Countdown, p.1
Countdown, page 1
Countdown
A Hat Creek Thriller, Volume 3
Elizabeth Rain
Published by Elizabeth Rain, 2023.
Copyright Page
While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.
This is a work of fiction. Though every effort has been made to adhere as closely to the facts as possible regarding certain historical events, this is still a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, most events, locales, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
COUNTDOWN
First edition. September 11, 2023.
Copyright © 2023 Elizabeth Rain.
Written by Elizabeth Rain.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Also By Elizabeth Rain
IN APPRECIATION
Special Kudos go out to the following:
Editor Carol Thorsteinson.
Cover Design by Melody Simmons
I also need to give a huge Shout Out to my wonderful ARC Readers, your early opinions and advice helped this book soar. You know who you are.
Finally, I can't forget my family. You have been here every step of the way. Without your encouragement and unfailing patience I couldn't do this.
CHAPTER ONE
Stuart Madry glanced over at his wife, Kitty, as she positioned her kayak on shore and stood up straight, double-checking her vest and helmet one last time for their run down the westernmost fork of the Little Hat River. She was petite and blonde, with blue eyes that he lost himself in daily even after five years together and three years of marriage. For someone just a bare couple of inches past five foot and at a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, she had a lot of game for someone so small. Her sheer pluckiness was what had first attracted him, and her thirst for adventure. Like him, his dear Kitty was a bit of a thrill seeker, and they shared a love for the challenges of white-water kayaking in particular.
She reached down and adjusted the ties on her paddle, giving the little boat a fond pat and straightening. She glanced his way and grinned. “Can’t wait to try 'em out. I can’t believe you picked them up for that price. Rewinds—a bit over-classed for a novice like me, don’t you think?” He didn’t answer right away, finding himself momentarily tongue-tied when she gave him a playful wink.
“Perfect for you. Don’t sell yourself short. Did you check out the rocker on these? All that curvature means better tracking and maneuverability. We’ll need it today. Besides, you’re almost as good as me.”
It wasn’t an insult. Stuart had been whitewater kayaking competitively since he was sixteen. When he’d met her, Kitty had been a novice of the sport—but no longer.
“Class III and IV at best, that’s what the fliers claim.”
He shook his head, glancing downstream where the first set of rapids boiled around a set of rocks the size of city buses. Hitting one of those would hurt! “Gotta factor in the time of year and maybe up that number a notch in most cases. Springtime with all the rain and run-off is unpredictable.”
“We could have waited another month.”
He grinned. “We’ll be busy with something else by then. And we won’t be kayaking.”
Her cheeks grew rosy, her eyes darkening. “I think starting a family scares me more than Belladonna’s Flower.”
He grimaced, worrying his jaw back and forth as he thought of the Class IV set of rapids they’d be hitting about a half-mile down river. He carefully checked his own gear. “It’ll be closer to a Class V this time of year. Maybe you should let me go first, so I’m there to catch you when you come through.”
She snorted, edging her boat towards the water, picking up her paddle. “You mean so you’ll be there to rescue me when I crash? No thanks, I’m going first. You promised, remember?”
He took a couple of steps and snatched her around the waist, pulling her up on her toes and laying a hard kiss on her surprised mouth. “Just make sure you get there in one piece. You’re not going to use being laid up in the hospital as an excuse to put off getting pregnant,” he teased, releasing her and stepping back.
Her eyes gleamed. “Promise you that.” Both adjusted their boats, getting in and rearranging their spray decks, making any final adjustments to keep the water out. The waterproof covering prevented their small crafts from being swamped in the powerful waves.
With a last playful look in his direction, she tipped her fingers to her mouth and shot him a kiss—and shoved off.
Swearing because he wasn’t quite ready, Stuart waited and watched as she approached the first set of rapids and went in, her purple and blue tie dye-colored kayak bobbing and disappearing in the steep waves as she narrowly missed the rocks and careened around the bend ahead of him. It was important to give her enough of a head start that they wouldn’t be as busy avoiding each other as all the other obstacles and the stiff currents in the river at the same time.
Fully thirty seconds behind her, he hit the same current and followed. It was a four-mile stretch, with at least a dozen rapids along its length, four of them noteworthy enough to be labeled “for experts only.” And spring only acted to speed things up. His muscles straining, his body twisting and the paddle dipping as he leaned side to side and forward, Stuart tried to remember the quirks of each major rapid as highlighted by the guide back at Lovelace Resort where they were staying. They’d opted to go it alone, but had agreed to the pick-up downstream, about a half-mile past the last set of rapids. As runs went, it was relatively short, and less than forty-five minutes later he gasped, catching his breath as he passed through the last major one and the water smoothed out, becoming flat as the elevation leveled and the water grew deeper and slowed. Up ahead of him, Kitty sat to the side where the current had stilled and grinned at him. He lifted his paddle in the air and gave a great whoop-whoop. He reached her and nearly dumped her in the water when he hauled her in for a hard excited kiss. “That was so wild! And you did great! I wish we had time to do that again!”
