CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

"You bastard! Leave me alone. Help!"

Turk pivoted to the left, honing in on the sound. Faith and Michael followed. Through the trees, she could see a flashlight beam about forty yards ahead. Turk lowered his head and charged toward it, barking and snarling as he sprinted ahead.

He leaped through the trees, and Faith heard a cry of pain, then a thump. A moment later, she and Michael ran through the trees. Michael cried out and skidded to a stop, holding out his arm so Faith stopped too.

Kelly Connor was on the ground, weeping. A bear trap was clamped shut around her leg, and judging from the amount of blood, and the odd twist in her foot, it had broken her leg above the ankle.

She sobbed when she saw the agents. "Help me! He's going to kill me!"

"No, he won't," Faith promised. "My dog has him—" she couldn't finish the sentence before Turk yelped and flew past her vision to land on the ground behind her. "Shit! Michael, get her out of that trap and tourniquet her leg."

The man Turk had taken down looked like something out of an adventure novel. His hair and beard were long and matted. He wore clothing that appeared to be handstitched animal skins. He bared teeth that were yellowed and crooked, and he held a knife made of carved bone.

He switched the knife to his uninjured arm and rushed toward Turk. Faith sprinted at him and drove her shoulder into his side, knocking him to the ground.

"Damn it!" Michael called at the same instant as a loud snap sounded in the air.

"Michael?" she called.

"I'm all right! Fucking bear traps! Be careful!"

Faith turned back to the killer to see his knife thrusting toward her. She cried out and twisted to the side. The blade sliced her parka open but didn't reach her skin. She threw a punch, but her hand connected only with his thick beard.

I guess we're both wearing body armor , she thought sardonically.

Turk had better luck than she did. He leaped into the air and planted all four paws on Victor, throwing him to the ground and narrowly avoiding a jab from the knife. He landed easily and jumped in front of Faith, snarling at the killer.

The killer jumped to his feet with the grace of a cat. In his condition, it was hard to guess at his age, but he was older than Faith for sure. Perhaps in his fifties.

He circled the agents, moving lightly on his feet, carrying the knife like an extension of his arm. He was a good fighter, though whether that came from training or years of fending for himself in the wilderness, Faith didn't know.

"What the hell are you doing?" Michael called to her. "You have a gun!"

Faith quickly drew her weapon, but the killer heard Michael too. He snarled and rushed Faith, once more moving with almost inhuman speed. He ducked under her aim and drove his knife toward her ribs on the left side.

Turk jumped up and caught his arm, falling to the ground and twisting. He dragged the killer down with him, but the killer rolled, throwing Turk onto his back. He lifted his knee up high and brought it down hard.

"No!" Faith cried.

She fired, but everything happened so fast that she didn't aim right. Her bullet sailed harmlessly past him. Fortunately, Turk saw the blow coming and released the killer's arm, rolling out of the way just before the killer's knee slammed into the ground.

Faith stepped forward and planted a kick in the man's ribs. He gasped and rolled onto his back.

"Move and die, asshole!" Faith shouted, aiming her weapon squarely at the man's head. "You know what a gun is, right?"

"A coward's tool," the man spat.

His voice was hoarse and gravelly. There was an accent to it that Faith couldn't place, but that could just be that he wasn't used to speaking to people.

"It'll kill you just fine, whatever kind of tool it is," Faith said. "Don't move."

Moving faster than Faith would have expected, the killer kicked out, catching her wrist and knocking the gun from her hand. It landed with a loud snap. Faith glanced behind her and saw that it had landed in another bear trap. The trap had slammed shut and broken the slide off of her gun.

She felt something slice her ribs and cried out.

"Damn it, Faith!" Michael shouted. "Pay attention!"

She turned back to the killer to see Turk's jaws once more shut around the killer's knife hand. Faith felt something wet and looked at her right side. The parka was sliced open just under her breast, but she couldn't see the wound underneath the thick coat, and she couldn't tell how badly she was hurt. She could still move, so she didn't think she was hurt that badly.

The killer lifted Turk off of the ground and drew his fist back. Faith lunged forward, grabbed his shoulder and threw him over her hip. Turk released and landed on his feet. The killer landed on his stomach.

Faith dropped on top of him, planting her knee onto his back. He cursed and struggled, but she held him still, reaching for her handcuffs and saying, "I don't know your name yet, but you're under arrest."

She looked over at Michael. He had freed Kelly from the bear trap and was now getting the tourniquet placed above her knee. Michael glared at her and shouted, "Faith! For fuck's sake! Secure the damned prisoner first, then worry about everything else."

