"Douglas, Lynda - The Forest Connection" - читать интересную книгу автора (Douglas Lynda)

The older man grimaced at his son's words. "No way. Once we get our hands on that money, we're outta here."

Charlie spoke up. "Now wait a minute, Ross, Billy's got a point. If this here is our last deal, don't you think we should get as much out of it as we can?"

Ross cut the man a menacing glare, but said nothing.

"I know, I know. You don't have to say it. I don't get paid to think." Charlie paused. "You know how I get when I has to sit and wait? Makes me real nervous like. And having that ranger come up on us like that..." He slapped his big hands against his pant legs. Small dust clouds puffed out and settled to the ground.

"I still think we shoulda got rid of him back down the trail. We don't have to tell Jelco squat. Whatever happens after we get our money is his problem. We could just do it and hide the body. Then we'll wait here to collect our money. Jelco'll be none the wiser."

"Well, we ain't gonna do it now, you idiot. I don't want a murder rap hangin' over my head. If Jelco wants him dead, let him do it himself."

"Pa's right. Besides that, Jelco's got that chopper. It'll be easy for him to get rid of the body far enough away from here so nobody will come snooping around and connect us with his disappearance."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya," Charlie snapped. "Makes sense I reckon." He stood, paced in nervous circles, then turned toward the tents and Sue's hiding place.

She flattened herself in the brush, and held her breath, fighting the urge to run. He disappeared from view behind one of the tents but emerged again beside the next one.

Sue watched as Charlie jerked back the tent flap and looked inside. He let the flap drop and returned to the others. "He's breathing, but he's still out," he said. "It might be a done deal. That crease we put in his head might be worse than we thought." He retrieved his beer. "What time did you say Jelco was gonna get here?"

"Sunrise. Now stop worrying about it, will ya? You're worse than an old woman with your whining."

Concealing herself behind thickets of tall grass and wild flowers, Sue noiselessly made her way back up the trail out of hearing distance. She knew where they were holding him and after dark, she'd have to get him out of that tent. If his injuries were serious, she might have to leave him and go for help, but could she do that before Jelco, whoever he was, arrived in the morning? She felt so damnably helpless.

Cautiously, she made her way around the camp. Just north of the clearing, a large crop of marijuana, ready for harvesting, confirmed what she had overheard. Art had stumbled across an illegal drug operation.

This was nothing new on National Forest land. For years, armed marijuana growers had been a threat to visitors and to Forest Service employees. Although Sue had no first-hand experience, Art had, several years earlier, when he was still assigned to a ranger district in the Colville National Forest.

Sue lay on her stomach in the midnight darkness. The camp had been quiet for more than an hour. A pale moon had risen, casting an eerie glow over everything. She tucked her blonde hair under her cap and carrying only her knife, her movements deliberate, and calculated, she inched her way across the clearing between the woods and the tents.

Something moved at her left. She hugged the ground and turned her face so the moonlight wouldn't reflect its paleness. She didn't realize she had been holding her breath until the pressure in her chest forced her to breathe. Whatever had made the noise was quiet now and after a few minutes, she continued her slow progress toward the rear of the tent.

She lay outside, listening for sounds from inside, but heard nothing. Was he still alive? Near panic made her hands tremble as she pressed the tip of her blade into a tent seam and began cutting the stitches one by one. It seemed to take forever before she could part the fabric and peer inside.

Art, wide-eyed, stared at her, his face barely discernible in the darkness. He mouthed a silent "shush" and rolled over. His hands and feet were tied behind his back with tent cord. His flesh was so swollen around the cord that she couldn't get the blade under it. She gritted her teeth as she cut through the cord from the top down toward his skin.

After waiting several minutes for the circulation to return to his limbs, they crawled out of the tent and crept toward the cover of the forest. They were almost across the clearing when voices from the largest tent stopped them cold.

"Did you hear something, Pa?"

"What? No, nothing except your mouth. Now go back to sleep, will ya?"

"I tell you, I heard something," he repeated as his head pushed through the tent opening. He turned his head, tilting it from side to side like an animal listening for a predator.

"Think I'll go check on that ranger, Pa."

"Will you get back in here and go to sleep? That ranger's out cold. He ain't going nowhere even if he does come to."

He listened for a moment longer, then apparently satisfied, pulled his head inside.