Powerhouse

by Rebecca York

  After getting Shelley’s bag out of the car, he evaluated the condition of the access road. The snow wasn’t too deep, and he figured that the four-wheel drive would make it to the highway.

  “Do you mind leaving your car where it is?” he asked Shelley.

  “No. Because I don’t want to take the time to dig it out.”

  They were in his Cherokee and on the ranch road just after eight.

  Almost as soon as he turned onto the highway, he saw a dark SUV pull out of a side lane and fall into place behind them.

  When he speeded up, the other car did, too. When he slowed down, the other guy kept pace.

  “Damn,” he muttered.

  Shelley turned toward him in alarm. “What?”

  “Somebody’s following us.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Lose them, I hope. Can you see who they are?”

  TREVOR ROLLED into a ball and closed his eyes. The man named Blue had stuck another needle in him. In his arm, not his back this time. Now his head hurt, and when he opened his eyes, everything looked funny.

  “Mommy,” he whispered. “Please come get me, Mommy. I don’t want to stay here.”

  She didn’t answer because she was somewhere far away. And he was afraid he was never going to see her again.

  As he thought of that, his throat got tight, and he squeezed his eyes shut. When he was sure he wasn’t going to cry, he opened his eyes again and yanked at the chain that held him to the bed. If only he could slip his hand out of the cuff, he could run away.

  He didn’t know where he was, but Mommy had told him what to do if he got lost. He was supposed to find a policeman, and they’d take him back to Mommy.

  He said his name and his address and phone number. He was a big boy, and he knew all that stuff. He could tell them exactly who he was, and they’d take him home. If he could just get away from Blue.

  “Mommy,” he whispered again, knowing it was silly to think that she could hear him. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from believing that it might be true.

  SHELLEY TWISTED AROUND, looking through the back window at the car following them. “The glass is tinted. I can’t see who’s inside.”

  “Of course.”

  He kept driving down the road for several miles, until they reached a part of the highway where rock outcroppings had forced the engineers to work around several sharp turns. As soon as he was well into the rocks, he turned to Shelley. “Hold on.”

  She grabbed the handle above the door as he speeded up, rounding a curve and pulling off the blacktop onto a side road where a towering rock blocked the view of his vehicle.

  The other car sped past, and he waited long enough to make sure that the driver thought he was still heading west.

  When he pulled out, he turned east, hoping that the other car would continue on for a few more miles before the driver figured out he was going the wrong way.

  BOBBY SAVAGE sped down the blacktop, trying to catch up with the man who had just executed a bunch of tricky moves on his home turf. That was the problem with working out here in the middle of nowhere. The natives knew the territory, and he didn’t.

  The farther he got from the ranch, the more convinced he was that somehow Matt Whitlock had given them the slip.

  Finally, he pulled to the side of the road.

  “What are we gonna do?” Campbell asked.

  “Call for instructions. I got a hint from the boss that there’s a way to find these two.”

  “Then why were we sitting outside the ranch house all night?”

  “Don’t ask me. Maybe he doesn’t have the other thing set up yet. Or maybe he wanted to find out how good we are.”

  “And we just showed him we lost the son of a bitch,” Campbell muttered.

  Savage turned to his associate. “You want to keep driving? Like to California, and start again? I hear there’s contract work in San Francisco.”

  His partner shook his head. “I get the feeling that this guy we’re working for would find us.”

  Savage sighed. “Agreed.”

  “So make the call.”

  He pulled out his BlackBerry and pressed a speed-dial button, waiting with his heart pounding for the expression of disgust on the other end of the line.

  “IT’S GOING to take longer to get out of town,” Matt told Shelley as he made a left turn onto a secondary road that looked as though it had been plowed halfway through the storm. He struggled to keep up some speed under the hazardous conditions.

  “That’s better than having someone know where we’re going.”

  As he circled back toward the airport, he saw Shelley sitting with her knuckle between her teeth.

  “What?” he asked gently.

  “If they know we’re looking for Trevor, they could hurt him.”

  “I don’t think they will,” he said again. Maybe if he kept repeating it, it would turn out to be true.

  “But you don’t know!”

  He reached for her hand. “Do you want to call the FBI?”

  “No!”

  “I think our best bet is to talk to Jack Maddox, then decide on our next move.”

  She nodded.

  The roundabout route and the poor driving conditions added an extra hour to the morning’s drive.

  When they finally arrived at the airport, Matt filed a flight plan and checked out his plane. He’d never given false information before, but he didn’t want anyone to know his destination. So he said he was heading for Oklahoma City.

  “You didn’t fly when I knew you,” Shelley said as she eyed the single-engine plane.

  “After you left, I took flying lessons to give myself something to do.”

  “Okay.”

  “You look nervous.”

  “I’ve never flown in a small plane before.”

  “Relax. I’m a good pilot.”

  “How do you know how to get from here to Rapid City?”

  “Well, I know the direction. It’s almost straight north. I’ve got a GPS, and I’ll look for landmarks on the ground. Like highways and rivers and Mount Rushmore. That will be a big clue that we’ve arrived.”

