by Gayle Wilson
“If somebody in the department talked, they’re done. I don’t care who it is.”
“Yeah, well, you can fire ’em later. Right now, you need to get your butt out of bed and come down here.”
“They’re at the station?” She glanced at the alarm clock, surprised to find it was only a little past nine—less than an hour after she’d fallen into bed. No wonder she felt drugged.
“Demanding we bring him in. When we don’t, it’s gonna get ugly.”
“Damn it. When I get my hands on whoever—”
“Like I said, Chief, later.”
“You talk to them. They’ll believe you before they will me.”
The sudden silence left her wondering what she was missing. Had Dean already tried that? Or…was it possible he thought they were right? “Dean?”
“Yeah. I’ll tell ’em what the Feds told us, but they’re gonna want to talk to you.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Just keep them calm until then.”
“Keep ’em calm? You’re making a hell of an assumption.”
“Just hold on until I get there.”
IT DIDN’T TAKE long for Eden to realize Dean hadn’t exaggerated. A dozen men crowded into the confines of the conference room where Winton had taken Jake Underwood. Although Dean was trying to keep order, they were clearly past the point of being reasoned with.
“What’s going on here?” she shouted over the hubbub as she took her place beside him. It quieted them, if only momentarily.
“You protecting Underwood. That’s what’s going on.”
Eden didn’t see who’d said that, but the chorus of agreement indicated it didn’t matter. They were apparently of one accord.
“The agents from the MBI—”
“If somebody’s crazy, they may believe what they’re saying enough to fool a machine,” the same voice called out. “That ain’t to say the bastard didn’t take her.”
She hadn’t expected the results of the lie-detector test to be completely negated by Underwood’s wounds. She was beginning to appreciate what Dean had been dealing with.
“He says he saw her,” Lincoln Greene said from the front. “That he knows where she is. That doesn’t alarm you?”
Greene was the owner of the local hardware store. And not known as a hothead. There was no denying that he was hot right now.
“Major Underwood has flashbacks. We believe that—”
“Yeah, a flashback to when he took her. You asked him where the place is that he saw? You ask him that, Chief?”
“Actually, I talked to Major Underwood this afternoon.” This time she raised her voice to continue speaking over the resulting mutter. “I can assure you that neither this department nor the Federal agents assigned to this case believe he has anything to do with the kidnapping.”
“Then why’d you meet with him?” Greene demanded.
A chorus of “yeah’s” followed. She held up her hand, palm forward. “We both ended up at the same location while searching for Raine. I can promise you that Major Underwood is as concerned about that little girl as any of us. He was out looking for her. Just as all of you have been.”
The couple of seconds of silence that followed that reminder was enough to make her believe she’d talked some sense into them. At least, until Reilly Dawson piped up.
“You sure he wasn’t just revisiting the scene of the crime like they say murderers do? You look for blood around there, Chief?”
“Since we have no reason to believe Raine Nolan is dead,” Eden said evenly, “I wasn’t there to look for blood. I was out there to look for a child. A living child. So was Major Underwood.”
“That ain’t what the news is saying.” Dave Porter was a shade-tree mechanic, one good enough to service the department’s cars as well as most of the watercraft in the area. “They’re saying that, after all this time, chances are good she’s dead. They’re saying y’all are just looking for her body now.”
“Well, they’re wrong,” Eden said. “We’re still looking for Raine. And that’s exactly what you should be using all this energy for, instead of accusing somebody who’s been cleared by both the MBI and the FBI.”
Another moment of quiet, broken by Greene’s question. “Then how do you explain what he says he saw? That vision, or whatever it was?”
“I don’t explain it. I can’t. I just don’t believe he had anything to do with the kidnapping.”
“But you do believe he saw where she is?”
The delay before she answered was too long. Inherently honest, Eden was no longer sure what she believed. Only what Jake Underwood did.
“Is that why the two of you met up today? You out looking for the place he described and just ‘ran into him’ so to speak?”
Paul Springfield’s sarcasm was broad enough to generate laughter and a few catcalls.
“That don’t make you wonder?” Porter reiterated.
“What makes me wonder is why you all are wasting this time and furor on something that I’m telling you isn’t related. I’ve told you what we know to be fact. Now you all need to go on home, get a good night’s sleep, and get up in the morning and help the search parties. We’ll be making assignments for those at eight a.m., the same as we do every day. I’ll expect to see all of you back here then. If not, then I’ll know exactly what y’all are really interested in. And it isn’t in finding Raine Nolan.”
Nobody broke this silence. Not until Dean said, “Now go on. Get out of here. You’ve wasted enough of everybody’s time with this nonsense.”
Several of the men began to turn toward the door, the heat suddenly seeming to evaporate in the face of their combined demands. Greene didn’t move, holding Eden’s eyes.
