“Tough. Your biggest concern should be why Daddy hasn’t called me back. Maybe he doesn’t love you as much as you think he does.”
“Yeah, maybe he doesn’t. If that’s so, then your chances of getting to Mexico, or anywhere else, are falling fast.”
Randy took his phone out of his pocket and stared at the screen. “He’ll call. You rich people stick together.”
And about ten minutes later, he did. Randy enabled his speaker.
“This is Governor Rhodes,” Albee said. “Is my daughter okay?”
“For now. You took your sweet time calling back.”
“It takes effort to put all the pieces together to accommodate your demands,” Rhodes said. “Let me talk to my daughter. I won’t take another step to help you if I don’t hear her voice.”
Randy walked to his truck and held the phone close to Susannah’s face. “Say howdy, Daddy,” he instructed.
“I’m all right, Daddy. Don’t...”
“Okay, that’s it,” Randy said.
“I’ve arranged to have a plane at the Burl County Airstrip at noon tomorrow,” Rhodes said. “It will have enough fuel to get you to Mexico. I’ll leave fifty thousand dollars in the cockpit. The pilot will know where. That should set you up when you reach your destination.”
“It’s a start,” Randy said. “Future generations will look kindly on you, Governor Rhodes. On your deathbed you can say you aided and abetted the one man who had the courage to stand up to the corporate jerks who poisoned our soil and water. You’ll die a hero.”
“I’m not thinking about dying right now, or my reputation,” Albee said. “You just swear to me that you won’t hurt my daughter.”
Randy leaned in the truck. “Hey, Susie girl, you know where the airport is?”
“Yes, I know.”
“Good girl. She’ll be with me when I go to the airport,” Randy said. “Don’t stop my truck or I’ll hurt her real bad. And tell that cop friend of hers to stay out of this.”
* * *
SOMETHING INSIDE BOONE clenched in a stab of pain. His hands flexed as if he could feel them around Randy’s neck. He couldn’t lose control now. As long as Albee’s phone was on speaker, he had to keep a clear head in case he picked up a clue as to their whereabouts.
“Susie Q, how do you feel about Mexico? Wanna go?” Randy said.
She didn’t answer, but the pause allowed Boone to hone in on other sounds.
“Turns out Susie wants to go to Mexico with me,” Randy said. “She wants to work on her tan. I’ll release her when we get there and you can fly her back and have a real nice family reunion.”
Randy chuckled. “Got anything else to say, Susie? No? Well, then, we’ll say good-night. Gotta run, Governor. I’ll hear from you before noon tomorrow.”
Something feral and frightening took hold of Boone’s emotions. He didn’t recognize the gut-clawing feeling, but he didn’t want it to go away. It kept him sharp, tuned in, driven.
“He can’t take her to Mexico,” Rhodes said.
“He won’t,” Boone answered. “He won’t.”
* * *
RANDY LAUGHED AS he disconnected. “Get some shut-eye, Susie Q. You’ve got a busy day ahead of you.”
Her wrists were still tied, preventing her from even wrapping her arms around her chest to bring some warmth to her shivering body. She nestled close to the torn upholstery on the truck seat, the best she could do to ward off the cold. It was going to be a long night and she knew she wouldn’t get any sleep.
With her head against the driver’s seat, she took a few deep breaths. She thought of Boone, all the trouble she’d caused him, and now this. She didn’t want to consider that she might never see him again, might never have the chance to tell him... She raised her arms just enough to scrub away a tear. And her father, who’d counted on her. There was so much she wanted to say to him. If she ever saw either of these men after tonight, she’d never, ever, take them for granted again.
* * *
“THEY’RE NOT IN TOWN, Governor,” Boone said. “I didn’t hear a car horn, an engine, a radio, normal things I would have picked up on in an urban environment. All I heard were bird sounds and the rustling of underbrush.”
“So what are you saying?”
“They’re in the country somewhere and that limits the choices. To my knowledge, Randy only knows the fertilizer plant, the motel and the farm. I’m thinking they have to be near one of those locations.”
“Which one do you suggest?”
As one would expect, the relationship between Boone and Rhodes had been prickly since the governor arrived in Mount Union. Boone was thankful Albee seemed willing to follow his lead tonight. They both wanted the same thing.
“I suggest the farm. There are lots of places to hide out there. Darkness could be an ally. If Randy lights a lantern or turns on his headlights, we’ll have a good chance of seeing them.”
“Let’s go.”
Boone informed the rest of the police force of his location for the next few hours and left specific instructions for what he expected of them, which included continuous searches of the country roads and every shack or building that could house a desperate man like Randy.
He and Albee went out to the farm in Boone’s truck. When they were within a quarter mile, Boone turned off his headlights, slowed to a crawl and let the moon and the half dozen outside lights guide him up the drive to his grandfather’s house. He remembered urging his grandfather to install the extra lighting, and now he was glad he had.
He shut down his engine and he and Albee got out of the truck. “Now we wait and watch, Governor. The field, the hills, the road in and out. Tell me if you see anything unusual, a light, even the smallest whisper of trees or sound.”
“And it wouldn’t hurt to pray,” Albee said.
