Chasing the Night

  “I’m not promising you anything. I don’t have to. You’re obviously going to go in after Winters anyway.”

  He was right. Even if she could only get the file, she would risk anything to have it handed over. “But if you don’t get Eve Duncan for me, I’ll get her myself. Do you want me to go after her?”

  Silence. “No. I know you too well. You’d cause an incident that would cause me big trouble.” He paused. “I’ll do the best I can, but I don’t know where Eve Duncan’s bodies are buried. She’s clean, Catherine. If you’ve researched her as well as I think you have, then you know I can’t blackmail her.”

  “That’s what I have to find out. Where her bodies are buried. Try. Do everything you can.” She started down the path toward the Munoz camp. “And I’ll do everything I can. I can’t talk any longer. I have to get moving. Has Munoz been in touch with anyone lately?”

  “No, he’s not answered any of our messages.” He was silent a moment. “And I should tell you that late last night the Colombian government refused to release Munoz’s brother until the Winterses are free. They say they think he’s bluffing.”

  “He’s not bluffing. If they don’t back down, Munoz will cut those hostages’ throats.”

  “I agree. And that may mean whether I get you Eve Duncan or not may be a moot point. You may have nothing with which to bargain.” He hung up.

  Catherine shoved her phone into the pocket of her jacket. Venable was right. Thanks to those politicians in Bogota playing their little games, she’d be lucky to whisk Winters and his daughter away before Munoz decided to butcher them.

  She wasn’t going to let that happen.

  There was something wrong. Catherine’s gaze wandered over Munoz’s encampment. It was after three in the morning, and she hadn’t expected activity, but there was no—tension.

  The man guarding the hostage tent was a good ten feet from the entrance flap, and he was the only one of Munoz’s men who appeared to be awake.

  It made her uneasy.

  She hesitated. It could be nothing.

  She had passed Ron Timbers on the edge of the forest and knew that he’d had the camp under surveillance for most of the evening. He would have called her if there was a problem.

  If he knew about the problem.

  At any rate, she couldn’t stop now unless she had good reason.

  She circled around in the trees until she was behind the hostage tent.

  Catherine slit the canvas of the tent. Carefully. Silently. It was a small tent and the guard at the front entrance was only a scant ten feet from where she was working. But that lack of tension she’d sensed in the camp might be a positive. The guard had appeared both sleepy and bored.

  Let him stay that way, she prayed, as she lifted the torn flap. And let Winters and his daughter realize that there was no threat from someone trying to break into the tent. But then hostages weren’t guaranteed to be thinking straight after two weeks of terror and incarceration. She started wriggling into the tent.

  Darkness.

  She couldn’t make out anything for the first moment.

  She froze.

  Good Lord, the stench.

  She was too late. She knew that smell.

  Rotting corpse.

  They were dead, and the tropic heat had already begun the decomposing process.

  She had to be sure.

  Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark now, but she didn’t need to see to find her way to the dead. The overpowering smell led her unerringly across the tent.

  A man, hands tied, shot execution style in the center of his forehead. Catherine Ling swore beneath her breath as she sat back on her heels beside the body. She had known that it was a strong possibility Munoz would keep his word and kill Ned Winters when the Colombian government refused to give up Munoz’s brother. Stupid bastards. What difference did it make if they had to go back and catch one more scumbag drug dealer? No, they’d rather risk an international incident and the death of an innocent American businessman.

  “He’s dead. You should have come sooner.”

  Catherine whirled to the corner of the tent at the whisper. Even in the half darkness she could see the glint of fair hair of the girl huddled against the fabric of the tent. Kelly Winters, fourteen years old, taken in Caracas two weeks ago at the same time as her father. Catherine felt a rush of relief. At least she had a chance of getting the girl out.

  “Shh.” She crawled toward the girl. “I’m Catherine Ling. I work with the CIA. Don’t talk. They’ll hear you.”

  Kelly gazed numbly at her. “You should have come sooner.”