“This isn’t over, you know. I don’t know why you’re protecting that bastard, but when it all comes out, you better realize that you won’t be able to do that anymore. Not when they find that little girl.”
“Go home,” Dean ordered, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder to turn him. “This is done. This and your threats.”
Greene didn’t resist, but he jerked out the deputy chief’s hold, pushing his way through the knot of men near the door. Only when the room had cleared did Eden release the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“He’s right about one thing,” Dean said.
“What’s that?”
“They aren’t finished with this. The longer she’s missing, the more eager they’re gonna be to take their frustrations out on somebody. Right now, the only available target seems to be Underwood.”
JAKE HAD NO IDEA what had awakened him. No memory of a sound or a dream or anything else that would pull him out of the restless sleep he’d finally, long after he’d gone to bed, fallen into. All he knew was that every instinct, developed through years of training and experience, told him he needed to be awake. And vigilant.
As his gaze swept slowly across the moon-touched landscape of his grandmother’s farm, he couldn’t find a shadow out of place. There wasn’t a whisper of sound, other than the ones that lulled him to sleep every night. Not a flicker of movement.
Still, something was wrong. Every hair on the back of his neck was raised, his well-honed sense of danger in full operational mode.
He turned his head, his eyes searching the narrow porch that ran across the front of the house. Nothing. And since he’d come out through the window of his bedroom, which was at the back, he knew there was no one there, either. Still…
Jake’s fingers automatically tightened around his grandfather’s rifle, his heart rate reacting to the sudden spurt of adrenaline. He watched as a shadow, minutely darker than its surroundings, drifted along the perimeter of the property.
Despite his leg, Jake moved soundlessly to the other side of the small toolshed he’d hidden behind, attempting to get an angle on whoever was out there.
A cloud obscured the moon, causing him to glance up. It was large enough that the intruder should be able to use it to reach the gr
ove of pines that flanked the pasture. And once there…
Once there, he realized, whoever was out here would be concealed from view until they came out on the other side of the house. He could watch until that happened, or—
The slight smile that tugged at the corner of his lips had nothing to do with whatever was happening now and a whole hell of a lot to do with what had gone on during the last eighteen months. He was already moving before it faded.
NOT EXACTLY ON her way home, Eden conceded. And it had taken her a couple of hours, after the confrontation with the townspeople, to get away from the station.
However, she hadn’t been able to reach Jake Underwood on the number he had provided to the department, and she wouldn’t be able to sleep unless she warned him about what had happened tonight.
She closed her cell in frustration and ducked her head so she could see out of the side window. Although it had been a while since she’d been out here, she seemed to remember the driveway to the Wells’ place sneaked up on you. Almost before the thought had formed, she was forced to slam on her brakes to make the turn.
As soon as she pulled off the two-lane, she saw there was a truck parked on the verge, just at the entrance of the long drive. She pulled in behind it, killing her lights.
She sat there for a moment, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. The tree frogs were the only sound in the nighttime stillness as she tried to figure out what the hell was going on here.
Jake Underwood had corrected her when she’d asked about his car, so it was always possible this was his truck. But if so, why was it parked so far from the house?
She couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation. Not one that bode well for the occupant of the farmhouse, which, bathed in moonlight, lay a good five hundred yards from where she was sitting.
Remembering the anger that had filled the crowded conference room, she opened the door of the cruiser and stepped out. The night creatures were louder outside the car, but instead of closing her door, she eased it shut without engaging the lock.
Then she surveyed the scene in front of her. Nothing moved. It all seemed as bucolic as an English countryside. As safe as she would have proclaimed Waverly to be four days ago.
She skirted the vehicle in front of hers, taking time to cup her hand against the driver’s side window to peer inside. Nothing there to identify the owner. And although its plates were from this county, she didn’t recognize the truck.
She straightened, again looking at the distant house. There might be a perfectly innocent explanation for why the driver had parked at the top of the long drive, but the ones that came to mind right now weren’t.
She pressed the button on her shoulder radio and, as softly as she could, said into it, “I need you to run a tag.” She shined her utility light on the license plate. “FRD-eight four six. Dark blue Ford 150. Older model, but I don’t know the year.” She waited until the dispatcher had repeated the information. “Don’t respond to me when you get it. I’ll call you back when I can.”
She unsnapped the holster of her weapon and lifted it out. The cool, solid feel of its butt against her palm was reassuring, despite the adrenaline that had already begun flooding her body.
She blew out a breath and drew in another. Then she began to move, running toward the stand of pines that lay to the west of the homestead.
Once there, she stopped to reconnoiter. Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing—
The arm that snaked around her waist lifted her off her feet. As she was crushed against a chest that felt as solid as oak, her gun was stripped from her hand.
Like taking candy from a baby.
The realization infuriated her. She kicked back with her right foot, the heel of her boot making a satisfying contact with the shin of whoever held her. At the same time, she twisted, trying to free herself.
