Jack Frost

by Diane Capri

  Adrenaline, anxiety, and plenty of caffeine would keep her going another night.

  “Now what?” Burke asked.

  “You call Cooper,” she replied.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Saturday, May 14

  South Dakota

  10:00 p.m.

  Burke had relaxed into the booth with his coffee. He frowned as if he were perplexed. Maybe he was. “You want me to call Cooper now? Why?”

  “He’s got access to satellites that can track the Jeep. Those satellites are constantly recording everything,” Kim replied.

  “Satellites like that have long been rumored. But whether or not they exist is classified,” Burke said, nodding as if he was following along but not making the same leap of logic that she’d made.

  “The Boss can pull up the video footage of Dr. Warner’s house and confirm that Olson and Keegan left there together. He can follow the Jeep and find out where they are.” Kim knew the satellites existed and she was betting Burke knew, too. It was one of those not so well kept secrets about which only the gullible public remained doubtful. “Should take about ten minutes of his time.”

  Her request was a test. Burke knew it. The Boss, who was always listening, would know it, too. If he gave Burke the intel, they could find Olson within the next couple of hours.

  If he withheld the intel, Kim would find Olson anyway.

  But Burke would know exactly how helpful Cooper was or wasn’t. The knowledge might save his life.

  Or both of their lives.

  Because right now, Burke held the crazy idea that the Boss was on their side. He wasn’t. Never had been.

  Kim knew she was expendable. Burke had a right to know that, too.

  He cocked his head and took another swig of coffee. He spent a few seconds pondering whatever was on his mind. Then he fished the burner phone he’d received from the Boss out of his pocket and pressed the redial button.

  The phone rang several times. But the Boss never picked up and Burke finally disconnected.

  “He’s busy. He’ll call back,” Burke said.

  Kim said nothing. She drained the last of her coffee and collected her cell phone from the table. She scooted across the bench and stood in the aisle.

  “I’ll pay the bill and meet you outside,” Burke said, making his way to the cash register to settle up.

  At the Navigator, Kim rooted around in her bag and found a fresh burner phone. She fired it up and moved toward the trees on the other side of the parking lot. She dialed a number she’d memorized weeks ago. A number limited to her alone.

  Lamont Finlay, Ph.D., Special Assistant to the President for Strategy, picked up. “Agent Otto. Always good to hear from you. How can I be of service?”

  She relayed the facts and the request, adding as many details as she knew. Anything the Boss could do, Finlay could do, too. Hell, Finlay might even have more options.

  “Faster to ask Cooper. He has the video at his fingertips, and it’ll take me a few minutes to get it,” Finlay’s deep, rumbly voice with the Boston accent was still as terrifying as always.

  When she said nothing, he chuckled a little under his breath. “Never mind. I’ll call you back.”

  “Thanks,” she said. She dropped the phone into her pocket and waited. Asking Finlay for anything was always a risk. But he’d been a better source than her boss, by a long shot.

  She glanced toward the diner. Burke was coming out now. He took the steps two at a time and strode toward the Navigator. He was a confident man. Capable. Experienced. She had asked the Boss for a solid partner, and at least on paper, Burke was all that.

  He made her uneasy though she didn’t know exactly why. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Not overtly anyway. Still, her instincts had served her well for a long time. She wouldn’t abandon them now.

  When Burke opened the driver’s door, and the overhead light came on, he saw she wasn’t in the vehicle. He scanned the parking lot and didn’t notice her hidden by the shadows.

  Her feet were cold, and her teeth had begun to chatter. Still, she waited. Finlay had never let her down. She kept a tight rein on her anxiety about his motives, but she didn’t give up. She never gave up. Never.

  Gaspar thought Finlay shouldn’t be trusted. He was probably right.

  Plausible deniability was a big part of Kim’s survival strategy. Someday, Cooper would throw her to the wolves. She’d be asked to testify about the hunt for Reacher. Her career with the FBI would be over.

