by Gayle Wilson
“Where’s Raine?” Her voice sounded as weak as her body felt.
“Shut up.”
“Is she dead? Did you kill her, Dave?”
“I told you to shut the hell up.” He took a menacing step toward her, his foot back, as if he intended to kick her in the ribs.
To her disgust, Eden cringed. However her intellect might urge her to respond, the most primitive part of her brain had a very clear memory of the kind of pain he was capable of inflicting. Like a burned child, she tried to avoid a repetition.
After a moment she gathered what remained of her courage to ask, “Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere nobody’ll ever find you, I can tell you that.”
The words didn’t seem like a threat. They felt more as if he were simply stating a truth. One he was willing to share with her because he believed there was nothing she could do to prevent him from carrying it out.
He bent to put his hand around her arm and pulled her up. Although she was glad of his help, she realized when she was on her feet how unsteady she was.
Concussion, she diagnosed. She’d seen enough football players at the local high school react the same way after a hard hit to know what was wrong.
She also knew that many of those kids had returned to the game. Which was exactly what she had to do.
No matter how she felt, she had to fight. Her life—maybe Raine’s as well—depended on it.
“Come on,” Porter prodded. “You can walk.”
She discovered that she could. And with each step she took she grew less disoriented. More confident in her ability to disrupt whatever he was planning to do. If she died in the attempt—
She blocked that thought, concentrating instead on the terrain they were passing through. Nothing about it looked familiar except the lush vegetation, which was exactly the same as that growing around the slough behind her house.
She didn’t know how far from Porter’s compound they had come, but eventually here, as almost anywhere in town, they would run into the water. And that would provide Porter with a far quicker means of transport than he’d been able to manage up until now.
Now. It had to be now.
She jerked free of the somewhat slackened hold he had on her left arm. As Porter began to turn toward her, eyes widened in surprise, she drove the heel of her right hand as hard as she could into his nose.
His head snapped back with the blow, his arms coming up automatically to protect his face. As they did, she moved in to slam her knee into his groin.
He bent forward in response, air rushing out of his mouth in a long exhalation. Even in his extremity, his hand reached for her, fingers like talons as they grasped the front of her shirt.
She tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong, as was the sturdy cotton blend of her uniform. Head still down, he held on as she beat at his face with both fists, trying desperately to break free.
He brought up the gun he held in his right hand, attempting to use the weapon like a club against the side of her face. She dodged backward to avoid the blow, dragging him with her. In attempting to regain his balance, his grasp loosened enough for the fabric of her shirt to slip between his fingers.
Eden turned and ran. The first bullet hit a tree in front of her, sending down a shower of bark. The resulting surge of adrenaline sent her scrambling over the massive trunk of a fallen pine, which received Porter’s second shot.
As soon as her feet hit the ground on the other side, she made a turn to the right, putting the bulk of the tree’s brown-needled branches between them. She plunged into the deeper shadows under the forest’s canopy, always conscious of the noise she was making while listening for the sounds of pursuit.
Her boots splashed through shallow water, causing her to veer sharply to the left in an attempt to avoid whatever backwater she’d stumbled onto. In the darkness, she had lost all sense of direction. She had no idea if she was running toward the people who would be searching for her, or if she was simply running in a circle that would take her back to where she had begun. Back to Raine’s kidnapper.
She slowed, trying to drag air into her aching lungs. And that was all she could hear, she realized. The sound of her own breathing.
Emboldened, she eased to a stop behind one of the towering pines and held her breath. The night creatures, aware of her presence, had fallen silent.
To her right, she heard a small splash as something slid into the water. Not Porter. And despite the dangers she knew were out here, there was nothing else she feared right now.
Again, she tried to figure out where she was. The moon, which had earlier tonight illuminated the landscape, was hidden by the trees above her head. She needed to find a clearing, somewhere she could get her bearings.
She began to move again, no longer running, having more confidence that her captor wasn’t in the vicinity. Maybe he’d even given her up as lost.
For a few seconds that thought was comforting. Until she realized its implications for the little girl she had sought to save.
If she was right about Porter having a boat, then he would use it to disappear. And all chance of finding Raine, or at least finding out what had happened to her, would disappear with him.
She slowed, weighing the sanity of what she was thinking. Traumatic brain injury, Jake had called it. And Doc had echoed its probable side effects.
Despite the very real possibility that the blow to the head she’d received was clouding her judgment, she stopped and turned around, again trying to get her bearings. She looked up through the trees and saw the full moon floating above the clouds.
Exactly where she saw it when she looked up at Porter as she’d lain on the ground at his feet. She began to run toward it.
Back in the direction from which she’d come.
“HERE.” BLAKE POINTED his flashlight downward. “He’s still dragging her.”
He was dragging something, Jake acknowledged, looking down at the trail of broken fronds they’d followed from Porter’s house. He clung to the thought that, if Eden was dead, Porter wouldn’t have bothered to carry her body with him.
