by Kylie Brant
She turned to go back for the other woman, before hesitating. There was no way to know how close her abductor was. He could be living in a house right across the farmyard from where they were being held. He could live across the road. Somewhere close enough to see them immediately when they left the barn.
She scanned the area outside the door she’d broken open. Ahead of her was a scruffy farmyard, rolling to a steep ditch. Across the gravel road was nothing but a sea of green surrounded by barbed wire.
In mid-June the corn would only be halfway to her calf. The wide-open expanse of the field offered nothing in the way of cover. If they went that way and the sadist returned, he’d spot them immediately. She craned her neck to look in either direction. Corn to the left and. More farmyard to the right, bordered by another field.
Not wanting to take the time to go back for the comforter, Sophia crawled through the hole she’d created and sidled along the side of the barn to the right to ease a look around the corner. More weeds and brush. A broken down wooden wagon with rusted steel wheels leaned precariously off to one side. A bean field was ahead of her, the plants only inches high. Scarcely daring to breathe, she made her way quickly along the side of the barn, flattened against it, barely tilting her head to see around the corner.
Nothing. No house. No vehicle. Nothing but more corn.
Relief had the strength streaming out of her, and it took a moment before she could be certain her legs would hold her. Then she made her way back to the door she’d broken open, keeping a careful eye for a plume of dust that would herald an oncoming vehicle.
The horizon was still. The sky an eye shattering blue, unmarred by clouds. The sun was already fading, signaling late afternoon. Everything around her was peaceful as an Americana painting.
It was such a stark contrast to the evil permeating the barn that she felt a chill work down her nape to snake down her spine. It was all Sophia could do to force herself to go back inside the building. She wouldn’t leave without the other woman. She couldn’t be certain help would arrive before the monster returned.
But it was hard. So hard to stand inside the relative coolness of the barn and squelch her impulse to bolt for freedom again.
Determinedly, she made her way the length of the building to Van Wheton’s cell. This time, with the sun slanting in through the door she could easily make out the key hanging from a nail two feet from the gate. Retrieving it, Sophia fumbled it a little as she fit it into the lock. Turned it. The gate was heavier than she expected. But when she pulled it open, the other woman just stared from her seat on the mattress, a mixture of hope and fear on her battered face.
“We’re free. But we have to hurry. I don’t know how long…” How long before he comes back, she almost said, but swallowed the words. This woman didn’t need a reminder of the precariousness of their situation. “There’s no one around. No house that I can see.” She tried to force a reassuring smile, but it quickly faded when Van Wheton made several attempts to stand, and failed.
“I’m sorry.” The words were so raspy they sounded painful to utter. “I can’t…I don’t think I can…”
The key still wrapped tightly in her hand, Sophia picked up the comforter and entered the cell, draping it around the woman’s shoulders. “Courtney Van Wheton?” she asked gently, wincing a little as her hip protested when she went down on both knees before the woman.
A jerky head nod was her only answer. “I’m Sophie.” The nickname was uttered without thought. “Put your arm around my shoulder. Let me help you stand.” Staggering a little under the woman’s weight, she rose. For the first time she wondered if the woman had internal injuries that could be worsened by moving her.
After a moment of indecision, she slid her arm around Courtney’s waist and tried to provide as much assistance as possible as they left the cell, using the metal pipe as a crutch for support.
Their progress through the barn was excruciatingly slow. “It’s going to be okay. It won’t be long now.” She kept up a reassuring whisper along the way. But she was already revising her original plan. There was no way the other woman was going to be able to flee to safety once outside. Sophia wasn’t even certain how long she could keep Courtney upright. She’d have to find a grove of trees to hide her in. Some brush, or barring that, wrap her in the comforter and leave her partially covered by the tall grass in one of the deep ditches edging the gravel road.
