Ben was halfway down the ledge when the next rifle shot pierced the darkness and ricocheted on the rocks across the falls.

Yup. Emma had pulled the trigger.

Their game was up. Poulin knew she was armed, which meant their element of surprise was gone.

Ben finally reached the bottom of the falls, only to find a frothing, turbulent pool completely surrounded by sheer ledge. If they got in the canoe here, Poulin could pick them off as easily as shooting fish in a barrel.

Hell. It was time for another plan.

Ben looked up and saw the first whisper of dawn lighting the sky. He left the canoe on the ledge by the pool and pulled his handgun out of his belt. He’d tried to do things her way, but now it was time to join Beaker.

First, though, he needed to let Emma in on his plan so she didn’t accidentally shoot him. But just as he started up the trail, a deep rumbling came echoing down the mountain. The ground started to tremble, and Ben had to grab a tree for balance. Rocks poured down from the ledge as deadly missiles, some of them as large as basketballs. The tree he was holding shook as if attempting to shrug him off as the valley awakened with violent energy.

Emma tucked herself against the trunk of a giant pine tree to ride out the earthquake. Medicine Creek boiled with fury as huge boulders lost their footing and tumbled into the water. The ledge of the falls split with explosive booms that sounded like gunfire, reverberating through the granite beneath her in undulating waves.

Her first thought when the ground quieted was of Ben. He was below the falls, in the path of a deadly landslide of falling rock and small trees that still fell with lethal frequency. Her second thought was that the roar of the falls had subsided to a more gentle sound, like that of a gushing faucet that had suddenly been turned off.

Medicine Creek had been dammed up by the falling debris.

Emma moved away from the swiftly rising water and scanned the opposite shore, able to see it clearly now that dawn blanketed the forest with dim light. Wayne was still over there someplace, waiting for her to move. She quietly started in the direction Ben had gone, sliding down the path, praying she wouldn’t find him buried beneath rubble.

She lost her grip on a tree root and fell into his lap.

He caught her with a grunt. “Following orders as usual?”

“We’ve got about two minutes before the rising creek decides thisis the easiest way down the valley,” she told him, grabbing his hand. “The falls were dammed by the earthquake.”

He reversed her grip on his and began pulling her back up the path.

“The canoe’s destroyed. And it’s too light out now to use it anyway,” he said, helping her over a steep spot.

“Then let’s head due east, away from the stream.”

He shook his head, still climbing. “No. If that pigeon of yours made it home yesterday, help will be arriving soon. They’ll be looking for us along Medicine Creek.”

Emma forced Ben to stop by grabbing a tree trunk and hanging on.

“What?” he asked.

“Wayne will see them coming! He’ll kill Mikey if he gets the chance.”

“He won’t get the chance,” Ben said, pulling her behind him again. “I intend to kill him first.”

Emma followed in silence. Water was already creating a new channel around the dammed falls. She hoped the creek was overflowing on the opposite shore as well, forcing Wayne out of his hiding place.

When they reached the overflowing stream, Ben headed toward the falls. There was enough light now to see the giant boulders and broken ledge blocking it, forming a bridge they could use. He stopped before crossing and turned to her, his face harder than the granite she was standing on.

Michael had been right. When Ben finally shed his veneer, he was scary.

“I need you to stay here,” he said harshly, leaving no room for discussion.

Emma didn’t argue.

“Cover me as I cross. Then keep an eye out for Atwood and Skyler. Fire two quick shots if you see them coming up the stream.”

“What about Beaker?” she asked softly.

He looked across the natural bridge. “He’s out there, watching and waiting.”

“You’ll be careful?”

He gently kissed her. “I love you, Emma. And I’ll be back. We have an important date in two weeks, and I intend to be there to see what you think of my wedding gift.”

He kissed her again, then pulled out his handgun and walked away.

Emma lifted her rifle to her shoulder and steadied it on the boulder she was leaning against, watching the opposite shore for any sign of Wayne.

Chapter Twenty-two

T he earth continued torumble with occasional shivers, rattling small rocks and rippling the ever deepening water. Medicine Creek finally found its new route around the dam, and its newly created falls cascaded down the path Ben had used to portage the canoe. Small trees were uprooted and earth and mud gave way with devastating effects. Her retreat was cut off. She was trapped except for the route Ben had taken across the old falls.

Emma wished she were here under different circumstances as this wonder of nature played itself out. She was witnessing no more than a gentle blip in the life of the earth, but to her it was mystical.

Michael would be fascinated.

She thought of her nephew, knowing he was valiantly coming to her rescue. She didn’t doubt Homer had found the lodge eventually, and that Mikey had found the message they’d sent. And she knew nothing would stop him from trying to save the two people he loved. She knew she didn’t have to worry about him barging into an ambush, as Mikey was smart enough to be cautious.

Sometimes he seemed as mystical as the land he’d grown up in. He knew things: when the rain was coming, when the seasons were changing, and when weather was brewing. He was able to read the signs like a soothsayer, and had surprised Emma more than once with an urgency to batten down the camps and secure the plane. When no more than a rainstorm was forecast, Mikey would make her prepare for a gale, and he was rarely wrong.

He would know Wayne was near, and would come with stealth and purpose.

Which scared her. As much as she didn’t want Wayne’s blood on Ben’s hands, she certainly didn’t want Michael involved. He was too young and innocent to become embroiled in the mess.

The forest behind her suddenly erupted in a flurry of breaking branches and heavy breathing. Emma swiftly turned, only to lower the rifle barrel when Pitiful came charging toward the stream. The animal’s eyes were huge saucers of brown with white rings of panic surrounding them. His nostrils were flared and his sides were heaving as he broke through the trees, his single antler pulling down branches.

Unable to understand what was happening in his woods, the panicked bull splashed into the receding waters of Medicine Creek, letting out a bellow that sounded like a desperate child calling for help. He stood in the middle of the stream, shivering with fright and panting.

“Pssst,” Emma hissed, trying to draw his attention. “Pitiful.”

The young bull cocked his head in her direction, let out a loud bugle of joy when he spotted her, and came charging through the water toward the dam. Emma stepped behind her rock for protection.

Wayne Poulin grabbed her around her throat in a hold that nearly cut off her air.

“Drop the rifle,” he said, pulling them both out of reach of the confused moose. “Who’s here with you?”

She didn’t answer, and he tightened his hold on her throat.

“It’s … it’s John,” she gasped, tugging on his arm so she could breathe.