The Sleeping Doll

leaves over themselves.
    “You’re doing fine. A few more feet.”
    Well, twenty.
    But then they closed the distance to ten.
    And finally they reached their sanctuary. It was deeper than Sam had thought and would be perfect cover.
    She began to ease Linda into it.
    Suddenly, with the sound of crackling underbrush, a figure pushed out of the woods, coming right at them.
    “No,” Sam cried. Letting Linda slump toward the ground, she grabbed a small rock, a pathetic weapon.
    Then, gasping, she barked a hysterical laugh.
    Kathryn Dance, crouching, whispered, “Where is he?”
    Her heart slamming, Sam mouthed, “I don’t know.” Then repeated the words louder. “We saw him about fifty yards back that way. He’s hurt. But I saw him walking.”
    “He’s armed?”
    A nod. “A gun. And a knife.”
    Dance scanned the area around them, squinting into the sun. She then assessed Linda’s condition. “Get her down there.” Nodding at the ravine. “Press something on the wound.”
    Together they eased the woman into the depression.
    “Please, stay with us,” Sam whispered.
    “Don’t worry,” Dance said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter 55
    Winston Kellogg was somewhere to the south of them.
    After they’d left the Point Lobos Inn, they’d lost track of the footprints and blood near a fork in the nature trails. Arbitrarily Dance had gone right, Kellogg left.
    She’d moved silently through the brush—staying off the trail—until she saw motion by the edge of a cliff. She’d identified the women and approached them quickly.
    Now, she called the FBI agent from her mobile phone.
    “Win, I’ve got Sam and Linda.”
    “Where are you?”
    “We’re about a hundred yards from where we split up. I went due west. We’re almost to the cliff. There’s a round rock near us, about twenty feet high.”
    “Do they know where Pell is?”
    “He was near here. Below us and to our left about fifty yards. And he’s still armed. Pistol and knife.”
    Then she tensed, looking down, saw a man’s form on the sand. “Win, where are you? Are you on the beach?”
    “No. I’m on a path. The beach is below me, maybe two, three hundred feet away.”
    “Okay, he’s there! You see that small island? Seals all over it. And gulls.”
    “Got it.”
    “The beach in front of that.”
    “I can’t see it from here. But I’m moving that way.”
    “No, Win. There’s no cover for your approach. We need tactical. Wait.”
    “We don’t have time. He’s gotten away too many times already. I’m not letting it happen again.”
    The gunslinger attitude . . .
    It bothered her a lot. Suddenly she really didn’t want anything to happen to Winston Kellogg.
     . . . afterward. How does that sound?  . . .
    “Just . . . be careful. I lost sight of him. He was on the beach, but he’s in the rocks now. There’d be perfect firing positions from there. He can cover all the approaches.”
    Dance stood up, shielding her eyes as she scanned the beach. Where is he?
    She found out a second later.
    A bullet slammed into the rocks not far from her, and then she heard the crack of Pell’s pistol.
    Samantha screamed and Dance dropped to cover in the recess, nicking her skin, furious that she’d presented a target.
    “Kathryn,” Kellogg called on the radio, “are you firing?”
    “No, that was Pell.”
    “You okay?”
    “We’re fine.”
    “Where did it come from?”
    “I couldn’t see. Had to be the rocks near the beach.”
    “You stay down. He’s got your position now.”
    She asked Samantha, “Does he know the park?”
    “The Family spent a lot of time here. He knows it pretty good, I’d guess.”
    “Win, Pell knows Point Lobos. You could walk right into a trap. Really, why don’t you wait?
    “Hold on.” Kellogg’s voice was a quiet rasp. “I think I see something. I’ll call you back.”
    “Wait. . . . Win. Are you there?”
    She changed position, moving some distance away so Pell wouldn’t be looking for her. She glanced out fast between two rocks. Couldn’t see a thing. Then she noticed Winston Kellogg making his way toward the beach. Against the massive rocks, gnarled trees, the expanse of ocean, he seemed so fragile.
    Please . . . Dance sent him a silent message to stop, to wait.
    But, of course, he kept on moving, her tacit plea as ineffectual as, she reflected, his would have been with her.
    •    •    •
    Daniel Pell knew more cops were on their way.
    But he was