Helping the woman through the half door she’d opened sapped an alarming amount of stamina. As much as she mentally railed at herself for being a wimp, the ordeal had weakened Sophia, and her struggle to assist Courtney was tapping the adrenaline-fueled strength she’d drawn on. Her bruised hip hampered her movements, and every time her left wrist was jarred it sent up a screech of agony.
But then she caught sight of the woman fully in the daylight, and a vise squeezed her heart.
Courtney was barely recognizable. Bruises covered her face and body like an overall tattoo. Her nose was swollen and at an odd angle. Dried blood matted her hair, and crusted on cuts and scrapes all over her body. One arm hung limply at her side.
Blinking away tears of sympathy, Sophia murmured, “It’s not far now. I just need to get you hidden while I go for help.” How the woman had managed to get this far was a miracle. Hope must have provided some much needed strength, but clearly it was flagging fast.
“I have an idea.” Sophia forced encouragement into her voice. “I just need to get you as far as the ditch. Can you make it that far?”
The woman tried to speak. Sophia bent so her ear was close to Courtney’s mouth. “Thank…you.”
Daggers of guilt twisted in her stomach. She was the last person who deserved this woman’s thanks. Unknowingly, she’d deflected the offender’s sexual assault last night at the expense of Courtney. And she knew it would be a long time before she ever learned to forgive herself for that.
“Don’t talk. Save your strength.” Drawing upon a new well of it, Sophia half carried Van Wheton the thirty yards or so to the nearest ditch. Climbing down the steep side though, she lost her footing and the two of them tumbled the rest of the way to sprawl at the bottom.
The weeds and grass were long, offering the only form of cover Sophia could see for miles. She spent a couple minutes searching for the pipe, and then got Courtney settled in the center of the comforter, the pipe at her side. Grabbing the corners on either side of the woman’s head with both hands, she tugged. Slowly she pulled the woman along the bottom of the ditch, gritting her teeth against the pain singing up her arm from her injured wrist. There wasn’t a soul to be seen. How far before they’d reach a farmhouse? A mile? Maybe two?
The question became moot a couple minutes later when Sophia spotted a farm drive ahead. Its purpose was to allow the farmer access to the field from the road. Many had drainage pipes under them to keep water from collecting in the ditches.
The sunlight glinting off something metallic beneath the drive was an answered prayer.
“Not much further now,” she muttered between gritted teeth, pulling as fast as she was able. “Almost there.”
The mouth of the culvert was less than two feet across. Plenty of room for Courtney, but the quarters would be close. Claustrophic. Sophia used the pipe to clear the culvert of any creatures that might be in residence, before helping the woman to a sitting position. “Do you think you could crawl inside?” Courtney’s battered face was a mask of weariness. Sophia didn’t know how she’d managed to get this far. “You’d be safe there. Out of sight. Then I can run to find the nearest house.” A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. “Maybe run is a little ambitious, but at least I can…” She stopped as the woman recoiled, mingled panic and hope in her expression as she stared at a point beyond Sophia’s shoulder.
Turning, she saw what had caught Courtney’s attention. Dust plumed on the gravel road a couple miles down the road.
Caution had her keeping low, but Sophia was already planning how to climb the side o
f the ditch in time to flag the driver as it went by.
Except the vehicle never got to them. It slowed long before that. A hard knot of fear lodged in her throat, choking her. Eyes wide with alarm, Sophia watched a white cargo van swing into the drive and disappear behind the barn.
Chapter 15
Cam waited until the door closed behind Sophie before striding across the room, opening the desk drawer and withdrawing the picture of him with Matthew Baldwin. He couldn’t explain even to himself why he’d printed a colored copy of the photo before handing off the entire envelope to FBI Agent Dietrich. It wasn’t only because he was now convinced Dietrich was a lying son-of-a-bitch.
The photo was a reminder.
The longer he stared at it the more memories swam to the surface. He’d spent the better part of the last couple years stuffing most of the recollections away. But there had been a few bright moments in those long months undercover. Times that had momentarily lightened the heavy emotional toll that came from living in constant danger and threat of exposure.
