The Woodsman (The Jackson Clay & Bear Beauchamp Series Book 1)

by B. C. Lienesch

  “Do they have eyes on Lokoville?”

  “Lokoville?”

  “Their compound in the woods. Are they watching there?”

  “I don’t know. They didn’t show me any photos like that. Just of the marina and the crime scene at Isaacs’ house. They wanted to know who you were and why I was talking to you.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “I didn’t tell them anything, but that’s not going to satisfy them. You’ve got to tell me what’s going on here, Clay. I mean, what is that?”

  Cole pointed past Jackson at Bear who was sizing up a piece of camouflage netting.

  “What is going on here, Clay,” she asked.

  “I told you. I’m working on getting Sara Beth back,” Jackson replied.

  Cole crossed her arms in frustration.

  “That’s the truth, Cole,” Jackson said, “I have a play for Sara Beth and I’m making it.”

  “It looks like you’re going to war,” Cole replied.

  “I’m bringing her home,” Jackson said, “I’m not playing games with you. You need to trust me on this.”

  “You knew about all this yesterday, right? When you told me you were still working things? How am I supposed to trust you?”

  “Not all of this, no.”

  Bear shut the tailgate to Jackson’s truck and walked over to Jackson and Cole.

  “We’re ready to go, Jack,” Bear said, “What’s the word?”

  Jackson looked at the detective.

  “I don’t know,” he replied, “You going to let us go, Cole?”

  Detective Cole looked at the two men. Asking her to trust either of them seemed impossible. But her instinct told her she’d be putting Sara Beth further in harm’s way if she stopped them. She stepped towards Jackson, and looked directly into his eyes.

  “Bring her home,” she said.

  Getting back into her car, Cole backed down the drive way and pulled out onto the rural road. Jackson and Bear drove past in the two trucks. She watched as they headed down the road until their taillights disappeared from view. Cole had let them go reluctantly. Whatever they were about to do worried her. She couldn’t sit by and do nothing.

  An idea came to her, but it made her uneasy. It required her to trust someone else she wasn’t sure that she did, and for them to trust her. Cole opened up her glove box and looked for the business card she’d been given. With it in hand, she pulled out her phone, punched in the number on the card, and put the phone to her ear.

  “Agent Rivera, it’s Detective Cole, Harrisonburg Police,” she said, “I think you need to get down to southern Virginia.”

  72

  Jackson sat in his truck, the engine humming, and stared at the stretch of mountain road ahead of him. Fifty feet ahead lay the two large limestone boulders that sat like a gateway to this stretch of road. From where Jackson sat, the road disappeared around a bend into nothing, leaving only the mountainous horizon and the sun just now peeking out from behind it.

  He’d sat there, just like that, for hours, watching as the sky slowly illuminated with the dawning of a new day. The scene had been idyllic. Jackson knew it wouldn’t last.

  “You still hear me okay, buddy,” Bear said into his ear.

  Jackson put a finger on the earpiece in his ear. The two of them were once again communicating by radio. They had gotten out on the mountain road and set up in the early morning hours. As Jackson sat in his Ram, Bear was hundreds of feet back and to Jackson’s left, lying prone on a ledge near where the mountain road peaked. He had his M2 heavy machine gun on a tripod as well as a Windrunner M96, a large-caliber sniper rifle with an effective range of over a mile. Together, the three of them lay under camouflage netting. Looking up from where Jackson sat, Bear was impossible to spot.

  “Yeah, I’ve got you,” Jackson replied, keying his throat mic, “Any movement on the road yet?”

  “Nothing yet,” Bear answered.

  Bear had scanned the mountainside with a pair of binoculars all morning, making sure the Lokos didn’t do precisely what the two of them had: place a hidden shooter with a view of the meeting area.

  Jackson looked at his watch. It was 15 minutes before seven. He looked around, studying the area around him. The Lokos hadn’t tried anything yet, which made him nervous.

  “So, assuming they show up and bring the girl with them,” Bear said into the radio, “We expect them to just give her up?”

