by Barb Han
This seemed like a good time to curse the fact that she’d been waiting for it to get dark outside before she tried to get closer to the trailer, which was hours away on a bitterly cold day. That fact also fell into the category of Things She Could Not Fix. So, she moved on.
Other factors that she didn’t like included the idea that she had no clue how many or what kind of weapons Perez’s men had inside those walls. For all she knew, this could be where they kept an arsenal. And then there was the fact that she wasn’t familiar with the layout of the trailer, although she could formulate a decent guess based on the year it was built and her experience having carried out busts in several other trailers over the course of her law enforcement career.
The front door, which she currently had eyes on, would lead straight into the living room, based on its position to the right of center. On the immediate right would be a hallway with a couple of secondary bedrooms and a bath. To the left would be the kitchen and the master bedroom with an en suite. The back door would most likely be off the kitchen. She closed her eyes and envisioned the layout, recalling all the details of the last trailer she was in, walking through it in her mind.
Joshua could be anywhere inside. Going in blitzkrieg style without knowing how many men she was up against could end up getting them both killed. She needed to create a diversion and get them outside so she could count them.
Alice willed her hands to stop shaking, a combination of cold and adrenaline, as she fumbled with the zipper on her backpack. What could she use? Papers? Maps? GPS device? She mentally shook her head. None of those were useful as of now.
An idea sparked as she pulled out matches and then quickly died as she examined them. They were soaking wet and therefore no use to her. However, could she figure out a way to light a fire somewhere like the cowboy had in the field?
Her mind zipped through the possibilities of setting a blaze to the field, the trailer—catch the trailer on fire and Joshua might burn with it—or the station wagon. Hold on. That last thought might work. Best she could tell it was the only vehicle around and that would mean their only form of transportation. Surely that would draw the men out since they’d need to put out the fire or risk it catching the trailer, as close as it was parked. In fact, if the car exploded, the windows of the trailer might blow out and cause injury to someone inside.
She palmed her cell. She’d downloaded an app that had scrambled her location in the event her co-workers or boss, or the feds, decided to take matters into their own hands and look for her. It would come in handy now because she would need to call 9-1-1. On the off chance the fire wasn’t enough to clear the place, sirens would make criminals scatter faster than deer catching the scent of a hunter.
The fact that the men would have no transportation would make it easier for the police to catch them.
Okay, so, burn the station wagon and call 9-1-1 was the plan, adding arson to her growing list of felonies.
Now, what could she use to start a fire since her matches were soaked?
The soggy packet in the palm of her hand mocked her. Since they would do no good she tossed them inside her backpack.
Maybe there was something closer to the trailer. Alice shouldered her backpack, stuffed her cell in her front pocket and then belly-crawled across the slick grass. She climbed under the wood slats in the fence and then circled the perimeter to check out the backyard, giving the trailer a wide berth and keeping with the tree line.
When she was within twenty yards of the place, the back door opened so hard it smacked against the wall. She suppressed a yelp and froze, praying she was camouflaged against the landscape.
A man hopped down the couple of stairs with a lit cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth. She may have just found her fire source.
Alice scarcely breathed while waiting for the stocky guy in his early-to mid-twenties to finish his smoke. She was losing precious minutes and the feeling of being stuck there doing nothing while God only knew what was happening to Joshua was like heavy weights pressing on her shoulders. Her teeth chattered from the cold and being on the frigid, wet ground sent chills through her body.
The smoker finally took the last drag off his cigarette after what felt like an eternity and then flicked it onto the ground. He hopped up the couple of steps and disappeared into what she figured was the kitchen area.
As she neared the trailer, the silence was deafening. She tried not to think about what might be going on inside as she surveyed the area. In order to reach the butt—which she could only pray was still burning—she’d have to get within ten feet of the back door. A risky move.
While she was still out of earshot, Alice fished her cell from her front pocket and called 9-1-1. In barely a whisper, she reported a car fire, gave an address and then ended the call. That way, if she was caught while retrieving the cigarette butt law enforcement would arrive soon enough and that would give her and Joshua a fighting chance. The call was basically backup insurance. This being a rural location, she figured it would take at least fifteen minutes, maybe more, for a deputy to show. And that also meant she needed to kick her bottom into high gear because a deputy would be expecting a car fire.
Belly down, Alice crawled toward the spot where she estimated the smoker had flicked the butt. She should see smoke by now. Maybe she’d miscalculated. She double-checked her positioning against the back door.
Alice searched the ground. This should be near the spot but she saw nothing. A mild breeze was blowing and that could be the problem. She prayed the wind was the culprit because she was running short on ideas, had waterlogged matches in her backpack and Joshua was in trouble.
Besides, there was no way on earth she could be at the trailer when the sheriff or one of his deputies arrived. Time was ticking and the cigarette butt was hiding.
There, she caught sight of a sliver of brown less than an inch long. That had to be it. She crawled closer, praying this would be the break she needed.
There was no fire. The wet earth must’ve put it out. Damn. Damn. Damn.
