Active Defense

by Lynette Eason

  A pause. “Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s going to be any fixing this. If you’d just—”

  “If I’d just what? You were supposed to be there! If you’d been there like we agreed, none of this would have happened, and now I’m going to rot in prison for the rest of my life.”

  “Then I suppose you’d better disappear.”

  The words stunned Donnie into a moment of silence. “Disappear?” he finally managed to croak. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, seriously. This whole thing has gone sideways, and you didn’t even do what I told you to do. You let her get away. So, consider us done. Again, you’d be smart to vanish while you can.”

  “Vanish? Are you even listening to yourself? You know what my life is. What about Liz and my kids? What about Sam’s wife and kids? And Sam didn’t even know this was the real deal. He thought it was all just a game and wound up taking a bullet. And you still owe me for killing that guy in Michigan.”

  “I’ll wire you that money.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as we hang up. Now, what about Sam? You didn’t take him to a hospital, did you?”

  “I’m not that stupid.” He glanced back at the man on the floor and swallowed. “I think Sam’s dead.”

  “Well, one less person to worry about talking then, right?”

  What a cold-blooded— “Look, you know as well as I do that I can’t just vanish! I need that money. My kids need that money for when I’m gone.” For when he left them. He was sick of his wife, sick of his life. But he wouldn’t leave his kids destitute. “I have kids. I’m not just disappearing.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you. You didn’t do your part, so you don’t get the money.”

  If he could have reach through the line, he would have gladly wrapped his hands around the throat attached to the voice. “I’ll go to the cops. I’ll tell them everything.”

  “Then I guess you can say goodbye to Liz and your kids, can’t you? Besides, what are you going to tell them? None of this connects back to me. Goodbye, Donnie. It’s been a good ride, but don’t bother contacting me again.” The line went dead and Donnie gaped. With shaking fingers, he redialed the number, only to have it go straight to voice mail. The same thing happened the next three times he tried.

  “No. No. No. This can’t be happening.” He refrained from throwing his own phone and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. “What have I done?” he whispered to the empty room. He didn’t mind killing. He didn’t take pleasure in it like some people, but he didn’t mind doing it. Especially if the price was right. But this . . .

  He pulled his phone back out of his pocket, turned off his location services, and powered the device down. With another shaky breath, he inhaled the stale stench of the overused and undercleaned restroom and looked at Sam sprawled on the floor. Blood saturated the man’s shirt.

  Donnie nudged the nearest thigh with a toe. Sam didn’t move. Idiot. Had to go and get himself shot, then let the woman get away. This was all his fault, and if he wasn’t already dead, he soon would be. And as much as he hated to admit it, his “boss” was right. With Sam gone, there would be one less witness to spill everything.

  Donnie drew in another deep breath, then regretted it when he gagged on the stench. However, his mind continued to grapple for a way out of this.

  Now that he thought about it, if the cops did happen to find the cabin, his prints would be easy enough to explain away. So, maybe his “boss” was right. Maybe he was being overly worried about it. His tension eased a fraction.

  He considered loading Sam’s body into the back of the van but didn’t have a clue what he’d do with it. He finally stepped over his former partner and friend, opened the bathroom door, locked it, and let it shut behind him. Wind and snowflakes battered his face, but he didn’t even feel the chill. He was too busy trying to formulate a plan as he pulled his hoodie over his head and darted to the van.

  Donnie needed that money he’d been promised. Desperately.

  If he couldn’t get it one way, he’d have to get it another.

  While Heather wanted to forget the last few hours, she decided she needed to see the cabin where she’d been held. She had no idea why, but her gut pushed her to go.

  The investigators were fine with her walking through it in the hopes that it would trigger another memory that might offer a clue to her kidnappers’ identities. She wasn’t so sure about that, but didn’t bother arguing.

  Heather climbed from the cruiser and pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders.

  Travis walked with her to the front door. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  “I’m sure. And no, I don’t know why exactly.” She paused. “I think, deep down, maybe I feel like this place is going to show up in my nightmares. Maybe by confronting it, seeing that it’s simply a place, I can break any kind of stronghold my mind might be compelled to give it.”

  “I can understand that. I can see Brooke telling you to do it.”

  She laughed. “Funny, I think it was her voice in my head suggesting it.” She drew in a deep breath. “How’d you find it?” she asked.

  “Ryker.”

  “Of course.”

  One of the officers still on the scene opened the front door and led her inside. Caden hurried to join them in the living area.

  “I haven’t seen this area,” she said. “I was kept in the back bedroom, so I don’t know that I’ll be able to add to anything I’ve already told you.”

  “That’s all right,” Travis said, “just take your time.”

  “They brought me in the front door, I guess, then led me through the house to the back. When they had me in the bedroom, they undid my hands and shut the door.”

  “And?”

  “And I had a migraine.” The pain still wasn’t completely gone, but at least she didn’t feel sick to her stomach. She looked around and noted it was a nice place.

  For a prison.

  Heather headed to the back bedroom, her anxiety growing with each step. The door was open. As soon as she stepped over the threshold, the terror rushed in.