  “I’m here now.” She nodded at the slit in the tent. “Come with me.”

  The girl didn’t move.

  Catherine glanced at the flap. The guard was a good ten feet on the other side of that thin canvas, but she couldn’t afford to argue and have him hear her. Choose her words and hope that they strike a chord. “Stay and we’ll die and they’ll win. They killed your father. Do you want them to win?”

  The girl looked at her for a moment. Then she shook her head and began to crawl toward the slit.

  Relief flooded through Catherine. She quickly crawled after her. “Now listen,” she whispered, as they emerged from the tent. “Run into the forest, try to be as quiet as you can. I have a friend, Ron Timbers, who will keep an eye on the camp for the next few minutes and make sure that your escape isn’t noticed. Then he’ll take off and meet us at the helicopter. When you come to a stream, you stop and wait for me, and I’ll take you the rest of the way. The helicopter will be landing about three miles from the stream, and we’ll board it and fly away from here. You’ll be safe.”

  Kelly shook her head. “No, I won’t,” she said dully. “No one is safe.”

  How could Catherine argue when she knew that was true? “As safe as you can be. Wait at the stream no more than about five minutes, then take off running north. Don’t wait for me.”

  Kelly glanced back over her shoulder, her blue eyes wide. “You think Munoz may catch you.”

  “No, but if he does, you don’t want him to get his hands on you again. Then he’d win, wouldn’t he? If you’re smart, he won’t be able to catch you.” She put her finger on her lips. “No more talk. Run!”

  Kelly didn’t hesitate. She was already on her feet and streaking into the shrubbery.

  Good.

  Now to make sure any pursuit was disrupted and thrown off track when they heard the sound of the helicopter.

  And the best way to do that would be to remove Munoz himself from the mix.

  No guards at his tent. From the reports she’d read, Munoz was too macho-arrogant to think he would need help in any situation.

  Let’s see if you do, Munoz.

  She started crawling toward his tent.

  Chapter

  2

  Munoz went limp against Catherine’s body as her dagger entered his heart.

  She pushed at him and struggled to free herself from his bulk.

  It had been close. He had been almost as good as he thought he was. Her side was bleeding, but she had no time to deal with it now.

  Get out of Munoz’s tent. Their struggle had been brief and almost silent, but she couldn’t be sure that someone didn’t hear.

  Move!

  The stream was just ahead.

  She saw the glint of moonlight on Kelly’s fair hair.

  “Run!” Catherine broke through the shrubbery that bordered the stream and grabbed the girl’s hand. “We don’t have much time before the helicopter gets here.”

  “I thought you weren’t coming.”

  For a moment back in Munoz’s tent she had thought the same thing. Munoz had been awake and lethal. “I had something I had to do.” Did she hear the sound of rotors to the north? “Don’t talk. Run!”

  Running.

  Pushing through the bushes.

  The earth soft beneath their feet.

  Two miles to go.

  It was the helicopter.
Catherine could hear it plainly now.

  And if she could hear it, Munoz’s men would be hearing it.

  Kelly glanced up at her in panic. “Are they coming after us?”

  “Not yet.” But it wouldn’t be long. Munoz was dead, but his men wouldn’t chance there being anyone left alive to bear witness. “We’re almost there.”

  But five minutes later Catherine heard crashing in the bushes behind them. How close?

  The glade was just ahead. She could see the blue lights of the helicopter as it started to land.

  But Kelly was faltering, slowing.

  “No!”

  Catherine grabbed her hand and half pulled her, streaking toward the helicopter. “Only a few yards more.”

  Ron Timbers stepped out of the shadows and was opening the door of the Apache helicopter for her. “You cut it close, Catherine. Her father?”

  “Dead.” She pushed Kelly into the copter and climbed in after her. “Tell that pilot, Neely, to get out of here. They’re only a step behind us.”

  Timbers glanced at her shirt as he jumped in after her and headed for the cockpit. “There’s blood all over you. The kid?”

  “No. Kelly is fine. Tell that pilot to move!”

