Jack didn’t like the plan. They needed more time to infiltrate the cabin. Jack did not want to risk Padre’s life, but he couldn’t see another alternative. They needed to buy time to extract Megan, and because Megan was in no condition to assist, it would take more time to bring her to safety.
Dillon and Hans approached them. Hans said, “Two entrances, front and back. Beck’s men have the cabin completely surrounded. But I think your plan will work.”
“Did you see Megan?” Jack asked.
“No,” Hans said. “We didn’t want to get too close and tip our hand.”
J.T said, “Daybreak is in thirty minutes. We’ll lose the cover of darkness. Ready, Kincaid?”
“Hell, yes. Let’s get Megan out now.”
Torturing Megan was less fun than Karin had thought it would be.
Three hours and the wimp had fallen unconscious three times. When Ethan did it, the other victims didn’t lose consciousness more than once. Was she being too rough? Or was Megan just too weak and pathetic?
It also disturbed Karin that Megan knew about the Rubins. If she knew the truth, others could learn it. And Karin would become a fugitive. She didn’t want to live in hiding with a fake identity and no future. She wanted to continue doing what she’d been doing for as long as she could remember. Serving justice.
Megan had said Karin just liked to kill. Had a taste for it, so to speak. Maybe that was true. What was wrong with liking your job?
But all these months—years, really—had culminated in tonight, and Karin now felt let down. Slowing killing Megan was supposed to be the highlight, yet when Karin thought about it, last night, when she shot Hackett and Ethan, that had provided a headier rush of power.
She was going to have to move on. Disappear for a while until she could confirm whether Megan told the truth.
It was Megan’s fault, the bitch.
“Wake up, sugar,” she said. She took a needle and pressed it into her skin. Nothing. She took another. Another. Another. Soon Megan had dozens of needles hitting all major nerve points, and nothing. Was she dead? No! That wasn’t fair! How dare she die like this.
She took a needle and slid it behind her ear.
Megan woke with a scream.
“Good, you’re not dead.” Yet.
The bitch was dumping tears out of her eyes. Rolling them across her face. Her lips were blue. Maybe the ice water hadn’t been such a good idea.
But that part had been fun.
The sound of an approaching vehicle raised Karin’s hackles. She picked up the gun and walked to the front door.
It was a pickup truck. A lone driver. Lost? No. She was too far off the beaten path.
The man got out. Tall, Hispanic, serious. He wore a white collar under a black shirt.
Father Frank Cardenas.
* * *
The SWAT sniper was told to take the first clear shot, provided that the hostage was not in the target’s line of fire.
Jack, J.T., and Matt went around the back of the cabin, low and to the ground. SWAT had provided outstanding intelligence, and the back door was exactly where it was supposed to be. J.T silently picked the lock.
Matt slid into the cabin first, toward the kitchen where the circuit breaker was. J.T. and Jack waited for the count of thirty. It was evident that the two former Navy SEALs had worked together in the past; they shared the same silent understanding that Jack had with his soldiers. The familiarity and ease working with them gave Jack greater confidence. But Padre was at the greatest risk right now. He had these thirty seconds to stay alive.
“Father,” Karin said. “How did you know where to find me? Why are you here?”
“You didn’t come to confession, I was worried about you.”
Something was wrong. She glanced behind her; Megan was exactly where Karin left her, frozen in pain.
She looked back to Father Francis.
“You’re not alone.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d been so damn careful!
“Neither are you. I know about Father Michael.”
Karin’s heart rose to her throat. No one knew about Father Michael. No one. How could he know?
He’s a priest.
“I tried to stop her,” Karin whispered.
Father Francis stepped toward her. “You tried to stop who?”
She frowned. He didn’t know. If God was talking to him, he would know her mother killed Father Michael because Karin went to confess everything and beg for forgiveness. Karin confessed not because she felt bad for the people she hurt, but because she was in love with Father Michael. She wanted to share everything with him. If he forgave her, she’d try to stop for him. For his love.
She’d never loved anyone else.
She shook her head. “No. No, no, NO!”
She raised the gun. The lights went out at the same time she pressed the trigger.
Chaos.
Jack had no time to fear for Padre when he heard the gunshot. The lights went out as J.T reached one in his countdown and they both flipped down their tactical night vision monoculars. Everything Jack saw was in crystal clear shades of green. J.T.’s equipment was state-of-the art and could ultimately save Megan’s life.
