Expired Refuge

by Lisa Phillips

  Conroy turned away. They were right, but.

  “What does that mean? Yes, but...”

  He ignored Tate’s question.

  Wilcox said, “It means we close this house up for Conroy and further instructions will be forthcoming.”

  “Make it fast!” Tate called after him.

  Conroy slammed the car door and got out of there. He gripped the wheel and hit the gas. Tried to keep his head straight when everything roiled in him. Fear. Doubt. Distrust. He needed hope, and faith.

  He needed a miracle.

  This guy Stiles had been motivated. But he’d also been seriously patient. He’d waited until the worst possible moment to make one final deal with Summers. A deal Meena had simply allowed to happen. They’d essentially given Stiles what he wanted just to get him to leave their people alone.

  Conroy couldn’t go after them when he needed to find Stiles.

  This bad guy had caught them all off guard. Conroy prayed like he’d never prayed before that God would come through on this. That He wouldn’t leave Conroy alone to figure out how to get Mia and her dad back by himself.

  His phone buzzed. He tapped the screen in the car. “Barnes.”

  “It’s Kaylee. The warrant to haul Meena Tathers in for another round of questioning, this time related to Mia, just came back.”

  “Okay.” He tapped the steering wheel. “Call in Officer Frees. He goes and gets her, and he leans on her until she tells him everything. If she even thinks she knows where her dad or Mia might be, then he finds out.”

  “No holds barred?”

  “By any means necessary.”

  “Copy that,” Kaylee said. “Anything else?”

  “The BOLO is still out on that car?”

  “Yes, but half the department is at the hospital. The others are on their way there, or just left to get dinner after standing vigil for hours. We’re spread thin on people actually looking.”

  “Is Allen okay?”

  “I called his parents. They’re flying in first thing tomorrow.” Kaylee sighed. “He’s in surgery, but they’re saying he should be all right.”

  Allen was a good cop. If he couldn’t remain a cop, it would be a bummer for both him and for Conroy. For the whole department. They didn’t need to lose capable guys like him who did the job right and with a sense of purpose.

  “I want roll call.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes. I want everyone who is available out on the streets looking for that car.”

  “You don’t think he’d have parked it somewhere, out of sight?”

  Conroy said, “We have BOLOs for a reason. Because we count on eyes being open, and our cops coming up with results.”

  “They shouldn’t be at the hospital?”

  “Not unless they need to be treated. I don’t mind visits. But I need as many people as possible out there looking for the missing federal agent and her father—residents of this town who trust us with their safety.”

  In the face of a man intent on killing them.

  “Copy that.” She hung up.

  Conroy drove the town in a circuit, from the center, spreading out. Plenty of places to hide a car. He dismissed the campground cabin. Whether Stiles had ever rented that place or not, Conroy would find out later. He didn’t factor it in right now.

  Stiles had been in the woods behind Summers’s place. That was where he was supposed to have met Garrett after the guy ran through the woods. It was worth going over there. He searched the grounds. Cabin trails for hikers and bikers, and other tracks he’d always thought Summers used to get drugs in and out of town in a way that was off radar.

  No blue car.

  He checked the motel. The parking lots for stores and the car dealership. More than once he saw his officers out looking as well, and he slowed. Windows rolled down, Conroy chatted with them. He needed his people to know he appreciated them looking for Rich and Mia.

  And not just because she was a fed.

  Not just because she was the woman he’d fallen for. Or the fact he considered himself the interim chief, though he would never say that while the old man still lived.

  Conroy pulled over and put the car in park. He rubbed shaky hands down his face. What would the old man do? He needed advice. He had to figure out a way to find someone when there were no leads. No idea where to look.

  I really do need a miracle, Lord.

  Not that God should step in simply because Conroy had no clue what to do. He always did what he could to take care of his own problems, and God showed up in His ways. Conroy didn’t think he could just ask and get some miraculous answer. God had never done that for him before.

  But this was serious.

  Mia could be dying. Rich maybe already dead.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and dropped his elbow to his knee.

  They were out there, and he had nothing. Powerless to save them. You have to help them. He sucked in a breath that shuddered through him. His vision blurred. Conroy slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “Why won’t You help them?”

  His voice echoed. He winced and wiped at his eyes. Crying wasn’t going to solve anything. After all, he’d cried when he’d prayed for Mara to wake up. To survive her injuries and be okay again.

  To not die because of him.

  But his tears hadn’t helped. Mara had died. God hadn’t shown up. That was the last time Conroy had asked Him for help. Instead, he’d spent years getting the results he needed in his own strength. Distaste rose in his mouth now. He was asking for help, but God wasn’t going to do anything. Conroy would have to solve this himself when he had no idea how to do that. Mara had been dead for years now. Was he supposed to live through the deaths of her father and her sister, too?

  Don’t make me do this.

  Because, deep down, Conroy did want God to show up. He did want a miracle. There was no way she would be alive without one.

  She needed to live.

  The pastor always said that it was when a person had nothing left that God was able to work.

  Conroy had nothing right now. The only other time he’d had absolutely nothing left, Mara had died. God had let him down. Would he be let down again?

