Page 101 of Final Approach
“Whoever it was, he followed Andrew from the store. He knew Andrew was going to be there and waited for him to leave. Followed him here and then grabbed him.”
“Which means the robbery was just a ploy to get Andrew to the location?” Nathan asked.
Kristine hesitated. “Could Andrew have been the target all along, and we just assumed it was Hank because of how everything played out?”
“I’d say that’s a really good theory.” Nathan looked up from his phone. “The plate belongs to someone named Isaac Mason.”
ANDREW HAD RUN HARD.So had Ty. While Andrew had desperation on his side, Ty had rage and a knowledge of these woods. Andrew had no idea how much time had passed, as Ty had taken his smartwatch from him as well as his phone. But according to the sun, he’d say at least two hours, possibly more.
He was cold, but not frozen. Tired, but not wiped out. His hands were cold, but not numb. Ty had left the zip ties loose enough not to cut the circulation off.
Moving kept his blood pumping. He’d even broken out in a sweat as he’d walked, then run, then backtracked in his own steps to throw off Ty. He wouldn’t fool the man forever, but he hoped he was buying himself some time. He was going downhill, looking for any route with tracks or disturbed snow. He saw bear tracks, deer, and more.
He didnotsee his attacker. But Andrew knew better than to pretend the man wasn’t following. He had no idea where he was location-wise, but so far there’d been no sign of civilization.
With a glance over his shoulder, he continued his trek, maneuvering his hands up under his sweatshirt. A flash of movement to his left swung him around in time to see a blade arc toward him. He threw up his arms to block the plunge, his left forearm slamming against Ty’s. It knocked his aim off, but the blade sliced Andrew’s rib as it went down. Fire licked against his side and he hissed even while he swept a kick against Ty’s nearest ankle. The man yelled and hit the ground. The knife skittered away from him like the gun had earlier.
Andrew dove for the knife, closed his hands around the hilt, blade up and facing him. A quick jerk of his wrists pulled the blade up to slice through the zip ties. A hard slam into his back knocked him sideways and he lost the knife.
Ty’s harsh breaths were close, practically in Andrew’s ear, and he swung an elbow back to catch the man in the side of the head. Ty grunted and fell back while Andrew’s cold hands fumbled for the knife once again. But Ty rolled, quick as a blink, and pulled out a garrote, thin but strong. He wrapped the wire around his gloved hands, pulling it tight with a twisted snarl. Did this man have no end of weapons?
The sharp wire was meant to cut into Andrew’s skin, leaving deep, painful wounds as the pressure increased. Knowing the man expected him to run again, he charged forward and slammed into Ty. Ty lost his grip on the wire with his left hand, and Andrew shot out his own hand to grab the man’s right wrist. The wire dangled. Still a threat.
Ty kicked out and reared forward, shoving Andrew off him. Andrew lost his grip and his footing. He went down with a grunt but rolled in time to miss the kick aimed at his head.
Summoning his last reserves of strength, he pushed back hard, sending Ty stumbling. He used the moment to dart down the hilland throw himself behind the nearest tree trunk. Ty was pushing himself up, favoring his battered knee. Andrew’s lungs burned and his vision blurred, but escape was the only thing on his mind.
Breathing heavily, Andrew took off again, climbing over tree trunks, desperately searching for a hiding place.
Or a weapon.
He chose the nearest hill and started up it. Just as he reached the top of the hill, something clamped around his ankle, pulling him to his knees, his jeans soaking in the wet snow. Ty had recovered faster than expected. Andrew rolled and kicked out with his free foot to connect with Ty’s head.
The man screamed and fell, rolled, and came up with another knife. Smaller than the first one. Andrew lurched to his feet just as Ty slashed at him and caught his bicep. Andrew cried out and reared back. His fingers grasped for something. Anything. Closed around a solid piece of wood about the thickness of a baseball bat.
Ty stood over him, grinning, the knife in one hand, wire in the other. “No more games, Ross. This is the end for you.”
He lifted the knife and brought it down toward Andrew’s throat. Andrew swung the wood into the man’s fist clutching the hilt and knocked it sideways. Ty yelped as the weapon flew through the air and hit the ground, disappearing into a snow drift.
A chopper sounded above, getting closer by the second. Ty whirled to face him and Andrew lurched to his feet. They were both breathing hard. Andrew had about one more swing in him. He gripped the wood like the bat it resembled. “Stop it, man. It’s over! That chopper’s up there for me!”
Ty let out a bloodcurdling scream and catapulted himself toward Andrew. A crack sounded just before the wood connected with Ty’s skull. The man went down like a rock.
Andrew leaned over, gulping air. He went to his knees, all his wounds now screaming. The chopper landed in the clearing close enough that the wind from the blades chilled him to the bone. He crawled to Ty, who lay still. Unmoving. And with a bullet in themiddle of his forehead. Andrew wilted, freezing, shaking, adrenaline ebbing now that he was safe.
Safe. Would he ever take that for granted again?
“Andrew!”
His partner’s cry reached him over the noise, but he didn’t have the breath to respond.
Kenzie reached him first and knelt next to him. “I see blood. Where is it coming from?”
“Not sure. Rib and arm, I think.” He shuddered.
“I need a warming blanket over here!”
Seconds later, Kristine was there and dropping a blanket over him. “You scared us.”
