Page 63 of High Country Escape

“When did you become such a chatterbox?” he asked.

“She’s just being silly,” Kara said. “You know she was always that way.” She pinched Roxanne’s arm—hard. Another move familiar from their first captivity. Roxanne glared at her, but Kara only smiled.

The three made their way through a tiny living room. “Get the door,” Ledger said.

Kara released her hold on Roxanne long enough to unlock and open the door of the trailer. Then she led the way down the steps. Dusk had fallen, the trees around them dark smudges against a gray sky. Roxanne saw no other vehicles and no road, only a narrow dirt track through the trees. The truck sat a fewfeet away. “Open the truck,” Ledger barked, and Kara ran ahead to do his bidding.

Roxanne didn’t hesitate. With her free hand, she reached around and grabbed one of the knitting needles. In one forceful movement, she raised the needle and plunged it toward Ledger’s face.

He screamed, and she kept driving the needle, into his eye. He clutched at his face, bent double. Roxanne turned and ran. She crashed through underbrush and dodged between tree trunks, Ledger’s roars and Kara’s screams gradually receding behind her. She ran until her lungs ached and pain pierced her side. When she was finally forced to stop, she could no longer see the trailer or the truck, or hear anything but her own gasping attempts to pull air into her burning lungs. She bent over, hands on knees. She needed to get out of here. To find help. But everywhere she turned, all she saw was trees. She had no idea where she was.

Sometimes in law enforcement, nothing went your way. The suspect you were sure was guilty had an unbreakable alibi. The proof you needed to make a case turned out to be worthless. And the felon you were chasing had left the state an hour before you got to his house.

But sometimes, you caught a break. Aaron was interviewing his third gas station attendant of the day about whether or not he had seen a truck like the one registered in Betty Josephs’s name, or the travel trailer, or anyone who looked like William Ledger.

“Oh yeah, I saw him,” the attendant, a tall man with a large, crooked nose and a dime-sized tuft of hair on his chin, said. “He was in here yesterday, filling up with gas. He bought a couple of padlocks.”

“Padlocks?” Aaron asked.

“Like those.” The attendant pointed over Aaron’s shoulder. Aaron turned and saw a row of padlocks on hooks.

“Did he say anything?” Aaron asked. “Where he was going? Where he was from? Why he wanted the locks?”

“Nope. But I noticed the truck. I’ve been wanting to get one of those big welded bumpers for mine and I asked him about it. He said his girlfriend got it for him.”

“Was there anybody with him?”

“No. He was by himself. And he didn’t have a trailer. But I’m sure it was him.” He tapped the photograph Aaron had laid on the counter. “We’ve probably still got him on the security video.”

Aaron left a minute later with a copy of the security video on a flash drive in an evidence bag in his pocket. He radioed the information to Sheriff Travis Walker. “I think Ledger is holed up somewhere near here,” Aaron said. “The gas station attendant said he thought he had been in once or twice before over the last couple of weeks.”

“That’s a pretty rural area, isn’t it?” Travis asked. “Few houses, a lot of public land.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty dense woods. I’m going to drive down a few roads, see if I can spot anywhere people have been camping.”

“Call in anything you see, but don’t approach on your own,” Travis said.

“Ten-four.”

Aaron left the gas station and a quarter mile later turned down a forest service road. Immediately, dense stands of trees closed in on either side, shutting out what little daylight was left. The pavement gave way to dirt after only a few yards. Aaron slowed the vehicle to a crawl and switched on the spotlight mounted to the side mirror of the SUV. He played the beam over the woods on the left side of the road, searching for any space that might serve to hide Ledger’s truck or trailer.

Traveling so slowly, it was easy to lose track of how far he had gone. After what seemed like half an hour had passed, he had only driven three miles. Anxiety clawed at the back of his neck, fed by the crowding trees and narrow road. Full darkness had descended, distorting shadows and making every tree appear menacing. He could easily end up trapped in a place like this. If Ledger had seen the spotlight, he might move ahead or behind and ambush Aaron, picking him off with a long gun as he drove past.

His search for Ledger’s hiding place became a search for a place to turn his SUV around. He spotted a section of trees ahead that seemed less dense and aimed for it. As he neared it, he could see tire tracks turning off the road. He stopped, and aimed the spotlight past the tracks.

The trailer crouched in a clearing hacked out of the forest, the raw stumps and severed branches glowing white in the harsh glare. Beside it sat a black truck, a large welded bumper on the front. Aaron couldn’t see the plate numbers from here, but he didn’t have to. He switched off the spot, slammed the vehicle into Reverse and backed down the road until he could turn around in a series of awkward back-and-forth shifts.

Then he picked up the phone, afraid to use the radio in case Ledger was listening in on a scanner. “Sheriff, I’ve found him,” he said. “The truck and trailer are right here, on Forest Road 4624. About three miles down. I’m going to pull over and watch the place until backup arrives.”

“I’ll get a team out there ASAP,” Travis said. “Let us know if he moves.”

Aaron ended the call and settled in to wait. If the truck drove past him, Aaron would follow it, lights off, keeping track of Ledger, but not approaching him.

But Ledger didn’t drive past. The road was silent and still. Aaron rolled down his window and listened. Somewhere an owlhooted, and a second owl replied. The chatter of the radio was a barely audible hum. He checked his service weapon, then freed the rifle from its holder between the seats. He hoped he wouldn’t need any of these weapons, but he wanted to be prepared.

He thought about texting Willa, to tell her where he was and what he was doing, but decided that would only worry her. Better to wait to tell the story after this was all over.

It seemed a long time before he heard a car approaching, though in reality it was less than twenty minutes. The sheriff’s truck pulled up alongside him and Travis lowered the window. “Anything we should know?” Travis asked.