Scattered Graves

other options, she would still try if it came to that.
Her arm and shoulder ached from being gripped and dragged, and her head hurt. She pushed the pain to the back of her mind. She’d had a lot of practice doing that—pushing pain back until it was just an an noyance. Not even to mention the times she had been beat up, stabbed, and shot, she’d done some difficult caves and wrenched her muscles more than once. But you have to keep going. You can’t stop.
Diane had practice putting fear in the back of her mind too. Every caver has moments of panic while caught in too tight a squeeze, or becoming lost— discovering new passages, they call it—or trapped on unstable ground. You learned to control the panic, make the surge of adrenaline work for you.
But the fear a maniac generates in you is something different. Diane found humans far more terrifying than anything nature had in store. It was a struggle to keep the dread in this moment from overwhelming her.
Delamore pulled her to the very edge of the preci pice. Her fear redoubled as she realized his intent. He was going to throw her into the gorge—perhaps after beating her or shooting her, or God knew what he had in mind.
She struggled. He slapped her across the cheek. She stood with her back to the drop-off, her heels at the edge. She could hear the wind whistling up from the depths below. This wasn’t the plan she had in mind.
With a devilishly evil look in his eyes, he gave her a sudden push backward. She was off balance; she couldn’t stop herself. She was going to fall. This was it.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him. It was so quick, it made her reel. She grabbed at him with both hands. He laughed.
‘‘Oops, almost fell. Be careful,’’ he said. His voice dripped with mock concern.
He pushed again. And again pulled her back.
‘‘Uh-oh, you’re going to fall.’’
Again his shove pitched Diane out over the chasm with only her feet on the edge and his hand around her wrist, her other hand grabbing on to his arm. He pulled her back.
‘‘It’s a long drop down. Sure you’re up to it?’’ He laughed.
It was clear he intended to torture her with fear. But one of these times he was going to let go or mis calculate, and she would be gone.
Diane had an idea, but she had to put it in motion before he tired of his game. If he pushed hard enough and she couldn’t grab on to him or on to something, she would die. No chance of catching hold of some thing on the way down. What would make him con tinue the game?
Ross Kingsley, her FBI profiler friend, said positive reinforcement—a reward—will continue a behavior. But the catch is, what does the perp consider positive reinforcement? She knew immediately what Delamore wanted, and she loathed the thought of giving it to him. Harve Delamore wanted to hear fear, to hear her begging. That would be his reinforcer.
‘‘Look, please stop this,’’ she said. ‘‘Please.’’
It rather shocked Diane that she was having a hard time pleading, even for her life. What on earth did that say about her priorities? She inched to her left and pleaded again.
‘‘Not such a big deal now, are you?’’ he said.
He pushed her again and pulled her back. This time Diane dropped to her knees.
‘‘Better watch out,’’ he said. ‘‘It’s a long, long way down.’’ He laughed.
‘‘Please stop this. Please, you’re scaring me,’’ she said.
Diane had seen a possible weapon on the ground, and now it was under her hand while she was on her knees begging for her life. A hard piece of quartzite. Jagged edges. He pulled her to her feet.
‘‘Please, please, please,’’ he mocked her. ‘‘Come on, beg me, you damn bitch. I want to hear you beg some more.’’
Diane struck his gun hand as hard as she could with the jagged rock. She struck and struck again and slashed in quick succession—three times before the gun slipped out of his hand, bounced off his foot, and dis appeared over the edge and into the gorge.

Chapter 5
    The gun was gone, but Harve Delamore still held her arm tight in his grip. He was stunned and in pain, and he was furious. Diane was quick. Before he could hit her with his free hand, she slammed the rock down on the wrist of the hand that held her arm. He yelled and let go of her, but pushed her backward in anger. She had expected that, though; she fell to her knees immediately to keep herself upright as she slid over the edge of the cliff.
    She dropped in a free fall