  When the time came, she had three objectives. To lie as little as possible. To avoid prison. And to come out alive. Not necessarily in that order.

  “Otto!” Burke called out. He’d left the door of the Navigator open and walked a few feet away from it, scanning the darkness. “Otto!”

  The burner phone finally vibrated. She pushed the talk button.

  Finlay said, “Olson and Keegan left the doctor’s home in a green Jeep. They drove north until they hit a snag. At that point, they evaded a roadblock, abandoned the Jeep, and stole a fishing boat. They traveled west on the Mission River. Beached the boat at a church and stole an Impala sedan. I’ll text you the details on the Chevy.”

  She appreciated his no-nonsense approach and took a moment to metabolize the intel. “Great. Where are they now?”

  “Headed west toward Sardis on a county road.”

  “West? Not north? Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely certain.”

  “Thanks,” she said slowly, digesting the data. “Did you get any audio inside the vehicles?”

  “Very little, and it’s garbled. They’re not talking much,” Finlay said. “For what it’s worth, I did get the sense that she’s a hostage, not a willing participant.”

  “What made you think so?”

  “He’s been pretty rough with her a couple of times.” Finlay paused as if he had to think about the gut feeling before he could explain it. “Something else. She was driving. Both the Jeep and the Chevy. Could mean that he’s incapacitated.”

  “Can you keep an eye on them in real-time?” she asked.

  “That’s problematic,” he replied. “For one thing, the satellites don’t see as well out there in no man’s land. For another, I’ve already got a job.”

  She nodded although he couldn’t see her.

  He asked, “Why does Cooper think you’ll find Reacher in the wilds of South Dakota?”

  Finlay was always two steps ahead of her. Which meant he was more likely to know the answer to that question than she was.

  “You tell me. I’d really love to know,” she said sourly.

  “You’re asking the wrong man,” he replied. Which only meant that he wouldn’t say.

  She shrugged, alone in the dark. “Thank you. I’ll call back if I need anything else.”

  Finlay chuckled wryly. “Now that Gaspar’s not there telling you to avoid me like the plague you mean?”

  “Something like that.” She grinned, too. Then she disconnected and dropped the phone into her pocket.

  She couldn’t help it. She liked the guy. He was dangerous, for sure. But Finlay hadn’t double-crossed her yet. Which was more than she could say for the Boss.

  As she walked out of the trees toward Burke, she pretended to be zipping her jeans. “Over here. Sorry. Call of nature.”

  “I thought maybe a grizzly had grabbed you or something,” Burke said, sounding genuinely concerned. Maybe he was. “Come on. It’s freezing out here.”

  They climbed into the Navigator. Burke started the engine and turned the heat on full blast, rubbing his hands together like a frostbitten munchkin.

  Kim fastened her seatbelt and put her alligator clamp at the shoulder harness retractor. Otherwise, the seatbelt would cut off her head in a crash.

  What was it with men and big vehicles, anyway?

  “Did Cooper call you back?” she asked.

  “Not yet. But he will.” Burke scowled.

  “I wouldn’t hold your breath,” she replied with a sm
irk he couldn’t see in the dark.

  Burke didn’t argue. He simply asked, “Where to?”

  “Let’s see if the GPS on this beast will work out here,” she said, turning it on. After a few moments, it showed a pulsing blue dot at the Navigator’s location.

  A system of more than thirty satellites circled the earth. GPS needed a signal from three or four satellites to triangulate properly and find things. The satellites could, theoretically, find anything, anytime and anywhere.

  In the real world, sometimes GPS worked well and sometimes it didn’t. Anybody who carried a cell phone in Manhattan could confirm. At the moment, the GPS in the Navigator seemed to be performing as intended. Whether it would work throughout the state of South Dakota, up through North Dakota, and on into Canada was bound to be hit or miss.

  “What are you looking for?” Burke asked.