Kitty laughed. “I can’t wait to teach our kids how to kayak!”
A soft look filled his eyes. “Me neither. You’re going to be a great mom.”
“If we have a daughter, she’ll be a daddy’s girl,” Kitty teased.
“You bet! Come on, I’m starving. The quicker we get picked up and back the sooner we eat. I made reservations for lunch at Portia’s.”
“I can’t wait.”
Together they moved into the slower current, sipping at bottled water they’d brought along, with a high protein bar they’d secured in their little zippered pockets for an extra boost of energy. Whitewater kayaking was as strenuous as it was exhilarating, and the surge of adrenaline they used up was exhausting. It had turned out to be a beautiful day, the temperature climbing into the eighties, the sun bright in a blue cloudless sky overhead. A thin trail of white made its way in a straight ribbon towards Marquette, less than five miles away—a jet carrying passengers to their next vacay destination or back home from some business trip.
Up ahead, the river meandered for the last half-mile, curving around to the south for a minute before straightening back out and approaching the landing where they would get out.
A flash of white in a large pine and dipping wings made them catch their breaths as a bald eagle flew from its perch and dipped into the water ahead of them, lifting a sizable salmon free, its silver underbelly flashing in the sun as it twisted. “Wish I had a camera for that one!”
Kitty sighed, catching his eye and tapping her helmet. “It wouldn’t have done it justice. Some pictures are best kept right here where we can pull them out anytime we want.”
“True,” he agreed as they followed the curve in the river. They observed the large bird’s graceful flight as she rose above the trees and disappeared from sight.
“Do you suppose she’s feeding babies?”
“Or he. Both care for the young, and it is April.”
She nodded and gave a contented sigh, holding her paddle aloft and taking a moment to stretch her arms over her head, the sun warm on her cheeks.
Around the bend a large wall of sand rose into the air, washing down to a narrow strip of rocky shore at its edge. Their eyes followed the yellow umber upwards, snagging on the trees that dotted the side of the steep hill in a mad tumble of graying limbs and roots where the earth had eroded away and brought them down. Near the top, others clung to the side of the upper bank, their roots partially exposed and gleaming.
Kitty had stopped paddling, frowning. “What’s that?” she asked, an odd note to her voice.
Stuart grinned. “Could be box elder, or cottonwood. I’m not sure of the species,” he teased. He worked in IT—he was no botanist.
; “Not that,” she said sharply, her breath coming faster. “There, Stuart, tangled in that tree in the center. That’s...a...it’s a body!” she croaked, grabbing at her throat, her eyes wide, her face blanching.
Stuart shook his head as he finally saw what she did, too, swallowing. “A Halloween prank, I’m sure...”
She shot him a glare. “In April? Don’t be a dunce! Look at the crows, Stuart. Are they part of the joke?”
And he did, their shouts of raucous alarm making the black feathered beasts rise into the air, cawing annoyingly. Yellow eyes gleamed down at them with irritation at being interrupted at their meal.
Stuart’s stomach gave a mad lurch, and he gagged at the sight of empty dark sockets where eyes should have been. “He’s naked,” he managed. He glanced at his wife in time to see her bend over the side of the boat and heave up the contents of her stomach, the boat rocking precariously at the sharp motion.
She shot him a dark look. “You didn’t miss the hole in the middle of his forehead, right? Someone shot a man, crucified him to the roots of a dead cottonwood tree overlooking the river for anyone to see, and that’s the best you got? Well, somebody fetch the man some underwear. I don’t think he cares.”
“That’s sarcasm. I don’t think I like it much.” He shook his head with a shudder, looking away from the corpse dangling close to a hundred feet above their heads. He paddled faster. “Come on. We need to get back and call the police and let them know about this.”
“Stuart.”
He glanced behind at his wife and hesitated, gulping.
“I think you’d better cancel those reservations. I’m not hungry anymore.”
He waited for her to catch up, feeling ashamed for letting his panic get the better of him. He’d started to leave his wife behind.
“Me neither. And here I thought the Belladonna was going to be my biggest thrill of the day.”
Kitty snorted, her paddle cutting fast and smooth through the water. “It wasn’t even close. And speaking of the pictures in our heads, what do we do to get rid of the ones we’d like to forget?”
ELLE HELD THE BOARD steady while August used the screw gun to secure it in place. It was the last bit of the flooring on the new dock they were installing. Tomorrow, they’d be able to start on the rails. After that they’d be finished and able to paint. “It’s really coming together. I should feel guilty that you’re doing all the work.” Elle smiled down at his grizzled head, his broad shoulders bunching as he cinched the last one down and looked up, one bushy brow arching in amusement.
“You probably should. Lucky thing for you you’re broke, and I’m a charitable sort.”
