by Kim McMahill
Her mind whirled. She couldn’t turn him away or let him die of hypothermia, but this was all wrong.
Everything about this situation was out of character for Jonah, and the sheriff had warned her those responsible for Kathleen’s accident and Jonah’s disappearance were heading her way. Finally, here stood Jonah, teeth chattering from the cold, uncomfortable, and no doubt an unwilling visitor. An innocent encounter?
She doubted it.
“Are you alone?” she shouted.
“Yes.” He hesitated ever so slightly.
Grace caught the brief pause, confirming her suspicions. “I heard you went AWOL. Where have you been? Stephen and I have been worried.”
“Obviously, I was on my way here,” Jonah replied.
She now felt certain he wasn’t alone, although the knowledge didn’t help the situation. She still had no idea what to do. How long did she dare stall before Jonah succumbed to the cold? She had no doubt the sheriff was on his way, but that could be hours, and hopefully he had made contact with Logan by now, and he, too, was en route.
“Why on earth did you decide to make a road trip in a storm?”
The delay told her he had no answer and was trying to come up with something plausible.
“You never called or answered any of my e-mails, so I was concerned.”
Yeah, right, an earthquake wouldn’t pull him away from his video games. Grace was instantly ashamed by her thoughts, since his kidnappers most likely waited in the vehicle she was still blinded to and probably intended to kill them both.
“I’ve talked to Stephen several times, so I assumed he would fill you and Kathleen in on my situation, so there was no need to be concerned and definitely no point in making this long dangerous drive in bad weather.”
“I haven’t seen Dr. Clark in days.”
“Oh really. Where is he?”
“Grace, put the gun down and let me in. We can have this conversation inside. I’m freezing.”
He looked miserable. Her heart urged her to invite him in, but her head warned acquiescence could be deadly.
“If you put your hood back up and your hands in your pockets, or get back in your vehicle, you won’t be so cold.”
“What’s wrong with you, Grace? You’ve got to help me. You have to do as I ask.”
Do as he asks? He sounded hysterical, and his plea screamed out warnings while at the same time tearing at her conscience. Could she keep stalling to protect herself and wait for help at his expense? Where are you, Logan? What should I do?
Grace opened the door a few more inches and stepped further out onto the porch. Her eyes landed on the site of where the barn once stood before being burned to the ground, taking Butch’s life and nearly depriving her of Moss. She had come so close to losing everything she held dear.
Not only was Moss all she had, she was all he had. Grace refused to die without a fight, leaving him injured and all alone in the world. Intense fear and anger consumed her thoughts, making her feel frantic and desperate.
“Jonah, I truly want to help, and I hate seeing you in this condition. You, Kathleen, and Stephen aren’t just colleagues, you’re my second family and my friends. Just do me one favor first.”
“Of course, anything. You know I’ve always loved you, Grace.”
She paused, the last statement shaking her to the core and sending doubts racing through her mind. Several seconds passed before she regained her equilibrium and was able to refocus on the immediate situation. Hoping she wasn’t making matters worse, but knowing they couldn’t continue this game forever, she spoke.
“Ask the men in the vehicle why they murdered an innocent rancher? What could Butch have done to deserve such a brutal death?”
Jonah fell to his knees. “I’m sorry, Grace. I didn’t know anyone died. You can’t imagine how much I regret my role in this tragedy. I never thought it would come to this. I didn’t think anyone would get hurt. They already knew about the enzyme’s potential when they offered me more money than I could earn in a year. All I was asked to do was crash the computers and backups, but you ruined everything. They knew more than I did. If you hadn’t copied those drives, I wouldn’t have had to come. Grace, I only wanted—”
A deadly blast shattered the night, Jonah fell forward, face in the snow. Grace reacted and shot twice, extinguishing the two headlights, and dove back into the house, clicking the lock, knowing it would do little to slow down the men who would be coming for her.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Stephen Clark stepped out of the shower and wiped the fog off of the bathroom mirror with a yellowed washcloth. A man he hardly recognized stared back at him. He was surprised at how much, and how quickly, lack of sleep, extreme stress, and junk food could take a toll on one’s body. He’d always had a lean frame, but now he looked simply skeletal with sunken eyes, gaunt cheeks, a chicken-like neck, and pale pasty skin.
