Page 106 of The Burning

The SUV looms into view ahead. No time to open the door or try to get inside. Instead, I turn on a burst of speed, throw my body against the driver’s-side window. Hope ignites at the screech of the alarm.

The impact spins me around, but I maintain my balance, keep going. In the periphery of my vision, I see him slow, reach for the keys. Vaguely, I’m aware of the alarm going silent. The jet-engine roar of blood in my veins as I pant for air. I don’t know how far I have to go to reach help.

I’m thinking about cutting through the woods, hoping the trees will provide cover. I hear a rustle behind me, glance left. An instant before I can cut right, Hofer plows into me. His arms wrap around my hips. His shoulder rams my lower back, throwing me forward. I slam to the ground on my stomach, snow and mud in my mouth.

He tries to climb on top of me. I twist, bring up my knee, roll onto my back.

“Be still,” he hisses.

I look up as he draws back his fist. No way to defend myself. I twist again, roll left. The blow glances off my temple, his fist hits the ground inches from my face. I roll again. Use the strength of my quads to propel me. I buck against him. Twist my body left. Arm bracing for balance. I roll again and his weight leaves me.

I glance over to see him come at me. I roll down a small hill. Off-trail now. He bends to me, his hands slam down on my shoulders. Fingers digging into muscle and bone.

“Get off me, you son of a bitch!” I scream.

The ground gives way beneath me. The quarry, I realize. We’re too close to the edge. I see Hofer’s boot slide in mud. His arms flail. Then I find myself cartwheeling into space.

CHAPTER 28

I plunge into the water headfirst. Cold shocks my brain and paralyzes my body. I try to move my arms, can’t, and panic bursts inside me.

I’m cognizant of my boots and coat dragging me down. The water sucking at me like an icy mouth. Mindlessly I fight the binds at my wrists. All the while I’m sinking. I suck in water and choke, feel my body convulse. Instinct takes over and I kick my feet with every ounce of strength I possess.

My face breaks the surface. I gulp air and cough violently, treading water as best I can. Fighting to keep my head above water, I look around. There’s no sign of Hofer. I don’t know if he fell with me or if he’s standing on the ledge above, a pistol trained on the back of my head.

The cliff from which I fell is a wall of rock rising out of the water, fifteen feet away. I don’t know if there’s a foothold. I’m managing to stay afloat, but the cold is sapping my strength fast. My hands, feet, and face are already numb, my extremities starting to ache. Kicking, I twist my body, try to bring my hands around to my front. Water laps over my face as I begin to sink, but I redouble my kicking. Jamming my fingertips into my waistband, I feel around for the knife.

Please be there. Please, God …

A sob escapes me when my fingers brush the pivot handle. Praying my grip is strong enough, I unclip it. My thumb seeks the safety toggle, but I fumble it. Choking back sobs, I try again, hit the release button, and the knife snicks open. Struggling to keep my face above water, scissoring my legs back and forth, I saw at the rope. My angle is bad and I nearly drop the knife twice. Lucky for me, the blade is sharp and my hands spring free.

Quickly, I fold the knife and clip it back on my waistband. Keeping an eye on the cliff above, I dog-paddle to the nearest shore, drag myself onto a rock shelf. My arms collapse and I lie there in water and mud, the only sound coming from my labored breaths. For several seconds, I can’t move. Shivers rack my body. Only when thoughts of Tomasetti overtake me do I lift my head and look around. Dusk has fallen. Hofer took my flashlight. I’ve no sidearm or radio. No way to call for help or protect myself if he ambushes me. God knows, I’m in no condition for another confrontation.

It takes every ounce of strength I possess to get to my hands and knees. Somehow, I make it to my feet. My entire body shakes uncontrollably. I put one foot in front of the other until I reach the steep bank. Using my hands and feet, I claw my way over mud and rock and tangled roots.

I reach the top, my eyes searching for Hofer. There’s no sign of him. I can feel the cold and wet stealing my body heat. My teeth chatter with so much force that my jaws hurt. On unsteady legs, I take the trail Hofer and I did earlier, push myself into a wobbly jog.

Relief washes over me when I spot the SUV. I reach it, try the doors, find it locked. I want to shed these wet clothes, but I’m familiar enough with hypothermia to know I’ll retain more body heat if I keep them on. I’ve no idea where Hofer is or how far I am from the gravel pit office. I don’t know if it’s safe to go back. The only thing I’m certain of at this moment is I’ve got to reach Tomasetti.

I’m shivering violently as I start down the trail. First at a walk, then back to a jog. Arms pumping. Breaths steaming out in front of me. I’m aware of the deepening dusk as I run. I push on and pray to God I have the strength to make it back.

Fear for Tomasetti tracks me as I make my way down the path. I know that if he’d been able, he would have followed Hofer and me. I don’t let myself think about why he didn’t. Instead, I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

I’ve only run a hundred yards when I spot the figure ahead. A dark silhouette in the fading light. At first glance I think it’s Tomasetti and my heart nearly bursts. But it’s not Tomasetti. I slow my pace. The figure continues toward me. Male. Dark coat. The distance between us narrowing. Something familiar in the way he moves …

“Chief Burkholder? Oh, my God! What in the hell happened?”

I recognize the voice immediately. Clarence Raber. He’s close enough for me to make out his features now. I see shock and concern on his face. Relief floods me with such power that my legs go weak. What the hell is he doing out here at the quarry?

I stop walking, my mind trying to make sense of it. “Call 911.”

“Of course.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his cell. “What on earth happened?” Putting his cell to his ear, he continues walking toward me. His eyes tracking my every move. Something in his expression, the way he’s looking at me.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

My brain is not so diminished by the hypothermia that I don’t comprehend the danger. Raber has no reason to be here.

Other than the unthinkable.