Chapter 7 - The Net Closes
By eight o'clock the following morning, the storm had cleared, leaving behind a cold, crisp sunlight that illuminated the thick fog clinging to the valleys. But the serene mountain beauty was shattered by the distant, rhythmic thrumming of helicopter blades echoed across the ridge.
Inside the Sheriff's Command Center downtown, District Attorney Marcus Thorne stood before a massive digital map of the county. He was dressed in a tailored navy suit, a silver lapel pin gleaming under the bright lights. Beside him, Collins was bandaging his wrist, his eyes bloodshot and filled with murderous impatience.
"We have three tactical teams sweeping the lower ridge," Thorne said, pointing at the glowing red grid on the monitor. "I've declared a state of emergency. As far as the press and the public are concerned, Sheriff Vance has suffered a mental breakdown, murdered a suspect in custody at the hospital, and kidnapped a young woman."
Collins sneered. "And what happens when the media asks questions about the video?"
"What video?" Thorne replied coolly, turning to look at his accomplice. "The server crashed. The evidence room suffered an unfortunate electrical fire forty minutes ago. The physical hard drives are melted slag. There is no video, Marcus. There is only the word of a rogue, unstable Sheriff and a traumatized victim."
He leaned over the table, pressing his fingers against the digital map. "They are stranded in those woods without transport. Find them before they make contact with anyone outside the county line. And Marcus..." Thorne paused, his eyes narrowing to ice-cold slits. "...ensure there are no survivors to testify at a hearing."
Collins smiled, a cold, dark expression. "With pleasure."
Up on Blackwood Ridge, Vance stood on the cabin’s wooden porch, holding a pair of heavy binoculars to his eyes. He watched as two black Bell 429 helicopters hovered low over the treeline two miles away, dropping tactical teams onto the access roads.
"They've set up a perimeter," Vance reported, walking back inside the cabin. "They're locking down the roads at the base of the mountain. We can't use a vehicle."
Martha was sitting on the sofa, her face pale. "Can I stay here? I’m only slowing you down, Vance."
"No," Vance said firmly. "If they find this cabin and you're here alone, Thorne will use you as leverage to make Elena surrender. We move together. We take the old logging trail up the north face. It's steep, but the dense canopy will hide us from the helicopters' thermal imaging."
Elena nodded, checking the strap of her small backpack, which held her phone and the satellite tablet. "I'm ready."
They left the cabin through the rear hatch, stepping into the dense, damp forest. The air was frigid, their breath rising in small white clouds as they navigated the narrow, overgrown trail. Vance led the way, his shotgun held at the ready, his eyes scanning every shadow, every cluster of boulders for potential ambushes.
As they climbed higher up the mountain, the terrain became increasingly treacherous. Loose gravel and wet shale made every step a battle against gravity. Halfway up the slope, Martha slipped on a wet root, gasping in pain as her knee buckled beneath her.
Elena instantly caught her mother before she could slide down the drop-off. "Mom! Are you okay?"
Martha bit her lip, tears springing to her eyes. "My knee... I twisted it."
Vance rushed back down the trail, kneeling beside Martha to examine the swelling joint. "It's sprained," he said grimly. He looked up at the sun rising higher in the sky. Time was rapidly running out.
Suddenly, a sharp crack echoed through the trees from the valley below, followed by the distant bark of a police dog.
"K-9 units," Vance muttered, his face hardening. "They brought bloodhounds. They have our scent from the cabin."
Elena looked at her mother, then up toward the summit of Bald Mountain, which was still a half-mile climb through rough terrain. "Vance, take the tablet and the phone. Go to the summit and send the file. I’ll stay here with Mom."
May you like
"Absolutely not," Vance snapped. "The file is encrypted with your biometric fingerprint. I can't access the partition without you. We stay together."
He slung his shotgun over his back, bent down, and effortlessly lifted Martha onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry. "Keep moving, Elena. Right behind me. Don't look back."