Desperation made her arms hard to lift as she rolled onto the ground on her side. A loud masculine grunt came from inside the trailer, kicking another wave of adrenaline coursing through her. Joshua! She pushed up onto all fours and scurried around the other side of the trailer determined to find something she could use to ignite a flame.
Rocks battered her knees and cut her palms as she navigated onto the makeshift driveway. She didn’t dare raise to her full height, even though the trailer was positioned on cinder blocks making the windows high. But she couldn’t stay on all fours, either. She forced herself into a crouching position, keenly aware that she’d aggravated the cut on her side, causing it to bleed again. She could deal with the fallout from that later. For now, all she could focus on was getting Joshua out of that trailer and to safety. It was the least she could do after the way he’d put his life on the line to save her. In fact, it was her fault he was in this position in the first place.
There was nothing obvious out front that she could use to light a fire, so hopes of finding something inside the station wagon were her last resort. The door was unlocked and that was the first break she’d gotten all day. The second came when she found a half-empty pack of cigarettes on the dashboard. The smoker. He would have multiple sources of fire. Since bad news came in threes, she prayed the same was true for the opposite. She smoothed her hand across the seats and deep into the joint where the bottom met the backrest. She scanned the floorboards and ran her hands under the seats. Surely, there were matches or a lighter in there somewhere. The station wagon was too new to have a built-in lighter.
There was a Google Maps printout folded and tucked between the driver’s seat and the console. She grabbed it with her left hand, continuing to search with her right.
Her fingers stopped on a small plastic piece. Could it be? She closed her
fingers around it and pulled it out...a lighter.
Alice dropped her right shoulder, causing the backpack to tumble to the ground. She fumbled with the zipper, wincing as pain ripped through her side, and tucked the page into the side pocket. She pulled out a few of her own papers and twisted several together before locating the release latch for the gas container.
Somehow, she was supposed to set this baby ablaze without injuring herself and then get around the back of the trailer to the rear door unseen. She planned to slip inside, find Joshua and free him before the bad guys came back in—provided they all left in the first place—and then get the heck out of Dodge before anyone from law enforcement arrived.
There were more holes in her plan than a piece of aged cheese and her good luck had already run out. And just to make things a little more interesting, Alice heard the faint roar of sirens in the distance.
Alice zipped her backpack and shouldered it. She moved toward the rear driver’s side of the vehicle and to the gas line. The door was already open so she removed the cap. She lit one end of the paper, said a quick prayer and then stuffed the dry end of the paper into the gas line. Fumes blew out a burst of fire, catching her right forearm before she could pull her hand back fast enough. She immediately dropped to her knees to get out of the way.
The station wagon was about to go boom.
Her fight, freeze or flight response kicked in from there as she ignored the pain piercing her side. She scampered to the side of the trailer, located the biggest rock she could find and then tossed it toward the vehicle. The alarm system engaged, piercing the air with shrill beeps.
One and then two men burst out of the front door, the ones from earlier. Alice cleared the back of the trailer at the same instant a loud boom sounded. She instinctively dropped to her knees and located her Glock, palming it.
The sheriff or some other law enforcement official was nearing and Joshua was still trapped in there with those jerks. Talk about a plan unraveling. The worst part was that she might’ve just made it worse for him. Part of her feared she’d hear a gunshot. And then there was the fresh burn that wrapped around her forearm. It was already red and looked angry. She figured shock was the only thing keeping the pain away. For now, at least.
Then she heard voices out front as the sounds of the fire ravaged the rest of the vehicle. She raced to the couple of steps at the back door away from the voices, anxious to find Joshua and get out of there.
The back door was unlocked. Thankfully. So she took a risk, opened it, and bolted inside letting her Glock lead the way.
Alice stopped in the kitchen, quickly scanning the area. The living room was next. Something was wrong. Why was there so much smoke inside the trailer? She coughed, taking in a lungful of thick gray air. Her eyes started to burn. She needed to find the cowboy and get out of there.
The kitchen was clear. She moved to the living room and beyond the couch that had been blocking her view. A man was rolled up on his side, unconscious. “Joshua.”
Sirens grew louder as Alice cleared the hallway, the bedrooms, and then returned to the cowboy. She couldn’t risk putting her gun away and helping him until she knew it would be safe. Running to an injured person without clearing a crime scene would be a rookie mistake. She tucked her Glock inside her backpack and dragged the cowboy across the carpet and then the laminate flooring to the back door. Smoke filled the room and she had no idea if there’d be another blast. All she knew for certain was that they had to go.
Her lungs felt like they would seize as she gasped for fresh air. He was a solid mass and dragging him was taking all her strength. It was all she could do to get him out the door and to the tree line, hoping they’d be able to disappear there long enough to catch her breath and get a second wind.
As it was, her head was dizzy, her vision blurred and pain ricocheted through her body. She wasn’t sure what hurt more, her side, her burned arm or her lungs. Two steps inside the tall grass and safety of the trees, Alice collapsed onto the ground next to the cowboy. She faintly registered that he looked different but then she’d never seen him unconscious before, either.
