Hunting the Witness
Author
Kate Angelo
Reads
18.5K
Chapters
24
Chapter 1
Dr. Belinda Lewis found it impossible to focus on studying algae when the shadow of a serial killer lurked in her mind. She crouched at the edge of the mountain lake and used her cell phone to photograph the growing algae in her research project.
Two months ago, she’d discovered a new genus of conjugating green algae in Eagle Lake, high in the Colorado mountains. The never-before classified algae contained unusual photoprotective properties and formed striking amounts of sunscreen compounds. With her discovery and months of research, she was on the cusp of creating the first all-natural sunscreen product.
The buzz of an incoming call startled her, and she almost dropped her phone in the water. Since when did she have cell service this far into the mountains?
She stood and accepted the call. “Dr. Lewis.”
“Am I speak...Dr. Bel...Lewis?” The woman’s voice on the other end of the call echoed and scratched.
Belinda stole a glance at her screen. Not even one bar. No wonder the call sounded terrible. “Yes, this is Belinda Lewis, but I can barely hear you.”
“I’m calling to schedule...FBI field office...”
A rustling sound came from the forest behind her. She whirled, eyes scanning the tree line. No, it couldn’t be the serial killer. Probably an animal coming for a drink of water. If it was an elk or bear, she didn’t want to be between them and their drink.
“Listen, I don’t have much cell coverage. I’ll have to call you back and schedule—”
“This isn’t optional, Dr. Lewis. If you don’t appear in person, you could be arrested on a material witness warrant.” The woman’s voice didn’t skip this time but sounded metallic.
Arrested? A knot of unease formed in her stomach. “Am I... I mean, will I have to testify?”
“Because of you, that young woman is alive today. The photo...clear enough...facial recognition software...a suspect...”
“I’m having trouble hearing you. Are you still there?”
Belinda checked her screen and saw the signal had dropped. Better head home and return the call before the FBI hauled her in like a criminal instead of a witness. All because she happened to interrupt a man attacking a woman. Of course, she was too far away to do anything other than yell and take a blurry picture, but apparently it was all the FBI needed to identify the attacker as a suspected serial killer.
With a sigh, she slipped her phone and research journal into her backpack and double-checked the can of bear spray clipped to the shoulder strap. The gravel crunched under her boots as she headed away from the lake toward the trailhead. She climbed the steep path and paused at the top of the bluff to take in the breathtaking view of Eagle Lake. Views like this were one reason she’d moved out of the city and into her home near the base of the mountain.
Halfway to her car, she heard a faint rumble from the south. The reverberation rolled like thunder, then faded. Despite the blistering summer sun beating down through the trees, she shivered. Took a deep breath and let it out little by little. Probably a short morning storm on the other side of the mountain. Happened all the time. She slowed her steps and surveyed the forest. Her nerves pricked with the uncanny sense of a shadow lurking nearby.
A branch snapped.
She twisted and scanned the area in the direction of the noise but saw nothing. Ever since the incident with the suspected serial killer the news had dubbed the “Trailside Strangler,” her paranoia was over the top. She had to relax. The wilderness was full of noises, and she couldn’t let each one cause her to jump out of her skin. Besides, her heart didn’t appreciate the constant adrenaline surge.
A shadow drifted behind a thicket of trees in her peripheral. Belinda stilled.
Tree limbs cracked and a rapid thudding reverberated against the forest floor. The rhythmic sound grew louder and louder.
Before she could make sense of what she heard, branches swayed and broke apart. Frozen, she stared horrified as a massive elk crashed through the trees. His wide antlers scraped the trees as he galloped onto the trail, headed right for her.
Belinda’s body seized in anticipation of the impact. She sucked in a sharp breath.
At the last second, the elk noticed her and changed course. The mammoth animal bounded past in a gush of wind.
Belinda let out a breath and watched the elk disappear into the forest. She pressed her eyes closed and took long breaths until she slowed her pulse.
An elk nearly trampled her on the trail. Oh sure, she’d been in sight of a serial killer, but an elk? Now that was real danger. She chuckled. Was there a more ridiculous way to die?
A snort escaped and soon she was laughing at the idea of a newscaster telling the world an elk squashed a phycologist, and then explaining that phycologist meant algae scientist. The giggles took over until she gasped for breath and wiped tears from her eyes.
Still laughing, she turned and slammed into the hard chest of a bear. No, a man the size of a grizzly.