* * *
WHEN SHE WAS convinced that Randy had fallen asleep again, Susannah wiggled around in the truck to get a view down the hillside from the rear cab window. She’d determined that they were on the farm side of the foothills, high up and remote but she hoped within eyesight of the farm. She squinted and leaned left and right, hoping to catch a sign of light that would indicate someone was down there looking for her.
She saw a flicker a few moments later. It wasn’t much, just a faint light surrounded by a couple of others that might have lit a pathway up the drive. The wind in the trees could have been playing tricks on her, but she had to believe that the light was coming from Cyrus Braddock’s homestead. Had these lights always come on at night, or had someone just lit them tonight? She’d never been at the farm after dark before, so she didn’t know. Maybe the flickers were security lights on timers. Or maybe they were headlights from a car. Either way, if someone was at the farm—and please let it be Boone—she had to think of a way to capture his attention.
She considered honking the horn since she could reach the center of the steering wheel. But then she remembered Randy trying to use it on the drive up here and how it hadn’t worked. Anyway, waking Randy was not a good idea. He would be at the truck in seconds to silence her.
She looked around the interior of the truck. Without keys she couldn’t attempt to drive out of the foothills, and she’d probably only kill herself if she tried to get down the hillside with her hands and feet bound. The truck was on an incline, headlights facing up into the hill while the cargo area leaned down toward the flatland. The emergency brake was set. From the scant moonlight coming in the window, she could tell the stick shift was set in first gear, normal for manual transmissions in park.
And suddenly she had an idea. If she could somehow move the gearshift into neutral and release the emergency brake, the truck would roll, wouldn’t it? She judged the incline to be at least a thirty percent slant, enough to allow a small truck like this one to succumb to
inertia. But what about all the tall trees in the truck’s path? Once something started moving, it tended to pick up speed until something stopped it. That last thought made her blood chill. What else might stop the truck? A deep ravine would gobble up the truck, leaving it a pile of crushed metal. Water from a stream rushing into the cab when she couldn’t swim.
Her mind fixated on the last words of Randy’s plan. She couldn’t allow him to take her to Mexico. Who knew what would happen to her there. Now was not the time to speculate about all the dangers her one plan for escape entailed. The lights below had dimmed, perhaps to enable anyone on the farm to see better into the hills. She had to believe that someone was still there. She looked over at the canvas awning and detected no movement from Randy. She stared at the gearshift and counted to ten.
“No more procrastinating,” she whispered in a hoarse voice. With her arm tied to the steering wheel, she stretched her right hand out just far enough to reach the emergency brake. The tape cut deeper into her wrist, and she hissed back a stab of pain. With a shudder and a prayer, she depressed the brake handle.
The truck lurched forward and back with an almost gentle motion. Certainly not enough to send the vehicle down the steep slope. First gear was holding. She examined the gearshift. Her only option was to disengage the stick from first to neutral. Wiggling her hands to get as much movement as she could, she reached both hands over the shift knob. What would happen when the truck slipped into neutral? Would she begin a crazy slide down toward the flat land? Would she hit an obstacle right away, causing just enough noise to wake Randy? The thought of the knife made her hands tremble.
“Now,” she said and pulled her two hands back sharply on the stick. The gearshift dropped into the neutral position. Susannah held her breath as the truck began to role backward, slowly but steadily. “Go, go!” she urged the vehicle. “Don’t stop too soon.”
She reached through the steering wheel to grasp the headlamp control. Turning the lights on would be a risky move since they could be seen by Randy as well as any potential rescuers. And the light would not last long before the battery died. She decided to flick the lights a few times, hoping to catch the attention of anyone who may be at the farm.
The truck had gone about a couple hundred feet down the hill when Susannah saw a figure charging toward her. Randy. He had a flashlight in one hand and the knife in the other. She hit the headlamp control so at least Randy couldn’t follow the beam. But he gained steadily on the truck. He was so close she could hear his panting and swearing. She tried to block his threats from her mind as she urged the little truck to pick up speed.
With his arms spread wide, he lunged for the hood of the truck and Susannah screamed. Then his voice faded and the truck picked up serious speed. Randy was no longer visible through the windshield, probably having stumbled or tripped over a root.
Susannah plunged down the hill, her body taking all the punishment the plummeting truck could deliver. But she gritted her teeth and hung on until her head impacted with the dashboard and everything went black.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“THERE’S A LIGHT!” Boone called to the governor and officers who had joined them at the farm.
Albee squinted up into the hills. “It’s only flickering,” he said. “And now it’s gone out.”
“It means something, Governor. I just know it. Susannah’s trying to tell us where she is.”
For Boone, this was no longer about the responsibility of safeguarding the governor’s daughter. This was all about saving Susannah, the woman. Giving her a chance to complete her goals. Giving him a chance to try and build a future with her. He knew now that a future with her was what he wanted. He knew it because the thought of living his life without her was the most intense anguish he’d ever felt.
During these terrifying hours Susannah had become much more than a job to him. She had become everything. And getting her back safely was all that mattered.
“I’m going into those hills,” he told Albee, then instructed the other officers to follow.
“I want to go with you,” Albee said.