  “The phone can fuck them just as easily, which is why they’ll play ball,” Jackson replied, “Solomon doesn’t strike me as stupid. He’ll try for both, but that’s why you’re up there. To make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “To make sure you two get out,” Bear doubled down.

  Or, at the very least, Jackson thought, to make sure she gets out.

  “Hold on, there’s dust kicked up on the bend in the road after yours,” Bear said, “Might be a vehicle coming towards you.”

  Jackson looked down at the Sig Sauer assault rifle, the same one he’d used the other night, and checked that the safety was off and there was a round in the chamber. He then drew his P320 from his hip and did the same thing. He put them back and looked down the road. Bear didn’t continue his report.

  “Anything,” Jackson asked.

  “Hold on, I’m watching,” Bear answered.

  Jackson sat still and focused, trying to keep his heart rate low. Down on the road, he couldn’t see what was coming. It had made him uneasy all morning. That feeling was only heightened now.

  “Yup, brother, I think it’s them,” Bear said, “Looks like that black van coming towards you.”

  Jackson couldn’t help but note the irony. The black van, the vehicle that had started all this, the first break he’d gotten – the vehicle he’d chased halfway across the state, the one that had led him to Bear, that led him to the Living Order – that was the van bringing Sara Beth Parker to him finally.

  “Are you ready up there,” Jackson asked.

  “Ready,” Bear replied.

  “Good,” said Jackson, “Let’s finish this.”

  73

  Jackson rapped two fingers against the cold steel of the P320 strapped to his thigh. He stared forward, motionless, waiting for the van to come around the bend in the road.

  “Let me know what they’re doing,” Jackson said, keying his mic.

  “They’re still moving towards you,” Bear radioed back, “Taking their sweet time, but they’re coming.”

  Bear watched the van amble down the road, bobbing awkwardly with every hole it hit. He winced as the whole body bucked forward with the front bumper smacking the ground. The van had come to a stop.

  “Hold on, they’re stopping,” Bear said, “I think this road might’ve ripped the van a new one.”

  But just as he radioed Jackson, the van began moving again. As it continued forward, Bear spotted two men on the road. They must’ve come off the back of the van. With rifles slung around their back and draped in camouflage, they began climbing up the slope of the mountain, following the road. As they climbed into thicker brush, only their movement made it possible to spot them.

  “They’re moving again, but we’ve got a problem,” Bear radioed, “Two shooters in camouflage came off the back of the van. They’re on your high side.”

  “Watch them,” Jackson replied, “I’ve got the van.”

  Jackson waited for the van to come into his line of sight before climbing out of the truck. Knowing that men were sneaking up on his side actually put him at ease. He knew the Lokos would try something, now he knew their move and could anticipate it.

  As the van moved slowly towards him, he stepped out, sliding the assault rifle he had over into the driver’s seat. He reached into the cubby on the driver-side door and pulled out a second handgun – his M9 Beretta with a custom grip and barrel – and slipped it into his waistband.

  The van came to a stop several feet short of the limestone boulders, mirroring Jackson’s truck. Silas Ash climbed ou
t of the driver’s seat, a shotgun already in hand. Jackson heard the backdoors of the van open and the three men Jackson had originally met at the bar in Rocky Mount came around to the front. The Kerley brothers were carrying assault rifles; the one Jackson knew as Mack toted a pump-action shotgun.

  Solomon Ash studied Jackson from the passenger seat a minute more before opening the door of the van and standing up, looking down at Jackson with his elbows rested on the door and the hood.

  “It is a lovely day in the Virginia wilderness, isn’t it,” Solomon said.

  Jackson was quiet. When he didn’t say anything, Solomon shrugged his shoulders and climbed down, snaking his way through the trio of goons to stand in front of them.

  “That’s a lot of firepower for one cell phone,” Jackson said.

  Solomon smiled.

  “Hey, you said bring one car, you didn’t say how many it could hold,” he replied.

  He made a show of looking over the area, both high and low, before turning back to Jackson.

  “And I presume your redneck friend is around here somewhere,” Solomon said.

