Hunter's Moon (43 page)

He exchanged another look with Artie and then brought his gun up, pushing farther back into the shallow dirt cave to give himself room to shoot past the stacked branches. That done, he dug in and watched the rise.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Less than a minute later a man appeared on the higher ground, the rising sun behind him. Consequently, CJ couldn’t see his face, but his immediate impression was that it wasn’t Graham. This man was shorter, thicker. Whoever it was, he paused at the top. CJ could see a gun slung over his shoulder and he held something in his hands. CJ watched as the man turned first to his left, then to the right, as if the object in his hands were a divining rod. When after another half turn he stopped, he was facing CJ and Artie’s hideout.

While CJ couldn’t be certain, it seemed the man looked directly at him—through the barricade he’d built. Then the man started coming toward them. As quickly as he could, with legs that had grown numb from the cold, CJ shifted and set for a shot. What kept him from firing immediately, though, was that there was nothing hurried about the other man’s approach, nothing that indicated he was closing in for the kill.

Even so, CJ was wired and was inclined to shoot first and establish identity later. There was no one else out here but them and Graham’s party; CJ would bet his life on that. He set his cheek, lined up the shot, and slid his finger onto the trigger.

What happened next was a providential event if ever CJ had experienced one. As the man came down toward them his foot caught on something—a root, a hole, the hand of God?—and he stumbled, and it was the resultant curse, one heard without an intervening wall of earth, that caused CJ to pull his finger from the trigger.

“C-come on,” Dennis said to himself. “Am I g-going to step in every hole in the forest?”

CJ came out of his hiding spot before his friend had finished the self-directed question. It occurred to him to wonder—just as he was trying to will his numb legs steady, and just as Dennis looked up with wide eyes—what would have happened had Dennis turned out to be the other shooter? But the absurdity of the thought caused it to evaporate before it could take shape.

A startled Dennis quickly shouldered his gun, causing him to drop the other thing he’d been carrying. CJ put his own weapon up in the air with a single hand, assuming an unthreatening posture. Several critical seconds ticked by before Dennis sorted it all out, yet the tenuous grasp of his surroundings began coming together when Artie followed CJ into the light, emerging from the tangle of branches. Finally, Dennis seemed to relax. In the ensuing silence he looked back and forth between CJ and Artie before settling on his friend.

“Hey,” Dennis said.

“Hey back,” CJ returned with a grin.

“I can’t believe this,” Richard said again. He clutched the gun in both hands, fingers white on the pistol grip. He appeared as if on the verge of tears. Graham suspected it was weariness and deferred gratification in a dangerous mixture. “If we lose them, that’s it. We’re done.”

“Shut up, you idiot,” Graham said. The reason he didn’t say more, or even pop his cousin in the mouth, was that Richard was right. Since CJ had seen Daniel, there was only one way this could end: either he or CJ would not be leaving these woods alive.

What helped and complicated things at the same time was the coming sunrise already brightening the sky. The light would help them track CJ and Artie, but it also carried the risk that Daniel might be spotted on the road. Even a speeding ticket from Daniel would be enough to link Graham to the murder, unless he did an exceptional job of hiding the bodies.

When they left the lake it was to follow CJ and Artie’s path into the forest, but about a mile in they’d lost their trail. After that, the three of them had spent the intervening hours canvassing the woods. Crossing swaths of ground, bedding down for several minutes, then moving on—creating an expanding triangle that should have caught up anything moving within its boundaries. In this fashion they’d covered what Graham would have thought was CJ’s most likely path. The fact that they hadn’t found the pair meant that either Graham had guessed wrong or that CJ and Artie had found a hole to hide in. He thought the latter more likely.

He ignored Richard while he scanned the forest, not expecting to see anything but looking nonetheless. Somewhere out there was his brother; he was hiding and he knew that Graham was coming for him. And Graham knew that when he found him, he would kill him. He would kill them both.

With that realization came the tandem understanding that, unlike when he’d killed Eddie, he would find no joy in this; it wouldn’t feed the hunger born of the Baxter blood. It was just something he had to do. He suspected that was growth of a sort.

George was at his shoulder.

“Maybe the boy’s hurt worse than we thought,” George said. “He’s found himself somewhere to die.”

Graham considered that and then shook his head.

“There wasn’t enough blood at the campsite,” he said. “And none at all on their trail.”

George didn’t answer, and Graham knew it was because he was making spare use of his breaths. He’d insisted on taking part in the hunt and the night had worn on him. Even so, he looked strong, ready to keep going. Graham harbored no delusions that his father had accompanied Richard and him because of some misguided principle. Rather, he wanted to make sure the murdering was done right.

If Graham was successful, his father would get his chance.

