Dance with the Devil Page 21

  'You're not hurt?'

  'N…no,' she hiccupped, and realised only then that she had started to cry. She pulled away and wiped her hand across her eyes. 'He wanted me to look after Bethany. He thinks she's a boy and that God has given her to him in place of Simon.'

  'Bloody hell! He's really lost it, hasn't he!'

  She nodded. 'But at least he's given up killing. Except to protect the baby.' She paused a second, thoughtful. 'It's pathetic, really, he's so eager to be loved. I almost feel sorry for him.'

  Drew's eyebrows raised and she saw the lines of strain and tiredness in his face. She realised he probably had not slept since the night before, and they hadn't slept much then, either. The memory warmed her. 'How did you find me?'

  'I didn't think I was going to when the torch battery died last night. Thought I was going to have to wait till morning to keep tracking. Then I remembered the candle nuts in my pack. I wove a small bag from green twine to carry them, and lit them with the lighter. So I had enough light to track by.'

  'Did you see my torch signal?'

  He shook his head.

  'But how did you track across the rocks?' Emma returned to Bethany as she spoke.

  'I didn't need to. I saw the smoke coming from the rocks above the cave. If it wasn't such a moonlit night I would have missed it, so I was damn lucky. I waited on a ledge above the cave, and when Morgan left alone I climbed down.'

  Emma glanced at him as she pressed a clean nappy in place. 'I was so worried that Hadley would find you. He said he doesn't have to kill anymore, but if he thought you were a threat to the baby I'm sure he would.'

  Drew looked thoughtful. 'Perhaps we can use that to our advantage.'

  'How?'

  He smiled, and for the first time since Hadley grabbed her, Emma thought they might have a chance to get away.

  'It's clear,' Drew said as he looked outside the cave. They walked onto the rocky slope, picked their way carefully across the face of the mountain. The way Hadley had brought Emma was easier, but it was also the route he had probably taken now.

  The baby blanket was pale against Drew's sweat and dirt-stained shirt as he held the child. With his free hand, he clung to the rock face, grabbing at spindly shrubs whose roots tangled through the cracks into the earth. He kept glancing back at Emma. His relief at finding her unharmed was tempered by the knowledge that they had only a slim chance of eluding Morgan.

  He wished she had agreed to let him take her pack, but she had insisted his pack and the baby were enough for him to carry. That stubbornness of hers, that both infuriated and challenged him, had her clutching the rifle and arguing he needed at least one hand free.

  A scuttle of stones and Emma's sharp cry spun him around. She had slipped on loose stones and was hanging onto a large rock with one hand, her body curved over the rock, feet scrabbling for a hold. Her other arm hung limply by her side.

  The rifle clattered down the mountainside, stopping against a boulder ten metres below them.

  'I slipped. Hit my elbow.' Emma's voice betrayed her pain. 'Must have hit the nerve, it's gone numb.'

  She was too far away for Drew to reach her while still holding the baby. He looked around for a safe place to put Bethany down, but couldn't see one. 'Can you climb up?' he asked Emma.

  With an effort she pulled herself further up the rock until her sneakers dug into a crevice, then she inched her way up. As soon as she was within reaching distance, Drew grabbed her wrist and hauled her onto the level patch where he stood.

  Emma immediately rubbed her elbow, and bit her lip as the feeling began to return. Drew's hand closed over hers, tenderly massaging.

  'I don't know why they call it the humerus bone,' he smiled wryly at her. 'It doesn't feel very funny, does it?'

  'How can you be so damn nice to me,' she bit out, angry at herself. 'I've lost the bloody rifle.'

  'If you hold the baby, I'll climb down and get it.' Drew looked down to where the rifle lay. He was about to hand Bethany to Emma when a movement from the tree line caught his eye.

  'Hell!'

  'What's wrong?'

  'It has to be him. Has Morgan had his hair cut?'

  'Yes.'

  'Damn. He's coming out of the rainforest. And he's spotted us.'

  It only took a second for Drew to calculate that Morgan would reach him before he could get to the rifle. And if they continued on their present course, Morgan could easily climb up and intercept them. There was only one way now to give Emma a chance to get away. 'Get back to the cave.' His expression grim, Drew pulled her to her feet. 'Now!'

