Part Eighteen

"It's been at least a mile," Sophie said, stopping wearily in the middle of the road. "I don't think there's anything else this way."

Peter turned to look at her, wishing his head didn't throb so much with the motion. Her shoulders drooped, her lip trembled, and he could sense an almost imperceptible shiver running through her body. She didn't look like she'd make it much further.

"It's only been half a mile," he said, trying to encourage her. "I'm sure that there must be a house just around the bend." Her lower lip quivered. "Do you want me to carry you?" He winced internally at the thought of adding even her slight burden. The truth was, he had hit the steering wheel hard in the crash, and from the way his ribs felt, they were badly bruised.

Luckily for him, Sophie looked horrified. "No!"

Peter sighed with relief. "Let's keep going then." They walked in silence for a few minutes.

"But shouldn't there be some sign of houses along this road?" Sophie asked, looking sideways at Peter and then at the tall trees on either side of them.

He was trying to decide how to answer without alarming her when they heard the sound of car approaching. "We're rescued!" Sophie announced, perking up immediately. Peter wasn't so certain. Despite his pounding head and aching ribs, he grabbed Sophie's arm and pulled her swiftly up a bank and into the woods. She stumbled, sliding backwards a bit, but he steadied her, urging her to hurry. Sophie's voice dropped. "You think it's them?"

With a grimace, Peter pulled the girl to the ground as they found a large tree to hide between and watch the road. "I don't know, but I don't want to take chances." They watched as the car approached slowly, the strong beam of a flashlight scanning the woods on either side of the road from the back seat. Sophie bit her lip and looked up at Peter. "Yeah, I think it's them," he whispered unnecessarily.

"Do you think they saw the car in the ditch?"

Peter nodded, motioning for the girl to be quiet. He tried to see what the two men in the car were looking for, and felt his stomach clench as he noticed. Sometime during the night, a light dusting of snow had fallen. Squinting in the early morning light, the detective could clearly make out the faint signs of their scramble up the bank on the side of the road. With the flashlight, Smith and his partner couldn't miss it.

"Fuck!" he said explosively, grabbing Sophie by the hand.

"What?" she asked frantically, knowing something was drastically wrong. "What's the matter? Peter?"

Peter set off through the woods, dodging trees and keeping a firm grip on the girl's hand. She willingly ran behind him, panting. "Peter?"

"We left tracks," he explained through gritted teeth. "They'll be after us in just a few minutes."

"Oh." There really wasn't any other response to make. They raced through the trees, dodging fallen tree trunks. Dead branches snapped loudly, marking their progress. Peter swore; behind them a flashlight beam penetrated the area they had just left. Now they could hear the sounds of pursuit-two deep voices growling directions at each other: Smith and Wilcox.

Stumbling along, trying to hold his ribs with one hand and the girl with the other, Peter tripped on a tree root and slid down a bank, ending up on a narrow path. Sophie followed him down, landing across his legs. Both were back on their feet within seconds, breathing hard but not willing to give up. Following the flatter surface was easier, or would have been if either of them had been in any shape to run.

The path ended at a small cabin set in a tiny clearing. There were no electrical lines leading into the building, and no smoke coming from the large chimney. The door, when they reached it, was obviously locked. Without stopping to think how much it might hurt, Peter kicked it in.

Sophie was propelled inside by the detective. Shutting the door behind them, he examined the broken lock and slid an inefficient dead bolt mounted on the doorframe in place. They looked around the small one-room cabin. A huge fireplace dominated one wall, across from it, a second wall was filled with several racks of neatly hung tools and equipment. Small windows on the side opposite them looked out on a frozen lake.

"What is all that stuff for?" Sophie asked, looking at a variety of blades, poles and equipment she had never seen before.

Sparing a quick glance at the wall, Peter tilted his head. "Ice-fishing, I think."

"Could there be anything we can use?" the girl asked hopefully.