Surprise came out in a high-pitched gasp, and she took two steps back. The man dressed in hunting camouflage towered over her. Black eyes glared beneath the brim of his baseball cap.
“Oh! I’m so sorry.” Her heart thumped against her chest. “I—I wasn’t watching where I—”
A slow sneer spread across his face.
His tree trunk of an arm shot out and grabbed her neck. The big hands squeezed Belinda’s throat and his massive thumbs pressed into her windpipe. Her mind grappled to understand her situation, even as he lifted her feet off the ground.
Instinct told her to fight. Fight him off. Whatever the cost, don’t stop fighting. She dug her nails into his thick fingers and wrenched at his hold on her throat. No matter how hard she strained, his grip wouldn’t loosen. She fumbled for her bear spray. Managed to brush it with her fingertips but couldn’t quite grasp it. Pulsing white spots danced in her vision.
He was going to kill her.
A wave of panic mounted. She could not pass out. She flailed, kicking and swinging her arms wildly. Her hand found his nose, and she clawed at his face. Tried to get his DNA under her nails in case...in case...
No. She would not let him win.
Determination spiked, and she fought harder. Her hand connected with the brim of his hat and sent it sailing to the ground. His black eyes narrowed, and she searched them for meaning behind this attack, but only found emptiness.
But there was something about those eyes...
Recognition flared, and she tried to scream, but only managed a guttural groan. His grip loosened a fraction as he lowered her. Her feet touched earth and with trembling legs, she managed to stand upright. Her windpipe opened, and she inhaled slivers of lifesaving oxygen.
“You,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “It’s...you.”
The corner of his lip curled. “I found you, Belinda.”
The blood in her veins turned to ice and realization shot through her entire body. He was toying with her. Cutting off precious oxygen to bring her to the edge of death then loosening his grip to bring her back again. He would kill her if she didn’t get away. Eventually.
With self-defense training, she had the moves to escape an attacker. If only she could remember. Wait. She did remember.
Muscle memory took over. Alligator neck. She stiffened every muscle from her shoulders to her head and tucked her chin to her chest as far as his hands would allow. In one quick motion, she stepped back with her right foot and bowed her head. With balled fists she prepared to strike. She ducked between his arms and twisted her body away.
Unable to fight her momentum, he let her slip from his grasp. She ran, but barely managed three steps before she was yanked aside by her backpack and fell. She scrambled to her feet and slipped out of the straps. He dropped the bag and lunged for her, but she pivoted on her opposite heel and sprinted away.
Her hands went to her neck, and she rubbed her throat. Tried to get her windpipe to open again. Every breath made her cough, but she tried to suppress it so the sound wouldn’t give her away.
“Belinda...” His raspy voice drew her name out. “There’s nowhere to go, Belinda.”
Heavy footfalls pounded the earth close on her heels.
She darted between trees, her hands raised to block the foliage. A low branch slashed her face and a line of warm blood trickled down her cheek. Her shoe caught a rock and she stumbled two steps, then fell on her palms. Pain shot through her wrists, but she scrambled to her feet. Move. Keep moving.
Only a few yards between them.
With an angry snarl, the attacker lunged and caught her T-shirt. Instinct drove her to the ground, and she scurried between his legs. The fabric tore, but she got to her feet with enough time to bolt through the trees.
She ignored the sting of her wounds and searched for signs of the trail so she could get to her car. Her stomach sank. The car keys were in her backpack. The phone too. She should’ve clipped the bear spray to her waist instead of her backpack. Now the lake was her only hope, and she prayed someone else would be there.
A noise from behind made her whip her head around. He was there, but farther in the distance, losing speed. All her weekend hikes and hours at the gym were paying off as she outran her attacker.
She hurdled a fallen tree and zig-zagged her way through a bramble bush until her calves burned with the uphill climb. A stitch in her side caused her to gasp and clutch her waist, but she couldn’t stop now. She had to make it to the lake and find help.
Belinda skirted a crevasse and headed for the tree with a split trunk she recognized from her past hikes. She was higher than she realized and if she remembered correctly that tree was atop the bluff north of the trail. She’d gone too far. Now she needed to get to the ridge and see if help was near the lake.
She lunged over a boulder in the path and reached out to brace herself on a nearby tree. The mountainous frame of her attacker appeared with a cruel smile on his lips.
