No Options

by Jennifer Haynie

  David took her hand. “You scared us.”

  “I’m... sorry.” Those words faded. “I...”

  “Just rest,” he murmured.

  The door creaked.

  Fully expecting Rothstein, David swiveled.

  Nabeelah stood there, her hands once more tucked into her puffy black jacket.

  The chair scraped back as David moved to tower over her. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Nabeelah.”

  Her expression remained downcast. For the first time, he noticed lines at the corners of her eyes, something no young woman in her twenties should have. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” Blackness unfurled in his soul. He remained rooted to the floor. “Sorry? For blackmailing us, sending us away to nearly die?”

  Across from Kyra, Jonathan stood.

  Nabeelah finally raised her gaze. “I—”

  “And then nearly letting my sister die?” David’s right hand hurt from gripping the back of his chair. The blackness grew and shortened his breath. “Why didn’t you protect her?”

  Her nostrils flared. “I tried, Sergeant David. I did. I—”

  “You didn’t try hard enough.” The red roiled up from his gut.

  Warm fingers grasped his left hand and held on. Those fingers belonged to his sister.

  Kyra will live. She’ll be fine. And Nabeelah saved her.

  David tried for another breath. It came, and the redness receded.

  Kyra’s grip tightened with remarkable strength for someone in her condition.

  Another breath chased away the blackness. He closed his eyes and drew in still another. “Nabeelah, thank you.”

  Her amber eyes filled. She lowered them and turned away as Frisco joined them. He briefly touched her on the shoulder, but she shook him off. Her words came out low. “I-I came to see how Kyra is.”

  “I’m... fine.” Those words came from Kyra. She fumbled for the controls on her bed.

  “I’ve got it.” Jonathan raised the head a little more.

  “I... we need to talk,” Kyra murmured, her words so faint David nearly missed them.

  He resumed his seat. “Just rest.”

  “Abigail’s in danger.”

  He stilled.

  Kyra’s dark eyes focused on him with new determination. “She’s... in danger.”

  Jonathan leaned close. “How so?”

  Her eyes drooped closed.

  “We need that hot chocolate,” David muttered.

  Rothstein joined them. “Here.” He touched Kyra’s arm. “Sorry I have a straw, but the hot chocolate will give you some energy.”

  Nabeelah pulled over a chair, as did Frisco, who set a recorder on the small table where Rothstein had laid his clipboard. Its light began winking as it picked up their conversation.

  With the group sitting in a loose circle, Kyra told her story in fits and starts. “I’d just gotten back from biking a trail and had used the restroom. I... heard someone talking outside. He sounded angry and... I overheard Abigail’s name. Then he said another name. Sal.”

  David nodded. Abigail. Sal was onto her. The two images of the cases she pursued came together. “Who was talking?”

  “Mitch.”

  He stared. “Mitch Patterson?”

  She nodded.

  Now the pieces really began fitting together, even those from his distant past. He and Mitch chatting it up while bike riding one day a few years before. Mitch talking about his time in Kandahar, the way he’d hunted wild boar during rare downtimes. Someone shooting Nicole Chardet and her cronies who’d taken Kyra hostage the year before. Then running into Mitch at the diner three days ago, of his friend looking slightly green.

  “He called someone else. Who, I’m not sure.” Kyra’s eyes drooped closed as exhaustion began claiming her.

  Jonathan reached out and ran his fingers along her hairline. “Kyra, we need you to finish.”

  She turned her face toward him. “He was making arrangements to meet this person at Goblin Valley State Park at five today to share some information. He... talked about the case Abigail was working, mentioned a guy named Sal Torres along with Kandahar.”

  Crap. David raked his hands through his hair.

  Kyra sipped some hot chocolate and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m... so tired.”

  “What else can you tell us?” David asked.

  She gazed at him, but her eyes now had that dull look of weariness. “He told me he’d been going on a ride when it was clear he’d just finished. I... didn’t think anything of it. When he headed toward the trail, I called you, but it went to voice mail.”

  David rested his chin on his hands. “When was that?”