“Stop it,” the man who’d captured her growled against her ear. “It’s me. Underwood.”
Intent on her struggles, it took a second for that identification to sink in.
Before it did, as if to emphasize his command, he shook her, hard enough to make her teeth snap together. “Stop it or you’re going to get us both killed.”
His breath was warm on her cheek. The stubble she’d noticed the night he’d come to the station moved against her skin. Abrasive. Highly masculine. As unreasonable as it seemed, given the situation, she felt that same rush of sexual awareness she’d experienced this afternoon.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”
He waited a heartbeat and then set her on her feet. She began to turn, but staggered slightly under the force of the flight-or-fight response that had flooded her body when he grabbed her. His hand fastened under her elbow to steady her.
She shook it off, completing the turn so that she faced him. She could barely make out his features, their hard angles sinister in the darkness. “What are you doing out here?”
“I live here, remember?” He held out her gun, which she took automatically.
He hadn’t asked why she was here, but after all, that was what she’d come to tell him. “Somehow people in town found out what you told us. Some of them…some of them think you must have had something to do with the kidnapping.”
He didn’t question how they’d found out. He didn’t question anything at all. He simply took her elbow again and began pulling her along with him.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh…”
He didn’t slow, despite his limp. Nor did he look at her. And unless she wanted him to literally drag her, she had no choice but to try to keep up.
Chapter Six
He finally stopped at the edge of the woods, propping his left shoulder against the trunk of a pine to look around it toward the house. Then he stepped to the other side of the tree in that same slow survey.
“What are you planning to do?” she whispered.
“What do you think?”
Eden knew every one of the men who’d been in the conference room tonight. And their families. Even if they were in the wrong, she couldn’t let him conduct some kind of commando raid against them.
A raid like the one they were conducting?
“I think handling this is my job.”
He turned, finally looking at her. “Whoever’s out there didn’t come to make a social call.”
“I know.” She did. She had intended to warn him of exactly that possibility. “But if you go after them with the intent to kill…then you’re the one on the wrong side of the law.”
“They’re on my property. At night. By now, they may even be inside my house. That’s where they were headed, the last time I saw them.”
Around here, breaking into someone’s home at night was a good way to get your head blown off, especially when you considered the percentage of the population who owned guns.
Normally, few questions would be asked if that happened. Not even by law enforcement. In this case…
“If Raine Nolan isn’t found soon, these men aren’t the only ones who are going to start wondering about what you told us. You don’t want to provide fuel for that speculation by doing something stupid.”
He appeared to at least think about what she’d said. “And what are you planning to do? Tell them to come out with their hands up?”
“Something like that. It is my job.” She and Dean had been able to quell the mob mentality at the station. Maybe she could do that again.
And maybe you’re the one who’s going to get your head blown off.
“They pay you enough to take that kind of risk?”
“They pay me to uphold the law. Stay here.” She wasn’t about to hang around until he, or her own better judgment, changed her mind.
Holding her weapon extended in front of her in both hands, she walked toward the house. She knew these men. They were family men. Churchgoers. Law-abiding citizens of the town she had sworn to protect. They weren’t going to risk everything by going off half-cocked.
“Hello
, in the house. This is Chief Reddick.” Although her voice sounded strong, she was feeling more foolish—and more vulnerable—by the second.
There was no answer. She glanced back to where she’d left Jake. If he was still there, he was concealed by the shadows beneath the trees. She turned to face the darkened farmhouse.
“Whatever you think you’re doing, you need to stop and consider your families. Come on out now and let’s talk. Just like we did at the station.”
Probably the best she could hope for was if whoever had driven into Jake’s driveway took this opportunity to exit the rear of the house and return to his truck. And as far as what she would do about this incident tomorrow…
She realized that was probably the sticking point for whoever was inside: what the repercussions of tonight’s stunt would be.
“So far, nobody’s been hurt,” she began again, wondering how far she could go in suggesting this could be resolved without charges being filed. A lot of that would be up to the man waiting behind her. A man who seemed to be spoiling for a fight. “As long as we keep it that way—”
She felt the bullet brush by her cheek before she heard the report of the gun that fired it. Then something hit her around the knees, bringing her down hard even as the second shot sounded.
She raised her head to watch as Jake Underwood rolled off her. He stayed low, the rifle he’d carried trained on the house.
“I don’t think they’re much interested in talking.” He didn’t look at her, seeming to concentrate instead on his target.
Despite the sting of his mockery, she knew he was right. Whoever had come out here in the middle of the night to invade his home wouldn’t believe they could get away with it. This had gone too far, which apparently everyone but she had already realized.
“You coming or staying?” he asked over his shoulder.
“You can’t just—”
“What if they brought gasoline with them? I’m not going to sit here and wait for them to burn my grandmother’s home to the ground. You coming or not?”