Belinda screamed.
A bloodcurdling scream yanked Jonah’s attention from the trout on his line. The shrill cry echoed across the valley and kicked his pulse into high gear. Special Agent Jonah Phillips had been with the FBI long enough to recognize the cry of someone in trouble, and that shriek came from one terrified woman.
Jonah tossed his rod on the ground beside the creek and grabbed his rifle. He scrambled his way up the sloping bank. His rubber boots slipped on the mud and wet rocks. Several times, he lost his footing and almost fell. The waders and attached boots were not at all built for climbing. A gnarled tree root protruded from the ledge, and he used it to pull himself over. At the edge of the bank, he paused and considered which way to go.
The woman had to be on the trail near the cold-water lake that fed the creek where his fish now made its escape. Jonah bolted in the direction of the cry, mindful of the small round stones protruding from the narrow dirt path. One wrong step could result in a nasty fall.
He strained to hear over the swish of his rubber waders. Whoever screamed would surely do it again, wouldn’t she? If the woman was hurt, she would cry out for help until someone came. But Jonah was sure what he heard wasn’t a cry for help. It was pure terror. One long scream cut off abruptly. With his rifle in both hands and pointed skyward, he picked up the pace.
He burst from the forest into a clearing and the mountain lake came into view. The thin air caused him to pant harder than usual, but he couldn’t afford to pause and catch his breath. It could cost the woman her life.
After two weeks living full-time in his vacation cabin, he still wasn’t acclimated to the elevation. The assistant director had pulled Jonah from his undercover operation and ordered him to take an off-grid vacation. A mix-up in another case put his months of working to infiltrate a drug cartel at risk, and Jonah couldn’t afford to be seen in public.
But he couldn’t let a woman die, either.
Hands on his hips, he surveyed the knee-high wildflowers and the edge of the lake. Mountains and fluffy white clouds reflected off the still water. The craggy hiking trail snaked down the side of the mountain directly across the lake. There was no one in sight. The woman must be higher.
He had to get over there, but that meant finding a way to the other side of the small lake. To his left was a shorter path, but he’d have to navigate wet rocks and boulders that would surely slow him down. It was summer, but the glacier runoff meant the lake was frigid. If he fell into the icy water, he’d be the one in need of a rescue.
The trail on the right meandered off into another wooded area that led to a scenic overlook before circling back to the lake. Which direction had the cry come from? If he chose the wrong path, the woman could die before he reached her.
Heavy grunts echoed across the lake along with the rustle of foliage. His eyes darted along the tree line until he saw movement on the bluff. The outline of a man in camouflage wavered near a tree. Hunting wasn’t allowed in this area, but it wasn’t rare for a tourist tracking a bear or mountain lion to get lost. Maybe it was a woman chased to the lake by an animal and now she needed help. But where was she?
“Hey!” Jonah shouted. “Anybody there? Do you need help?”
His voice bounced off the rocks and echoed in three soft waves before it went quiet again. No reply. He reached for his phone to call the park ranger but didn’t find it.
Jonah groaned. He wasn’t on duty; he was on sabbatical. He’d left his phone at the cabin for some peace. Besides, it never had coverage around here, anyway.
The branches swayed uphill, and two limbs parted for a second, giving Jonah a view. Two figures struggled near a huge oak tree at the top of the ridge. A dark-haired man dressed in camouflage pants and jacket towered over a woman, his back to Jonah. They swayed and stumbled, stepping closer to the cliff. If they weren’t careful, they’d fall right off the edge.
Jonah yelled. “Hey! Let her go!”
Camouflage Man turned to peer at Jonah over his shoulder. Jonah tried to make out his features, but he was too far away. The man clutched the woman by the throat. Her feet dangled off the ground, the tips of her toes stretched toward solid earth. She grappled with Camouflage Man’s immense hands, but clearly his grip was strong. Was it possible this was the Trailside Strangler?
He didn’t have time to consider it. The woman needed help, and he was a hundred yards away with a lake between them.
Jonah shouldered his rifle and took aim. “FBI! Put your hands where I can see them!”
Camouflage Man dragged the woman closer to the edge of the cliff. Jonah’s heart slammed against his chest. It was at least a twenty-foot drop on the rocky slope. If she fell...
He had to get to the other side of the lake before it was too late.