He still believed that. He just couldn’t figure out why the kidnapper would burden himself with her.
He pushed through the undergrowth, staying as close as possible to the exact path the deputy was forging. Although there were no traps or mines out here, old habits died hard.
A few feet ahead of him, Blake froze. With his free hand he motioned Jake down. He obeyed instantly, hearing the sound that had alerted the other man that they were not alone.
From his vantage point, he watched as a darker shape moved ahead of them like a shadow through the dense vegetation. Without waiting for further communication from his companion, Jake began to circle noiselessly into a position behind whoever was out there.
He was close enough that he could hear the sounds of his prey’s passage through the foliage. Not Eden, he assessed. The bulk and height was all wrong. And the only other person that they knew was out here was Porter.
He raised his weapon, sighting on the shadow that slipped from tree to tree. And then he waited for the representative of the law to do his thing.
“Put your hands up,” the deputy barked finally.
The man they’d been watching spun instead, getting off a round in the direction of that disembodied voice. Jake’s finger closed over the trigger, squeezing off a shot targeted at the muzzle flash.
Then he fired another, lowering his aim slightly. He didn’t want to kill the bastard before he told them what he’d done with Eden.
The second bullet had the desired result, dropping Porter to his knees. Jake closed in rapidly behind him, pressing the muzzle of the Kimber against the back of his head.
“Drop it,” he demanded.
When Porter tried to turn instead, Jake chopped downward with his weapon, catching him at the vulnerable juncture of neck and shoulder. His gun fell as the man’s arm and hand went numb.
“Blake?” Jake
called. “You hit?”
“I’m okay. You got him.”
“Yeah,” Jake affirmed softly, resisting the urge to tighten his finger over the trigger. Having read the files on what Porter had done to the children he’d kidnapped, the temptation to kill him was almost biblical.
“Where is she?” he asked instead, increasing the pressure on the back of the man’s head so that he was forced to bow it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“To be clear, right now I’m talking about Chief Reddick. We’ll get to the girl soon enough.”
Porter’s only response was a shake of his head. To his right, Jake could hear the deputy moving toward them. He didn’t take his eyes off the man kneeling at his feet.
“We know you dragged her out here with you. We followed the trail you left.”
“Now why would I do something stupid as that?” Porter made no attempt to hide his sarcasm.
“Maybe because you are stupid,” Blake said, as he stopped beside them.
Jake looked up to assess the deputy’s condition. He was holding one hand over the spreading bloodstain high on the opposite shoulder. Although Jake couldn’t be certain whether it was the result of blood loss or a trick of the moonlight, his face seemed to have lost all color.
“Sit down before you fall down,” he suggested.
“I’m okay,” Blake lied.
Faintly, in the distance, they heard the sound of sirens. Jake listened a moment to be sure that they were indeed headed for Porter’s homestead.
“Last chance,” he said, applying pressure again against the back of the kidnapper’s neck with the muzzle of his weapon. “For what?”
“To tell me where they are?”
“They?” Despite the threat of the gun, Porter turned his head to look up at Jake. The moonlight on his upturned face revealed his amusement.
“Chief Reddick. And Raine Nolan.”
As their eyes locked, Porter’s mocking smile widened. Without another word, Jake redirected the muzzle of the Kimber so that it lay against the top of his shoulder.
He left it there long enough to see confusion replace the mockery in the dark eyes. Then he allowed his finger to tighten over the trigger.
The confusion was replaced by shock as the bullet tore through flesh and shattered bone. And then the man at his feet screamed.
“Words,” Jake urged softly. “I need to hear words.”
“I don’t know where she is,” Porter sobbed. “She got away. She ran off.”
“In what direction.”
“Back toward the house.”
Jake moved the muzzle into position against the opposite shoulder.
“Hey,” the deputy protested. “Hey, man, you can’t do that.”
“You can’t do it,” Jake said. “Everybody I ever answered to is dead.”
“No matter what you think about him, he’s our prisoner now. He’s got rights.” Despite spouting the correct words and phrases, Blake didn’t sound convinced.
“He’s killed at least twice. Innocent children. Defenseless little girls. Personally, I think he’s forfeited any rights he might once have had.”
The deputy’s eyes were wide in the darkness. Jake knew exactly what he was wondering, but all he cared about right now was having time enough to finish what he’d started.
“So, how about Raine?” he prodded. “She ‘run off,’ too?”
Porter was still sobbing, the sound of his crying interspersed with curses. “Make the bastard stop,” he pled with the deputy.
“You want me to stop, tell me where to find Raine Nolan.”
“Do something,” Porter begged.
“I suggest you tell him what he wants to know,” Blake said. “They say he’s crazy. I’m not certain they aren’t right.”
Jake waited while the man at his feet thought about it. He wasn’t totally sure he wanted Porter to break so soon. There had been an unholy sense of satisfaction putting a bullet into his shoulder. The sirens had stopped, however, and he knew these woods would soon be full of people who might not share Blake’s pragmatism.