  He was already moving. Seconds later they were lifting off.

  But not soon enough.

  A bullet buried itself in the fuselage of the copter.

  Another shattered the windshield.

  Kelly froze. “Are we going to die now?”

  “No.” Catherine’s arms closed fiercely around her. She hoped she was telling the truth. They’d be okay if they didn’t get the gas tank. “I’ve got you. We’re out of here.”

  Another bullet struck a rotor with a loud ping.

  “Just a minute more, and we’ll be out of range,” Timbers called back to them.

  If they made it through that minute.

  “Your heart’s beating so hard,” Kelly whispered. “Are you scared?”

  “Yes, it’s stupid not to be scared if someone’s trying to hurt you. You just have to hold on and either wait or fight back.” She smiled down at her. “But you have to realize that they can’t really hurt you. Maybe your body, but not what you are inside. That’s what’s important. None of the rest matters.”

  “All clear,” Timbers called back to them.

  Catherine gave a sigh of relief. “But it seems we don’t have to worry about anything right now. We’re on our way. In a few minutes, I’ll call Agent Venable and tell him to meet us at the airport in Bogota. He’ll be very relieved. Everyone has been worried about you.”

  Kelly was silent a moment. “But Daddy is dead.”

  It was natural that after the first explosion of danger was over, the girl’s hideous memories would surface. Distract her. Keep her busy. “I need your help.” She sat up and reached for the first-aid kit fastened to the wall. “I’m hurt and bleeding a little. Will you bandage it for me?”

  “I’m not sure I know how.” Kelly’s eyes widened as she watched Catherine take off her black shirt and saw the deep cut in her side. Her lips tightened. “But I’ll try. Tell me what to do.”

  “First the antiseptic. Take a pad and clean the wound. The bleeding seems to have almost stopped.” But it had bled enough to make her feel woozy, she realized. “I’m a little tired. Don’t be afraid if I fall asleep.”

  “You mean pass out,” she said bluntly.

  “I guess that is what I mean.” She leaned back against the wall. “But if I do pass out, it won’t be for long, and the pilot knows how to take you home to your mother.”

  “My mother doesn’t want me.” Kelly was dabbing at the wound. “That’s why I live—lived with my daddy.”

  Great. After a nightmare like this, the kid didn’t even have someone to hold on to until she healed. If she healed. No, Catherine wouldn’t accept that possibility. Kelly would heal. She was strong, or she wouldn’t have been able to survive what had happened to her. Just that time in that tent with the remains of her father should have made her catatonic. “Your mother may want you more than you think. Sometimes when parents quarrel, things are said that aren’t really true.”

  “No,” she whispered. “Daddy said she feels uncomfortable around me.” She put the pad aside and sat back on her heels. “It’s okay. Daddy said it wasn’t my fault. I’m just not like her. She thinks I’m weird. I think your cut is clean. What else should I do?”

  “Just put a couple gauze pads and tape across the wound. That will be fine until I get to a doctor.” She paused. “You did that very well, Kelly. Thank you.”

  “I studied first aid at camp last year. Most of the other stuff was pretty dumb, but that was kind of neat. But this was different. Real blood.” She took the gauze from the package. “You could have done this yourself. You thought it would help me to do it.”

  Smart girl. It was amazing that she had been able to see through Catherine’s subterfuge considering the shock she was suffering. And there was no doubt that she was hurting. The girl’s hands were shaking, and her blue eyes were wide and haunted. Everything about her seemed terribly fragile and childlike. She was delicately boned and appeared younger than her fourteen years. “Yes, I could have done it. But it was easier for me to have you do it. And if it helped you, too, that was a plus.” Her lips twisted. “And there’s not much that can be considered a plus in what happened tonight.”

  “Or yesterday.” Kelly turned away and quickly snapped the first-aid kit shut. Her voice was muffled. “It was because of me he died, you know. He tried to keep Munoz from hurting me. Munoz came into the tent angry and shouting and he was saying that he’d been screwed and he was going to get his own back. He tore my clothes and—” Her voice broke.