  Travis gripped her hand and squeezed. Her pulse slowed and her anxiety lessened. Travis. Always there when she needed him, whether she wanted to admit she needed him or not. “This is where they kept me.” She frowned at the broken window. The curtains gusted according to the changes in the wind, and the temperature in the room had to be in the forties. A shiver skated up her spine. “It was awfully easy to get out of here. Wouldn’t you think they would have kept me tied up or in a place that had bars on the windows?”

  “Maybe they didn’t think you’d try to escape, knowing you were in the middle of nowhere.”

  “But that’s the thing,” she said, “I didn’t know.” She moved to the window, then turned and looked back at the room. A baseball cap lay on the floor next to the bed. “That wasn’t here when I was.”

  Caden motioned to one of the hovering officers, who hurried to bag the cap. “The crime scene unit has lifted all the prints they’re going to, so we can start collecting items for DNA testing. They’ll run this for hair and skin DNA right away,” he said.

  A tremor shook her, and Travis pulled her next to him. “You’re safe now.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “You said you overheard them talking and that they were waiting for someone to show up.”

  “It’s what it sounded like.”

  She found Caden studying her. “And you have no idea who that could be?”

  Heather blew out a low breath. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

  “And?”

  “Could you check and see where a man by the name of Roger Maddox is? I confirmed a few weeks ago that he’s still in prison, but maybe we should double-check.”

  “Sure. Who’s that?”

  “My father.”

  “Your father?” Travis pulled her back into the den area of the cabin.

  “Yes, I have one, you know.” />
  He blinked. “Cute. Yes, I’m aware. I guess I just assumed he was out of the picture.”

  “Oh, he is. And has been for a long time, but he hates me and I wouldn’t put it past him to come after me if he was out.” She rubbed her eyes. “But he’s not supposed to be out.”

  Caden dialed a number and pressed the phone to his ear as he walked out of the cabin.

  “Why does your father hate you?”

  “Because I’m the reason he’s in prison—and hasn’t made parole the last two times he was up for it.”

  “You’re the reason?”

  Heather eyed him. “Yes.”

  He wanted to hear that story. “Has he ever threatened you?”

  “Not recently, but as he was led out of the courtroom, he made it clear he planned to come after me if he ever got out.”

  “What did you do to him?”

  “I set him up to get arrested, but I can tell you about that later. For now, I just think it might be worth taking a closer look at him. Not necessarily his location—I know that—but who he’s calling from prison or associating with there.”

  “When’s the last time you saw him?” Travis asked.

  “Before I deployed to Afghanistan five years ago. I showed up at his parole hearing and reminded them why they’d put him away in the first place—and the fact that my life would be in danger if he got out.”

  Travis pressed fingers against his eyes. “Why haven’t you said anything before this?”

  “Because, one, I checked and my father is still in prison. And two, I caught glimpses of the guy stalking me and it wasn’t Roger. He looked slightly familiar, but I can’t place him. However, since we now know these people are working for someone, it makes sense that it could be that Roger simply hired someone from prison.” She paused. “Which would make sense because he’s up for parole soon and if I’m not in the picture, he might actually have a chance of making it.”

  Caden stepped back inside. “Your father is definitely still in prison. I talked to one of the guards on his block, and he said Maddox hasn’t had any uptick in activity or changes in behavior. That doesn’t necessarily mean much if he’s good at hiding that kind of thing.”

  She let out a shaky breath. “He’d be good at it.”

  “Then I think it might be wise to have a word with the man.”

  Heather crossed her arms and leaned forward. “I’ll do it.”

  Travis raised a brow. “You want to see him?”

  “Want to? No. Not particularly. But if you give me the questions to ask him, I’ll be able to read him and see if he’s lying.”

  Travis and Caden exchanged a glance, and Heather narrowed her eyes. “Brooke told me about that bro language stuff. If Asher and Gavin don’t get to do it, neither do you two.”

  Travis laughed in spite of the seriousness of the moment. He and the other guys had known each other for so long, they could often communicate simply with a look. Brooke had been known to call them out on it. Apparently, she’d influenced the other ladies as well. “No bro language. We’re just concerned.”

  “I know. I am too. We all know that I have control issues, so just humor me, okay? Confronting him will help me feel like I’m . . . being proactive. Standing up for myself rather than being a victim.”

  “You’re not a victim, Heather.”

  “No, not anymore. Because I refuse to be one. So . . . when do we go see Roger?”

  “I’ll set it up,” Caden said, “and we can head over there first thing in the morning if you want to.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’d say for now, you meet with the sketch artist and get that composite done. The faster we can get that to news outlets, the faster we’ll catch these guys.”

  “That’s fine.” She rubbed her eyes. “So, sketch artist now. Sleep. Then prison in the morning, then my house. Right?”

  “If you have the energy for that schedule.”

  “I’ll find the energy.”

  “You need to sleep, Heather, and start recovering. This was a very traumatic thing for you. For all of us.”

  “I know.” She grimaced. “The truth is, I doubt I’ll sleep much, but I suppose I should try.”