  Disbelief swamped Hadley as he saw the figures on the mountainside. The Defender should not have been able to find him. This was his territory. He was in command.

  Then he realised what the Defender was carrying, and rage tore through him.

  The child was his.

  God-given.

  Atoned for.

  Through the red mist that swirled in front of his eyes, he watched them move back to the cave. Then he was rushing up the mountain, slipping, grabbing at rocks, shrubs, hauling himself up, surging forward.

  Fifteen metres from the cave he stopped. The Defender had emerged. With the child. The blanket-wrapped bundle was clutched tightly to the Defender's chest. He glanced at Hadley, and began to make his way across the scree on the other side of the cave.

  Hadley's mind registered only one thing - his child was being taken from him! Dirt and stones sprayed from beneath his boots as he charged towards the cave. He fell once, saved himself by clawing at the ground, the rocks. But his speed and agility, born of years of trekking through similar terrain, began to close the gap.

  He passed the cave and paused briefly. Silence. He kept going. Ahead of him, the Defender was moving carefully, the black irregular rocks treacherous under his feet.

  As Hadley's boots scrunched onto the loose stones they shifted slightly, forcing him to re-balance. Again he slowed his pace, but he was still faster than the Defender. If the Defender made it to the rainforest beyond the scree, he might be able to hide from him, and that was intolerable.

  This time the Defender would die.

  Emma almost sobbed with relief as she heard Morgan move past the cave. She looked down at the baby in her arms. Bethany had begun to cry as they'd moved back into the cave. As Drew explained his plan to draw Morgan away, Emma filled a bottle with water from his pack and fed it to the infant. Drew emptied his pack, rolled it up and wrapped the baby blanket around it.

  'As soon as it's safe, Emma, take Bethany and make a run for the rainforest. Get the rifle if you can. There should be searchers combing the hills, and I thought I spotted a helicopter earlier on, but it was a fair distance away. Just keep heading east, fire a shot occasionally. Light a fire. They'll find you.'

  He took a step towards the cave entrance, then turned back. He kissed her. Quickly, almost savagely. For one long second he looked into her eyes. 'I love you,' he whispered. Then he was gone.

  Now she could hear Morgan's footsteps on the scree. She put the baby on her pack on the ground. Bethany lay quietly, her attention caught by a leaf dangling from a broken spider web. Emma peered around the cave entrance.

  Drew was hurrying faster, Hadley close behind him. Emma's heartbeat sped up as the gap narrowed.

  Three metres.

  Two metres.

  Suddenly the rocks moved under Drew's feet. He crashed down, the bundle falling from his grasp and tumbling down the slope. To Emma's surprise, the blanket stayed on the pack.

  A ferocious roar echoed across the hillside. Morgan changed course, plunging after the falling bundle.

  Drew sprang to his feet and lunged after the enraged man. His momentum forced them both down, rolling and fighting.

  Realisation hit Emma with a force that made her gasp.

  Drew hadn't intended to just lead Morgan away from her. He was going to do everything he could to stop him from getting her and the baby. Even if that meant fighting Morgan to the deat
h.

  No!

  She couldn't lose him.

  With a shock, she recognised what her heart had known all along.

  She loved him.

  She wasn't going to let him die!

  She scrambled down the rocks, scraping her hands, banging her knees, all caution gone. The rifle! She had to get the rifle!

  Anxiety clawed at her, but she couldn't risk looking over to see if the fight had ended. A second's distraction could mean Drew's life.

  She grabbed the rifle, flicked off the safety and snapped it to her shoulder as she turned towards the scree.

  Drew lay on the rocks, apparently stunned. In the split second that she registered Morgan drawing a knife from its scabbard, her father's derogatory words flashed into her mind - 'Not good enough'.

  She fired.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  It was true, Emma thought. Slow motion. The more horrific the event, the slower it seemed to take. And the more helpless you felt to prevent it.