"Well, there might be," Peter said, not believing a word of it. The small cabin wasn't any warmer than outside. He wrapped his coat more tightly around his body and felt the hard shape in one pocket. Cursing his pounding head, he pulled the forgotten gun from his pocket and checked the chamber. Three bullets. Unfortunately, this fancy lady's gun wouldn't do much more than slow the counterfeiters down. He'd have to make each one count, something he could do without even thinking on a normal day, but on a normal day he wouldn't have a throbbing head, sore ribs and a small girl counting on him.

Sophie's eyes grew wide as she looked from the little gun to his face. "Where did you get that?" she asked, her voice showing her surprise.

"It was in the glove box of the car." He set himself up at the window nearest the door, breaking out a small pane of glass. Sophie stood helplessly in the center of the cabin; he knew he should distract her. "Why don't you look around and see if you can find anything. If you need to break into something, do it." He looked around the small room. "We can always pay the owners back later."

"Okay." Sophie started with the most obvious place; the racks of tools. "Peter, look! Knives!" she cried.

Peter looked at what she had found-they weren't knives but chisels...useful for chipping into the ice, not much good for anything besides clubs in a fight. "Good job, Sophie," he praised, knowing she needed the reassurance, "keep looking." While the girl searched, he watched for their pursuers.

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Part Nineteen

Catherine Wilcox refused to say anything without her lawyer.

Kermit was ready to boil over like a dark-haired volcano. Nothing he said made any impression on the woman. If this had been in his own jurisdiction...but it wasn't, and he didn't know the officers on the scene, most of who were watching him suspiciously. Blake, sensing his mood, tried to divert him with the information he had learned from Sam, the second teenager who had been locked in the closet upstairs. He had been pathetically grateful to be let out, but really had little new information to add.

"We know the make and model of the two cars," Blake said.

"So, let's go find them," Kermit growled, restraining himself from attacking the woman staring at him from across the room. "How long have they been gone?"

"They left right after the SOS signal, according to the kids," Blake nodded at the teens talking to an officer. "So it's been about forty minutes." Kermit let out a wordless growl and stomped out of the room.

Blake followed him as he stalked down to the end of the driveway, and bent down to examine the ground. "What are you doing?" the older detective asked, slightly confused.

"They went right," Kermit said, straightening. "Come on." Blake had to trot to keep up with him; he had barely taken his foot off the ground before the car was speeding down the driveway, turning right at the end.

The sun was coming over the tops of the trees when they saw the car in the ditch.

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"Sophie, bring whatever you found over here, then go stand in the fireplace."

The girl frowned, but followed the directions, bringing a small pile of equipment to the detective. She carefully placed them beside the young detective and pulled back. "The fireplace?" she asked doubtfully.

Peter nodded. "If you can get up inside the chimney, that would be best." He sighed at her quizzical expression. "If they start firing at us, that's probably the safest place. And if they get in here...well, if you hide up there they might not find you."

"Oh." She stood as if rooted to the spot, staring at him.

"Now, Sophie," Peter said gently, not moving his gaze from the broken window. "I want you to be safe. If they do get in here, you stay hidden." He tensed as the distinctive sound of a car approaching reached his ears. "Now!" he repeated sharply.

Sophie followed orders and moved into the fireplace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's empty," Blake reported, peering into the window.

"I expected as much," Kermit replied from the bank on the other side of the road. "They went this way."

Blake pushed himself to his feet and moved to join the taller detective, who pointed at the ground. "A second car stopped here, and someone got out." He pulled out the Desert Eagle and turned to stare at Blake. "Follow the road. The other car is up there somewhere." The older man nodded.

"Blake?"

"Yes, Kermit?"

The shades regarded him for a moment. "Don't scratch my car." Kermit bared his teeth in a feral grin and turned to climb up the bank.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Smith strode out into the clearing, looking confident. His eyes immediately settled on the cabin, and an evil smile crossed his face. He pulled something out of his pocket and flipped it open; a cell phone. Peter looked at it longingly. Smith talked briefly, then paced out of sight down the path.

