Page 55 of Canyon of Deceit
“Not a thing.” He sneered and stuck his rifle barrel under my chin.
“Why this remote area? I assumed you’d operate from a Mexican resort.”
“I admit to having friends where it counts.”
“Tom, are you working with the cartels and the ROC?”
“Both pay the bills.”
“If you’re afraid, I will do what I can for your protection.”
He scoffed at me. “I’m sure you heard the rifle fire. Let me set you at ease. The Texas Ranger? He has two holes in his chest. What’s left of him.”
Nausea swept over me, and I tossed Blane’s advice about pretending to be Chandler’s friend. Those tactics spit into the wind. “The rifle fire didn’t come from where I left him.”
“You made a stupid mistake, and I thought you were better trained.”
“Takes a big man to shoot an unarmed, wounded one.”
He took aim. “Care to join him?”
Calm down.“Looks to me like you haven’t given me much of a choice. Have you been carrying a grudge since we first met?”
“Time to even the score.” He snorted. “I told Falin you’re a worthy opponent. Gives me a lot of satisfaction to have you look down the barrel of my rifle.”
I’d taken a gamble by calling him out. I waited to see if he pulled the trigger, or if I’d bought some time.
“I’ve planned about how you’d pay,” he said. “Sure would be easy to blow your head off, but not my plan.” He pointed the barrel in the direction of the hidden cave. I wanted Alina to be there alive and unharmed.
“One more thing,” I said. “I saw smoke west of here.”
“Not me. A couple of hikers. But they are no longer a problem with their throats cut.” He laughed an evil, low-throated sound and spun me around to poke his rifle barrel in my back. “Walk and don’t try a thing.”
I made my way several feet and searched my survival skills on how I’d escape him. Then Chandler took the lead. I walked between him and Falin across a stretch of canyon floor to a strenuous climb extending up to brush and the rock-hidden cave. I’d been right about their location. Dead right.
Falin grunted and groaned with every step. He had no hiking skills, body strength, or endurance. Doubtful Chandler planned to keep him alive much longer.
Bringing Alina here made little sense and was too elaborate for a basic kidnapping. What had Blane and I missed? The one drawback of me giving Falin a shove backward was the odds of Chandler sending me right down those rocks with Falin.
Chandler’s boasting that he’d killed Blane clawed at my unspoken feelings... as if I’d fired the shots. He’d lied about Blane to defeat me, but Chandler had no idea about my God’s power.
Poor Alina. What hideous ordeals tortured her? I’d learned from my own experiences that the loss of innocence stalked a person—like a hungry predator. Often healing came at the price of mental pain that became physical, and the two formed an emotional dependence that filled the victim with lies and doubts about themselves. They believed they couldn’t survive without the familiar hurt. I should know... it had walked with me for twenty years.
My faith offered a glimmer of light—rescue might happen. I longed to pray, but only three words repeated.God, help us.
TWENTY-NINE
BLANE
I’d been on stakeouts, waited out bad guys, been a moving target, and hit by bullets, but nothing compared to each slow minute with the tormenting sledgehammer pounding in my arm and a dizzying throb in my head. I’d gotten to the point of being willing to welcome Chandler into my camp. Or offering to share a military ration with a bear, including the chocolate bar.
I added another log to the fire and admired the sparks of red and yellow. At dusk the dirt-covered mound containing the agave would be ready to eat. Hunger weakened me, and my head thumped. Taking a sip of water, I gauged Therese might be back tomorrow. I missed her, my gorgeous wilderness-survival expert.
The crack of rifle fire jolted me straight up. Then another. The origin confused me, or was my fever-stricken body messing with my head?Therese, are you okay?I gasped. Was the rescue team in a firefight? I wanted a repeat of rifle fire to confirm someone had taken out Chandler.
Like always, in moments with idle time on my hands, my thoughts veered back to Wendy. My mother said forgiving myself was more about me than Wendy’s inability to keep my truck on the road. I’d be the first to offer that advice to someone else, but deep down Ideserved the condemnation. My fault. I’d cursed her. And God’s fault. He allowed the accident to happen.
Blane, you’ve held on to this for too long.
