When Lund returned to the back room, Val was still staring down at her cell phone. She didn’t look up. “Jack texted. It’s Hess’s squad car. The one they found in Madison, rigged with the Claymore. The feds found sand and buckshot in the tire treads.”
Val tilted the screen of her phone toward him, displaying the photo Jack sent. He couldn’t make out the lead shot at first, then, as she enlarged the photo, he could pick out a small metal ball stuck in the sand.
Lund frowned. “I don’t see how that helps.”
“Jack was lucky to get this much. The feds are not in a sharing mood. She suggested showing the photo to Chandler.” Val looked past Lund and offered her phone.
Lund hadn’t realized Chandler was right behind him.
“Bigger size, maybe triple-aught buck. I’ve had some training in ballistics, but I’m not exactly an expert.” Chandler took the phone and enlarged the photo even further. “However, I have an idea who to ask.”
Lund was about to say his name, but Val beat him to it. “Kasdorf.”
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Val
“Told you. I ain’t talking to cops.”
“I’m no longer a cop.”
“Once a cop, always a cop.”
Val barely kept from rolling her eyes. They hadn’t had to venture very far into the forest this time. Kasdorf had intercepted them before they’d walked as far as the barn. He was armed, as usual, an AR-15 slung over his shoulder, but in his hand he held out a jar of…
Val blinked. “Is that corn relish?”
He handed the jar to Chandler. “I knew they wouldn’t get you. I saw the news reports, but I knew it. You’re too smart.”
Chandler examined the relish. “This is the best stuff in the world. Your mother was a genius, Kasdorf. Thank you.”
Val still didn’t like Chandler, not a thing about her, but she had to admit that the way she had wrapped Kasdorf around her little finger was pretty impressive.
Chandler explained the search for Hess and their sole clue as to where he might be hiding.
Val held out her cell phone to the survivalist nut, showing him the photo Jack sent. “We’re looking for someplace in the area where we might find this.”
Kasdorf grunted. “Looks like swan shot.”
“Swan shot?” Lund prompted.
“Shot handmade by melting lead, then pouring it through a screen and letting it drop into water to cool. It used to be how shot was made. But since the early 1960s, the Bliemeister method has pretty much taken over for smaller shot sizes. Something bigger like this is traditionally swaged or cast.”
“So that suggests this shot is older,” Val surmised.
“Yep.”
“And isn’t lead being phased out because of poisoning concerns?” Chandler asked.
“It’s illegal in Wisconsin,” Val said.
Kasdorf made a face. “Damn DNR.”
At least they seemed to be getting somewhere. Val pushed on. “So the shot in the picture was made before the early 1960s?”
“Maybe.”
“Where would we find something like that?”
“Badger Ordnance Works?” Chandler looked at Kasdorf.
“Good bet.”
“That’s close to the spot where we got a ping off Grace’s phone,” Val said. “But that seems kind of convenient.”
“Maybe not convenient,” Lund said. “Maybe it just adds up.”
Val met Lund’s eyes. “Hess wouldn’t be that sloppy.”
“Unless he means to be. Unless the time has come when he wants you to find him.”
Rain continued its patter on Val’s head. She was exhausted and half her body didn’t work the way it was supposed to. The thought that the time had come, that Hess was playing out his end game, filled her with cold dread. One look at Lund’s face told her he felt the same. “Okay, Badger Ammo. Anywhere else?”
Kasdorf grunted. “There’s a gun club on the way to Reedsburg that’s into that kind of thing. Making their own shot.”
Val raised her brows. “Making their own illegal shot?”
“Damn DNR.”
“Okay, that’s two possibilities. Anywhere else?” Lund prompted.
“A state park down near Spring Green. Used to make shot there before the Civil War.”
Chandler cleared her throat. “And the sand in the tire tread? That would be found in all these places?”
“Sure. The park and the gun club are on rivers.”
“And Badger?”
“Used to be flood plain for the Wisconsin River.”