“I can show you,” Porter said. “Just…just don’t shoot me again.”
“She alive?” Jake held his breath as he waited for the response.
“The last time I saw her.”
Jake didn’t waste time asking when that was. He knew it had been at least forty-eight hours ago. And through how many of those had she been without food and water, alone in that terrifying darkness?
“Then the quicker you get us there,” he said as he pulled Porter to his feet, “the better it’s going to be for everybody. Especially for you.”
Chapter Nineteen
The reinforcements she’d called for had found Eden before she’d caught up with Porter. Given her condition at that point, she knew she should be grateful it had worked out that way.
One of the deputies had accompanied her back to Porter’s place, where Dean had set up a command center. Her deputy chief had taken one look at her and demanded that the paramedics check her out.
She was still sitting on the tailgate of their van when Dean came to find her. She could tell by his expression that things had taken a step in the right direction.
“They’ve got him,” he said. “Blake just radioed in. He’s taking them to where he’s been keeping Raine.”
“Is she…?” she hesitated, unwilling to put the fear she knew they all shared into words.
“They don’t know. Porter says she was all right the last time he saw her.”
“I need to be there.” She tried to stand, but swayed as soon as she made it to her feet.
“No, you don’t.” Dean took her elbow to steady her.
It was hard to argue with his assessment. Despite the blanket the paramedic had wrapped around her shoulders, she hadn’t been able to stop shaking. Maybe the aftereffects of her head injury. Adrenaline overload. Exhaustion. A combination of all of them.
It was clear from the look in Dean’s eyes what his diagnosis would be. Right now, she didn’t care what he or anyone else thought.
She needed to be there when they found Raine. No matter the outcome.
“Get a location,” she ordered.
“Eden—”
“Are the two of them okay? Marty. And Major Underwood?”
“Blake’s got a flesh wound. Underwood seems to have taken command.”
That would be a natural role for Jake. And she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather have in charge of this operation.
“Marty’s got to have some idea where they are. He knows this area as well as anyone.”
“He thinks Porter’s following Birdwell Creek.”
The creek, like all of those in this region, would eventually lead to the estuary. “Then we can get there faster by boat.”
“If we had one,” Dean said.
“Have somebody get one out here. We don’t have any way to know what shape that child may be in. And Marty’s been wounded. It just makes sense, Dean.”
She couldn’t be sure his hesitation in acting on her suggestion was because he thought it a bad idea, or, as she suspected, that because of her condition, he believed he was better equipped to make those kinds of decisions.
Although she didn’t see the value of debating the point in the middle of an operation, she also believed she had to speak to the needs of a terrified little girl. Something the men in her department might not assign as high a priority.
“You sit back down and let these guys take care of you, and I’ll get a boat out here,” Dean said finally, perhaps reading the determination in her eyes.
Having won the point, she nodded, but even that slight movement set off the pounding in her skull. She eased back down onto the liftgate, watching Dean walk toward the others, his radio in his hand.
“He’s been very concerned about you.”
She glanced up at the paramedic who had given her the blanket. “He’s known me most of my life. At times, he sti
ll thinks I need taking care of.”
“At times, we all do. This might be one of them.”
She couldn’t argue with that. And she was grateful for Dean’s calm leadership in this situation. Even if she had a feeling most of the men he’d brought out here with him felt the same way.
“THAT’S IT.”
Dave Porter didn’t look at Jake as he indicated the small building constructed of cement blocks. He had avoided making eye contact since Jake had dragged him to his feet and pushed him in the direction he’d been headed when they’d captured him.
“Key,” Jake demanded.
The door was closed with a padlock pushed through the rusted hasp. Although there were two windows on the front of the structure, they had long ago been boarded over.
“In my pocket.” Porter made no move to retrieve it, continuing to hold his left hand under the elbow of the arm Jake had used for target practice.
“I’m not getting it out for you.” To emphasize his point, Jake lifted his weapon.
The mechanic grimaced as he released the injured arm and flattened his left hand to dig into the pocket of his jeans. He held out the key, but Jake found it almost impossible to cross the short distance that separated them to take it.
He’d seen death in almost every guise, none of them pleasant, but the thought of what he might find inside when he unlocked that door turned his stomach. Only the possibility that Raine might be still alive gave him the courage to reach out and snatch the key from the oil-stained fingers.
Ignoring everything but the task at hand, an art he’d learned early in his career, he lifted the lock and inserted the key. Despite its obvious age, the mechanism moved smoothly, snapping open in his hand. He slipped the padlock out of the loop and pulled the hasp away.
No sound came from inside. Certainly not the heartbroken crying he’d heard in his flashback.
“Major?” Blake’s voice sounded as shaken as he felt.
“Yeah.” Steeling himself for what he might find, Jake opened the door.
The stench from inside was strong, but not the one he’d dreaded. Not the unforgettable smell of a decomposing body, a process that wouldn’t take long in this heat. “Flashlight?”