  “I’m right here, asshole,” Bear chimed into Jackson’s ear.

  “Sara Beth. Where is she,” Jackson asked Solomon.

  “Where’s the phone,” Solomon asked in reply.

  Jackson reached into his pocket and pulled out Silas’ cell phone in a clear Ziploc bag, holding it up for the band of Lokos to see.

  “Sara Beth,” Jackson repeated, “Now.”

  Solomon turned and said something to one of the Kerley brothers. The man disappeared briefly behind the van before coming back around marching a girl in front of him.

  There she was. Even with her wrists bound, her mouth gagged, and her body worked over with bruises and cuts, Jackson recognized Sara Beth from the countless times he’d looked at her photo. That dark brown hair. Those big green eyes. Sara Beth Parker, finally in the flesh.

  “The phone now, Mr. Clay,” Solomon said.

  “Let her come to me,” Jackson replied, “Then I’ll give you the phone.”

  “That’s not how this is going to go down, Mr. Clay,” Solomon said.

  “That’s exactly how this is going to go down. That is, if you want the phone back.”

  “Look around, Mr. Clay. You’re in no position to negotiate anything.”

  “Exactly, look around. It’s five men on one. I’m not going anywhere. Let her walk to me, and I’ll toss you the phone.”

  Solomon thought to himself for a minute, then turned to the man holding Sara Beth’s wrists and nodded.

  Bear watched through the scope of the sniper rifle as one of the Lokos he recognized from the bar marched Sara Beth forward, then stopped as he tried to cut off the zip ties around her wrists. Bear shifted the scope up and looked at the two men in the woods. They were no more than a couple feet apart, moving past the boulders and coming around to Jackson’s side.

  “The two shooters in the woods are moving to flank you,” Bear radioed to Jackson.

  Jackson tried to look out of the corner of his eye to see if he could see the men. He couldn’t. Then a snapping sound brought his attention forward again.

  Sara Beth grabbed her wrists and rubbed them as if it had been a while since they’d been free. Solomon walked over to her and pulled the cloth gag off her mouth, letting it drape around her neck. He smiled at her, then turned and faced Jackson with his hand on her back as if ready to usher her forward.

  “One more thing, Mr. Clay,” Solomon said, “The gun on your leg. Kindly lose it, please.”

  Jackson stared at him. He didn’t mind dropping the gun with a second one tucked into his pants, but he wanted to sell Solomon on his reluctancy to keep him from suspecting he had a backup.

  “Now, Mr. Clay,” Solomon demanded.

  With two fingers, Jackson slowly unclipped the holster and withdrew the gun, presenting it in front of him before moving to place it on the ground. When his mouth was hidden from view, Jackson keyed his radio mic.

  “When I make my move, drop the guys in the woods,” Jackson said.

  “Got it,” Bear radioed back.

  Jackson stood up, his arms outstretched and his hands open. He looked at Solomon with a begrudging scowl.

  “The girl now,” Jackson said.

  Solomon smiled at him.

  “Very well,” he replied, “Off you go, my dear.”

  Solomon gave her a gentle nudge with the hand on her back. She hesitated, looking at Jackson with fear and uncertainty. Jackson swung one of his outstretched arms towards her and motioned with his hand.

  “It’s okay, Sara Beth,” he said, “I’m here to take you home.”

  “The guys in the woods are at your three o’clock,” Bear radioed, “Whatever you’re going to do, you need to do it now.”

  Jackson took a step towards her.

  “Sara Beth,” he pleaded, “It’s okay.”

  “That’s far enough, Mr. Clay,” Solomon said.

  “Let me take her,” Jackson replied, “I have the phone.”

  He took the phone in the Ziploc bag and held it out for everyone to see again. Cautiously, he began walking towards them, towards Sara Beth, all the while maintaining eye contact with her.

  “Sara Beth, you have to trust me,” Jackson said, “I’m not like the other men he’s given you to. I’m here to bring you home.”

  Nervous, she took a jittery step towards him.

  “That’s it, good,” Jackson said.

