Going to Extremes. Amanda Stevens

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      Her first instinct was to rush up the rickety steps and pound on the door as hard as she could until someone answered. But her impulses had already gotten her into trouble once that day. She was alone, unarmed, and too exhausted to put up much of a fight should she need to. Her best bet was to approach the cabin with extreme caution. Do a bit of reconnoitering before she made her presence known.

      Slipping across the wet ground, she flattened herself against the log wall and eased toward the window. She could hear voices inside. Loud, angry voices that sent a chill up her spine.

      Taking care not to be seen, she inched toward the window and peered in, then jumped back, her heart flailing at what she’d seen.

      A half-dozen or so men milled about inside the cabin. They were dressed in fatigues and were armed with what appeared to be automatic weapons, but Kaitlyn didn’t think they were soldiers. One of the men stood so near the window that she’d glimpsed a tattoo on the bicep of his left arm beneath his dark green T-shirt.

      An upside-down burning American flag…the symbol used by the Montana Militia for a Free America.

      She’d seen that same tattoo on Boone Fowler’s arm when he’d proudly displayed it at his trial.

      And on Jenny Peltier’s arm when she’d come to Kaitlyn for help.

      Kaitlyn had stared at the symbol in horror when Jenny had shoved up her sleeve. “Those people are murderers, Jenny. Terrorists! Why would you get involved with a group like that?”

      “Because of Chase,” Jenny whispered. “I owed him that much.”

      Jenny’s older brother had died in a war she and her family had always considered unjust and illegal. Her stepfather had railed against the government for years, and Chase’s death had only added fuel to the fire. Jenny had been so torn up with grief that her stepfather’s rants must have colored her perception of what had really happened. But Kaitlyn would never have guessed that she would have taken her hatred so far.

      Squeezing her eyes closed, Kaitlyn willed away the memory. Boone Fowler had killed her best friend, but she couldn’t afford to lose control now. She had to get out of there before they saw her. She had to find a way to contact the authorities. Fowler and his cohorts were armed and dangerous. It wasn’t just her life on the line.

      Clutching her cell phone, she prayed that she would be able to get a signal and summon help. But as she started to slip away from the cabin, a scream from inside drew her back to the window.

      She tried not to make a sound, but what she saw sent a gasp to her throat. The man nearest the window had moved away so that she had a clear view of the interior. The convicts had taken a hostage. They’d stripped him and bound him to a wooden chair. He was bleeding profusely from his wounds and seemed barely conscious as his head lolled forward, chin on chest.

      As Kaitlyn watched in horror, one of the MMFAFA members approached him. Grabbing the man’s hair, he pulled back his head, exposing his throat as he slipped a knife blade along the delicate skin, drawing even more blood.

      The man groaned and began to babble. He spoke in what sounded to Kaitlyn like German. “Gotthilife mich. Gotthilfe uns alle, wenn Sie gelingen.” He muttered it over and over. Kaitlyn tried to translate, but her high school German was too long ago and she was so terrified she couldn’t think straight. But she could tell from his demeanor that he was begging for mercy.

      His pleas fell on deaf ears. Someone shouted, “For the Cause!” and they all took up the chant as the knife whipped across the hostage’s throat.

      The gush of crimson sent Kaitlyn into a momentary state of shock. She stood paralyzed at the window, hand clapped to her mouth to suppress her own scream. She couldn’t move. She hardly dared to breathe. If they saw her…

      She must have made an involuntary sound, or perhaps some instinct told him she was there. Boone Fowler had been standing with his back to the window, and now he turned slowly, his gaze meeting Kaitlyn’s through the window.

      Bloodlust glinted in his eyes.

      Kaitlyn had never seen such a cold, demonic expression. His lips twisted cruelly as he acknowledged her presence and then he sprang like a panther across the room to the window.

      At that moment, Kaitlyn knew she was a dead woman walking, but her instinct for survival was stronger that she’d ever imagined and, whirling, she sprinted for the woods.

      She heard the glass shatter behind her as Fowler leaped through the window, and then the more immediate sound of rustling leaves and snapping twigs underneath his feet as he pursued her.

      Kaitlyn ran like the devil himself was behind her. She was young, fit, and had the advantage of fear-induced adrenaline spurring her through the wet twilight. For a moment, she thought she might actually have a chance of getting away, and then she came to a dead stop as she found herself teetering on the brink of a canyon.

      She spun, her gaze darting about for another way out, but Fowler had already found her. He was perhaps twenty yards away and closing in on her as he took in her predicament. Then his steps slowed. No need to hurry. He had her cornered.

      Kaitlyn’s heart pounded as she watched him. Would she be better off to fling herself from the cliff…or wait for Fowler to seal her fate?

      “Who are you?” he asked in a voice that gave nothing away of his past. He might have been a fellow traveler that she’d stumbled upon in the woods. Not the remorseless killer who had the blood of two hundred innocents on his hands.

      Kaitlyn didn’t answer him. Her breath was coming so hard and fast she couldn’t speak.

      Fowler took a menacing step toward. “I asked you a question, girl. Who are you?”

      “Kaitlyn Wilson.”

      His gaze narrowed. “Do I know you?”

      “I’m a reporter for the Ponderosa Monitor.”

      “A reporter?” He took another step toward her. “Who told you where to find me? Answer me!”

      Kaitlyn jumped at the rage in his voice. “No one. I didn’t come up here looking for you. I got stranded in a flash flood on Route 9. I kept walking until I could get a cell-phone signal.”

      “Who knows you’re up here?”

      No one, Kaitlyn thought in despair. Not a single soul. “The police. I called 9-1-1 for help. They’ll be here soon—”

      “You’re lying. You can’t get a cell-phone signal up here for miles.” He started toward her again, and Kaitlyn backed away, gasping when she wobbled too close to the edge of the cliff.

      Fowler laughed. “Careful. That’s a long fall.”

      He was obviously enjoying himself, like a cat playing with a mouse. Even in the gathering darkness, Kaitlyn could see the gleam in his eyes. The feral grin that made her blood run cold. He was going to kill her as he’d killed Jenny. Maybe it was destiny catching up with her after all these years.

      Maybe it was nothing more than her imagination, but Kaitlyn could have sworn she felt Jenny’s presence in the wind that swept through her hair. In the rain that fell like teardrops on her СКАЧАТЬ