“Then you’d better keep up, Governor. My truck’s over by the barn, and I don’t want to waste even a second.”
“When it comes to my daughter, I can outrun you, Boone.”
Albee didn’t win the race, but he was fast enough. Both men sprinted to Boone’s truck, put the vehicle in gear and tore across the field to where the lights had flickered through the trees and brush. Boone’s eyes focused on the spot where he’d last seen the light and he plowed toward it. And then his headlights reflected off a sort of erratic pathway being cut through the lowest trees and undergrowth. He rolled down his window, heard branches crack and limbs break, all signs of a vehicle out of control.
“Do you see that?” Albee asked, leaning toward the front windshield.
“Yeah. Something, a vehicle, is cutting though the hill without anyone at the wheel, it seems to me.”
“No driver?” Albee grabbed hold of the door handle as Boone picked up dangerous speed. “Where will it end up?”
“In these hills, your guess is as good as mine. If Susannah is in it, let’s hope she stops on a soft cushion of pine needles.”
Every second counted now. The possibilities raced through Boone’s mind, and he discounted all of them. He couldn’t think about Susannah in a ditch or smashed against a tree. He gunned the pedal once more and tore into the hillside until his truck stalled out.
“What now?” Albee asked.
“Now we go on foot.”
Boone jumped from the cab and began running uphill, his legs churning through the underbrush toward the noise of limbs and branches still being crushed and the spot where the lights had flickered. He heard Albee panting behind him, but soon the sound faded and there was only his own footsteps crashing through centuries of vegetation. He thought his lungs might burst with the effort, but still he kept going—forward and higher.
Until, with a mournful sputter and a last splintering of wildlife, the motion of the careening vehicle stopped. All was silent. Not an engine noise. Not the breaking of tree limbs. And not Susannah’s cry. But Boone was close. He pulled a flashlight from his belt, thankful that he’d remembered to equip himself with standard cop supplies. He aimed the glow a hundred yards ahead, where he could see a faint puff of smoke coming from Randy’s old truck’s engine and a shadowy figure heading toward the scene.
One thought drove Boone onward. Randy wouldn’t get to Susannah before he did. He redoubled his efforts, shining his light directly at Randy so the man would know he wasn’t alone. With almost animal-like skill, Randy stopped, turned abruptly and retreated into the woods. Boone hoped the fool didn’t have a gun.
Two minutes later, his own weapon drawn, Boone reached the truck. He glanced into the cargo area, saw nothing and headed to the driver’s side window, which was open, the door wrenched off its hinges. And he saw Susannah.
She lay unconscious across the two bucket seats, her arms roped to the steering wheel and hanging at an odd angle. Her wrists were bound in bloody tape. He had to get her out of the truck before it rolled again. He didn’t know what damage had been done on the wild descent. At least he didn’t smell gas.
Using his knife, he cut her loose from the wheel and lifted her out of the cab. She hadn’t made a sound, hadn’t moved. He wouldn’t let his mind go where his worst fears led. He just remembered his training and performed his job. He carried her a safe distance from the truck and collapsed on the ground cradling her in his lap. He checked her vitals, his heart allowing itself to return to a normal beat when he felt a pulse in her neck.
“It’s going to be okay, baby,” he said. “Just hang in there.” He used his radio to call for an ambulance. She looked so pale and small and fragile in his big arms.
Then he went to work removing the tape fr
om her wrists and ankles. When he peeled the material from her right ankle, she moaned. He could see discoloration already forming around the bone. “You’re going to be fine, Susannah, I promise you.”
Minutes later, the two cops who’d followed Boone in their cruiser climbed the steep hill. Boone told them about the figure he’d seen heading into the woods moments before and quickly gave them as much information as he had about Randy. About five minutes later, huffing with exertion, Albee reached the rescue site and sagged against a tree to catch his breath.
“She’s alive, Governor,” Boone said. “I think her injuries are fairly minor.”
“Oh, my poor child,” Albee said, recovered enough to approach. “This is all my fault. I should never have let her talk me into reducing the size of security at the house.”
Running his hand down Susannah’s hair, Boone kept urging her to wake up. “This has nothing to do with your security, Albee,” he said. “This didn’t happen at your house, and the perpetrator is a man Susannah believed was her friend.
“Come on, baby, open your eyes,” he said as he held her and stroked her hair.
“Boone?” His name came from her parched lips like a prayer.
“You found me? It worked.”
“You’re darn right I found you.” He hugged her close to his chest, not caring if Albee was watching. “Whatever you did back there to get this truck rolling was genius, baby. It’s all going to be okay now. You were so brave, sweetheart.”
Her eyelids fluttered, then opened. A grimace appeared on the most beautiful face Boone thought he’d ever seen, blood, freckles and all. “My ankle hurts,” she said.
“Yeah. I think it’s broken, Susannah. Your planting and harvesting days may have to take a backseat for a while.”
She tried to smile, but the attempt only made her flinch in his arms. “You can get our crops to the market for me, can’t you, Boone?”
“Sure. Me, your crew, and those three females who are waiting at my parents’ place for a phone call. You’ve got plenty of help.”
This Hero for Hire Page 19