  As the shot echoed across the valley, Morgan fell backwards. Beneath him the scree began to slide and gather momentum, carrying the two men down, down, faster and faster. Like a living creature it rumbled down the mountain, swirling dust, clinking with the strange metallic sounds of rock against volcanic rock.

  With despair clutching her heart, Emma watched Drew and Morgan disappear. When at last the rocks stopped moving, a strange calmness settled over the mountain. Emma shook off the inertia of fear that gripped her. She dropped the rifle and began to climb, very gingerly, down the boulder-strewn slope beside the scree.

  About ten metres above where the rocks had been arrested by the rainforest vegetation, she saw Drew. One arm pressed against his left side, he was pushing himself into a sitting position with the other. His clothes were torn, his face bruised and cut. Emma picked her way over to him, cautiously placing her feet, anxious not to disturb the precarious scree.

  She knelt beside him. It was an effort to restrain herself from falling on him and hugging him. 'Are you all right?' Relief flooded through her as he nodded.

  'I think I've broken a rib. Or rather, Morgan's boot did.' He looked around quickly, wincing in pain at the sudden movement. 'Where is he?'

  Emma stood, looked around. Morgan's body lay at the bottom of the scree, his head twisted against a small boulder. She suddenly realised what she'd done.

  She'd taken a life.

  She'd sworn to heal, to save life, and now she'd violated that oath. In spite of knowing what Hadley had done, and the reason she had had to shoot him, she felt sick. She tried to quell the remorse that welled up in her, but the memory of Hadley's awe-struck tenderness as he'd held Bethany brought tears to her eyes.

  'I'll just…check on him,' she said to Drew. Hadley might be lying there, not dead but badly injured. Although she knew it would probably be better if he were dead, she bitterly regretted that it was her finger that had pulled the trigger. Perhaps that's what her father had meant after all - no killer instinct.

  When she reached his body she saw where her bullet had hit. Not through the chest where she had aimed, but shattering his left forearm. Damn you Dad, you were right, she thought wryly. But somehow the thought no longer brought her pain. In some strange way, it no longer mattered.

  Where Morgan's head had collided with the boulder, an ugly swelling had already formed. Emma assessed his vital signs, hoped her diagnosis of concussion and nothing more serious was correct, then gently examined his arm. The bullet had broken the bone, and the wound had bled profusely, but the flow of blood was now easing.

  Her medical kit was in the cave, but it would take at least ten minutes to climb back up. Ten minutes in which Hadley's injured arm would continue to bleed. She unbuttoned her blouse, folded it into a bandage shape and wrapped it around the wound, tying it tightly.

  A shadow fell across her, and she looked up to see Drew standing next to her, watching her. She stood up. 'I had to,' she explained, her voice tight with strain and exhaustion. 'I couldn't leave him like that…'

  'Sh, it's all right,' Drew's tone was soothing, 'I understand.'

  She looked into his eyes, saw the acceptance, the love, and knew he really did understand. Realised that he loved her unconditionally.

  Hot tears sprang to her eyes and flowed down her cheeks.

  Drew reached out and held her against the uninjured side of his chest while she cried into his shirt. Even as she tried to rationalise that she was simply releasing the tension of the past few days, she recognised the lie. She was finally allowing someone into her heart, her emotions. Finally sharing. Sharing with the man she loved. She lifted her head to tell him, but he stepped away. He eased off his shirt, handed it to her. It was big enough to be a nightshirt on her, but there was something comforting in the smell of him that enveloped her as she buttoned it up. She looked at his chest. An ugly bruise was forming where Morgan had kicked him.

  He bent down and searched through Morgan's pockets. 'Damn!' He got slowly to his feet. 'I thought he might have some rope on him so I could tie him up.'

  'He used it on me, back in the cave. But I don't think he'll be capable of moving around for a while. He's going to have a quite a headache when he regains consciousness.'

  'Get your medical kit so you can patch him up. And that rope he used on you. I'll get the rifle.' Drew grimaced. 'At least that threat might keep him under control.'

  'His pistol! It was on his belt.' She looked, pushed her hands under Morgan's big body, but it was gone. She looked at the rockslide. 'We'll never find it.'

  'Just as long as Morgan doesn't have it.'