  “Four o’clock yesterday.”

  Eighteen hundred hours his time. They’d been headed out to sea for their ill-fated mission. Then his cell had wound up in the drink.

  A tear trickled down her cheek. “As I was leaving a message, he... he tackled me. Knocked me out somehow. That’s... that’s all I remember. Why?” Another tear rolled down her cheek. “Why would he do such a thing? I-I thought we were friends!”

  Sal had been Mitch’s commanding officer at Fort Bragg and while in Kandahar. Mitch was a good shot. Could he have killed Nicole and her gang last year? Quite possibly. Would he have continued working for Sal? His sick expression from earlier that week crossed David’s mind again. Maybe not willingly. But why? Click. The last piece fell into place.

  Vespa.

  Mitch’s youngest had suffered from cancer. Their insurance had run out. The whole of central and southern Utah had been planning fundraisers to help pay for the medical costs. Until he announced it wasn’t needed, that a distant uncle had generously agreed to pay for treatment.

  David muttered, “Uncle, my butt.”

  Everyone stared.

  “Sorry.” He relayed what he’d discovered.

  “Anything else, Kyra?” Nabeelah asked.

  She’d already drifted to sleep. The hot chocolate in her hands began tilting to one side.

  Jonathan grabbed it before it toppled over. “Mitch is going to meet Abigail.”

  “So she thinks.” Frisco’s gaze slid to the digital clock. “I have a feeling she’s meeting Sal instead. Something tells me we need to have a talk with Mr. Patterson.”

  David’s blood chilled. Seventeen hundred hours had just passed. “And we need to get a move on it to Goblin Valley. Now.”

  Sunday, April 23, 2017, 1655 hours MDT, Goblin Valley State Park, UT

  Abigail made the final turn toward Goblin Valley State Park. Her focus sharpened. Outside noise faded. So did the bars on her cell phone. She had nothing now. “You got cell service?”

  Marti checked hers. “Nope. Zilch.”

  Abigail couldn’t shake the notion that Mitch Patterson had set her up. And she’d been foolish enough to take the bait. They could cancel and seek backup.

  From whom? Sal’s buddies in the brigade? She almost laughed at that. Or Nabeelah and her crew? No, she was occupied with taking down Stone. This was Abigail’s case. She’d make the arrest, then clean up the mess left behind, which would most certainly lead to a promotion.

  Nabeelah’s promise suddenly rang hollow in her mind.

  Marti gave voice to her worries. “I think we’re being played.”

  “You and me both.” They bumped over a cattle guard. An idea sprang to Abigail’s mind. “Let’s do this. I’m going to drop you at the guard shack. You sweet-talk the ranger into letting you borrow his truck. I go in and see what’s going on. You join me after five minutes.”

  “And if Mitch is a no-show after 1710 hours, we get the heck outta there.”

  “Amen to that.” They slowed at the guard shack. Pulled off to the side was a Ford F-150 with the Utah Department of Natural Resources logo emblazoned on the tailgate. She noted the outline of a shotgun in a rack above the front seat.

  A ranger, someone who looked barely old enough to drink, stepped from the small building. He wore a red T-shirt wi
th the slogan “Goblin Valley Rocks” and an image of one of the rock goblins on the front. His name tag read Nels Hakkens.

  Abigail offered a smile. “Hey. Admission for us, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not a problem.” He recited the fee, and she handed over the cash.

  “And something else.” Abigail showed him her cred pack. “I’m Major Abigail Ward with Army CID. We’re meeting a contact here. You notice anyone at the observation deck?”

  He shrugged. “They’ve come and gone, mostly gone by now since it’s Sunday evening. There might be a few people left who are camping.”

  Hopefully not. “Nels, I’m going to drop my sergeant here to serve as my backup. She’s got a plan, which she’ll share with you. Okay?”

  The young man seemed thrilled to have them there. “Yes, ma’am. I want to help you however I can.”