No matter how hard she tried to fight, exhaustion wrapped long-lean fingers around the edges of her consciousness. There was no way she’d be able to keep it at bay much longer.
Footsteps registered, not from the direction of the trailer but the trees behind it. That couldn’t be a good sign, she thought, as she gave in to the darkness.
* * *
THERE WERE TWO bodies slumped over in the woods twenty feet ahead of Joshua. He immediately called Tommy and briefed him. Even though this wasn’t his jurisdiction, he could call in favors should Joshua get into trouble. As he closed the distance between him and the bodies, he made them out to be Alice and his twin brother, Ryder. Guilt was a hot brand searing his heart because this was his fault. He’d been on his way to meet Ryder at the Tastee Freez Old Fashioned Ice Cream stand and hand over the bronze statue when he’d witnessed the entire scene. Two men in their early-to mid-twenties driving a late-model white station wagon had pulled in next to Ryder, who’d parked in the back lot away from other cars. Ryder had been staring down at his phone, no doubt texting Joshua to see how close he was to their meet-up point. The red light at the intersection had detained him.
The first man had exited his vehicle and stretched. Ryder had glanced up but didn’t think twice about it and neither had Joshua at first. The second, the one closest to Ryder, had exited next but his brother had already dismissed any threat, his eyes glued to the device in his hand.
Joshua hadn’t thought much of that either, figuring his years of police work had him overly paranoid when he started committing their descriptions to memory. What could he say? Old habits might die hard for others but not for Joshua. He was law enforcement through and through.
Even so, the entire situation had seemed nonthreatening until guy number two, the short and stocky one, pulled a gun and pointed it directly at Ryder’s forehead and forced him inside the station wagon. It had taken every ounce of self-discipline for Joshua not to stomp the gas pedal and roar into the parking lot. His training had kicked in, overriding his adrenaline rush, so he’d forced himself to breathe slower and take measured action instead of blindly reacting to the situation playing out in front of him. One wrong step and they could both end up kidnapped or killed.
Because Joshua was late, his brother had been abducted. Now, he lay wounded and unconscious in the woods in rural Texas. Joshua had tracked those jerks who’d taken his brother, making sure he wasn’t detected and then he’d been making his way through the thick mesquites for half an hour trying to find the damn trailer from the back side of the property. If only he’d arrived ten minutes sooner and not ended up lost in the damn trees.
The explosion followed by flames had jump-started his adrenaline again. His heart had stopped for a few seconds until he coughed to force it into action and started running toward the smoke.
Guilt seared him. He’d deal with the fallout from his emotions later. Right now, he had two unconscious—at least he hoped like hell they were unconscious because that would mean they were still breathing—and injured people to get to safety. He dropped to his knees next to the bodies, watching their chests, praying for movement. Ryder was facedown in the wet weeds and Alice was curled on her side, her skin pale. Her lips were blue. Both she and Ryder were still breathing, and that was the first time Joshua released the breath he’d been holding since initially identifying them.
There was a flurry of activity at the trailer and law enforcement would descend on these woods at any moment. Getting the two of them out of there undetected became his number one priority.
Retracing his steps would be easier now that he’d gotten his bearings. His Jeep was fifteen minutes away by foot. He needed to assess their injuries and figure out how he could get them out of there.
C
arefully, he examined their injuries. Ryder had a serious gash in his forehead that needed to be dealt with and between the pair of them Alice looked to be in worse shape. The cut on her side was bleeding, her shirt soaked red. She’d picked up second degree burns on her right forearm that would need medical treatment. He rolled up a shirt from her backpack and put pressure on her cut to stem the bleeding. He had a few supplies in the Jeep. No. He didn’t. He’d taken them into her motel room last night. Speaking of which, given what he knew about her circumstances, turning her in or taking her to the hospital would ensure her losing her job in law enforcement. He instantly regretted calling Tommy.
There were more pressing things than jobs right now, like, getting these two the hell out of these woods. In a few minutes, the trailer, woods and beyond would be crawling with deputies and Joshua didn’t want to lie to law enforcement. Besides, he had two unconscious people to tend to and both needed medical attention.
He pulled water from Alice’s pack and poured a little over Ryder’s forehead to get a good look at the cut. It was a flesh wound, so that was a relief, despite the amount of blood dripping down his face. Forehead cuts were known for their bleeding. Ryder’s eyes blinked open. And that was the second relief.
“Thank...God, you’re awake,” Joshua said, praying his brother would keep his eyes open.
Ryder looked around, seemed to be trying to get his bearings. “What happened?”
“There’s a pretty good cut on your forehead,” Joshua said, scanning his brother for any other injuries. From the looks of it, he’d taken a few shots to the face and there could be trauma. “Do you know who I am?”
“The less good-looking of a set of twins,” Ryder quipped, his hand coming up to his forehead. “What happened? My head hurts like hell.”
“You don’t want to touch that,” Joshua warned, thankful his brother wasn’t showing signs of a concussion. He’d keep an eye on him, though. “The cut isn’t too deep but it’s bloody.”