Hoot shook his head.
“Then stay out of our way, and don’t fuck up.”
“I don’t plan to.”
“You scared?”
“Shitless,” Hoot shouted as he ducked under the whirling blades. “Of Begley.”
• • •
Wes stopped again. Dutch, riding close on his tail, almost rear-ended him. “What the hell, Wes?”
“I saw something. Up ahead. Dodging into the trees.”
Dutch scanned the forest. “Are you sure?”
“Through there.” Wes pointed.
“A deer maybe?”
“Not unless it was a two-legged one. It was a man, Dutch. I’m sure of it. Just as I rounded the bend, I saw him disappear into the trees. Left of that boulder. Do you think it’s Tierney?”
“Show me the spot.”
They guided the snowmobiles toward the boulder. It had a frozen waterfall coming over the top of it. “I was right,” Wes said, pointing.
The footprints in the deep snow followed the road as far as the next switchback before disappearing around the bend. Here, they veered sharply into the woods, as though whoever had made the tracks had heard their approach and immediately sought cover in the trees.
“It’s got to be Tierney,” Wes said, his breath gusting with excitement. “Who else could it be?”
Dutch was prone to agree. Simultaneously they cut the engines and climbed off the snowmobiles. They began removing their rifles from the soft-sided gun cases they’d been carrying on their backs. Although he’d checked his weapon thoroughly before they left, Dutch checked it again. It was loaded. Ready. Wes was going about the same procedure, executing it like the skilled hunter he was. Dutch also checked his nine-millimeter pistol and chambered a bullet.
There was no doubt in his mind now that Tierney was their culprit. Wes had explained his personal interest in Millicent’s disappearance case. Dutch really had never believed Scott capable of committing a felony. He suspected the boy, despite his brawn, was too gutless and insecure to pull off any crime, much less five kidnaps. All the same, Wes’s explanation had relieved Dutch of any apprehension. Tierney was their man.
If not, why had he run into the woods just now? He’d been marooned for two days. His resources would have been limited, and he was supposedly injured. Shouldn’t he be running toward them, flagging them down, glad to see them, grateful that help had at last arrived? Why would he be avoiding rescue unless rescue also signified capture?
Dutch was ready. He turned on the transmitter of the two-way radio. “Have yours handy in case we lose each other in there.”
Wes patted down his pockets, then looked at Dutch with consternation.
“What?”
“I think I left the thing.”
“You’re kidding.”
Wes took off his gloves and slapped his bare hands against all his pockets. “I must’ve set it down, either at Ritt’s house or in the garage. I remember trying out the volume dial right after you gave it to me. After that—”
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”
Wes went first, stepping off the road and scrambling up the steep embankment. Using the ice-covered boulder for support, he turned to give Dutch a hand up. Tierney’s trail was clearly marked in the deep snow. Wes said, “He’s not even trying to hide his tracks.”
“He couldn’t if he wanted to.” Dutch looked at Wes and, for the first time in days, smiled. “Are we lucky, or what?”
• • •
They had the advantage of being fresh. Tierney was aware of this and redoubled his efforts to keep well ahead of them. He’d left the cabin over two hours ago. Except for that one brief rest, he’d been hiking in the worst possible conditions and was battling profound fatigue.