  He continued to walk towards her slowly until he was standing in between the two limestone boulders. He stood there as she came to him, seeming to trust what she was doing more and more. Her steps became more sure-footed. Her body stopped shaking. Maybe something told her to trust Jackson, or maybe the hope of going home had overtaken her fear. By the time she got to Jackson’s arms, she was practically jogging. Jackson didn’t stop looking at her, reassuring her with a smile. She started to smile back, those signatures dimples starting to form, when Jackson saw Solomon pull out a gun and point it at them.

  Jackson grabbed Sara Beth with both arms, holding her as he threw both of them to his left behind one of the limestone boulders. They hit the ground as two shots rang out almost simultaneously. Jackson heard one ricochet off the rock. He looked over his shoulder to see a man on the mountainside above him be thrown backwards against a tree before falling and tumbling down, his body coming to a stop at the top of the other boulder.

  As the man fell, Jackson saw the second one stand up where the first had been shot. The man leveled a gun directed at the two of them laying on the road. Jackson pulled the M9 out from behind his back and fired two shots, winging the man and throwing him off balance. Another shot rang out from above and behind Jackson. He was looking at the camouflaged gunman when the .50 caliber round effectively crushed the man’s skull, tossing his body like a rag doll.

  “Got them,” Bear radioed.

  “Get that M2 and light them up,” Jackson replied.

  Jackson looked towards the gap in between the boulders, placing himself between Sara Beth and the others. One of the Kerley brothers, the one that had taken Sara Beth out of the van, came around the rock, his rifle pointed in their direction. Jackson squeezed off another two rounds, hitting the man square in his chest, then pointed it at the man’s head and fired a third round. The man’s head kicked backwards, guiding his lifeless body to the ground.

  The valley became filled with the rat-tat-tat of the powerful machine gun overhead. Jackson could hear as lead rounds punched holes into the van with a melody of metal being pierced and glass shattering.

  Jackson looked over at Sara Beth who had balled herself up in the fetal position and was covering her head with her hands. He shook her gently as he shouted over the gunfire.

  “Sara Beth, we have to go,” he said.

  She didn’t move.

  “Sara Beth, you have to trust me,” he tried again, “We have to move or we will die.”

  She turned her head a
nd peeked out at him through the bend in her arm. Jackson held out a hand. She took it and stood up with him. Jackson keyed his radio.

  “Cover us, I’m getting the girl out of here,” he said.

  He turned to Sara Beth.

  “Stand behind me,” he said.

  She nodded. Jackson squared his body in the direction of the Lokos, his gun pointed the same way. Taking one step at a time, he moved back towards his truck. He watched as Bear rained rounds down on them, crashing violently into whatever they hit like metal meteors.

  He was halfway to his truck when he saw Solomon peek his head out from behind the van. He stuck his hand out with a gun and fired at Jackson.

  Jackson returned his fire when the other Kerley brother came around the opposite side of the van with a shotgun. Before Jackson could react, the man pulled the trigger. Jackson was almost knocked off his feet as the slug slammed into the right side of his abdomen. Bear continued to fire in the man’s direction, but the Loko was protected by the van. He pumped the shotgun, kicking a smoking shell airborne, then leveled the shotgun at Jackson again.

  This time Jackson turned, grabbed Sara Beth and pushed her towards the truck. The Kerley brother followed their movement, firing off another round that obliterated the window of the Ram’s open driver-side door.

  Jackson picked Sara Beth up and shoved her into the truck’s cabin before climbing in himself. Keeping low, he moved to put his feet on the pedals.

  “Keep it up, I’m getting her out of here,” he yelled to Bear through the radio.

  He tried reaching to put the truck in gear but as he extended his right arm the pain became excruciating from his abdomen. Jackson looked down, pulling up his shirt. The slug had caught the vest, but right now it didn’t feel like it. He looked over at Sara Beth who was huddled in the foot space of the passenger seat.

  “The truck,” he said, wincing, “I need you to put it in reverse.”

  Sara Beth reached out with a shaking arm, grabbed the selector lever and yanked it down.

  “There you go,” Jackson said.