Peter waited. He was sure that he hadn't seen the last of the man. Sure enough, a few minutes later a car edged through the bare branches. Wilcox got out of the driver's side and looked back over his shoulder. A minute later, Smith reappeared. They consulted briefly, then looked towards the cabin.

"We know you're in there!" Smith shouted. "Come out now, and we'll go easy on you."

Peter snorted. The other man's body language betrayed him...he was furious, and wanted to take out that aggression on someone. Peter was not going to give him that option. He remained silent, waiting for the men to approach the cabin. Three bullets, and he had to make them count. Outside, their former captors were arguing, Wilcox waving his arms towards the lake. Peter wondered if he knew the owners of the cabin...and knew about the augers, chisels and other potentially lethal weapons hanging as ornamentation on the walls.

Both men pulled guns out from under their coats and approached the cabin warily. Peter waited until they were about twelve feet away and fired.

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Kermit was following the trail, wishing he had thought to put on better shoes this morning...last night...whenever. There were patches of ice in the undergrowth, and treacherous tree roots everywhere. He wasn't surprised to see an indication of someone tall tripping and sliding down a nearby embankment. Taking an easier route, he climbed down to a path. A path that had been recently crossed by a car, he noted, seeing the unmistakable marks of tire treads on the frozen ground.

He was following the path cautiously when he heard the sound of shots ringing through the woods. Kermit started to run.

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Part Twenty

The sharp crack of gunfire filled the cabin. Peter squeezed off two shots carefully, knowing that notoriously unreliable Derringers usually didn't hit what they were aimed at. The first bullet hit Wilcox's forearm; the tall man grabbed at his arm with his free hand, letting the gun fall from the other. The second bullet caught Smith high in the right shoulder of his thick coat. Peter waited to see if he would need the third shot.

Wilcox cradled his arm, moving back toward the car. Smith turned toward him, his broad back blocking Peter's view of the taller man. The detective could barely make out the conversation outside.

"Where are you going?" Smith snarled. The taller man muttered something the detective couldn't hear. He had no problem understanding Smith's response though. The shorter kidnapper pointed his weapon at his partner and fired. Wilcox fell to the ground.

"Shit!" Peter swore, taking in the treachery. He threw himself to the ground as Smith turned and fired at the house. Glass fell over him as bullets shattered the panes of glass in the window above him. Holes appeared in the flimsy door, letting in an eerie pattern of light. Peter looked towards the fireplace where the only sign of Sophie was a dangling shoelace. The shots stopped. Peter peered out the shattered window.

There was no one in sight.

The hairs on the back of Peter's neck rose, as he sensed the approach of someone from behind. The windows on the other side of the cabin crashed inward, Peter whirled to face the intruder, firing instinctively. He had expected Smith; his bullet hit the taller Wilcox in the ribs. The tall man fell to the floor, grabbing at the wound as the flimsy bolt broke and door crashed in.

Smith grinned evilly as he took in Peter's startled expression. "Works every time," he gloated, pointing his gun directly at the detective. "You all right?" he called over his shoulder.

Wilcox growled, rolling to his knees. "Yeah, fine. You counted wrong though-he still had one bullet." Cautiously, the man opened his coat and stuck his hand underneath.

"Yeah? He get you?"

"Scraped across my ribs." From the corner of his eye, Peter could see the scowl he directed at his partner. "Next time, you create the diversion."

"Yeah, yeah," Smith said dismissively. His beady eyes glared at his captive. "He's kind of pissed at you right now, cop. Bullets hurt...even from Cath's wimpy little toy gun. Where's the girl?"

Peter raised his eyebrows. "What girl?" he asked, spreading his arms wide from his body in surrender.