  “Thanks.” Once Marti had climbed from their car, Abigail drove slowly down the access road. Before she reached the observation deck, the road curved out of sight of the guardhouse, not something she liked. And only three vehicles were in the parking lot, a black Ford Expedition with darkened windows, a white Ford Explorer, and a gray Chevy Malibu, all empty. Problem was, Mitch drove a gray Toyota Tacoma.

  Lord, this isn’t feeling right. Where is everyone? She climbed from the car and peered toward the goblin rocks in the valley below. Nothing moved. Maybe they were somewhere exploring before dusk hit full force.

  She glanced at her watch. 1700 hours. No Mitch. Maybe he was late.

  She straightened at the sound of a truck’s engine and checked the Glock in its holster at her waist. She had a full magazine loaded with another one at the ready.

  A motion caught her eye.

  Two men stepped from the nearby restrooms. Khakis. Jackets. Loafers. Definitely not visitors intending to enjoy the sites of Goblin Valley.

  Sweat broke out on her hands. Her breath shortened. Marti, where are you?

  “Abigail Ward, you’re to come with us,” the taller of the two said.

  She drew her Glock. She hadn’t seen a gun yet. She couldn’t fire. In her loudest cop voice, she called, “Stay right where you are!”

  The man stopped and smiled as if meaning no harm. “Your presence has been requested.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  The F-150 pulled into the parking lot.

  The ranger piled out with shotgun in hand.

  “No!” Abigail’s cry died from her lips as a gunshot ripped through the hair.

  Red blossomed on the ranger’s chest, and he collapsed.

  Abigail dropped the shorter of the men who’d shot him. Marti took down the other.

  Then it all fell apart.

  The back doors to the Expedition flew open. Three men piled from it as four more burst from the restroom. Seven against two. A bullet whizzed by her ear. She had to get out of there. Without thinking, Abigail fled down the steps to the floor of the valley. Marti followed. Bullets kicked up chunks of sand. Like they wanted them alive rather than dead.

  Abigail ducked behind a set of goblins. She peeked around them. The attackers were almost to the bottom.

  She darted to the next set of goblins and dove over the top as more bullets bit into the sandstone. The slope fell away, and she rolled and skidded. Her head slammed against the ground so hard she saw stars.

  Marti slid to a stop beside her. She pushed upright. “Can we say trap?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Abigail grimaced. The world seemed to have a hard time righting itself. “Obvious information. Then no cell signal. Herd us down here.” She shook her head. It started hurting. “We’ve got to find a way out of here.”

  “Walking out’s not an option.”

  “Nope. C’mon. Somehow, we’ve got to outsmart them.”

  Fat chance of that with three-something magazines of bullets between them. But they had brains, though hers had started aching. Then came the little problem that they’d lost sight of their pursuers. And they were dashing farther and farther from safety, something their foes had probably planned.

  Abigail paused, listened. No footsteps, not like she’d heard earlier. Maybe they’d lost them. They could get to the other side of the valley unseen and get out via another route. She crept forward. A shadow caught her eye. An attacker or some random kid playing hide and seek? Or her rattled mind playing tricks on her? With Marti hot on her heels, she darted toward a goblin, then another. It seemed to be working. As long as she could keep the observation deck in sight, they wouldn’t get lost.

  A war cry split the air!

  Abigail whipped around just in time to get tackled by someone much bigger and heavier than she. They crashed to the ground. She stumbled to her feet. He swung at her. Abigail blocked it, but it must have been a humdinger of a punch because the glancing blow spun her around. She staggered but somehow stayed upright. She swept her leg around and knocked his feet from underneath him.

  The ground almost shook when he hit.

  She tried to scramble away.

  The Boulder leapt toward her again. He caught her around the ankles, then wrapped his arm around her neck.

  Oh, no. Not this time. She bit him!

  He shrieked and let go.

  She stumbled forward and began running somewhere, anywhere, to get out of there.

  Where was Marti? They’d been separated.

  The Boulder thundered after her.

  He must have been part buffalo because he caught up with her and tackled her.

  Fabric ripped on her jeans and skin from her palms as she hit dirt. She moaned.

  She tried to swing around with a punch.

  This time, he blocked her and cocked his fist.

