Silent Partner by Stephen Frey

not back in a half hour, get out of here. Go left out of the cave. Opposite the way I go. Back toward the cabin. When you get to the end of the narrow part of the path, get into the woods and down off the mountain any way you can.” He hesitated. “By the way, who are you?”
    “Huh?”
    “I haven’t pissed anybody off enough to make them shoot at me. Least, I don’t think I have. So you must have.”
    “No, I haven’t. I’m a nobody, for God’s sake.”
    Tucker stared intently at her for a few moments, then shook his head. “Sure you are,” he mumbled. Then he was gone, moving along the path in the same direction they’d been headed before the shots were fired.
    Angela crouched just inside the mouth of the cave, watching Tucker as he moved along the trail, sprinting ten to fifteen yards at a time, bent over at the waist, then flattening himself behind a section of the rock face that jutted out into the path. In this way he provided himself at least a small measure of protection from whomever had shot at them. “Come on, John,” she whispered as he neared the trees. “Come on.”
    When he’d raced the last few yards and disappeared into the woods, she heaved a sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t out in the open anymore. At least he had some cover.
    For the next thirty minutes, Angela constantly checked both sides of the trail but saw nothing suspicious. “Get back here, John,” she muttered, gritting her teeth. “Don’t leave me out here alone.” The sky was darkening and the temperature was falling. There wasn’t even any wind down in the canyon anymore, for which she was thankful. The low moan had been unnerving.
    She let out another sigh, then swallowed hard as it hit her. Maybe this whole thing was a setup. Maybe Lawrence was angry at the way their meeting had ended, and Tucker had been ordered to leave her alone to face whoever was shooting. She shook her head. That was silly. She was letting her imagination run wild.
    She poked her head out of the cave once more and caught her breath. Through the fading light she saw something. A slight movement down the trail in the direction they’d been coming from before the first shot. Back in the direction of the cabin where the path widened and turned less treacherous. “Oh, God,” she muttered. The .22 began trembling in her gloved hand as she saw the movement again.
    She retreated inside the cave, sitting against the rock wall, head tilted back, eyes closed, fingers wrapped tightly around the wooden handle of the revolver, shivering. Maybe it was Tucker. Maybe somehow he had made it all the way around to that side of the mountain without finding anyone and now he was coming back for her. Please let it be him, she prayed.
    She leaned out so she could see down the trail again, one eye barely beyond the cave’s entrance. Through the fading light she could see someone walking on the trail toward her. He wore a long coat that fell almost to his ankles and nothing on his head. Definitely not Tucker. She ducked back inside the cave entrance and took three short breaths.
    “Dammit!”
    The man was walking deliberately, not trying to hide his presence. Not approaching as if he intended harm. If he’d been sprinting or moving along the rock face as though trying to protect himself, as Tucker had, her decision would have been easier. She would have been prepared to aggressively defend herself, as Tucker had instructed. But this guy might have had nothing to do with the shooting. She took another quick look. He was fifty yards away now and still coming. She hadn’t seen a gun, but he could be hiding a cannon beneath that long coat.
    With a low groan she stood up, hunched over at the waist so she wouldn’t hit her head on the low ceiling, and scrambled to the back of the cave. There, she sat back down and wedged herself into a corner that afforded at least some protection, then aimed the .22 at the entrance. She was trying to remember what her father had