  He shoved the car into drive again and kept searching. Looking for the car. Waiting for the phone to—

  Ringing filled the speakers. He tapped the screen. “Yes, Kaylee. What is it?”

  “Everyone present and accounted for—well, almost everyone—and they’re all out on the streets.”

  “I know,” he said. “I keep seeing them. Wait, what?”

  “One hasn’t checked in.”

  Conroy tapped the brake. “Who?”

  “The officer posted outside the rental where Stiles was staying.”

  “The house Wilcox and I went to? There was nothing there but a toothbrush and some dirty dishes.”

  “He didn’t call back, and I can’t reach him on the radio.”

  Conroy flipped the switch for his lights and hit the gas. “I’ll be there in five. I want backup.”

  “Copy that.”

  He hung up and turned on his siren, peeling through town to the house as fast as he dared go. Is this You, God? He didn’t like the idea that bargaining had caused God to show up. That wasn’t supposed to be how it worked.

  He’d asked for roll call before he even prayed. God knew, and He’d already set the answer in motion before Conroy even asked.

  Thank You.

  Conroy didn’t understand more than to just be grateful.

  Two streets from the house, he shut off lights and sirens. No point announcing his arrival to Anthony Stiles.

  He pulled up behind his officer’s car, watching the house for movement. He sent Kaylee a text that he was on scene, and then he got out. He already had on a vest, so he got his gun from its holster and went to the driver’s door. The officer—an older man with years on the job—hadn’t moved at all.

  Conroy approached slowly.

  He tugged on the
door handle. As soon as he started to open it, the officer inside began a slow slide. Conroy caught him and laid the guy on the ground. He holstered his gun and called in an officer down. He asked Bill to send extra backup and to get the medical examiner on standby for when this was over and it was safe to come.

  The scene was not secure.

  A black and white police car pulled up, almost nose to nose with the dead officer’s vehicle.

  “Which house?”

  Conroy pointed. “That one. And we need to move fast, or he’ll kill them before we get in there.”

  Or this could quickly become be a hostage situation.

  The worst option that flitted through his mind? A double murder/suicide.

  None of those scenarios were what he wanted to see.

  “Let’s go.”

  He turned into the driveway. One of the officers followed, and the other stayed with the dead man.

  Conroy saw the car in the driveway then, pulled far enough forward that he’d never have seen it if he hadn’t looked directly at it driving past.

  Police tape still hung over the front door. Back entrance, or side?

  “Find the back.”

  “Copy that.” The officer trailed past him, head low as he crossed underneath the kitchen window. Be careful. Too late to call out to him now. Conroy prayed for the man’s safety.

  He put his shoulder to the wall beside the side door where the car had been parked. Couple of long breaths. He turned and kicked at the door. It splintered in from the force.

  A single gunshot rang out.

  The blast hit him, square in the vest. Conroy fell back. His gun skittered across the drive, and his head hit the side of the car.

  He dropped to the ground, out cold.

  Thirty-two

  Mia blinked. The world was a blur, interspersed with white spots. She tried to move. Limbs sluggish, she realized she was slumped against the wall. Pain thundered through her head. It centered on her left ear in a sharp pain.

  She touched her fingers to her ear. They came away bloody.

  She gasped. Or, at least, was pretty sure she did. Her hearing was gone. Her auditory senses? Nothing at all.

  Mia touched her face and then covered her ears for a second.

  Anthony Stiles had fired the gun right beside her head, so the deafening blast made her head want to explode from the pain.

  Dad.

  She had to get to her dad. Moving hurt, especially with all the wounds she had. Bumps and bruises, the dog bite. Her shoulder. Now her head felt like it was full of glass shards rubbing together.

  Mia gritted her teeth and tried to get her legs underneath her. She was pretty sure she’d groaned aloud, but couldn’t hear anything. Not even the rush of her own breath through her nose.

  She blew the breath out and fought the sensation of needing to hurl. There was no time for that. Her arm—wet with a red stain on the bandage where she’d been stitched up. There should have been more to that thought, but she couldn’t think enough to finish it.

  “Dad.” Even though the word was little more than a moan from her lips, she still couldn’t hear it.

  The world swam again. Maybe it was just her head. She stayed leaning against the wall and breathed some more.

  You have to get up.

  She tried to stand. Everything spun, her equilibrium totally off, sending the world into a tailspin around her.

  Dad. Was he okay? Maybe Anthony Stiles had killed him already.

  Tears rolled down her face as she turned.

  Eyes closed. He was so pale.

  She crossed to him, off balance, and stumbled to a sitting position on the bed. Mia felt more tears roll down her cheeks as she pressed two fingers to his neck.

  A slow, awkward beat answered back. She nearly sagged with sheer relief onto the bed beside her father. He was still alive.

  Mia looked at the door.

  If Anthony came back, she wouldn’t be able to hear his footsteps. All the warning she’d have that he was coming back in would be the turn of that door handle.

  She looked back at her father. I don’t want to leave you.

  Would that be the right move, or not? If she left right now, she could be killed trying to escape. And then her father would die before help came. She had no idea if she was even making sense. Maybe she was so out of it she couldn’t tell what was happening or what she should do.

