Chapter 16
"I don't see Ian's truck," said David. They had pulled into the lot at the hotel, and he scanned it as Colby parked.
Megan's brows were knit. "Maybe he dropped Charlie off. Or maybe they stopped for lunch on the way. Let's go check the war room."
They stepped into Room 103 to find Peters and some of his deputies, poring over a park map. Colby sauntered over to the table. "Hey guys, have you seen Edgerton or Charlie?"
Peters looked at them with surprise. "Yeah, they were just here. I thought you guys were going with them."
"Going where?" Megan asked, exchanging a puzzled glance with Colby.
"Edgerton said they were going back into the park for the afternoon. I guess I assumed that you were going with them." He glanced at his watch. "Shit – I told him I would post someone at the trailhead." He reached for his phone.
Colby, Megan and David looked at each other with dismay. "Wait a minute," exclaimed David as Peters started to dial. "When did they leave, and which trailhead?"
Peters paused. "Oh, about a half hour ago. Same trailhead that you went out of the other day. Edgerton said they're going to try to retrace Charlie's steps."
"Did any of your guys go with them?"
Peters shook his head. "No. Like I said, I thought you guys were going." He looked back at them, quizzically. "What's going on?"
They looked at each other. "We're not sure," Megan said slowly. "But I think it might be a good idea if they had a little support on the trail. Do you know which way they went?"
"Well, I'm not entirely certain, but Edgerton did say they were going to head for the river, and try to step it back from there." He pointed to the map, tapping a twisting blue line with his forefinger. "This is where we think Charlie crossed. Edgerton will probably take the trail to about here." He shifted his finger to the trail. "Then he'll probably cut over to the river."
"You can see how the trail twists around to the left, and then loops back. If you leave the trail and head directly for the river, you cut miles off the trip, a whole day's worth of hiking." He picked up a folded map and tossed it to David. "Grab a couple radios – he took one with him. You can probably raise him on it once you're in the park. I gotta make a call – I'll get someone posted at the trailhead. He'll be on frequency 2. We found out that one works the best there."
David snatched a couple of radios from the table, and they headed out. One of Peters' deputies shook his head as the door swung shut. "Why would they go out, just two of them? That's just damn stupid."
"Aw, those FBI guys are all cowboys," snorted another one. "You heard 'em. They don't even talk to each other."
"All right, pipe down," snarled Peters. "We got a man to find here. Let's figure out how we're going to set up the next search team."
Outside the room, the team paused and looked at each other. "What in the hell does Ian think he's doing?" growled Colby.
"I don't know," said Megan grimly, turning and heading for the truck. "But we'd better catch up with them." They jumped in and slammed the doors.
"Who's going to call Don?" asked David. The other two looked at him.
"Oh boy," said Colby. 'Not me,' he thought.
"I will," said Megan quietly. "Get going."
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Mansour had gone to his spot near the trailhead. It was one of his many spots in the forest; years ago as a boy he had found this one, a dense clump of rocks and trees on a bluff. From it, one could look down and see the hikers enter the main trail below, oblivious to the watching eyes above them. It was the best place for picking the marked ones. There was another smaller trail that broke off before the main trail, and some of the hikers would go that way, but Mansour never picked hikers on that trail. It went right by his canyon, and he knew instinctively, in spite of his madness, not to bring attention to that place.
So, he selected the ones that took the main trail. He would know which ones they were as soon as he saw them. Often, he would have to follow them for miles before he would get a chance at them, but he always managed to get the one that he picked. He had found after the first one that he had to be careful how hard he hit them; they were no good to him dead. They shouldn't be roaming through the forest, he thought angrily, running off like that for hours. He had to teach them a lesson.
He squatted, rocking back and forth, muttering angrily to himself; sometimes raising his hands in meaningless gestures. He suddenly heard the sound of tires, crunching on the gravel of the parking area, and he froze. He melted back into his spot, waiting in his lair like a spider in his web, eyes glued to the trail. He heard voices, then nothing. After a moment he saw a man walking on the trail, and his heart quickened. He was one of the men who had been with the marked one. The man turned, walking backward, speaking to someone out of sight, and Mansour's heart leapt as a second, smaller man jogged into view and fell into place beside the first one. His heart bounded with joy and relief so intense it was painful, and it took everything he had to remain still. The marked one was here.
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Don's cell phone vibrated; and he snatched it off the table, glancing up as someone entered. The nurse had chosen that instant to bring in his lunch tray, and he palmed the phone, sliding it under his hospital gown, stealing a glance at the display. Megan. He would call her back as soon as this infernal nurse left.
"Here you go," she sang, "real food for lunch. Let's see how you do with this."
Don forced a smile through his impatience. "Thanks." Keep it brief, no conversation, get the hell out. She bustled around, shook his water pitcher, picked up glasses. 'Come ON,' he thought, fidgeting. His father, tired and thoroughly put out by the turn of events, had gone to the cafeteria for lunch himself, and Don hoped the woman wasn't waiting for him to come back. Finally, she scurried out, and he grabbed the phone, pulling up Megan's number from the missed calls, and hit dial.
"Megan," he said as soon as she answered. "You got him?"
"No," came the answer from the other end. "We got to the hotel. They were there, but they left about a half hour ago."
'For where?' Don wondered. "What'd they do, go to lunch?" Silence on the other end. "Megan?" He almost thought that the connection had broken, when her voice came over the line.
"Don, Ian took him back out on the trail."
"What?!" A rush of adrenaline hit him like a blow. "Is he crazy? What in the hell is going on?"
"I don't know. Peters says Edgerton told him they were going to try to retrace Charlie's steps. He thinks they're taking a short cut off the trail. Edgerton told him they would be back by evening."
Don sat for a moment, stricken. Had Edgerton lost his mind? Or was he just that cocky, to think that Charlie wouldn't be in danger if he was with him? Either way, it was irresponsible, unthinkable that he would put Charlie in that position. And Charlie – to agree to go – what kind of hold did Ian have over him, that he could convince him to do that?
"Don?"
The phone jolted him back to his senses. His voice shook. "Megan, you need to go after him. All of you."
"We're already on the way. It sounds like we're a half hour behind them." The phone crackled and hissed, and Megan's voice began to break up. "We're almost to the trailhead. I think – going to lose - . -talk –,"
"Megan?" The phone was obstinately silent. "Shit," he breathed, fear knifing through him, and he snapped the phone shut, staring helplessly at his lunch tray. He heard steps coming down the hallway. How was he going to break this to his father?
Thank God his father didn't know the whole story, he thought. Megan hadn't told Alan about Mansour's apparent fixation on his brother. If he did, if he knew how much of a target Charlie was…Don's stomach lurched with sickening fear. Maybe he shouldn't tell Alan that they went out on the trail at all. He would just let him think that they were up at the hotel – no sense putting his father through this. He would tell him after Charlie was back. Just be calm, be cool, Don told himself, and he won't suspect a thing.
The steps drew closer, and Alan entered the room, carrying a wrapped sandwich and coffee. He took one look at his son's pale face, and stopped in his tracks, apprehension in the pit of his stomach.
"Donnie? What's wrong?"
-----------------------End Chapter 16-----------------------------------------------------