Shelter Mountain (Virgin River #2)(113)

He’d spent a lot of time roaming back here in these mountains and knew his way around. He decided to have a look in places maybe no one else would think of. If anything turned up, maybe he could return a favor. Anonymously.

He knew exactly where to hide his truck off the roads, exactly where the abandoned logging roads and hidden trails were. He didn’t always wear a sidearm, but on this mission he did. If the woman had indeed been taken by a dangerous ex, it could get ugly. The night was dark, but he knew where he was going and kept the flashlight on dim, pointed down. From time to time he’d see that search convoy whir by in a fleet of trucks, so he knew they weren’t looking where he was looking and that alone kept him going.

That young woman, the cook’s girl, she seemed a nice young woman, about the same age and size as Dan’s own wife. Ex-wife now, but he really couldn’t imagine what he’d have done if she’d been taken from him like that. He’d probably go crazy.

The moon was rising when he came upon the truck and the woman. One look told him something bad was going down. What was the point in leaving a woman tied up against a tree, flashlights illuminating her, the vehicle in sight, unless it was some kind of trap. He thought maybe she was dead and booby-trapped, but then he saw her move. She lifted her head, shivered and leaned her head back against the tree. Maybe she was alive and booby-trapped, and that made him sick to even think about it. As far as he could see, there was no one else there. He peered into the truck windows and bed—no one.

He tucked the flashlight into his belt and backed soundlessly down the dirt road. All the way down, until he could curve around to the left and start back up. The most obvious place to look would be right in front of her. Once he reached the bottom of the trail and prepared to start up, he was faced with two major challenges. One, he couldn’t use a flashlight and it was darker than Hades. And two, he couldn’t trip or slip in the dark and make a noise, in case he was right, and there was someone watching her.

He planned to cut a wide perimeter around the woman, and if he found nothing, no one, he’d move closer to her and assess. Look for some trap attached to her.

He’d barely begun the climb back up when the moon, high and full, cut a brightened path, for which he was incredibly grateful. Every time that nighttime breeze sifted through the branches of the tallest pines, creating a whispering and groaning effect, he’d cautiously place a foot. A couple of times he cracked a twig, and when that happened, he froze and listened. He was stone still; he didn’t even breathe.

He wasn’t very far up the hill when he could see there was someone at the top, hiding behind a tree. He heard the distant approach of vehicles and lifted his head. Under the cover of the engine noises, he rapidly made his descent back to the road. He chose his place under the cover of forest to stand in the road and, whirling his flashlight, flagged them down.

Jack lowered his window. “What the hell…?”

“This is it,” Dan said quietly. “Pass this hill slowly so it looks like you’re moving on, and up there on the left, there’s a wide space in the road. Take your trucks off road up there, come back on foot and I’ll take you up. Kill the flashlights. They’re up there,” he said, giving his head a jerk toward the hill. “Let’s do it.”

Preacher leaned forward. “She okay?”

“I think so, so far. Come on, come on, let’s not get his attention. Pass the hill.”

Jack threw the truck into gear and drove on, the man by the road directing the second truck with his flashlight.

Dan waited a few moments and then he could hear them coming on foot. When there were five men gathered around him, he said, “He’s got a plan. The woman is bound and in plain sight and I caught a glimpse of him in the trees, hiding. I couldn’t see him, but I bet he’s got a weapon on her, waiting. This old road goes to the top where he’s parked the truck. Someone can follow me up the back side of the hill—but there’s no path. Anyone here good at stepping light and soundless?”

“I am,” Jim said.

“I’ll keep your back—I’m pretty good,” Mike said.

“All right, we’ll circle up. You boys, take this road up nice and easy. Maybe one flashlight, dimmed, on the ground. Give us a head start—we don’t have a road. With any luck, we’ll meet up there.”

Before he could lead Jim and Mike around to the backside of the hill, he found his jacket grabbed up in Jack’s fist. “Why you doing this?”

“Hey, I was in the bar in Clear River when you came in,” he said defensively. “I know the hills back here pretty good. You don’t think I—”

Jim Post put a big arm between Jack and Dan and said, “Let’s do this. C’mon. We’ll sort it out later.”

And with that the team separated—Jack, Preacher and Rick up the road, single file, Preacher in front, moving a little too fast, Mike, Jim and Dan rounding the foot of the hill to go at Lassiter’s back. The climb was easy for Preacher’s group, not so swift for Jim and Mike, being led up an overgrown hillside with no path.

Once Preacher reached the top of the hill, he spotted the old truck. He stopped in his tracks and crouched, sneaking up on it, Jack and Rick close behind him. And not far from it, he saw her sitting against a tree, her chin dipped down to her chest. She could be dead or asleep.

The second Preacher saw Paige up against that tree, her name came out of him in a stunned whisper. He started blindly toward her. Jack whispered to him not to go and grabbed for his shoulder, but missed. The second Preacher’s footfalls began hammering toward her, she lifted her chin, her eyes wide with fear, and the next thing he knew there were a pair of arms around his ankles and he was on his way down. Midway there was a gunshot, a sharp, knifelike, stinging pain across his left biceps, and he hit the ground like a boulder, rolling with Jack.