This man had been a part of every one of those moments.
It was Matt who had introduced him to the restaurant that had ignited Cam’s addiction to Creole food. Matt who’d shared a love of all things baseball, although his team had been the Oakland A’s. Matt, whose love for his Mexican-American wife had embroiled him in a deadly entanglement with a powerful player in the Sinaloa Cartel drug operation.
Matthew Baldwin. The man who’d avoided capture in that last culminating bust, because Cam had made sure he wouldn’t be on site when it went down.
Shoving the photo back in the drawer, Cam turned away, his mind working. The packet of photos could have come from his former friend. Because they had been friends. In another place and time, but there was no other word for it.
Or it could have come from someone within the Sinaloa cartel. After the arrests of many middle management members of the organization, the first reaction of cartel leaders would be to minimize the damage. Change routes, routines, shipments, so if any of those arrested flipped on the cartel, losses would be minimal.
Their second priority would have been to cast blame and enact revenge on those responsible.
They’d look first for members who should have been at that fated bust, but were conspicuously absent.
Second would be a search to make sure all arrested had ended up in a cell.
Had Cam put a target on Matthew’s back by ensuring the man hadn’t been at that final strategy meeting? The bust had been a treasure trove for law enforcement. Maps of the routes used, a cache of weapons that would have outfitted a small army, and an armored car filled with product ready to be shipped. The crown jewel of the undercover operation had been the capture of one of the eight highest-ranking members of the cartel.
Baldwin had missed being scooped up.
If anyone bothered to check, Alec Jensen, Cam’s undercover identity, wouldn’t show up on any prison roster in the country.
Which meant both he and Matthew would have some serious explaining to do if they ever had to answer to the cartel.
Looking again at the photo, he wondered if it was an indication that his explanation was coming due.
# # # #
“We’re rollin’ silent.” Cam communicated the order to the other agents over radio from his position two miles from the barn. Franks was placed a similar distance away on the opposite side of it. Jenna was a half-mile in back of Tommy, and Boggs was behind Cam. “If we have the right place and Vance is in there, we don’t want this to turn into a hostage situation. Tommy and I will pull within a quarter mile from the site and take a closer look at the area. Maintain your distance at the rear.” That proximity would allow them to pick up details of movement around the site with the aid of binoculars.
He put the vehicle into gear and pulled out of the farm lane he’d been parked in. Turned onto the gravel. The hulk of the old Stanford barn could be seen from here. According to Jeffries’ information there was no longer a house on the property, but that didn’t mean a trailer or some other temporary living quarters hadn’t been pulled onto it. Cam had dispatched Beachum and Robbins to the Alleman address when he’d set off for this site. Their orders were to report any sightings of Vance, and to follow him if necessary. At this point, the agents were reporting no activity around the small bungalow that belonged to the suspect’s grandfather. A little circumspect questioning of some locals had revealed that Ivan Stanford was residing in a nearby rest home, suffering from dementia.
Cam pulled to a stop closer to the barn and picked up the high-powered binoculars from his gear bag on the passenger seat beside him. Any lingering doubt about his instincts regarding this lead dissipated.
A white cargo van sat outside the barn.
Excitement thrummed through him. If their information were correct, Sophie and Van Wheton would likely be held in that barn or in the Stanford house. The isolated countryside made the barn the logical location to carry out the sadistic brutalities Vance was suspected of. After making calls to Iowa State Patrol and the Polk County Sheriff’s office for back up, he radioed his agents again.
“Turner and Boggs, tighten up to an eighth mile behind our vehicles. I want a roadblock and tack strips across the road in back of us.” He brought up the binoculars to study the structure again. There was a split door on the face of the building visible from the road. Boards had been nailed across it but the bottom boards had been torn off, and the lower door was open.
