Page 126 of Hunting Time

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Parker glanced toward her daughter, and it seemed to Shaw that her face tightened in pain, not because of the wound but from seeing the girl’s expression.

“It’s nothing, Han.” The woman’s face seemed as troubled as Hannah’s.

“Yeah. But...”

They fell silent as the three kept pushing forward.

Surrounding the dirt route were more of the tall pines—here some green, some dead and bleached to bone. Deciduous too, oak and walnut and maple. There was deer sign and bear, a small one, but it wouldn’t be a cub; they’re born in January. So there would be no protective mothers around.

Hannah was vigilant, Shaw noted. She looked around as often as he did.

Shaw heard a clicking and a rustle of leaves. He was almostamused when Hannah, not shifting her gaze from the woods, reassured him and her mother. “It’s okay. Only the wind.”

They made it another mile—farther than Shaw had thought—before Parker pulled up, breathing hard.

“It’s hurting more.”

“The shock’s wearing off.”

Some people who were shot feel merely a tug or tap, nearly painless. That goes away soon and the ache begins to grow.

The woman sagged.

“Mom!” Hannah got her mother around the waist.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I really can’t... It’s too much.”

Looking around, Shaw spotted a hollow. “Get down in there.” He and the girl helped Parker into the shallow dip and eased her onto a bed of leaves.

Shaw climbed out and studied the surroundings. He noticed the disturbed ground of a path left by the regular transit of animals—beavers, he decided. These would lead to a stream or lake and, now that it was clear the three would have to be in the woods longer than planned, he wanted a source of water. Choosing at random, he turned left and followed the trail. Only thirty or forty yards away he came to a ridge. He looked down and saw a large, dark lake. On the shore, not far away, was a cabin. In front of it was a grass-filled parking area, which was overgrown—no cars had been here for months. The exterior of the structure was faded and the porch leaf-covered but otherwise in good shape. Maybe they’d find medical gear inside.

And weapons.

He spotted no telephone line, though it could be underground.

Another meth lab?

Probably not, given the unoccupied appearance of the place.

Part of him, though, hoped it was.

As for any tweakers inside—Shaw’s surprise appearance would betheirproblem. He noticed a number of good-size rocks on the ground.

He made his way down the hill and, silently, up to a side wall. The drapes and shades were drawn open. Inside, the place was dark and dusty. No sign of any recent inhabitants, though it was furnished. And he could see animal heads on the wall.

He returned to the hollow.

As he relaxed the tourniquet, he told them, “There’s a cabin. Not far. Deserted. Doubt there’s a phone, but maybe medical supplies. We need to get that leg cleaned.”

He tightened the binding again and, with Hannah’s help, he got Parker to her feet.

Shaw said, “I can carry you.”

“No.” This was uttered defiantly. “I’ll walk.”

In fifteen minutes, they were at the structure, which he estimated was a little over a thousand square feet. A sagging covered porch extended across the entire front, a swinging bench on the right side. It swayed. There were two small windows in the front. As they approached from a shallow angle—it was easier on Parker than a straight climb down the steep hill—Shaw caught sight of a dock extending into the lake. It listed dramatically to the left and the wood was rotten. No boats. Nor were there any other visible houses around the lake, which he put at four hundred acres.

One problem was apparent: the driveway would lead to a larger road, which had probably been mapped on GPS; the Twins and Merritt could find their way here.


Tags: Jeffery Deaver Thriller