  “Not sure yet.”

  On the screen, she expanded the map of the immediate area. “There’s one paved road through Newton Hills. It runs due north until it reaches the Mission River Bridge.”

  Which was where Finlay had told her that Olson and Keegan had headed west in the fishing boat, but she didn’t say that.

  Burke said, “Chief Mitchell’s a smart guy. Smithers said he had BOLOs and checkpoints set up. He probably had a checkpoint at that bridge.”

  Of course he did. She nodded.

  “Okay. Look here. A county road runs alongside the river,” she said, tracing it with her finger.

  She found the church where Olson and Keegan had stolen the Chevy, but she didn’t mention that yet.

  Burke said, “That road runs west for miles.”

  “It does. It connects with a highway, here, just past a small town called Sardis.” Kim tapped the screen. “That interstate runs south all the way past Nebraska.”

  “Yeah, and north to Canada,” Burke said. “They could get across the border before Smithers gets the helos out there in the morning.”

  Which was true.

  But it didn’t make sense to Kim.

  Keegan had been clever and resourceful so far. He’d spent a long time setting up his escape. He wouldn’t try to bluster his way across the border. Not if he had a better option.

  She believed he did. Keegan was the kind of guy who left nothing to chance. What she needed to do was figure out the plan. And stop it.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Saturday, May 14

  South Dakota

  10:30 p.m.

  Fern drove the Chevy westward in the darkness, northeast of Rapid City. The terrain had become more rugged as they’d moved toward the Black Hills. The Impala’s high beam headlights illuminated the roadway ahead creating a tunnel of light inside the black emptiness.

  South Dakota was an outdoorsman’s paradise. It was nine times larger than the state of New Jersey. But the total population was less than Austin, Texas. Which meant very few people occupied a vast, rugged landscape.

  They could travel for hours and never see another soul. The chance of coming upon a hitchhiker out here was probably lower than winning the Powerball lottery.

  Judd, or whatever his real name was, didn’t talk much, and his silence was nerve-wracking. The silence left her too much time to wonder how he’d kill her when they reached his destination.

  She tried not to focus on her family. Fern hoped that Judd would keep his word and leave Noah and her dad alone because she’d done everything he’d demanded. She was willing to sacrifice her life for theirs, even as her mind worked furiously to devise a plan to keep them all alive.

  For many miles, she’d expected Judd to direct a north turn toward Canada. Instead, they’d kept traveling west.

  He must be headed toward a rendezvous. Nothing else made sense.

  Which meant she had to find a way to escape before they reached the rendezvous.

  The Chevy was equipped with a GPS system. Judd had turned it on shortly after they left the Church. Every few minutes, he looked at the blinking blue light marking their position.

  The farther they drove from Mission River, the weaker and more intermittent the signal became. There was little else depicted on the screen. At this point, the road they were traveling was surrounded by emptiness on all sides.

  Fern was surprised the GPS worked at all. In theory, GPS would operate wherever she could see the sky. But not always. She knew that sometimes the signal was blocked by trees or hills or buildings.

  “How’s the fuel?” Judd asked, punching a couple of buttons directing the GPS to find the nearest services. The GPS returned nothing but an empty screen.

  “Less than a quarter tank left,” she said. The Chevy probably had an eighteen-gallon tank and could get maybe twenty-five miles to the gallon.

  “Do you know where we are?” Judd asked.

  “Roughly. North and east of Rapid City would be my guess. Which would mean there’s an interstate we could reach.”

  “No,” he said.

  Her heart thumped a little faster as she realized this might be her chance. “We’re more likely to find a gas station closer to the highway.”

  “No,” he repeated.

  A gas station would have an attendant, at least. Perhaps other travelers. Long-haul truckers, maybe. Someone who could help her.

  “We’ve got enough gas to go maybe another fifty miles,” Fern said, leaving him to reach his own conclusions.