“Why are you so hot on Badger Ammo?” Val asked Chandler.
“That’s where I’d go if I were Hess. Army security is lax and it’s a big place. Easy to get lost. Especially if you don’t want to be found.”
An uneasy feeling niggled at the back of Val’s neck. She had been skeptical about Hess being at the old Badger Ammo plant, but did her doubt have merit? Or was she simply desperate to believe they had more time? That Grace had more time?
“We could split up, cover all three.” Chandler glanced at Kasdorf. “Care to help me do a little poking around at Badger?”
The survivalist looked delighted. But then, Val suspected he’d be willing to follow Chandler anywhere. Ironic that a man so paranoid about government black ops would develop a crush on a government black operative.
“Can we rely on you for some supplies?” Chandler asked. “I wasn’t able to get to one of my weapons stashes before I got here.”
“Be right back.” Kasdorf spun around and headed off into the woods.
Val pulled up a map on her phone. “I’ll call Olson. The Reedsburg PD might be able to check out the gun club for us. I’ll take the state park, and since it’s right on the river, Harry’s duck might come in handy.”
“If this rain keeps up, Harry’s duck is going to come in handy everywhere,” Lund said. “I’ll take the state park with you, but I’m not sitting next to him on the trip there.”
“Okay, you three to the park, Kas and I to Badger, and if Jack can manage to break away from her federal friends, she can come with us,” Chandler told Kasdorf as he emerged from the forest carrying a mini arsenal.
Val wasn’t sure Kasdorf would be happy when he found out Jack was an ex-cop, but she supposed Chandler could just bat her eyes, and he’d get over it.
Kasdorf heaped various weapons in Chandler’s outstretched arms. Then he handed Val an AR-15.
“Uh, thanks, but it’s not necessary, I have my—”
“Try the sling.”
The two-point sling itself was extra-wide and braided from paracord. Val slipped it over her head and settled the weapon on her shoulder.
“Puts it right where you need it,” Kasdorf said, his tone like some sort of gruff papa outfitting his daughter for her first day of kindergarten. “And it don’t slip.”
Val wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or concerned that he’d obviously recognized the problem with her arm. Since she was starting to get used to the idea that everyone knew her body was quitting on her, and the sling really did make holding the rifle a lot easier, she decided to go with grateful. “Thank you.”
Kasdorf grunted. “Grace is a good girl. Now let’s get her home safe.”
Lund
Once Harry heard that Tower Hill Park was located where Mill Creek joined the Wisconsin River, he was eager to go along. He pointed to the map Val had called up on her cell phone. “I’ll take you two across the river here. If Hess is in the park, he won’t see us coming.”
Lund exchanged glances with Val, then he eyed the seats of Harry’s duck. In addition to completing a pretty detailed dossier on Carla Tiedemann, McGlade had been busy. At about ten feet long and eight feet wide, the vehicle had the capacity to carry a couple dozen people. Harry’s was heaped to brimming with… beer.
“Do a little shopping, McGlade?” Lund asked.
“You can’t buy Grain Belt in Illinois.”
Val eyed the precariously stacked boxes, “So you bought every can in Wisconsin?”
“You got a problem with beer hoarding?”
“There’s no place to sit.”
Harry opened a box, popped a can, and took a big slurp. “Just drink till you clear a spot for yourself.”
As thirsty as he was, Lund opted for shifting a few boxes around until there was space for them. They squeezed in. “Come on, we’ve got to get going. How fast is this thing?”
“Goes fifty on land, eleven knots on water. But with two thousand pounds of brewskis, about half that.”
“Uh, why don’t we take the truck and meet you there?” Val suggested.
“Great idea,” Lund agreed. Not only was the duck slow, but being crushed by falling beer was a real possibility. And then there was the possibility of sinking. “I’m not sure this will actually float with all this weight.”
“It floats fine, Lump. I bet you instantly kill any party you walk into. Am I right? You’re like the John Wayne Gacy of parties.”