  Their progress up the mountain was painfully slow. They had to pick their way across the scree before climbing up the slope. Emma helped Drew as much as she could, but his face was white with pain by the time they reached the rifle.

  'I'll go back to Morgan while you get Bethany and your kit,' he said. 'Morgan won't be able to climb with that arm; we'll have to walk out through the valley as far as we can, then tie him up and bring the police back for him.' He touched her cheek, smiling gently. 'Don't fall.'

  Love for him swelled up in her, but suddenly the words were too difficult to say. Perhaps when they were finally safe, and there was more time…

  Drew's gaze shifted past her. He swore. Softly, but with intense feeling. She turned. And felt a solid block of fear settle in her stomach.

  Morgan had disappeared.

  Vomit was rank in his mouth. He spat, trying to free himself of the taste. His head still swirled from the pain and the effort of stumbling into the rainforest.

  He slumped against a tree, hoping he'd gone far enough for them not to see him. His right hand groped for his pistol. Gone. But a water bottle was still on his belt. Gripping it between his knees, he twisted the cap, tipped the cool liquid into his mouth and poured some over his head.

  Immediately he felt a little better. He looked down at his shattered arm, but ignored the painful throbbing. For a moment he stared at it before the realisation came to him. The doctor's shirt - it was the bandage around his arm. He was puzzled. She must have climbed down after him, tended to his wound.

  A strange feeling stirred in him. Since his mother's death, no woman except Ivy had ever cared for him. Before Ivy there had been women, many women, who'd given him the satisfaction his powerful body had craved. But no-one had ever cared for him. Offered him tenderness. Now a woman he had abducted, tied up, caused to be afraid, had shown him compassion and caring. It was more than he could comprehend.

  He pushed himself up, waited for the dizziness to ease. With his right hand, he eased his left into his belt so his wounded arm was cradled against his body. Without a sling, it would have to suffice.

  Through the trees he could see the distant figures moving out of the cave. The thoughts in his head were jumbled, and he was confused as to why he needed to follow them, but he only knew he must. God had a plan for him, and he had to obey.

  Drew had decided not to go back the way Morg
an had come. Instead, he chose to go lower down on the mountain where he hoped their passage would be a little easier. Emma had taped his rib, but every step brought pain and he knew he would have to conserve his strength for the steep mountain they had traversed yesterday afternoon.

  He wore Emma's pack and carried the rifle, but she had insisted on carrying the baby. Bethany whimpered continuously. At times she broke into a loud wail that Drew feared Morgan would hear if he was following them. But the baby was alive, which was more than he'd thought probable when they'd set out after Morgan.

  His admiration for Emma grew with each hour they walked. He'd set as fast a pace as he could, hoping to get as much distance as possible between them and Morgan. He knew Emma was exhausted, knew her arms ached from carrying the baby, but she kept walking, stoically accepting the necessity for their haste.

  The jungle closed in around them, cool and moist, laying vines and roots to trip them, branches and fronds to scratch their faces, their arms. Too tired now to notice the magnificent staghorns and elkhorns that proliferated in the treetops, and barely registering the decaying smell of leaf mould, they kept walking.

  They heard a plane in the distance, and Drew quickly gathered some material to light a fire, but the sound faded before he could even flick the lighter. The disappointment on Emma's face made him ache to reach out and comfort her, but she simply shrugged her shoulders in resignation, and they kept walking.

  When they hadn't come to two of the creeks they'd crossed on the way to the cave, Drew became concerned. If the creeks had joined up, they might be too deep to wade through. He prayed that problem wouldn't eventuate.

  In spite of the painkillers Emma had given him, the pain in Drew's ribs eventually forced him to take a break. They rested on a fallen log, lichen and fungus encrusting the softened bark. His concern for Emma grew as he watched the dispirited way in which she took the pieces of orange he cut up for her. She had made more formula and fed it to the baby, reluctantly acknowledging the necessity of not wasting time to start a fire and boil the water. Now Bethany slept, snuggled like a koala into the crook of Emma's arm. In Drew's shirt, Emma looked like a child dressing up in her parents' clothes.