  All she did know for sure was that it would be up to her to get them out of this. To go get help and subdue Stiles. Even though she hadn’t been able to make that happen last time.

  Silence continued to ring in her head.

  Deafening, isolating silence.

  What would it be like to live in solitude like this all the time?

  Quit feeling sorry for yourself and move.

  So far she’d managed to stay upright, but how long would that last? She pushed off the bed and stood, rising to her feet as she faced the door. Video camera. The bed. Her father.

  Her head swam, and she groaned.

  She had to go. She had to get help.

  Mia stumbled forward. She wanted to stay with her father. He didn’t look good at all, but she couldn’t allow that to stall her. She had to focus on what was possible, not what she couldn’t do.

  Secure the scene. Locate the suspect. Take him down. Call for EMS.

  The door swung open.

  Stiles saw her. She froze. He spun to look back out into the hall, gun in one hand. She could see tension in the line of his body, but not fear. He lifted the weapon.

  Someone was out there.

  He would kill them.

  Mia grabbed the tripod. Stiles didn’t move. Or at least didn’t consider her a threat. He had his back to her, his attention to the right. His finger shifted to the trigger.

  She swung the tripod and hit Stiles on the back with the camera. His body arced. The gun lowered but went off.

  Mia heard a blast, muffled as though it were miles away. She froze. Someone out there had a gun? They’d missed Stiles, whoever it was.

  Mia hit Stiles again. Then she kicked him into the hallway, so that the armed person out there could deal with him. Stiles shifted to fight back. Before he could rally, she kicked out at the gun in his hand. The movement hurt as her entire body jolted, and yet more pain rolled through her head.

  Then she waited.

  A police officer shifted into view, his gun held on Stiles. Younger man, maybe Jess Ridgeman’s age. He looked tired.

  She saw him mouth something, but she heard nothing.

  Mia turned her head and lifted her hair so he could see what she figured her ear must look like. Bleeding.

  He blanched.

  Mia pointed to her ear and then shook her head. Ouch. That was a bad idea. She lifted both wrists and motioned as though she was wearing cuffs.

  He got the idea and pulled them from his back belt, still holding his gun on Stiles.

  She rolled Stiles to his front and put her knee in his back. He fought her, but she got his arms pinned back and secured.

  She didn’t lift him to his feet. When he was secure, she patted him down one-handed. A phone was all she found, nothing else. Not even car keys or ChapStick.

  She looked at the officer’s name badge. Donaldson. Where was his backup?

  Mia said the word “Lieutenant,” but since she couldn’t know if she even made an intelligible sound, she used her hands to make an “L” and then a “T.” Was he even going to understand?

  She could read his lips, Outside. Then Donaldson shrugged and lifted his palms, like he didn’t know specifically where Conroy was. Maybe Donaldson had last seen him outside.

  She motioned to Stiles, then him, and back again.

  Donaldson nodded. Go.

  She glanced down at Stiles. Teeth gritted. He looked about ready to rush up and tackle the officer. Mia wanted to kick him.

  She gave Stiles a wide berth and walked down the hall, glancing back to make sure Donaldson was all right. When she t
urned back, a man had appeared at the end of the hall. She gasped, but quickly realized he wore a uniform. Not Conroy, but another officer. He said something to her. She looked back and saw Donaldson’s lips moving. Probably explaining she couldn’t hear anything. Mia didn’t stick around until they were done. She needed to know where Conroy was.

  But she did indicate her father to the other officer. Then she tapped the radio on his shoulder.

  He nodded, suddenly energized. Good. Her father needed help, and it needed to happen ASAP.

  She felt her strength waning. It wouldn’t be long before she couldn’t continue. Her body would shut down. Shock and pain, along with trauma. But she intended to be sitting with her dad in an ambulance—with Stiles in the back of a police car—when it all caught up with her.

  She had to pace herself.

  Mia took a long breath and pushed it out slowly, but not so slowly she got lightheaded. Hallway. Living area. Kitchen and the door they’d come through.

  It was open.

  Beyond it, the car was still parked there.

  On the ground…

  She stumbled outside and nearly landed on her knees. Was he dead? Mia had to plant a hand on the ground to catch herself. She cried out as pain shot through her injured shoulder and she almost landed on Conroy.

  Like when he’d saved her life.

  He sat up, suddenly. Mia must’ve whimpered. He twisted to her, and she could see his chest heaving with every breath. She studied his face. What had happened?

  Conroy pulled open his coat so she could see…

  “You’ve been shot.” She said it but still could hear nothing. She reached out and touched the smashed bullet, dead center in his chest. If not for the vest, he would be dead right now.

  She glanced up.

  Conroy stared at her. He said something. Waited, then frowned down at her.

  Mia covered her ears with her hands. When she drew them away, he shifted the hair on her shoulder. Mia couldn’t help the flinch. What was he seeing?

  It might not be good, but it was her father who needed help right now.

  Conroy’s attention shifted, past her and into the house. When he looked back at her, his mouth formed the words, “Come on.”

  He shifted, moving to get up. To help her up. She just slumped farther into him, unable to move.