  Stars exploded in her vision. She got a face full of dirt and tried to sit upright. Dizziness assailed her, and she fell onto her side.

  “Get her up,” a male voice ordered, one of refined English that bespoke of sophistication.

  Sal.

  The Boulder hauled her upright.

  Sal stood in front of her.

  One last try at bravado. She struggled against her captor’s hold. “Sal Torres, you’re under... you’re under...”

  The words just wouldn’t form.

  He started chuckling. “What? I’m under arrest? I think not.”

  The Boulder loosened his grip ever so slightly.

  She still had a chance. She went for her gun.

  Sal was faster. He clocked her across the face.

  It felt like someone had disconnected her head from her body. She fell to the ground.

  He shook his head. “Wrong move, Abigail.” He ripped her Glock from its holster and handed it to The Boulder. “Face it. You were foolish enough to take the bait, weren’t you? Now it’s my turn.”

  He straightened and kicked her hard in the side.

  She groaned and curled into a ball.

  Like a cat tired of toying with a mouse, he turned to his comrade. “Take her to the Expedition.”

  The Boulder hauled her to her feet.

  Sal smiled. “Night, night, Abigail.”

  The Boulder drew back his fist.

  Abigail plunged into darkness.

  Sunday, April 23, 2017, 1700 hours MDT, near Burning Tree

  Sal’s anger burned as he climbed the steps to the observation deck. Ahead of him, his man had Abigail’s inert form draped over his shoulder. Two other men had Marti caught between them with her hands cuffed behind her back.

  His lip curled. Thanks to Abigail, life as he knew it had ended. Everything he’d worked for all of these years. The hard education at West Point. Kissing butt as he made his way up the ranks. And now standing within spitting distance of making colonel very shortly and general thereafter with more to come once he retired. All of it gone thanks to that woman.

  They arrived at the parking lot where two more of his men with rifles kept watch. The ranger lay in a pool of blood beside his pickup. Sal approached Abigail’s rental and opened the back door. He rummaged around in her back
pack. Laptop. Excellent. Wallet. A set of handcuffs. He pulled those out and shackled her hands behind her. “Get going. I’ll be along shortly.”

  As Sal swung her pack over his shoulder, his man complied and dumped her into the back of the Expedition. All but one of his remaining men piled into the SUV. The big engine started. With a chirp of tires, they sped from the parking lot.

  Sal’s mood darkened as he thought about what else he’d lost. His family. Rita knew nothing of his other life. She’d hate him. When she was a child, her father, a DEA agent, had died at the hands of Los Jaguares. And Sal’s daughters? He didn’t even want to think about it. They idolized him, even to the point where Irena had told him on more than one occasion that she wanted to be just like him.

  If only you knew.

  “Let’s go.” He joined his driver in the Explorer. The Malibu would have to stay there. They blasted down the road and didn’t pass a soul on their way out of the park. Finally, as they sped down the highway toward the interstate, bars appeared on his cell phone. They’d be at their destination within a couple of hours. Then the fun would began. No matter what, Abigail would tell him what she knew.

  His phone chimed.

  Randleman.

  He winced and lifted it to his ear. “What do you want?”

  “How dare you!” Randleman nearly shrieked.

  Sal froze. His hand tightened on the phone. “How dare me, what?”

  “You betrayed me!”

  Not now. He simply couldn’t deal with him at the moment. “Just how did I betray you?”

  “You knew I was going to be with Jedidiah Stone, so you had me followed and sent a hit team after me.” The personal assistant’s seething fairly crackled across the airwaves. “Why did you do that? I hate you!”

  “What are you? A child?” Sal’s eyes narrowed. Apparently, Stone had discovered the mole he’d planted within his organization years before. And now that mole was out of control. He took a deep breath to force down his temper. “Are you safe?”

  “I took his plane to Salt Lake City.”

  Like a dog returning to its vomit. He knew what he needed to do. Wrap up loose ends. Starting with Randleman. “You need a safe haven. Listen. Have the plane take you to Green River. Someone will meet you there.”