“I can’t believe it,” Richard said again.

With that, Graham had had enough. He was about to turn and knock out one of his cousin’s teeth when George placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Graham turned and locked eyes with his father, and the look on George’s face was the type that Graham had seldom felt comfortable defying.

When he knew he’d made his point, George switched his focus to Richard.

“I’m going to tell you this once,” he said, his voice quiet but grave. “If you so much as say another word, I’ll put a bullet in you myself.”

Richard’s own father had been a soft touch, and Graham’s cousin lacked sufficient experience with George to understand the seriousness of the threat. His response, then, was a change of color—a redness that touched first his ears and then moved across his forehead. Before it could go any further, George took a step forward, and with a speed that belied his age he struck Richard in the midsection with the butt of his gun. The blow took Richard’s wind and he doubled over, nearly going to his knees.

George stepped back and waited until his nephew had recovered enough to meet his eyes. “Understand?” he asked.

All Richard could do was nod.

Satisfied, George walked on.

“GPS,” Dennis explained. He looked at the ground, swiveling in both directions before he caught sight of the GPS unit he’d dropped upon seeing CJ come out of nowhere. He walked back a few steps to retrieve it. “This thing w-works great.”

CJ smiled. Artie had asked CJ to carry their end of the device, so CJ had dropped it in his backpack. His smile, though, was short-lived. “Tell me you brought a phone,” he said.

Dennis reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cell phone, which he proudly held up. He didn’t object when CJ snatched it from his hand.

The phone was off. CJ found the power button, but pressing it had no effect. He tried again with the same result. “What’s wrong with this thing?” he asked.

Dennis took it back and studied it. When he looked up he gave his friend a sheepish smile. “D-dead battery.”

The annoyed and dejected look on CJ’s face did much to cause Dennis to look at CJ and Artie with clearer eyes.

“What’s g-going on?”

CJ sighed and then, as fast as he could, explained the situation. After he was finished, and understanding how insane his story sounded, he gave Dennis the time he needed to process it.

“You’re k-kidding,” Dennis finally said. “It has to b-be a m-mistake.”

When he looked at CJ’s expression, though, he saw nothing but honesty. A glance at Artie confirmed the truth of it.

“Why?” was his follow-up, and while CJ knew he owed his friend the same courtesy he’d shown Artie, he suspected they’d spent far too much time standing in the morning light.

“Would it be okay if I tell you over a drink at Ronny’s?” CJ said. “Right now, I think we should get moving.”

Dennis nodded. “So w-where to?”

That might have been the only question Dennis could have asked that would have succeeded in pulling another smile from CJ.

“Where did you park?” he asked Dennis.

“I see them,” George said.

No one said anything for a few ticks, and it was Richard who broke the silence.

“Two hundred yards,” he said. Then his eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Why are there three of them now?”

Graham looked in the direction that his father and Richard were looking, and it was then that he spotted three shapes silhouetted against a mountain that was growing lighter by the minute. He thought that any one of them could have missed the trio had they not been looking in just the right spot.

“Are you sure that’s them?” Graham asked his father. “Maybe it’s another hunting party.”

George watched for almost a full minute, but with each passing second the other group extended the distance between them.

“It’s them,” George said. “I don’t know who the third one is, but the one in the middle is CJ.”

That was enough for Graham. Turning to his cousin he asked, “Can you hit them from here?”

“No problem,” Richard said.

From behind, George said, “Stop. Don’t you want to get closer?”

Graham brought the Kimber around, even though he knew he wouldn’t use it—not from this distance. He watched through the rifle’s scope as CJ, Artie, and the third member of their group picked their way up the mountain. After a while he said, “You take your shots where you get them.” He looked back to Richard.

His cousin nodded.

Chapter 35

They had lost most of their cover the higher they went, and CJ had realized the danger that presented with the sun going up behind them. He, Artie, and Dennis had left behind the lowlands, aiming northwest now in a loop around the mountain. Dennis had taken his truck as far into the wilderness as he could, yet he was forced to park a good distance away. Then they began their climbing, taking a wider circuit around the mountain because of Artie’s condition and the fact that his legs couldn’t handle too steep of an ascent.

CJ was hopeful that, at the very least, they might be putting greater distance between themselves and Graham. He had no idea where Graham and his companion—or companions— were, but he had to assume they were close and that Graham would have been hunting them all night. So the farther they traveled, the harder it became for Graham as the territory he had to search increased exponentially with each mile CJ and his friends covered.

“By the way, she t-took me b-back,” Dennis said.

“What are you talking about?” CJ asked.

“S-Stephanie. I d-did what you said. I saw her last n-night.”

“Congratulations,” CJ said.

“By the w-way, you were r-right. She threw away the shoes.”