Even though he didn’t have a clean shot, Jonah kept his weapon trained on the man, looking away long enough to place his feet. He climbed over slick boulders and slogged his way through the knee-high water. The cold stole his breath, and he was thankful the waders kept him dry. The burn of mountain-air pricked his lungs with each breath, but he pressed on.
When he was halfway to the bank, he assessed the situation again. The attacker still held the woman in front of him and blocked Jonah’s shot, holding her like a hostage.
They were on the edge of the ridge, only a few inches from a deadly fall.
The woman sagged in the big man’s hands. Had she passed out? Or worse? He kept going, closing the distance, but too far away to save the woman. He clenched his rifle, itching to pull the trigger.
“This is the FBI,” Jonah shouted. “Show me your hands!”
The man stared at Jonah and cocked his head. For a moment, Jonah thought he would comply. With one quick movement, Camouflage Man flung the woman over the edge of the cliff. Before Jonah could take a shot, the attacker ducked behind a tree and disappeared.
The woman’s body slid feetfirst along the bluff. Her hands grappled for a hold, but only found loose gravel. Halfway down the slope, her foot hit a protruding tree root. Her feet went over her head, and she tumbled twice, bringing larger rocks raining down the precipice with her. She hit the ground hard on her hip. The momentum kept her going and she flipped and landed with a splash on the shore of the lake.
Jonah clenched his jaw and kept his eye on the crumpled body of the woman, now lying motionless in the frigid water. If he didn’t get to her soon, she’d either freeze or drown. With his rifle lowered, he climbed a boulder and took a risky leap toward the bank. Before he could plant his left foot, it slipped. He fell, landing hard against the rock. A sharp pain shot through his side, but he ignored it and got to his feet.
He slogged through the mud at the edge of the lake and dropped to his knees next to the woman. Blood tinted the water surrounding her cinnamon-colored curls. Wow, she was small. Tiny actually. No more than five feet and probably all of one hundred pounds soaking wet. Which she was. He had to get her out of the water.
He laid his rifle on the ground and leaned over to check her vitals. A smooth rock beneath her cheek supported her head. A slight ripple skittered across the water near her mouth with each shallow breath.
Breathing...breathing was good.
With his free hand, he felt her throat for a pulse. It was slow but strong against his fingers. His shoulders relaxed and he heaved a sigh. She was unconscious, not dead. Bits of gravel clung to her cheek. Jonah brushed them away.
He looked around and considered what to do next. A fall from such a height meant she probably had a head or neck injury. Moving her could cause more damage, but what choice did he have? The glacier runoff water would send her into hypothermia in minutes, and what if her attacker came back while Jonah went for help? No, he’d risk moving her to save her life.
Gently, he lifted her and cradled her in his arms. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
He carried her to a dry patch of grass where the sun shone through the trees and lowered her to the ground. When he brought his hand away from her hair, blood stained his fingers.
The skin near her temple had burst open. Blood trickled down her face. The cut looked bad, but it wasn’t life-threatening. She’d definitely need stitches. He tore the corner of his flannel shirt and applied pressure to staunch the bleeding.
The woman moaned, then coughed. Her eyes fluttered, but she didn’t open them.
“It’s okay. You’re safe. Can you tell me your name?” He stroked her hair, hoping the stimulation would rouse her.
She pulled her cracked lips apart. “B-b-b...” Her voice was nothing more than a shallow breath.
“It’s okay. Take your time.” Jonah’s eyes drifted to the finger shaped bruises already appearing around her neck.
“B-b-bel...”
“Belle? Your name is Belle?”
She didn’t respond.
“Okay, we’ll go with that for now.” He blew out a breath. “Sorry we had to meet like this, Belle, but I’ll get you somewhere safe.”
She seemed stable, but there was no doubt this woman needed medical attention. Without his phone, he’d have to carry her to his cabin before he could call the ranger station for help.
He lifted her slight body and settled her into his arms.
Jonah’s boss was not going to like this. This was the opposite of laying low. The authorities needed to know about the attack and take Jonah’s witness statement. Which meant he’d have to explain why he was in the vicinity. Only his handler knew the location of his secret cabin. No other human had ever set foot in it.
Jonah sighed and looked at the woman in his arms. That was about to change.
At least Belle could get warm and dry while they waited for help.
“Well, Belle. I guess you’re gonna be my very first houseguest.”
As he turned toward his home, he glimpsed a dark figure in the trees on the bluff.
Someone was watching.
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