  “Hush.” Catherine’s arms closed around her. “You don’t have to describe it. Just tell me one thing. He hurt you?”

  “He raped me,” Kelly said baldly. “Why don’t you say it? Do you think I’m a kid? He kept telling Daddy he’d do it if they didn’t let his brother go.”

  She was a kid, Catherine thought, but she’d been jerked out of any semblance of childhood. Smother the anger. It wasn’t going to help Kelly. But damn she was glad she’d taken Munoz out. She wished she had him here so that she could do it again. “No, I don’t think you’re a kid.”

  “Daddy shouldn’t have fought him.” Her voice was almost inaudible against Catherine’s shoulder. “It didn’t matter if he—”

  “It matters. I know what you’re saying, and I would probably think the same as you. He didn’t take anything from you that was worth losing your father.” Catherine’s arms tightened around her. “Don’t talk about it now. You’ll have to do that later, but not now, when the wound is raw.”

  “Daddy shouldn’t have tried to stop him.” Her hands were clutching Catherine. “It didn’t do any good, and maybe Munoz wouldn’t have killed him. He hurt me, but it wasn’t worth that.”

  “No, it wasn’t worth that.” Her hand brushed Kelly’s hair back from her face. “But your father wouldn’t have understood. Rape is something that most people have a problem with.”

  “But not you?”

  “No, it happened to me, too.” She was silent a moment. “Only I was a little younger than you, and I didn’t have a father to try to protect me. I guess that could have been a good thing. I was the only one hurt.” She added softly, “Later, when you get past the sorrow, you’ll be angry, and you’ll feel dirty. That will go away, too. But what you must never feel is shame. What happened to you is no more reason for shame than this wound of mine you just bandaged. We may have scars, but we’ll heal. It will only make us stronger.”

  “I don’t feel…strong.”

  “You will. Just don’t let anyone pity you because of what Munoz did to you. They won’t understand that you don’t need it, and you might begin to think that they’re right.” Unconventional advice to a wounded child, but it was all she could offer. It came from the depths of her heart and personal experience. “You can’
t expect them to understand since they didn’t go through it.”

  “But you understand.” Kelly nestled closer. “If you let me stay with you, I wouldn’t need anyone else…”

  Need? Dependence. Even as her arm tightened protectively around the girl, she felt a rush of dismay. Lord, she couldn’t afford to be responsible for anyone. Not now. That wasn’t what she had bargained for when she had taken on this job. The minute she dropped Kelly off in Bogota, she had to pressure Venable and get the Rakovac file.

  “You don’t want me either,” Kelly said in a low voice. “Why should you? I’ll just get in your way.”

  That was exactly what Catherine feared. “You might,” she said with blunt honesty. “And I might get in yours. You can’t judge me from the little time we’ve had together. You have a mother, you probably have other relations. You’d be better off with them.”

  “I understand,” Kelly said dully. “Whatever you say.”

  Dammit. “We’ll have to see what happens. As soon as we land in Bogota, I’ll turn you over to Agent Venable. He’s my superior, and he’ll have to make a decision about what’s best for you.”

  “You’re best for me.” Kelly pushed her away and sat up. “Even if you don’t want me. I wouldn’t have to pretend that I—” She leaned back against the wall of the helicopter and closed her eyes. “I’d try not to get in your way.”

  “Kelly, I have something to do.” She paused. “I have something I have to do.”

  “I could help you.”

  Catherine shook her head. “No.”

  “I could, you know,” she said. “You said I was strong. I have to be strong, or I’ll break apart. I won’t let Munoz do that to me. I’ll have to think about it…”

  Bogota, Colombia

  “You have my phone number.” Catherine leaned into the limousine where Kelly was sitting with the social worker. “I told you what to expect at the hospital. Just do what they tell you, and the exam will be over soon. Remember that everything bad eventually passes. Go blank, and it’s over.”