Chapter 29 - The Tracks in the Blizzard
"Sergeant! Over here!" the young trooper yelled over the roar of the fire engines arriving at the scene.
The sergeant jogged through the slush toward the tree line, with Arthur standing up from the ambulance to watch.
The trooper was pointing his beam down at the edge of the woods, where the snow was sheltered by dense spruce branches.
Arthur walked over slowly, his legs feeling like lead beneath the heavy wool blanket.
Illuminated in the sharp white beam of the flashlight were distinct, fresh footprints pressing deep into the snow.
They were small, narrow boot prints, spaced far apart in a desperate, sprinting gait.
Next to the right foot of every second stride was a dark, frozen drop of arterial blood.
"Someone climbed out of the old coal chute before the main floor collapsed," the sergeant muttered, drawing his sidearm.
Arthur’s heart plummeted into his stomach, the cold terror returning with the force of an avalanche.
"She’s alive," Arthur whispered, his voice trembling so hard his teeth clicked together.
"The tracks are heading toward the old logging road," the sergeant shouted to the other troopers. "Set up a perimeter on Route 9!"
"She’s bleeding out," the trooper observed, examining the dark spots on the snow. "She can't make it more than a mile in this cold."
Arthur looked at the tracks, then down at the burning ruin of the basement.
The realization hit him with sickening clarity: Eleanor hadn't been trying to escape the house through the bulkhead.
She had led him to the bulkhead as a distraction while the coal chute remained unblocked behind the furnace.
She had used Vance’s bullet as a decoy, faking the depth of her injury to get Arthur out of her way.
"She’s heading for the caretaker’s cabin," Arthur said suddenly, grabbing the sergeant’s sleeve with desperate strength.
The sergeant turned to look at him, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What cabin?"
"Two miles through the woods. My father built it fifty years ago," Arthur said, his eyes wild with terror.
"There's an old snowmobile in the shed, and the keys to Thomas’s SUV are inside the cabin safe," Arthur explained rapidly.
"Stay with the paramedics, Mr. Vance," the sergeant ordered firmly. "We will handle this."
Three troopers plunged into the dense, black woods, following the bloody trail with flashlights cutting through the driving snow.
Arthur watched them disappear into the trees, but deep in his gut, he knew they wouldn't catch her in time.
Eleanor knew those woods better than any state trooper; she had hunted them as a child.
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Then, from the far side of the driveway, the engine of the dark SUV suddenly turned over with a deep, throaty rumble.
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