What Doesn't Kill Her (Cape Charade #2)(47)

Rae gingerly placed it. “Does it hurt?”

“You bet. When we get to safety, I’ll blubber really loud.” Kellen wanted to urge her to hurry, but she couldn’t. Not when Rae was already trembling in fear. “Now tie the sock around the pad.”

Rae didn’t know how to wrap it, so Kellen showed her, held one side as Rae clumsily wrapped the first stage of a square knot, then helped her tighten it down.

Kellen touched Rae’s cheek. “Thank you. That’s perfect. It feels much better.”

“I’m glad.” Rae’s little hands were balled into fists. “Mommy, I don’t like the screaming.”

“Better him than us.” Callous and probably not what a good mother would say.

But Rae said, “Yes, and the other bad guys can’t hear us while he screams.”

Kellen looked at her daughter. Pine needles tangled in Rae’s blond hair. She had dirt smeared on her face and packed under her fingernails. The sparkle and charm of her pink clothes was lost beneath the forest’s grime. Despite Kellen’s diligence, Rae’s cheeks had lost their plump roundness and her eyes were too big in her face. Most of all, she now knew things no seven-year-old should know, like a wounded man’s screaming can be used as a concealment.

As Kellen stared, Rae’s features rearranged themselves, became that of a brown-skinned girl with big eyes too sad for her young face.

The Afghan mountains. A burned-out house. A melted coil of metal. The stench of desperation and death.

“Mommy.” The child was Rae again. “It’s getting dark.”

“Yes.” Fog was slipping its pale fingers down the mountain, into the gulleys, coming to rescue them. If they could hold out long enough for it to get here, they had a chance of making it up the mountain. “Good. Here. Put on my hoodie.” Kellen pulled it off and wrapped Rae in it, rolled up the sleeves and zipped it up.

“It’s long!” Rae stuck out first one foot, then the other.

“It’ll keep you warm.” More important, the camouflage would conceal her from watching eyes.

Rae peeked around the tree. “There’s smoke!”

Kellen smiled with evil delight. “Your tablet.”

“Uh-oh. Daddy’s going to yell.”

Kellen gave a spurt of startled laughter. “About so much.”

The pile of branches smoldered.

Rae’s short legs couldn’t run fast enough; Kellen would have to carry her. Everything else had to stay. Everything.

That was it, then. The Triple Goddess was the sacrifice for Rae’s life. If Rae wasn’t along, if it was only Kellen, she’d figure out somehow to save that head. But just as these days had changed Rae, they had changed Kellen, too. She knew why, but she didn’t want to think it, to speak it.

The Triple Goddess would be the ultimate diversion.

The smoldering branches caught and blazed.

A shot came from above, scattering burning branches.

Below them, a man shouted, “McDonald, no!”

But now Kellen knew the shots had come from about halfway up one of the sandstone cliffs. She also had a fair idea of the guy below, his location and his position in the gang. He was the boss. She had wounded two of his men. McDonald and the boss were left.

If Kellen and Rae were going to make it up the mountain, she needed to eliminate the sniper above. He had shot at her diversion, so he was trigger-happy and maybe nervous. Good news. She peered through the brush and waited.

Rae watched her. “Mommy?”

Kellen cut the tie that held the head to her backpack. “One more down and we can make a run for it. Get the ball of yarn out of my backpack. We’re leaving everything else behind.”

“B-but...the Triple Goddess.” Rae’s voice got squeaky. “She’s our talisman.”

“The Triple Goddess has cared for herself for three thousand years. She can do it a little longer. In fact, she’s going to help us.” Ignoring the ancient staring eyes, Kellen picked up that head with her good hand, held it aloft and shouted at the man below. “The head is what you want. I’m leaving it. Look!” Keeping her own head down, she placed the Triple Goddess on the stone to the west. “It’s yours. I don’t know who you are. I can’t identify you. You’re safe, so take it!”

No shots. No answer.

“Now get the yarn.” Kellen spoke calmly, clearly, although her vision wavered. Blood loss and pain were compromising her abilities “I promised to crochet your blankie.”

Rae dived for the backpack.

“Dump it out,” Kellen instructed, “and take the yarn.”

Rae did as she was told and the whole time watched Kellen anxiously, which told Kellen how bad she must look.

Had any of the shooters seen Rae? Would the thieves let them go? Kellen had seen too much of war; she had little faith in the decency of mercenaries.

“That fog is almost here.” Rae pointed at the damp white spreading out like a delta from the shallow canyon of the path.

“Be ready to climb on my back.” Kellen got into a crouch, almost fell over, steadied herself with a hand on the rock. She spotted movement on the cliff; with her shouting and holding the head aloft, McDonald had figured out where they were and scooted into a precarious position, twenty feet up on a rocky shelf. “Stay down. Plug your ears,” she said, aimed and fired seven shots, fast and loud. Then nothing. She’d emptied her magazine.