He rubbed his thin, gray hair with the threadbare towel, hoping to dry it as quickly as possible so he could catch a few hours of sleep before his time ran out on his motel room. Donning the new socks, underwear, and t-shirt he’d bought at the drugstore, he reached for the cell phone, hoping to reach someone who could tell him if it was safe to return home or if he needed to keep running. He dialed Grace, Jonah, and Deputy Carlson for the third time in the past half an hour, but got the same disconcerting results. Everyone had gone silent.
Not knowing who else to try, he set the phone down and reached for the lamp switch, determined to try and get some rest. His hand froze as the sound of tires crunching across the gravel grew louder, nearing his room. Panic seized him as he struggled to put his pants and shoes on, feeling vulnerable being only half dressed.
Inching the curtain back ever so slightly, he peeked out and spotted a newer model black sedan. He waited, hoping to spy an older man and a younger woman exit the vehicle. Instead, two men in dark suits and sunglasses emerged. The men looked around for several seconds and then strode confidently toward the office.
Stephen was thankful he had thought to move his car behind the motel and in the shadows of the semi-trucks, but feared the tactic would only buy him a few minutes if the men had come for him. His mind raced. Maybe the men weren’t looking for him, but what else would bring them to this roadside hovel?
He didn’t dare try to leave, since he would have to pass by the office to get to his car. With no better idea coming to mind, he grabbed the can of aerosol hairspray he’d purchased at the drug store for use as a weapon of self-defense and retreated to the bathroom. He had looked for bear spray, but apparently bears weren’t a problem in the area.
Pulling the desk chair into the tiny room, he locked the door and wedged the chair’s back under the knob. Crouching inside the still wet bathtub, he clutched the can in his shaking hand and focused on trying to breathe.
A knock pounded on the door, and Stephen prayed.
“Dr. Clark, open up. FBI.”
“How stupid do they think I am,” Stephen muttered under his breath.
The men pounded again, harder, and called out. Stephen remained silent, clinging onto a sliver of hope they hadn’t seen his car and would think he had left the area. After several moments he stood, stretching his cramping calf muscles and listening, hoping the silence meant the men had given up and left.
As he strained to hear if the men remained, the abrupt sound of splintering wood startled him into dropping his makeshift weapon. He scrambled out of the tub, frantically searching for the can that had rolled behind the toilet. Retrieving the hair spray, he stood, shaking, arms straight, pointing the can outward.
The knob on the bathroom door rattled, and the men continued to call out his name, trying to assure him they were FBI and here to help. He wasn’t buying it and refused to be baited.
Suddenly, a hard solid thud connected with the flimsy door, and the hollow wood collapsed, sending debris and men tumbling toward Stephen. The momentum slammed him back against the wall, but as he was falling, he
closed his eyes, pointed the can, depressed the button, and let loose a hissing spray of mist.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Logan drove as fast as he dared on the snowpacked highway with his lights flashing. He prayed he wasn’t too late. He shouldn’t have left Grace alone, but the call from dispatch was legit, and, at the time, no one knew the extent of the injuries. Even if the occupants of the disabled car weren’t hurt, they couldn’t remain out in the elements for too many hours without risk of hypothermia. He’d had no choice about responding, but looking back he should have taken Grace with him on the callout.
The ranch was only a few miles further up the road, but his level of worry made it seem like a hundred.
What would he find when he got there?