  Travis caught her eye and could see the thought of the inevitable nightmares was more than she could deal with at the moment.

  As they were walking out to the vehicle, he took her hand and leaned over. “You’re strong, Heather, you can do this. And you can sleep too.”

  “I’m glad you think so. I guess eventually I’ll find out. For now, adrenaline is keeping me going.”

  Yep. And when she crashed, he planned on being there to catch her.

  CHAPTER

  TWELVE

  SATURDAY MORNING

  9:00AM

  The prison loomed large and imposing, surrounded by chain-link fence, barbed wire, and patrolling guards. She’d been right. Sleep had been elusive, even though a female police officer had stayed in the room with her, and Gavin and Travis had been in the connecting room with the door open. After two hours with the sketch artist, she’d been wired, doubts about her descriptions plaguing her. But she’d dutifully climbed into bed a little after three in the morning and shut her eyes.

  At 7:30 this morning, she’d never been so glad to have to get up and get ready for the day.

  Only now this.

  Heather pressed a hand against her churning stomach.

  Throwing up wasn’t an option. The first two times she’d attended Roger’s parole hearings, she’d puked in the ladies’ room after each visit. Today, flanked by Caden, Gavin, and Travis, she swallowed hard, walked up the concrete steps, and through the glass doors of the prison.

  Stale metallic air hit her in the face, and she did her best to breathe through her mouth without being obvious about it.

  Gavin stopped just outside the doors. “I’ll be out here watching the vehicles. I don’t want anyone getting near them.” He’d also make sure no one had followed them.

  After making their way through security, they were led to a private visiting area where Heather took a seat at the rectangular table. She wasn’t so sure it was a good idea to meet her father without a wall of glass between them, but with Caden and Travis in the same room, she felt like it would be doable.

  Besides, if Roger was on one side, he could simply hang up and walk out if he decided he didn’t like the tone of the conversation. At least this way, it would be a little harder to get away from her.

  The door clanged open, and Roger walked in, his wrists and legs shackled. When he saw her and the two men, he paused as though rethinking his agreement to meet with her. He’d aged a lot since she’d last laid eyes on him. His gaze never left her. “I’m so scary you need two bodyguards?”

  “Hello to you too, Roger. And they’re not because of you.” At least not completely.

  He snorted, then shuffled to the table and dropped into the nearest chair. “I don’t have a parole hearing for you to sabotage, so what’s this all about?”

  No doubt he’d thought about refusing to see her, but since she’d never reached out to him before, it was most likely his curiosity had gotten the best of him. “Someone’s trying to kill me. I need to know if you’re behind it.”

  For a moment he stared, then laughed. Waves of laughter that brought tears to his eyes. Heather sat in stony silence, knowing her expression gave away nothing of her inner turmoil. She’d learned how to do that at an early age. Yet another thing that had only enraged him.

  He finally calmed down and wiped his eyes. “Well, that’s karma, ain’t it?”

  “Not really. Just a lowlife who seems to have something against me. You were the first person I thought of.”

  “Lowlife, huh?” He sniffed. “You ever think it could have something to do with you trying to save that terrorist punk?”

  Rage bubbled beneath the surface. From the corner of her eye, she caught Travis’s hand fisted at his side. For her. Some of her ire fizzled. “Yes, I’ve thought ab
out it. This doesn’t have anything to do with that.”

  “How do you know about the video?” Caden asked.

  Roger rolled his eyes. “This is prison, not the Sahara.” He looked back at Heather. “How do you know it doesn’t have anything to do with the video?”

  “I guess I don’t for sure,” she said, “but that’s not where the leads are taking us.”

  “And they’re bringing you here?”

  “It was worth asking.”

  “You believe me?”

  “Yes.”

  His brows rose. “Oh.”

  She stood. “He doesn’t have anything to do with the attempts on my life.”

  “How do you know?” Travis asked.

  “Because I always know when he’s lying. He has a tell.”

  Her father huffed a laugh. “I do not.”

  “Sure you do.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Heather simply smiled and walked to the door.

  Roger stood, his chains clanking. “Hey! What is it?”

  Caden and Travis fell in behind her. The guard opened the door.

  Roger thumped the table. “Tell me!”

  She turned. “Just so you know, I really do wish things were different between us.”

  That silenced him and Heather thought she saw a brief flicker of regret in his blue eyes. Then it was gone. If it was ever there.

  “What’s my tell!”

  The guard shut the door and Heather blew out a low breath. However, she noted that her stomach stayed in place. Interesting.

  Travis took her hand, and she curled her fingers around his, relishing the feel of his rough palm against hers. He might not realize it, but the little things he did to offer her comfort gave her strength. “What’s his tell?”

  “He blinks his left eye just before he lies. When I asked him if he was the one trying to kill me, it took him by surprise and he simply stared at me before laughing. He doesn’t know anything.”

  Once they were back in his truck with Caden behind them and Gavin in front, he shot her a hooded look. “I couldn’t tell if you were rattled or not.”

  “I was.”

  “You hid it well.”