hike to Sour Creek Dome. Vernon is bringing the backpacks.”

“I understand your need to get to the bottom of this, but hiking to Sour Creek Dome is a dumb idea. There’s a psycho axe murderer and his small army after us. Even if we can get past them, there’s a bunch of hungry bears and wolves ready to eat us in Lamar Valley. Wouldn’t it be better to get out of Yellowstone and go to the police?”

“Which police?” Emerson asked. “The park rangers who turned us over to Tin Man? Or the Bozeman, Montana, police, who are eighty miles away, have worked with the U.S. Park Police for years, and, in the near future, will most likely be informed that four dangerous fugitives killed a park ranger and stole his car?”

“How about the FBI?”

“Whatever we’ve stumbled upon is at the highest level of national security. Best case scenario is they’ll lock us up and throw away the key.”

Riley pawed through the stolen minibar stash and came up with a couple tiny bottles of whiskey. She gave one to Emerson, and she unscrewed the cap on hers.

“Here’s to good times on Sour Creek Dome,” she said.

“Good times,” Emerson said.

They clinked bottles and chugged the whiskey.

Riley felt the liquor burn her throat and warm a path to her stomach and beyond.

“I feel inspired,” Emerson said.

He grabbed Riley by her flannel shirt, pulled her close, and kissed her. There was some tongue involved this time, and when he released her they both licked their lips.