Dark Sky (Joe Pickett #21)(79)

“Correct,” Nate said.

“So what are we doing?”

Nate blew out a puff of air. “We’re up here to find your dad, remember? I could have taken out Earl and Kirby and not found out the answer. Most important, I didn’t know where Brad was. I didn’t want either of us to take a bullet. If you got shot, I could never look Marybeth in the eye again.”

“Never mind that. We’re going back, right?”

“Please give me a minute to think. I’m trying to figure out our plan,” he said. It was a rare moment of candor from Nate, she thought.

“They don’t care about Dad. They’re up here to get Steve-2,” she said. “I put it together. Earl blames Steve-2 and ConFab for what happened to Sophia.”

Nate looked over his shoulder at her, urging her to continue. She spilled out her theory: this was all about Earl Thomas getting revenge on Steve Price. Her dad was just along for the ride.

Afterward, she said, “There were terrible rumors about Earl and Sophia. I never really believed them, because you know how high schoolers are. But he did seem unnaturally close to her, and you should have seen him at her graduation. It was embarrassing. Do you think they know where Dad is?”

“I think they’re trying to find him,” Nate said. “Just like us.”

“Then he’s alive,” she said with relief.

“My best guess. Your dad can be pretty wily at times. Are they still watching us?”

She did the bridle-adjustment ruse again. “Yes. But they’re looking up toward the ridge.”

“See that thick timber just ahead?” Nate said.

“Yes.”

“As soon as we get into it, I want you to do something.”



* * *



—

Five minutes later, with Nate holding Rojo’s reins while they hid in the dark copse of trees, Sheridan kept low and scrambled back to the mouth of the trail. She ducked behind a thick spruce trunk and pried the covers from the lenses of the binoculars and focused them on Earl and Kirby below them.

Earl was signaling to someone up on the slope by waving his hand. Kirby sat slumped; his head bent forward with his chin resting on his chest. If it was a hangover, as Earl had said, it was a powerful one.

She rotated around the tree to scan the slope. Within a minute, a younger man even bigger than Earl appeared in a clearing. He was riding a huge horse and he was headed down toward the creek. The man was slowly leading a string of horses behind him. A scoped rifle lay across the cantle of his saddle.

She studied him for just a few seconds before he rode out of view behind more trees. The packhorses, one by one, stepped cautiously down the path.

Sheridan gasped, and leaned into the binoculars so hard they hurt her face as the horses passed through her field of vision.

Then she turned to Nate. “Toby,” she hissed. “Toby is with them.”





TWENTY-SEVEN


Joe couldn’t clearly see or hear what was going on outside through the slit opening of the cave they were in. He knew two riders had gone by earlier because he’d heard them and caught glimpses of horse legs, and he thought he’d heard the murmur of voices far below them near the creek. The voices shimmered as if carried away by the breeze.

“Where are they?” Price asked in an urgent whisper.

“Shhhhh.” Joe gestured toward the roof of the opening. “Someone is still up there,” he mouthed.

Price’s eyes enlarged, and he stared up at the slab rock, as if by concentrating he could see through it.

Then Price growled, which startled Joe. The growl was deep and rumbling and guttural. It was a sound that had come from deep within the man’s chest. Joe shot him an annoyed look.

“That wasn’t me,” Price hissed.

There was another growl. It was coming from the dark, beyond where Price lay, from deeper into the cave where it narrowed. Joe felt Price burrow into him and grip his right shoulder so hard he winced.

Slowly, Joe raised the headlamp in the gloom and pointed it toward the back of the cave. Price didn’t watch. Instead, he buried his face into Joe’s shoulder. Joe could feel the man trembling.

Joe fumbled for the on button and pressed it. The beam of light was startling in the dark and it took a second for his eyes to adjust to what he’d illuminated. He didn’t see it in its totality at first. Instead, there was a rapid series of impressions:

Two large round eyes reflecting orange in the beam.

Spike-like teeth glistening wet; black lips curled back.

A low-to-the-ground, heavy body.

Shimmering long hair and folds of skin.

The flash of claws . . .

And the creature was on them, rushing them, grunting, slashing with its claws like single-bladed razors, fighting to get out of the cave.

Price cried out and Joe felt the crush of the animal as it scrambled over the top of him. He guessed it weighed forty or fifty pounds, and its thick coat smelled musky and strong of oil, dried blood, and pine. Like Price, Joe flattened himself onto the cave floor to allow for as much space as possible to allow for the beast to see the opening and rush toward it while slicing away at him the entire time. He could feel rents being ripped through his clothing and piercing cuts in the flesh of his back, legs, and neck.

When it cleared them, Joe opened his eyes to see that the animal was blocking out most of the light from the opening. For some reason, it had stopped there. Joe hoped it wouldn’t wheel around and tear into them again.