The Bodies Left Behind

after the women. It seemed like a much steeper climb and would have to be made without cover, but who knew? Maybe the men were pissed off about the attack and hell-bent on getting their prey.
    Still, Jasons didn’t want to do anything too quickly. He looked over the brush, scanning with the night-vision binoculars. Much of the vegetation moved but that seemed due to the breeze, not escaping humans.
    He saw movement not far away. He blinked and gave a gasp as he focused his binoculars. He was looking at a wild animal of some kind, a coyote or wolf. The night-vision system gave it a ghostly green-gray color. Its face was lean and the teeth white and perfect, visible through the slightly bared lips and jowls. He was glad the creature was some distance away. It was magnificent but fierce.
    The animal lifted its head, sniffed, and in an instant was gone.
    I’m a long, long way from home, James Jasons thought. He’d tell Robert an edited version of the story, in which the animal, though not the gunfire, would figure.
    He continued to scan the nearby field and forest but saw no sign of Emma Feldman’s killers. They could easily have been here but it was impossible to tell with the dense vegetation.
    And what about Graham and the deputy?
    The gunshot he’d heard before the killers arrived at the rock ledge hinted at their fate. It was a shame—but you can’t get in over your head. Just can’t do it.
    Jasons waited another ten minutes and decided it was time to get back to the interstate. He slung the canvas bag over his shoulder and without disassembling the rifle melted into the forest.

    THEY CONTINUED ALONG the ridge of the gorge and toward the highway, the Snake River pounding over rocks far below.
    Brynn didn’t dare look to her right, where ten feet away the world ended, a sheer cliff. She held Amy’s hand, and stared directly ahead at the path in front of them.
    She paused once, looking back. Michelle was hobbling along well enough, though clearly exhausted. The little girl appeared almost catatonic.
    The time was still very early and, from what they could hear, there wasn’t much traffic on the road yet. But an occasional semi or sedan would cruise by. And all they needed was one.
    The bridge suddenly loomed ahead and to the right. They plunged into a band of trees and emerged into a strip of grass about thirty feet wide. Beyond that were the shoulder of the interstate and the beautiful strips of graying asphalt.
    But Brynn held up her hand for them to stop; there were no cars or trucks in sight just yet and they’d come too far to make mistakes now.
    They remained in the tall grass, like timid hitchhikers. Brynn found herself weaving a bit; this was about the first smooth, level ground she’d been on in close tonine or so hours and her inner ear’s gyroscope was having trouble navigating.
    Then she laughed, looking down the highway.
    A car was heading around a curve toward them, on the shoulder. It was a Kennesha County Sheriff’s Department car, its lights flashing, moving slow. A driver had heard the shots and called 911 or the State Police’s #77.
    Brynn raised a hand to the car, thinking: she’d have to call in immediately about the shooter at the ledge.
    The car slowed and swerved onto the shoulder and then eased to a stop between her and the highway.
    The doors opened.
    Hart climbed out of the driver’s side, his partner from the other.

    “NO!” MICHELLE GASPED.
    Brynn exhaled a disgusted sigh. She glanced at the car. It was Eric Munce’s. Her eyes went wide.
    “Yeah, he didn’t make it,” said the partner, the man she’d come close to shooting back in the Feldman’s dining room. “Fell for the oldest trick in the book.”
    She briefly closed her eyes in horror. Eric Munce . . . the cowboy had come out to save her. And charged to his own death, outmatched.
    Hart said nothing. He held his black pistol and gazed at the captives.
    The partner continued. “And how are you, Michelle ?” Emphasizing the name. He pulled a woman’s purse out of his pocket. Stuffed it back. “Nice to make your acquaintance.”
    The woman said nothing, just put her arms around the little girl protectively, pulled her close.
    “You ladies have a nice stroll through the woods tonight? Good conversation? You stop for a tea party?”
    Hart focused on Brynn. He nodded. She easily held his eye. He lowered the gun as a sedan on the far side of the divider cruised past. It didn’t even slow. In the pale dawn