Killer Summer

He’d had to deal with Sam Elliott and the boy, ad-libbing as he went. But now…

He ran to the fire, shouting as he went. Salvo and McGuiness had gotten some control over it.

“The girl has a key,” he a

69

Kevin had heard someone shout “Fire!” and then people stampeding out of the lodge. This was followed by silence.

He sniffed the air, didn’t smell anything. But he wasn’t about to stick around to find out if the place was going up in flames. He pulled the boards free from the ceiling as fast as he could. Two split and broke, three others came out cleanly. He now had a hole big enough for his head.

He shone the flashlight into dead space between the ceiling and the roof. Pulling free several more boards, he pushed the flashlight through. He climbed up into the attic.

Again, he smelled for smoke. He got dust and an overwhelming putrid odor.

He now shone the light in both directions. He could see the full length of the building.

The cowboy was tied up in the study below. He was a big guy, an adult. He knew the ranch. He’d be a good ally. Kevin needed him as an ally.

The attic floor was covered with a mix of sand and what looked like shredded newspaper, a decades-old attempt at insulation. It took Kevin a few tries to get the knack of placing his knees successfully on the crossbeams. Protruding from the sand-newspaper insulation was the occasional electrical wire. Following one, he dug down until he reached a junction box.

If he could get to the study and untie the cowboy, it would be two against three-decent odds. Once he got Summer out of the garage, it would be three against three-even better odds. He kicked the study ceiling hard but the boards held.

He thought he heard a man’s voice so he stopped and listened. It was coming from the general direction of the living room.

A few agonizing moments passed. Had they found the closet empty? The sound of someone leaving the lodge allowed him to breathe again. He waited. There was no more shouting.

Kevin drove his heel down on the junction box and it gave way, opening a small gap between it and the ceiling boards. He put his eye to the hole and could see the cowboy lying on the floor on his side. He was gagged. His hands were tied behind his back, his ankles tied with what looked like electrical cord with the leg of the desk between them. His blue eyes were staring back at Kevin.

Kevin knew he wasn’t getting through the ceiling without a chainsaw. The thought he might have to go it alone overwhelmed him. He wondered if the hijackers had found Summer or had the fire been Summer’s doing? That thought charged him with purpose.

Leaving the cowboy wasn’t right. If the lodge was on fire, he had no choice. And he needed him.

He aimed the flashlight around the attic, hoping to see another way down. Dust filled the beam. He lit on a paper wasp nest in the far corner, some sagging spiderwebs. Then he lit on a row of upside-down bats. Stifling a reaction, he now knew the source of the putrid smell.

He wanted out of there-now! He lifted his knees from the crossbeam and squatted on his feet, ready to move. Nothing he could do about the cowboy…

His knife poked him, nearly cutting him. His only weapon, maybe the only way he had to defend himself, it was crucial to his survival. He reached down and adjusted it.

But the cowboy was down there staring up at him.

Holding the knife, Kevin forced his arm through the gap. He trained his eye through the same hole. The cowboy nodded at him and bounced his way off to one side of the desk, out of the way.

Kevin sniffed the air again. Still no smoke.

What if he dropped the knife and the cowboy couldn’t reach it? But he had to try. It’d be cruel not to.

With the cowboy’s legs bound to the desk, it was doubtful he could reach the knife if Kevin just let it fall. He had to throw it.

Swinging his arm, Kevin signaled his plan. The cowboy nodded. Kevin hoped like hell they were speaking the same language.

As Kevin leaned lower to tell the cowboy to look out, there was a bang to the right.

Someone had entered the lodge.

“Boy? You hear me, kid?”

It was Matt, the one Kevin had hit with the fire extinguisher.

Kevin let the knife drop. It landed quietly on the rug, which was good, but well out of the cowboy’s reach, which was bad.

“Be that way!” Matt shouted from the living room.

Even if the cowboy managed to reach the knife, he was still locked in the room. Kevin began crawling quietly toward the opposite end of the long attic.

70

The hijackers had closed up the Learjet and camouflaged it well. Summer used her key. The Lear was dark inside, suggesting it was empty, but she stood there a moment before climbing the stairs and then shut herself inside.

She hadn’t thought through any of this. Everything for her was minute to minute, and she feared her lack of pla

The jet’s soundproofing made the drumming in her ears all the louder. This was the first chance she’d gotten to stop and think and she couldn’t think. She felt removed. She felt numb.

She headed straight for the battery switch. The batteries had to be engaged in order to use the CD, the TVs, or any of the outlets. Next, she headed for her father’s seat. She slid back the wood panel and nearly squealed with glee when she saw the red LED on the Airphone flashing. It had powered up.

“Come on!” she encouraged the red to change to green, signaling a co

She counted backward from ten.

Had the ante

On the count of four, it changed to green.

She snatched up the receiver and dialed.

For a moment, there was nothing on the other end. Then came static and soft pops that went on far longer than she thought appropriate.

Finally, the phone purred in her ear. It was ringing.

“Hello?” her father’s voice said.

She’d meant to speak, to say something-anything-but the sound of him choked her, and she couldn’t get a word out.

“Dad…” she gasped, but far too softly.

She could see him clearly: his face, his smile. She had a mental picture of him in the hotel suite. She thoroughly regretted every ounce of grief she’d ever given him, felt so badly for making him pay for her mother’s death when he’d only tried to help her understand it. She loved him so much but never expressed it, always taunting him to fill the void, an impossibility. Her accusing tone, her reckless blaming him for her problems, the bitterness with which she dealt with him: it all washed over her in a wave of self-loathing.

“Sum…?”

Her vision blurred.

Just the sound of his voice…

“Yeah…” she choked out. “It’s me. I’m on the plane.”

A very long pause. “Oh, thank God!”

She thought he might be crying as well.

“We landed… kind of… crashed into something. There’s a river. There’s three of them…”

She rambled through a quick, disjointed explanation, laced with apology and begging for forgiveness.

“I don’t know what to do,” she finally said.

“You… Jesus… Listen, they won’t hurt you.”

“You don’t know that! They’ve got Kevin, I think… I’m pretty sure…”

“I won’t let them hurt you,” he said.

It wasn’t so much what her father said as the way he said it that gave her pause. She knew better than to interrupt. She needed him to talk, and to just keep on talking.