His mind flashed back to the Arizona/Mexico border. The barrage of gunfire and cries of agony resounded in his head, lights flashing, chaos everywhere, searching for his brother-in-law among the bodies strewn across the desert scrub. When the smoke and dust cleared, nine drug dealers and four border patrol agents were dead, and the remaining eleven criminals had retreated back into Mexico, never to atone for their crimes.
Logan shook the grim thoughts from his head and focused on the slick road. Through the swirling snow, he could just make out the reflector pole ahead that marked the turnoff to the Talbot Ranch. Easing the vehicle off the highway, he cursed at what he saw in front of him. A truck with an empty snowmobile trailer filled the lane. Driving around the rig would be impossible, since the plow berms lining the road measured over three feet in height and had settled into a solid wall of compact snow and ice.
Cursing, he parked his truck. “I guess it’s on foot from here,” he grumbled as he shoved all the spare ammo clips for his service weapon into one front pocket of his parka. Retrieving the fishing creel he had grabbed from Moss’s storage shed earlier that afternoon, he looped the leather strap over his head and across his chest.
The sound of an approaching snowmobile put Logan on high alert. He took cover behind his rig, shielding his body from the speeding machine. The sled approached to within thirty yards, stopped, became silent, and the rider got off. Slowly approaching, the rider removed his helmet and raised his hands in the air.
“Don’t shoot! It’s Don Matthews,” the rider hollered.
Logan lowered his weapon and met Don halfway between the truck and snowmobile. “I need your machine. Take my truck back to your ranch. Call the sheriff’s office and tell them what’s going on,” Logan stated as he handed Don his keys.
“Harris knows. He’s had me watching the Talbot Ranch with the spotting scope. I don’t know much since I can’t see the ranch house from my place, but I did see a vehicle driving up the lane, and then two guys unloaded snowmobiles and took off in the same direction, leaving this rig parked in the road. When I saw your lights, I realized you couldn’t get past this truck and trailer, so here I am. Anyway, the sheriff and four officers should be here in about fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“Does the sheriff know the road’s blocked?” Logan asked.
“Nope, but I called the Johnson place before I headed out, and Bob and his son are on the way to my ranch with more machines. I’ll get my wife’s long track, and we’ll have three sleds waiting by the time the sheriff gets here.”
“Make sure you three stay as far away as possible from the Talbot house, and if you see anyone trying to leave, get out of here as fast as you can. Stay alert. I have a bad feeling this is going to get ugly.”
Don nodded and didn’t ask any questions, knowing time was of the essence. “Good luck. I’d never admit this to anyone and will deny saying it, but I owe Moss for the grazing incident, saved my herd at his expense. Besides, in a pinch like this, we take care of our own up here, despite past differences.”
The whole exchange took only a couple minutes, but Logan feared it might be two minutes too many. As he approached the sled, he heard a gunshot, followed by two more. Swinging his leg over the seat, he gunned the motor, and the sled shot out like a rocket. He was surprised by the powerful new machine the frugal rancher owned, and at that moment he was extremely grateful.
As Logan sped toward the ranch, two sets of lights converged on him from opposite directions, cutting off any direct approach to the house. He was outnumbered, which didn’t worry him. His knowledge of the terrain gave him a serious advantage, and he instantly developed a plan. His main concern was the time it would take to neutralize the two riders.
Angling toward the plowed berm lining the road, Logan opened the throttle and took air as he shot over the embankment. As predicted, both snowmobiles followed him as he led them away from the ranch house and toward the river, driving an erratic pattern to avoid the gunfire aimed at his sled.
He didn’t have time for this game, but he’d never get to Grace until he got rid of the riders. If he slowed enough to attempt a shot, the bullets missing him by a good margin might find their mark. He hoped his skill and knowledge, and their eagerness to please whoever they were working for, would even the odds.
Logan increased his speed, dodging the obstacles in his path, but the two sleds continued to gain on him. With no warning to his tails, he veered toward a snow-covered boulder and gunned the motor, catapulting into the dark night. His only thoughts as his snowmobile went airborne were of Grace and the three shots he’d heard.