  She eyed his plane, then let him lead her to the door and help her inside.

  After checking everything, he got clearance from the airport and headed for the runway.

  As he took off, he gave her a sideways glance and saw her hanging on to the edge of her seat, staring straight ahead. But once they were in the air, she relaxed and looked out the window.

  “So what do you think?” he asked.

  “It’s not so different from flying in a bigger plane.”

  “Yeah, but there’s not as much stability if we hit rough air.”

  “Now you tell me.”

  Despite the warning, there were no rough patches.

  Two hours after they’d taken off, they landed at the Rapid City Regional Airport. Because Matt hadn’t called ahead, he was worried about picking up a rental car. But he found a rental office at the airport, and they headed toward the outskirts of the city.

  “What if Jack Maddox isn’t home?” Shelley asked.

  “Let’s not worry about that until it happens.”

  “Or what if he’s not who he said he is?”

  “I guess we have to take a chance on that.”

  She sighed. “I’m nervous. Scared he can’t tell us anything and scared that he can.”

  “Yeah.”

  The address was outside of town, in a wooded area. They found the street number and turned in at a long driveway flanked by tall pines. The house was a one-story cabin nestled in the woods with a gabled entrance and a porch that ran the length of the front.

  There were no lights on inside, and as they approached the house, Matt saw no cars, which didn’t mean anything, since there was a detached garage.

  They climbed out, and Matt stood for a moment, getting the lay of the land. He could hear the sound of a nearby creek flowing over rocks. As they walked toward the door, Matt th
ought he saw a window curtain move, but maybe it was only his imagination.

  When he knocked, nothing happened.

  “I guess he’s not home.”

  “Maybe.”

  They waited for several more seconds, and Matt was about to walk around the back of the house when he heard a voice from behind them say “Hands in the air. Turn around slowly. No tricky moves—or you’re dead.”

  Chapter Five

  Matt heard Shelley gasp.

  “It’s okay,” he said, hoping it was true.

  They both raised their hands and turned to confront a tall broad-shouldered man with short-cropped black hair and blue eyes. He was holding a gun pointed at them, and Matt wished he’d brought his Glock with him, although maybe that was a recipe for disaster. The guy was already on edge.

  “Jack Maddox?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “My name is Matt Whitlock. This is Shelley Young. Our son has been kidnapped.”

  The big man made a snorting sound. “Yeah, you used that kidnapped kid trick on me before. At Mount Rushmore.”

  Huh? What was this guy talking about? Trying to get his message through, Matt plowed ahead. “It’s no trick. We were searching the Web for sites on missing children and saw your page—with your plea for information about your brother. That’s why we’re here.”

  “Why didn’t you call—instead of just showing up?”

  “Because I think my phone is tapped,” Matt answered, working hard to keep his voice even. “We were followed from my ranch outside Yuma, Colorado, by guys in a black car.”

  Maddox’s face hardened. “That’s just great. So you led them here?”

  “No. We gave them the slip and left in my plane from the Yuma airport.”

  Shelley broke into the conversation, her voice high and strained. “Please, Mr. Maddox, my little boy is missing. He’s only four. I know he’s frightened.”

  Maddox answered with a hard stare, as if he thought she was making up a story.

  Shelley gave him a pleading look. “Our son is missing. And the same thing happened to Matt when he was twelve. Last night when he saw that eight-pointed star on your Web site, he remembered being captured and held in a cell. He remembered men sticking needles in his back and his arm.”

  Maddox made a moaning sound as though a painful memory had just grabbed him by the throat.

  “Did that happen to you?” Shelley pressed.

  Instead of answering, Maddox zeroed in on Matt, his voice edged with steel. “If you’re telling the truth—what’s your talent?”

  Matt blinked. “What?”

  “What’s your talent? What paranormal ability did you acquire from those injections they gave you?”

  Matt shook his head, trying to make sense of the conversation. “How do you know about that?”

  “Because that’s their purpose—to give you some special ability that humans don’t ordinarily have.”

  Matt had thought something like that himself. But it had all been about him—not anybody else.

  “There are different ones?”

  “Yeah.”

  Seeing the intensity on the other man’s face, he figured he’d better answer the question. “Okay. I can influence other people’s behavior.” He shook his head. “I guess I should have been working on you—getting you to put away that gun, but I didn’t think of it.”

  The man snorted. “Well, it sounds like you’re legit, because nobody would make up that answer. Sorry for the gun. I tend to be a little paranoid.” He shoved the weapon into the waistband of his pants. “You can put your hands down.”

  “Thanks.” They both lowered their hands, and Matt saw his relief mirrored on Shelley’s face.

  “I’ve been on edge all day—knowing somebody was going to show up here. But I didn’t know who or why. That’s my talent. Precognition. Seeing the future. But it’s not always crystal-clear.”

  As Matt absorbed that news, he reached for Shelley’s gloved hand, squeezing it tightly. “Okay?” he asked.

  She gave a little nod.

  “Come on in.”

  Maddox rapped on the door—two short and one long knock. A woman with curly blond shoulder-length hair opened the door.

