Page 16 of Canyon of Deceit
FIFTEEN
Six miles into Dog Canyon, and Blane and I hiked at a steady pace.
The smell of the high desert filled my nostrils, and the distinct tapping of a woodpecker made me smile.
Normally, I’d be listening and whistling back to the various birds, the magnificent, blue and black Steller’s jay with its rather harsh five quick shook , shook , shook , shook , shook .
Sometimes the bird had a harsher call, and at times it mimicked a red-tailed hawk.
A male rusty-sided spotted towhee with its chorus of high-pitched trills offered his song.
A chorus of others serenaded us, but I kept my attention on any indication of humans trekking the same path. In my world, I enjoyed the beauty unfolding around us, yet my troubled emotions for Alina stopped any appreciation today.
We veered off the trail, then backtracked. I wanted to believe we were getting closer, but enthusiasm no longer powered my steps. Nothing pointed to Chandler’s trail. Every moment weighed against a little girl’s life. Of course not. Why should it? We were waging a war of wits.
I concentrated on Tom Chandler’s habits and characteristics.
He would have headed to the most desolate area in Dog Canyon.
He’d hike in obscure places and push whoever was with him.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d strapped Alina to his back.
He’d move from one rock to another. How would Blane handle the rough terrain?
What if one of us got sick? Or hurt? What if Alina had gotten sick or hurt and been abandoned to die?
Chandler paralyzed my confidence, more like a huge boulder of angst casting doubt on my abilities to track him.
He’d repeatedly evaded law enforcement. Tales were told of him chasing away mountain cats and eating a rattler raw.
With a reputation like that and my own near-death experience with him, the sound of his name terrorized me.
The more notions attacking me, the more frightening the outcome. Those fears originated from the evil one, not God, and I prayed hard for wisdom and insight into what lay ahead. Preparedness ranked as a priority, and there I’d stay—and do my best to stay on mission.
Shaking my head to rid myself of the unwelcome thoughts, I turned to view Blane over my shoulder. “Talk to me.”
“What do you want to hear? I can’t sing.”
“I thought all cowboys sang.”
“I’m a Ranger and we don’t all have music encoded in our DNA.”
“What do you see as your life purpose?”
“Is this a trick question?” Blane said. “Or is conversation a means to ease the stress?”
“Knowing each other better strengthens trust.”
“I agree one hundred percent. No argument there. My life purpose is unfolding. I have career goals to teach other Rangers negotiation skills. I believe training and prep helps build confidence in trials.”
“Outstanding. Where does your risk factor come from?”
“That is in my DNA. I come from a family of law enforcement—my dad, uncle, two brothers, and my mom retired from HoustonPD.”
“Competitive, tough. Family get-togethers must be interesting.”
“My mom is the only exception. She’s quiet, likes to cook, garden, and paint. Hard to think of her working violent crimes.”
“Do they ever relax, other than your mom?”
“Sure. We’re just regular people who regard the law and keep people safe. Your turn. What’s your life purpose?”
“You’re looking at it. Showing others how to survive in the wilderness and rescuing those who have allowed nature to gain the upper hand.”
“Dreams of a family one day?”
“Maybe. Depends if the right man comes along.”
“I’m working on it.”
I gave him my best glare. “We are polar opposites.”
“But opposites attract and make the best long-term partners.”
I shook my head. “We’ll talk about it this time next year.”
“It’s on the calendar.”
We hiked on. The diversion worked... at least for the present. I set my dread of Chandler aside, and we explored an area a quarter mile wide. Not a thing caught Blane’s or my attention, and he had good instincts.
Had I lost all thought of logic in thinking we’d find Alina today?
I bent to the ground to examine three-inch-wide animal tracks.
“What did you find?” Blane said.
“Mountain lion tracks.” He joined me and I showed him the distinctive markings. “I’m sure you’ve seen these before, but this is one large cat. See the three lobes at the bottom of the pad and the teardrop-shaped toes? Fortunately, these cats avoid humans unless they feel threatened.”
“I came across one near Lubbock. I yelled, and the cat took off—” His satellite phone sounded, and he answered.
The call lasted a few minutes, and Blane’s responses were comprised of mostly “yes,” “how long?” and “thank you.” He stuffed his phone back into a zippered pants pocket, and I eyed him about the caller. “Sergio?”
“Yep. It’s not good, Therese.”
My pulse sped. Rurik? Alina? “I’m ready.”
“The sheriff’s department found the remains of a woman west of Houston in a burned car that was identified as Daria’s—what was left of it.
At this point, the body hasn’t been identified, but it makes sense it’s her.
The victim had a bullet hole in the chest, a 9mm.
Badly burned, and her teeth had been pulled, which means confirming the ID will take a while.
The body’s condition buys the killers time to accomplish their plan. ”
I shivered. “Poor Rurik. Not sure how he’s holding on to his sanity. You encouraged him to ask a friend to help him through this, and he claimed not to need anyone.” I glanced out into the wild.
“He has a sister in St. Petersburg. Parents are deceased. The Russian community in Houston or colleagues would offer support too. But he doesn’t trust anyone.”
“He trusts us to find Alina.” So many times I’d asked why evil and injustice exist. But if I had the answers, God wouldn’t be God.
“That was before deputies found his wife’s car and a body.” Blane leaned on one leg and nodded. “He’ll agree to whatever the ROC demands.”
I grimaced. “I don’t see how a ransom of three million dollars is worth the crimes stacking up against the bad guys. It seems low. Unless it’s additional payoff or more dollars in the pot to pay expenses.”
“There’s more motivating their activities than money. And speculating scares the—”
“We’re both nervous.” I covered my mouth as though saying more might release unspeakable crimes. “Normally my patience level is good, but not today.”
“Negotiations take self-restraint to read people. Here’s my take.
Find out what’s driving Chandler and the ROC, learn about their past, read and interpret their body language, trust your instincts, and be ourselves.
We’re not alone in this. I’m having a tough time proceeding without a clear picture, with only speculation.
.. Are we walking into a trap?” He held up his hand.
“We talked about this on the way here. Doesn’t mean I’ve given it a rest.”
The compassion in his tone failed to soothe me. “Alina’s life hangs in the balance.”
Blane let out a long sigh. “Years ago, my mother said children were to be protected at all costs. They are our future, our world’s treasure and hope in humanity.”
“Wise woman.” But I hadn’t protected Kate...
“I’ll introduce you after Alina is found.”
“Thanks.” I’d wanted an older woman as a friend and mentor for years.
Preferably one who shared my faith, and perhaps Blane’s mother shared those traits.
My mother had been too occupied with caring for Kate during her illness to help me through my rough times, but I missed Mom after all these years—or the relationship we could have shared.
I peeked at my watch. “We’ve been hiking for seven hours. I’d like to search another thirty minutes or so before we set up camp.”
Time. Alina’s biggest predator. Our biggest enemy. The FBI were on schedule to arrive in the morning, and a delay meant Alina’s captors might hike out of the park.
“Therese?”
I kept walking.
“Therese, you can’t ignore reality. Bringing a child into these mountains is an easy way to dispose of her.”
I fought a nasty churning in the pit of me. “You’re right. The odds are against finding Alina alive, except I refuse to give up hope.”
“Where has that gotten you? I’m not criticizing but trying to find out what drives you to attempt the impossible.”
His gentle tone wrapped me in a safe cocoon. “Hope is a reason to live when the world erupts into madness.”