Elle chuckled, straightening and placing a fist in the small of her back and stretching out the kinks.
“There’s definitely something to be said for cheap labor.”
August stood up to his full height, and Elle stepped back, looking way up. She wasn’t short, but at six foot six, August towered over almost everyone. All these months later and she still didn’t buy the homeless act that had brought him to her doorstep that past fall. But she wasn’t arguing either, since he could outwork five grown men on a bad day.
She looked towards the cabins, up aways past the long slope of yard on the hill, overlooking Ghost Lake. It was a tranquil spot most of the time, though Elle would be the first to admit that trouble seemed to have a way of finding them, even way out in the middle of the Hat Creek Wilderness Preserve. It was a protected tract of ground nearly five-thousand square acres square, and several miles from the closest town of Veil Falls.
Near one of the smaller cabins, a slight figure was working around the outside of the cabin in a little flower bed. Next to her in a little portable bassinet was the youngest member of their camp, Miss Gracie Williams, cute as a button at all of a couple of months old.
“It’s time for dinner. I had a bagel for breakfast, and we skipped lunch,” Elle stated decisively, glancing at August with narrowed eyes. The man was the devil when it came to finishing what he started. He didn’t like to quit when he was on a roll.
“I don’t know...we could at least set the posts...”
“By yourself. A half-hour break won’t kill you. I bet you skipped breakfast, too, didn’t you? Think how much faster you’ll be after filling your belly.”
He gave a dark chuckle and stored the drill, straightening. “Fine. A half hour, no more. Daylight’s burning.”
“I’ve got a big pot of bean and ham soup in the slow cooker, and I made corn muffins last night. I just have to grab the salad and I’ll have enough to feed an army. Or at least one big stubborn mountain of a man.”
He grinned, glancing down at her. “Is that a fat joke? Because I worked hard to get these hips.”
They moved off the dock and started up the hill and Elle looked around, frowning. “Where’s Mia? She was just here a minute ago...”
He nodded, looking towards the woods with an answering scowl. “I swear that dog can’t be trusted to stay put.”
He wasn’t wrong. She had a habit of disappearing the minute Elle’s back was turned.
She cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled as loud as she could. “Mia...”
Almost immediately, they heard an answering yelp from the direction of the woods, high in the pines. It came again, closer.
Elle cocked her head, her brows knitting. “That doesn’t sound like her happy voice,” she murmured with suspicion, watching for her dark chocolate coat to appear from the edge of the woods. Seconds later another howl came, more frantic than the last as she emerged along the trail that ran close to the shoreline near where Ghost Lake fed into the Little Hat River and the multiple creeks that split off from it in the park.
August gave a grunt. “She’s running as if something is chasing her, but I can’t see anything,” he mused.
Elle shook her head. There was nothing behind her, but Mia was definitely running all out, her tail tucked low, the hair raised along the ridge of her back. Elle could make out the whites of her eyes sprung wide as she grew closer, yowling as if she had a firebrand tied to her tail.
“What the...” Elle muttered, her hands going to her hips, her eyes straining several yards beyond her to...nothing.
“Oh...” August said all at once, standing straighter. “Um...the grass.”
Elle looked at the thick weeds several yards behind Mia’s pistoning hind-quarters, and her eyes narrowed on the waving fronds. The wind wasn’t moving, but something small and low to the ground was. When Mia finally broke into the yard, Elle gasped. No more than a few yards behind her, slithering for all it was worth, was the biggest, blackest, longest snake she’d ever seen.
She turned to August, her mouth open to speak...and stopped. She stared in consternation at his retreating back, running full out towards the cabins. She heard him shout to Tessa as he crested the hill.
She moved to follow, watching as he picked the baby up without pausing. “Get in the cabin right now. I’ve got Gracie.” He didn’t wait, already clearing the steps in a bound.
“You great big lug! What are you doing?” she screeched, dirty hands on her hips as she stared after him, open-mouthed.
“Snake!” he gasped. It was apparently the magic word to shut her up. Elle was close enough to watch the color fade to gray in her dusky skin and then she was high-tailing it up the steps behind him, leaving everything else behind. The bang of the cabin door was sharp and final.
With a snort of disgust, Elle bounded up the steps of her own cabin, Mia right on her heels. She could hear the slither of the snake as it followed. She crossed the threshold to the door and whirled, slamming the screen shut just in time. She heard the clatter of chairs and the bump of the table and found Mia, huddled as far beneath it as she could manage, shivering.
Elle turned and looked through the screen, hopeful that the snake had given up and had left. Instead, all five foot of it, as big around as her arm, had coiled itself, its head lifted and beady yellow eyes glaring straight at her with dark malice. Elle groaned. She wasn’t afraid of snakes per se. She liked garters fine. They ate the bugs and didn’t hurt anyone. But she wasn’t tangling with anything that big, and this one looked as if it was settling in to stay.