She looked down to see that the killer had somehow freed his knife hand and was preparing to swing behind and catch Faith again. Fortunately, Turk rescued her once more, grabbing his wrist in between his jaws. This time, he bit down hard and twisted. Faith heard a crack as the bones in the killer's arm snapped. He screamed and kicked his legs futilely, but Turk held on until he dropped the knife.

"Damn it!" the killer wailed. "Damn it! You've killed me!"

"Not yet," Faith said, "but keep it up, and I'll just let Turk have a go at your throat."

"Go to hell!" he cried. "You and your wolf."

Faith chuckled at that and handcuffed the killer behind his back. "You hear that, Turk? You're a wolf."

Turk bared his teeth at the killer. They gleamed an ethereal white in the glow of Faith's flashlight. He did look an awful lot like a wolf right now.

"How's Kelly looking?" she asked Michael.

"She's lost a lot of blood," Michael replied. "We need to get her to a hospital ASAP."

"Not Alaska Regional," Kelly said groggily. "Kevin works there. He's an arrogant prick. Amazing with his hands, though."

Michael shared a worried look with Faith. Kelly was going into shock. Her words might have sounded funny in other circumstances, but not knowing the reason for them.

She pulled her satellite phone out and called Wyatt. "Wyatt, we've got her."

"You do? Where? Is she alive?"

"I don't know exactly where. We ran for a while off the trail. Can you track my satellite phone?"

"Let me see. Okay, yeah. I've got you. You're about five miles from us. We can get to you in two hours."

"It needs to be faster than that. She's injured. Badly. The killer set up bear traps around the cabin, and one of them nearly severed her right foot. We have a tourniquet around her leg, but she's lost a lot of blood. We need her life flighted to a hospital as soon as possible."

"Oh, shit. All right. I'll call the hospital for a helicopter."

"Do you have a police helicopter out here?"

"I do, but it's not equipped for patients. Medical helicopters have ambulance facilities that can stabilize her and even give her a few units of blood. They'll reach her faster than we'll get her to the hospital."

"How fast?"

He sighed. "Probably one hour."

"It can't be sooner?"

"No. I'm sorry. You'll have to keep her alive until then. Keep the leg elevated above her heart and keep talking to her. We'll get to you as soon as we can."

Faith relayed the instructions to Michael. He lifted her leg and rested it over her shoulder. Kelly smiled at him and slurred. "Hey. You have to at least take me to dinner before you get to do that."

"You survive for me, and I'll buy you any dinner you want."

"Ooh, I like that," she crooned. "Are you married? Because I dated a married guy once, and it didn't go well."

He chuckled. "I'm married, but as long as we don't sleep together, my wife won't mind."

She pouted. "Man. Why are the good ones always taken?"

Faith turned her attention back to Wyatt. "I have the killer in custody, too," she said.

"You have him? He's there?"

"He's here. Send that police chopper too. You can take him to jail." She glared down at the man underneath her. "No more freedom for him. Just the rest of his sorry life in a concrete room."

"No," the killer whispered softly. Then he shouted. "No! No, no, no!"

With a roar of effort, he bucked Faith off of his back. She fell to the ground hard. When she got up, the killer was rushing toward the woods, Turk hot on his trail.

Just before he left the clearing, Turk snapped at his ankles. The killer cried out and stumbled, then fell onto the forest floor. Faith heard a loud snap, and the killer jerked, then lay still. From where Faith stood, she couldn't see what had happened, but when she approached, the grisly truth made itself known.

The killer had fallen face-first into one of his bear traps. Faith's stomach turned. She looked away and saw Turk staring at the scene with similar shock on his face.

"Bold? Are you there?" Wyatt called over the phone. "Special Agent Bold, what is your status?"

"I'm all right," Faith said. "The killer… he's dead. He fell headfirst onto a bear trap, trying to escape."

"Jesus. All right. We'll send another medical flight. I assume he's dead."

Faith didn't need to check the mess the bear trap had left behind to answer that question. "He's dead."

"Got it. Any idea who he was?"

She shook her head. "No. No idea."

"All right. Well, keep Kelly alive. We'll be there as soon as we can. Good work, agent."

"Thank you."

She hung up and looked at Turk. Her dog had turned away from the dead killer and was now staring into the distance. He looked shellshocked.

She reached down and scratched him behind the ears. "Good boy. It's not your fault. He made his own choices."

She wasn't sure if Turk could feel any guilt at what had happened, but the shock was clear on his face. Just like with her, she supposed he never truly got used to the grislier aspects of their job.

She looked around at the array of bear traps the killer had set up. It was ironic. The great hunter had caught himself in his own trap.

Maybe that was better for him. The fear in his voice at the thought of spending his life in a prison cell was as great as the fear in Kelly's voice when she called for help escaping her would-be killer. Perhaps to this man, a death in the wilderness was preferable to a life in a cage.