“As a cop, I’ve seen a lot of ways alcohol can kill someone, McGlade,” Val said, climbing back out of the duck. “But I don’t want to be the first person to die from it falling on me.”
“No prob. I can strap it down.” McGlade reached under a seat and pulled out a large coil of rope.
“Do you just travel with rope?” Lund asked. “Is that your thing?”
“Do I ask you personal questions about your sex life?”
“Yeah, you do.”
“Okay, there’s this bondage position called the Octagon Platypus…”
“Question withdrawn,” Val said. “We’ll meet you at the park.”
Once safely in the cab of his truck, Lund and Val hit the road, leaving Harry poking behind. About ten minutes into the twenty-minute drive, Val switched from staring out the window to staring once again at the video Hess had sent her.
She played it once.
She played it twice.
Halfway through the third time, she tapped pause. “Oh, my God.”
Lund waited for Val to follow with an explanation, but it never came. Instead, she played the video two more times.
“Val, I don’t know what good it’s going to do to watch that over and over.”
“Grace doesn’t swear, Lund.”
“You said that before. And I still don’t understand why you would be so obsessed with her swearing.”
“But that’s the point. I just realized she isn’t swearing.”
“Now you really lost me.”
“She’s saying dam.”
“Most people would consider that swearing.”
“Not damn, dam.”
“Val…”
She shot him an incredulous stare. “Dam. The barrier that holds back water, generates electricity.”
Her meaning suddenly clear, Lund gripped the wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. “That’s what the ANFO is for.”
Val stared down at her phone screen, not at the video this time but at her contact list. “I think we know where to find Kevin Burke.”
“The one at Prairie du Sac is the closest. It’s also the final one until the Wisconsin joins the Mississippi. If it’s destroyed, the entire lower river is going to flood, and there’s no way to stop it. We need to contact Prairie Du Sac and Sauk City, start an evacuation. They aren’t going to have any warning.”
“On it,” Val said, hurriedly tapping at her phone screen. “And I have another idea, too.”
“What’s that?”
“Maybe we can prevent the dam from being destroyed in the first place.”
Val switched to speaker phone. Two rings, and Chandler’s voice filled the car. “What’s up?”
Val filled her in on Burke and the dam. “Can you get there in time? Stop him?”
“Can’t say. There are no guarantees.” Chandler’s voice sounded far away. So far away.
“But you’ll try?”
“Do I have your go-ahead to do whatever it takes?”
“My go-ahead isn’t worth much.”
“But I have it?”
Val hesitated for only a second. “Yeah.”
“Just wanted to be sure, blondie. You’re my witness, Lund. See? If there’s enough at stake….”
Chandler didn’t say the rest, but she didn’t have to. Lund felt the twist of his own hypocrisy deep in his gut.
“Chandler?” Val’s voice was firm, resolute. “Tell Jack and Kasdorf what’s going on. If that bomb goes off, the people downstream are going to need help.”
“We’re downstream, Val.” Tension pinched at the back of Lund’s neck, and he could feel the surge of adrenaline spike his blood. “He might be doing this as a distraction. At least partially. That’s certainly his M.O. But…”
Val met Lund’s eyes. “But the rest is his end game. Not only are we in the flood path, but that’s exactly where he has Grace.”
Chapter
Thirty-Four
Grace
Grace waited until Hess slammed out the motor home’s door before she spoke. “Ethan? Ethan? Remember me?”
The little boy looked up. He had his father’s eyes, big and blue and so pale they made Grace uncomfortable. Fat tears spiked his long lashes and trickled down his face. The cheek that Hess had struck glowed bright red.
Grace half expected Carla to intercede, tell her to leave Ethan alone. But Carla stared at the pot on the stove, as if she couldn’t hear the poor little boy’s cries or Grace calling him. As if she didn’t care about him at all.
Grace knew she shouldn’t judge the woman, but she couldn’t help it. How could Carla just stand there and let that monster hit an innocent little kid? How could she be so wrapped up in her fantasy family that she didn’t see what was happening right in front of her face?