Cam tried to temper the hope that stirred at the sight. The partially opened door might be for ventilation purposes. It may be there to provide a second exit for Vance, should he need it.
But the way it had been obstructed meant there was another entrance to the place on the other side of the structure. And it would be much harder for Vance to escape if both routes were blocked.
He could feel sweat trickling down his back in spite of the air conditioning. The heavy armored vest he was wearing was suffocating. “Tommy, we’ll use our vehicles to block exit from the drive and approach on foot. You cover the entrance facing the road.”
“I see it,” came the laconic reply over the radio.
Scanning the miles of corn and beans surrounding the building, Cam realized there would be nothing to stop Vance from ramming the van through the barbed wire fencing and attempting an escape by driving across a field. He might break a wheel shaft traversing the uneven ground in the process, but they couldn’t count on it. “I’ll continue around the barn and disable the vehicle. Gear up and let’s roll.” He edged the vehicle back onto the road.
“Cam, you’ve got movement in the south ditch a couple hundred yards to your rear.”
Boggs’ words over the radio had Cam’s gaze flying to the rearview mirror as he eased the car to a stop. Something unidentifiable was moving in the tall grass. With one hand on his weapon, the other went in search of the binoculars. Raised them to his eyes. A moment later, stunned recognition slammed into him.
The nude figure of a woman was awkwardly clambering out of the ditch.
Sophie.
A fierce primal spear of joy arrowed through him. She was alive and mobile, if more than a little banged up.
Alive.
“We’ve got a sighting of Dr. Channing attempting to climb from the south ditch. Boggs, stop to offer assistance. Summon paramedics.” The radio burst with excited chatter from the other agents at the news. Cam had to stop for a moment to steady his voice. “If she’s capable, put her on the radio, Boggs. She might be able to offer intelligence on what we’ll face inside the barn.”
It was both heaven and hell to watch the scene unfold from afar. Sophie struggled to ascend the steep side of the ditch. The way she seemed to be favoring her left wrist had a sharp prick of worry grazing him. Cam wouldn’t let himself think about the fact that it was likely the least of her injuries. Couldn’t dwell on the greasy pool of dread that accompanied the thought.
She’d survived. That was all tha
t mattered right now.
Boggs pulled to a stop beside her and got out of the vehicle. He helped Sophie to the road and slipped off his suit coat to wrap it around her naked form. But when he tried to steer her in the direction of his vehicle, she began talking and gesturing toward the ditch.
Frowning, Cam had to divide his attention between the barn before him and what was transpiring behind him. Franks was at the drive awaiting further orders. There was no activity around the building. Switching his focus back to Sophie, he saw Boggs accompany her to his vehicle, seating her on the passenger side before he made his way carefully down the side of the ditch again.
“Sophie. Pick up the radio.”
There was a long pause, during which time he saw Boggs approaching the short farm drive in the ditch, getting down on his knees to peer at something in the culvert beneath it.
“It’s Courtney Van Wheton, Cam.” The sound of her voice had him sending up a relieved prayer to a frequently absent god. “She’s unresponsive. Maybe I shouldn’t have moved her. She’s badly injured. I was just too afraid to leave her while I…”
“An ambulance is on its way,” he broke in soothingly. “Was she the only other victim held in the barn?”
“Yes. He’s in there now. The UNSUB. I saw the van pull in there about ten minutes ago and we hid. I was afraid he’d come looking for us.”
“Is he always alone? Armed?”
“He’s been alone. I don’t know…I never saw a weapon, but it was always pretty dark inside.” There was a slight tremble to her words. Otherwise her manner was remarkably steady. “He’ll be dangerous and if cornered will behave impulsively. Erratically. He has bouts of rage, but he’s violent at any time. Oh, and he doesn’t match the sketch Jenna drew.”
“I figured that from the description you hid in the content of the profile. It’s okay. We’ll take it from here. You stay put. When the paramedics arrive let them take a look at you.”