  “I heard all that,” she said. “I’m Claudia Reynolds.” She looked around. “Let’s not stand out here.”

  They all walked into the house, which was small and homey—like the exterior.

  The man with the gun turned to them. “I never did introduce myself. I’m Jack Maddox. But I guess you already figured that out.”

  “Matt Whitlock and Shelley Young,” Matt repeated.

  “Let me take your coats. Come sit down. Can I get you something?”

  “No thank you,” Matt answered.

  They took off their outerwear, which Maddox hung on a rack in the hall before leading them into a living room furnished with a large leather love seat and sofa. Matt and Shelley took the love seat.

  “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this,” Shelley said.

  “No problem,” Jack answered.

  “All we want is our son,” Shelley continued.

  Claudia gave her a sympathetic look. “We’ll tell you what we can.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jack and Claudia took the couch. Their host studied Matt. “How long did they have you?”

  “Three months. I think I used my talent to convince them to let me go.”

  “Three months.” Jack whistled through his teeth and glanced at Claudia. As Matt saw their eyes meet, he was thinking that maybe the man had been missing for a week or something.

  Jack’s next words came like a shower of freezing water. “They had me and my brother for fifteen years.”

  Shelley gasped and clamped her hands to her mouth. “Oh Lord, that’s horrible.”

  Jack shrugged. “I didn’t have much choice about it.”

  “But he eventually escaped,” Claudia said. “I found him wandering around in the woods. In a rainstorm. I took him home and tried to figure out who he was, but he didn’t remember anything.”

  “Neither did I,” Matt agreed. “The missing months were an absolute blank. Until I saw that star on your Web site. Then some nasty memories came zinging back to me. I guess it’s a symbol—but maybe it’s also a kind of subliminal message.”

  “Yeah.”

  Matt and Jack stared across the space that separated them, sharing an experience that few people could imagine. Or would want to imagine. For years Matt had felt alone, now here was a man who had gone through the same thing—only a thousand times worse. They’d had him for years, not months.

  Jack reached for Claudia’s hand, and Matt watched silent communication pass between them. The big man shifted in his seat. “So my Web site got a response, but you’re not saying you can help find my brother.”

  “I’m sorry,” Shelley whispered. “When Matt saw the eight-pointed star, it triggered buried memories. But it was only about him—not you or your brother. We’re here because we’re desperate to find Trevor. He’s only four. He’s got to be scared out of his mind.”

  Claudia nodded. “I understand.”

  “If you’re worried about them coming after you again, why did you put your address on the Web site?”

  “Like I said, I have an early warning system. And I was desperate to find Jared.”

  “It’s the same for us. We’re desperate, and we’d be grateful for any information you can give us,” Shelley continued. “Anything.” She stopped and cleared her throat. “Something else I didn’t tell you. Whoever took Trevor warned us not to contact the FBI or the police—or they’d hurt our son. So we haven’t done that.”

  Again Claudia gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, but most of what we learned is from the FBI. We talked to them after—we escaped.”

  Shelley’s hand tightened on Matt’s.

  “So if you absolutely don’t want the FBI involved, you’d better get up and leave,” Claudia continued.

  M
att turned to Shelley. “We already decided that warning was a lie—to keep the authorities out of the picture, right?”

  Her lips trembled. “I hope so.” Turning back to Claudia, she said, “Please give us some information that would help us find our son. Anything!”

  The way she said our made Matt’s heart squeeze. He’d only found out yesterday that he had a child. Shelley had brought him into the picture because she needed his help. Would she keep him in the picture once they found Trevor?

  He couldn’t even be sure it was the right thing for the three of them. He already knew he was a threat to their safety, but he vowed they were going to find Trevor. He couldn’t entertain the idea of failure.

  Jack Maddox stood up and paced to the window, where he lifted the curtain and looked out. Probably he’d gotten into the habit of checking the area—even if he did have some knowledge of the future.

  When he stiffened, Matt stood too. “What?”

  “I don’t know…”

  He strode back to the hall and grabbed his coat. When Matt also went to get his coat, Jack shook his head. “Stay here.”

  “Let me go with you.”

  “It’s better if only one person is a target.”

  He walked to the back of the house and slipped out the door, gun in hand.

  Shelley and Claudia had also stood, and the three of them moved to different windows, each of them easing the shade aside so they could peek out. Nobody remarked that Jack was paranoid. They were all willing to believe the house might be surrounded—which was a horrifying conclusion.

  Matt felt his heart beating as long minutes passed. Finally footsteps sounded on the back porch, and he whirled to face whoever was coming through the door.

  It was Jack. “I don’t see any tracks.”

  “Good,” Claudia said in a matter-of-fact voice, and Matt had the impression that they enacted similar scenes on a regular basis.

  Jack took off his coat and rolled his shoulders. “Sorry. I thought I heard something.” He looked at Claudia and then away. “I get…nervous.”

  “So do I,” Matt answered. “I don’t have your sixth sense for the future, so I have an alarm system.”

  “Byproduct of captivity,” Jack muttered as he sat down again. The three of them followed him to the seating area. “Maybe I’ll get over it sometime.”