Please don’t let me be too late.
As the heavy machine landed with a kidney-jarring thud, he threw all his weight to one side, cranking hard on the handlebars, forcing a sharp right turn to avoid plowing head-on into a massive pine. The sled responded, nearly tipping over and tearing off several low branches of the giant tree, but missing a collision with the trunk by a fraction.
Circling back, he came to a stop and witnessed the impact of the first sled as it vaulted over the hidden boulder, hitting the tree he had narrowly avoided, flipping end over end and finally coming to rest near the river.
One down, one to go.
Logan quickly took cover behind a downed tree. As he suspected, the other rider didn’t make the same mistake but abandoned the chase and drove straight to his buddy. The lights from the disabled sled silhouetted the target long enough for Logan to step free from cover and fire.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Grace fumbled to reload the shotgun as Blue and Aussie barked, racing franticly back and forth in front of the entryway, scratching at the door and trying to get out. Tears slid down her cheeks as visions of Jonah falling to the ground replayed over and over in her mind.
If I had let him in, would he still be alive?
Realistically, she knew she couldn’t have saved his life, but emotionally, she was nearly paralyzed with grief. The certainty that her compliance would have only bought him a short amount of time, and sealed her own death, did little to ease the sadness and fear.
“It didn’t have to come to this, Grace. You should have just opened the door like Jonah asked, and he’d still be alive.”
The voice didn’t sound familiar. She had no idea how many people waited outside to kill her or what they wanted. She had to believe help was on the way, and despite the tragic results, she had to stick to the only plan she had—buy time and pray.
“What do you want?”
“We just want to talk. We don’t want to hurt you.”
Yeah right, she thought as she dared a quick peek out the window. She spotted four men. The man doing the talking wore a black coat that hugged his body like a second skin and a black stocking cap. He had a pistol gripped in his hand, hanging to his side, resting against his leg. Next to him was another person cocooned in dark winter gear, who looked as big as a grizzly bear standing on its hind feet, but not nearly as friendly. The man wore no gloves and he, too, held a handgun as naturally as if he were holding the hand of a child. The other two men remained partially obscured from view as they stood behind open backseat doors.
“Then talk. I can hear you just fine!” she shouted.
“Jon
ah told us you copied some research data before your hasty departure. Just give us the data, and we’ll be on our way.”
Wow, they must really think I’m stupid, Grace thought as she processed this new information. Knowing that Jonah had been on the take and had sold her out eased her guilt over his death a fraction, though she knew the incident would always haunt her.
“I don’t know what data you’re talking about. I deal with massive quantities of data on a daily basis. Maybe if you tell me exactly what you’re looking for, I’ll be able to help you.”
“You copied the research data from your supposedly failed experiment before leaving the lab. I’m not a very patient man, and I don’t have the time or inclination to play games, especially in this weather. We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. I’ll give you one minute to come out, or we’re coming in.”
There was no way she was walking outside. They would have to come in and get her. They would kill her no matter what she did, so Grace vowed to make it as difficult for them as possible. She lined up the remaining shotgun shells, two by two, on the windowsill next the door to aid her in reloading as quickly as possible, though acknowledging it would do little good against four intruders who were likely packing automatic weapons.
The minute passed.
“Time’s up, Grace. What’ll it be?”
“I don’t care about any data. Nothing is worth this much killing. I’m not as naïve as I might look. I have no doubt you plan on killing me, whether I comply or not. What guarantee do I have that you’ll let me live if I turn over the data?”
“You’ll just have to accept my word.”
Graced paused as she looked up the road, desperately hoping to see another set of headlights. “After seeing what you did to Jonah, I’m not terribly inclined to trust any promises you make.”
“Have it your way,” the man stated as a bullet shattered the window, scattering most of her well-ordered shells and sending glass shards flying across the room like tiny daggers.