As Smith took a furious step forward, the younger man suddenly kicked out, knocking the gun from the other man's hand. A quick half turn and another kick caught the stunned man in the stomach. As Smith staggered, gasping, Peter whirled around with a third kick that knocked the man to the ground.

Before the detective had his foot back on the ground, Wilcox charged, knocking Peter to the ground and landing on his back. A blow thudded into his kidney, causing Peter to groan. A meaty fist grabbed a handful of hair and yanked Peter's head back. Panting with effort and pain--the hair being pulled seemed to come from the same vicinity as the almost-forgotten head wound--Peter thrust back with one elbow. He caught Wilcox right over the Derringer wound, and the bigger man fell backwards.

Peter stretched his arm out and touched one of the chisels Sophie had brought him. Breathlessly, he pushed himself first to his knees, then to his feet and staggered over to Wilcox, who had pulled his coat aside to look at the wound. The tall man looked at Peter with murder in his eyes. "You're dead," he said flatly.

"You can try," Peter replied dangerously. Wilcox pulled himself to his full height and sneered, then swung at the detective. Peter caught the arm and kept the momentum going, throwing the larger man off balance. As he passed, Peter struck out with the chisel and caught the other man behind the ear with the tool. Wilcox stumbled and fell, unconscious.

Peter leaned against a chair, trying to catch his breath, keeping an eye on the man on the floor at his feet. He knew he needed to find the guns, get Sophie out of the chimney, and leave...but he needed just a minute to rest... The weary detective didn't hear Smith behind him until the counterfeiter chuckled. The detective turned slowly to see the man standing just out of range; his retrieved gun pointed straight at his heart.

Smith laughed softly. "You're gonna regret the day you crossed my path."

There was a sudden loud noise, and Smith's gun flew from his hand in a burst of crimson. "Oh, I think he already does," said a dry voice.

Peter turned startled eyes to the figure in the doorway. "Kermit!"

"Miss me, kid?" his friend asked with his trademark grin. The Desert Eagle never wavered as he took in the blood on Peter's face and clothing, but the grin died. "You hurt?"

Peter shook his head, still slightly breathless. "Nah, I've been worse. How did you find me?"

Kermit scoffed, pulling out his handcuffs and tossing them to his friend. "Are you kidding? After the signal you sent?"

Peter grinned as he caught the cuffs. "The SOS actually worked? Somebody saw it?" He had thought it a shot in the dark, something to keep Sophie hopeful. It was gratifying to know that it had actually attracted some attention.

"Yeah, and reported it to the locals. Blake was monitoring for anything that sounded...odd; and here we are."

"Just in time to save the day,"

"Looked like you did that yourself," Kermit said, watching as Peter rolled Smith onto his side and secured his wrists with the handcuffs.

Peter shrugged. "Yeah, maybe. But I'm still glad to have your company." Looking around the room, he yanked down a curtain to staunch the bleeding from their prisoner's hand. "So where IS Blake?"

"Calling this in. Where's the girl?" Kermit's tone was flat, but Peter could read the worry concealed in it. He hastened to reassure the detective then stopped. Why hadn't Sophie come down? With his heart in his mouth, he rushed toward the fireplace.

"Sophie? Are you..."

"I'm okay!" a muffled voice shouted.

Peter heaved a sigh of relief and managed a lopsided grin at Kermit. Resting on hand on the stone fireplace, he bent sideways to look up the chimney. "You can come down now. Kermit's here to take us home." About halfway up the chimney, he could see one white sneaker scrabbling against stone.

"Oh good," Sophie said, her voice floating down. "Um…I've just got a tiny little problem, Peter. I think…well…um…I seem to need a little help. I, I, um…I seem to be…well…"

"What?" Peter asked, worried again.

"I'm stuck!" Sophie wailed.

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Epilogue

"So, Dan and Sam will be okay?"

Peter put down his spoon and nodded. "They'll have some stiff fines to pay, and probably quite a few hours of community service, but since they're testifying against the Snyders..."

