Page 85 of Thunder Pass

But his father had taught him to use all kinds of guns. Just one of the many things he’d taught Gunnar.

Create some chaos. Can do, Dad.

41

Ruth flung her hands in the air. “Mr. Amundsen, it’s me, Ruth Chilkoot. I’m…friends with Gunnar.”

Anthony Amundsen looked like he’d aged more than the ten years since he’d left town. His hair was more white than blond, and silver stubble covered his face. He looked like an aging lion, but his eyes were just like Gunnar’s—the same sunny blue. He wore olive drab clothing that looked vaguely military.

He lowered the gun. “I know who you are, Ruth. I thought you were down in the pass.”

“I…escaped, I guess?”

“And came up here? How did you find me?” He shook his head. “Never mind all that. You need to get out of here.”

“Why? What’s happening? Are you doing something about this insane situation?” He didn’t look like he was; he was so far away from the action, not doing anything as far as she could tell.

“I can’t talk about that, sorry.”

“What do you mean? Did you know the whole town is cut off? There are little kids there!”

“I know.” His face went grim. “I’m sorry to say they’re being used as hostages. But they aren’t being harmed. I was in town up until this morning.” He gestured into the woods behind him, at a sleek high-powered six-wheeler ATV. “The kids are fine, I made sure of it.”

While she was relieved to hear they were fine, she still didn’t like the idea of them being hostages.

“Shouldn’t we be trying to rescue them?”

“They’ll be fine,” he repeated.

She didn’t like that answer. He might as well have said, “don’t worry your pretty little head.” Who was he working for? A horrible thought occurred to her—was he with Luke too? “Why are you here, Mr. Amundsen? Or…Sergeant Grant?”

His bushy eyebrows shot up. “Interesting. You two have been busy.”

“Answer the question.” She wasn’t sure where she was getting the nerve to confront him; maybe it was how similar he looked to Gunnar. Gunnar would never hurt her, and she didn’t believe that his father would either.

“Look, I can’t give you all the answers you want. But I’m not here to hurt you or anyone else. I’m trying to keep a dicey situation from exploding into a big one.”

“But you can’t talk about it,” she said slowly. “So that means you’re working for someone else, and it’s top secret or classified or whatever the word is.”

Although he didn’t answer, she saw a flash of confirmation in his eyes. Relief shot through her veins. “So someone’s coming to help us. The police, the state troopers, whoever. We’re not alone.”

He looked uneasy. “Not…just yet. We’re keeping all this quiet while top-level negotiations are ongoing.”

That sounded like a bunch of words that didn’t mean much, or at least, nothing good.

“What kind of negotiations?”

“I can’t get into details. My part is done. It’s over my head now.”

“What do you mean, over your head? Who’s over your head? The…” She scrambled for the right combination of letters. “CIA? Are you a CIA agent after all, like Bridget thought?”

He didn’t answer. Of course.

She looked around at the peaceful forest, the stark mountains, as the distant drone of another helicopter echoed through the pass. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s doing anything at all. They have Gunnar. They have my sister Sarah. Shouldn’t we try to get them back?”

“Gunnar can handle himself. I trained him for it. I’ve been watching, and he’ll be fine.”

“And Sarah?”

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