Grace returned her focus to the boy. “Come over here, Ethan. It’s Grace.”
“Gace?” He used his hands to push himself into a sitting position. “Ice cream?”
Grace smiled, despite the pain ratcheting through her whole head. “You do remember. We ate some ice cream, didn’t we?”
He scrambled to his feet, then toddled the few feet to where she sat. He crawled into her lap, twisting to look up at her face. He reached up and brushed her mouth with his fingers. “Ow.”
Grace realized that she probably looked terrible, bruised and bloody. Her lip still felt as though it was ten sizes too big. “Yeah. Ow.”
And this was only the beginning of ow.
Grace had to get out of this RV. She had to get away while she still could, whatever way she still could. And clearly, she couldn’t possibly leave Ethan here alone.
After Grace’s first experience with Dixon Hess, she’d been afraid. During that time, Aunt Val had helped her do some research into self-defense, hoping that if she had some concrete strategies, it would help the panic attacks go away. They never had, not completely. But Grace had learned a few things. One was how to break zip ties binding her hands behind her back.
But that wouldn’t be enough.
To get out of the Winnebago, Grace would have to go directly through Carla. And although the woman wasn’t particularly big or strong, she was mean. Very mean.
And then there was Ethan. He was a sweet kid, and he seemed to like Grace. But it was hard to guess how the little boy would react if he saw Grace hit his mother… provided Grace could bring herself to actually hit his mother.
And if she could? What then? She was out in the middle of the woods. She didn’t even know where. She couldn’t walk. She would need a car. And that meant she would have to hit Carla hard enough to allow Grace to fish the squad car keys from her pocket.
A nervous tremor seized Grace’s stomach. She didn’t know if she was up to any of this. But since the alternative was to wait to die and damn Aunt Val to watch it happen, she would have to find a way.
Keeping a careful eye on Carla, Grace coaxed Ethan out of her lap and shifted to her knees. From this level she could
see the sink and countertop… and the flat blade of a chef’s knife stuck to a magnetic bar running above the faucet.
Her best shot.
Carla was still oblivious, taking a bottle of booze from the cupboard, pouring herself a glass.
Now or never.
Grace raised her arms, stretching them behind her back, as high as her shoulders would allow. And then like she’d seen in the video, she brought her wrists down fast and struck her butt hard.
Agony tore up her arms, the raw skin of her wrists on fire. A strangled sound burst from her throat, half grunt, half scream. It took her a second to realize the plastic band was lying on the floor. Her hands were free.
Grace rose to her feet.
Carla still hadn’t moved. She just stood there, staring.
Grace lunged for the knife. Her fingers tingled, blood rushing back to the tips, but she could feel the smooth handle, the clunk when the magnet released the blade, the weight and balance of it in her hand. She held it in front of herself, tip up, and met Carla’s rounded eyes. “Get out of my way.”
Behind Grace’s back, Ethan whimpered.
Grace took a step toward Carla. The woman still wore her Kevlar vest, as did Hess, but that was the thing about Kevlar. It was bulletproof, at least for most handguns. But Aunt Val said it wasn’t knife proof. “Move back, now.”
Carla stepped back. One step. Two.
Grace’s legs felt rubbery, and tears pressed at the backs of her eyes. Carla was listening. She was doing what Grace said. Maybe this would all work out. Maybe Grace wouldn’t have to actually do anything with this knife except threaten.
Because she was almost certain she couldn’t cut a person. Maybe Hess, but not Carla.
Grace reached behind her, holding out her free hand for Ethan. “Come on, buddy. Let’s see if we can find some ice cream.”
His little fingers gripped her thumb.
Grace stepped forward with each step that Carla took back. Carla reached the spot where the partition separated driver from living space. Grace and Ethan stopped just inches from the exit, and Grace released the little boy’s hand. She held out her palm, fingers shaking. “Give me the keys, Carla.”
Dead Too Soon: A Thriller (Val Ryker series Book 3) Page 21