"Who?" Ayaas interrupted with a frown.

"Our friendly school counterfeiters...Snyder is their real name...Elizabeth, Robert and William Snyder. The men are brothers." Both kids frowned as they contemplated this news.

Sophie dragged her spoon along the bottom of the bowl, scooping up the dregs of ice cream and chocolate sauce. "I tried to get Mari to tell me what was going on, but she wouldn't talk. How did they all get together anyway?"

The detective sighed. "Dan and Sam discovered that they could create fake bills on the school computer that passed for real. They passed a few in this area before getting scared and stopping. Then Dan's family took both boys skiing in New England, and they decided that they would use some of the fake money there." He handed Sophie a napkin. "You've got chocolate all over your chin."

As she wiped it off, making a face at Ayaas who made no move to hide his laughter, Peter continued. "I don't have all the details, but apparently Dan passed the bill to one of the Snyders, who figured out that the kid was onto something. They were tired of fleecing tourists, so they followed the boys back here and made them an offer they couldn't refuse."

"They weren't forging money that last day though," Ayaas pointed out. "It was the wrong shape."

Peter nodded. "You've got a good eye, Ayaas. No, they had moved on to making savings bonds and stock certificates."

"Are those worth more?"

"They could be. Evidently they were worth enough that the Snyders were willing to risk kidnapping and possibly murder to cover their tracks." He levelled a stern gaze at the two youngsters, who squirmed under his regard.

"I think that's my mom," Ayaas said, pointing out the shop window.

"Oh no, you don't," Peter said, his voice firm. "I perfected the "distract and he'll forget" before you two were born. Now that you're un-grounded, I invited you down here so that we can talk about what you did."

"Our parents already talked to us," Sophie protested. "Separately, together and as a team. We KNOW what we did was stupid." She looked at Peter, eyes brimming.

"I'm not going to fall for that one either," Peter said, his mind focused on the goal instead of the woebegone face in front of him. "You two are going to make me a promise that you can't wiggle out of, can't manipulate to your own advantage, and can't forget."

Two sets of eyes regarded him steadily. "What kind of a promise?" Sophie ventured.

Peter grinned. "A simple one," he assured them. They traded suspicious glances and looked back at him.

"Yeah?" Ayaas asked doubtfully.

"Yeah. You promise me that anytime you are suspicious of anyone for any reason, you tell me in person, before you take any action."

They mulled that over as Peter finished his sundae. "What if you're on a case, or on vacation or something?" Sophie asked.

"You tell your parents, or Kermit, or my father, or someone who will listen. In person."

"Can't we tell someone over the phone?" Sophie complained. "It will take too long to tell someone in person."

"In person," Peter repeated, his voice unyielding.

The kids looked at each other, a silent conversation taking place in their body movements. "Oh, all right." Ayaas finally told Peter. "I promise." He turned expectant eyes to his partner in crime.

"I promise too," Sophie sighed.

"Good. And no more unannounced trips to the city," Peter added.

"Spoilsport," Ayaas muttered. "All right, no unannounced trips to the city," he repeated when Peter lowered his eyebrows.

"Me too. No trips." Sophie added hastily.

"Okay." The detective smiled with relief, pleased that the difficult part was over. He knew that both kids would keep their word. He had no doubt that they could still get around the promise somehow, but...telling a responsible adult in person would go far towards keeping them safe. "Now, you have another half an hour before Noura picks you up, so what would you like to do? We could go to Chinatown, or to the park, or to my father's place..." His voice trailed off as he looked at the grins on their faces. He sighed. "The regular?"

Both dark heads nodded.

"Okay, the precinct it is," the detective said, sighing again. "Who do you want to bother today? Vice? Homicide? Bunko?" Shaking his head, he led the way out of the shop and down the street, his two small shadows trailing behind him. "Traffic? Criminal Justice? Juvenile?"

The end?