  She slowed her speed in an effort to conserve fuel. He didn’t object. Which suggested they were in no hurry to get wherever they were going.

  The GPS continued to operate intermittently, showing their location but nothing else nearby. No gas station, no fast food joints, no homes or vehicles. Nothing but nature, and lots of it.

  Fern watched the fuel gauge nervously as it moved toward empty. If they ran out of gas here…

  She noticed a decrepit sign on the side of the road. It was the first sign of any kind she’d seen for hours. The poles were bent and the sign had been battered by weather for a long time. But the faint letters on it were barely visible.

  The sign said: Sardis 5.

  Did that mean a town five miles ahead? She’d never heard of Sardis. But that didn’t necessarily mean anything. There were plenty of wide spaces out here with names she didn’t know.

  Judd saw the sign, too. He said, “We’ll get gas in Sardis.”

  Fern had a thousand objections. But she didn’t raise them. No point.

  They traveled five miles, and Sardis came into view at the edge of the Chevy’s headlights’ beam. An intersection and four buildings. One of which was a gas station. The others were a general store and two homes.

  The gas station was a shack off to the right and two pumps, one for gas and one for diesel. Fern pulled up and stopped next to the gas pump.

  Judd reached over and grabbed the keys from the ignition. “I’ll go inside and pay. Fill up the tank. And remember what I said about your son and the old man. I can reach them any time.”

  Fern nodded. She opened the door and stepped out into the cold darkness. Her plans to attract attention or scream for help were all useless. She could scream all she wanted. There was no one around to hear. The general store and the two homes were already dark. The owners had gone to bed for the night.

  Her shoulders slumped as she accepted the inevitable. She couldn’t escape here. But she would. They would find a busier road eventually. Fern had loved the South Dakota landscape all her life. She’d never expected the remote beauty to become her enemy.

  She took a deep breath and turned her face into the cold wind to dry her tears. She remembered an old joke and smiled.

  “Everything will be all right in the end, Fern,” she said aloud. “If it’s not all right, it’s not the end.”

  Police would be watching, looking for Judd and the other escapees. She couldn’t escape at this station, but she’d have another chance. They would come to another roadblock. And this time, she’d be prepared.

  She filled the gas tank and replaced th
e cap. She’d pumped seventeen gallons into the almost empty tank.

  “God watches over fools and children,” she murmured when she realized how close she’d come to running dry. It was something her mother used to say. She hoped her mother’s faith would carry her back home to Noah and her dad.

  As she replaced the pump, Judd emerged from the station carrying two bottles of water and two packages of peanut butter cheese crackers. “Let’s go. The guy says we’re about ten miles from the interstate.”

  Fern’s heartbeat quickened. The interstate beckoned like a life raft in a raging sea. Her chance to escape might come sooner than she’d expected.

  They settled into the Chevy again, and Fern pulled onto the dark county road. With a full gas tank, she felt confident increasing her speed. The Impala covered the miles with ease.

  A newer sign on the roadside said the interstate was two miles ahead.

  There were no services at the north and southbound entrances. Not even an exit ramp.

  The intersection was as deserted as the rest of the drive had been. It felt like everyone in South Dakota was asleep except Fern and Judd.

  “Which way?” she asked as they approached the northbound ramp.

  “Straight ahead,” Judd said. “I’ll tell you when to turn.”

  Her best means of escape zoomed past her periphery. Tears sprang to Fern’s eyes, and she blinked them away furiously in the dark.

  She considered entering the southbound lanes and speeding along the highway for as long as she could before Judd did something to stop her.

  He must have read her mind. Before they reached the ramp, she felt the cold barrel of the pistol jab against her right temple.

  “From this distance, I won’t miss,” Judd growled.

  She kept the Chevy pointed west and the speed level as they passed the cloverleaf and under the overpass. No cars traveled across on the interstate above. She hadn’t seen another vehicle since they’d stolen this one in the church parking lot.