Jack quickly moved through the back of the cabin and directly to the table where Megan was restrained. He turned the table to shield her body away from where Karin stood. The suspect was partly obscured by the door and a bookshelf. She stood there, staring outside.
You’d damn well better be okay, Frank.
Megan’s entire body was violently shaking and he immediately thought she was going into shock. She was practically naked, her skin ice cold to the touch and soaking wet. The floor was slick with water as well. Several thin needles protruded from her bruised and bloody body. Jack had to force overwhelming emotions of rage and fear down deep; reacting would put Megan’s life at greater risk. He silently motioned to J.T., who nodded his acknowledgment. While Jack cut off the wrist and ankle restraints, J.T. carefully removed the needles. They couldn’t extract her until he was done, but they didn’t want to risk permanent damage, or death.
Jack whispered in Megan’s ear, “It’s okay. It’s Jack.” He didn’t think she heard him; she didn’t seem to be aware of anything happening around her.
Matt Elliott was moving around the interior perimeter to get into position to take Karin down.
Ten seconds had passed since the lights went out.
Movement from Karin’s side of the room accompanied the loud slam of the front door shutting. Jack stepped in front of Megan and pulled his weapon while J.T. finished removing the needles.
Karin stepped into the main room. She looked stunned, blinded by the dark. A .357 revolver was in her hand, the muzzle still facing out. Jack had a clear shot.
Megan cried out, then bit it back on a sob.
Jack saw the moment when Karin’s night vision cleared. She saw their silhouettes and movement.
“She’s mine!” Karin said and pressed the trigger.
Jack fired simultaneously, and heard the report of a rifle from his left—Elliott—and from above—the sniper— competing with his own rounds. His breath was knocked out of him as Karin’s bullet hit him dead center in the middle of his chest, stopped by the Kevlar vest he wore. He stumbled back, shook it off, watched Karin’s body jerk as each bullet fired hit her. The sniper’s round took off half her head, her brains hitting the wall behind her. She crumbled to the floor.
J.T. shouted at Jack, “Are you hit?”
“I’m okay.”
Jack turned back to Megan while Matt inspected Karin’s body and kicked her gun away, then reported through the radio.
“Target dead. All clear.”
A shout from the back of “Lights!” had the three soldiers removing their night vision eyes.
Megan’s injuries looked far worse in normal light. She was dangerously cold, her lips blue, and her skin so pale she looked translucent. Smears of blood covered her body. Jack and J.T. inspected her for
any serious external wounds. None of the cuts were still bleeding and they all appeared superficial. But there was nothing superficial about the pain Megan had suffered.
Jack pulled a thermal blanket from his pack and wrapped her in it, then picked her up and held her. “It’s me, Megan. I’m right here. You’re safe.”
Matt approached, his face tight and grim. “How is she?”
“Alive.”
That was all that mattered. They would overcome what happened tonight because Megan was alive, and they were together. He wasn’t letting her go.
“The medics will be here in two minutes,” Matt said. They’d been waiting a half-mile down the road.
Matt touched Megan’s wet hair and cold skin. “What did Standler do to her?” he asked, his voice hard.
J.T. said, “Ice water. Needles. We need more blankets.”
Both J.T. and Matt removed their thermal blankets and Jack wrapped those around Megan as well. “Come on, Blondie, talk to me.”
She didn’t open her eyes. Her body was still shaking uncontrollably.
“She doesn’t know we’re here,” J.T. said, his tone clipped with restrained worry. He glanced at Matt with concern.
“Jack.” Megan’s voice came out a faint, hoarse rasp.
“I got you.” He held her tight against his chest.
She didn’t say anything else, and Jack felt her entire body relax against him and grow heavy. She’d passed out again. He had to get her to a hospital. He didn’t know what else Standler had done to her …
Padre.
Jack carried Megan out of the cabin, side-stepping Karin Standler’s bloody body without a glance. The ambulance approached, the red twirling beams casting odd swaths of light against the breaking dawn. A generator roared to life and lights came on around the periphery.
Padre lay in the dirt fifteen yards from the front door. Dillon was there working on him. Jack ran over and squatted, still holding Megan tight against his chest.
“Dammit, Frank! You promised you wouldn’t get shot.”
“I’m okay.”
“She missed the damn vest,” Jack said.
Dillon was holding a field dressing hard against Padre’s left upper arm, where the shoulder met the bicep. The dressing was already soaked red. Blood had spread under him, soaking into the earth. “He’s lost a lot of blood,” Dillon said.
“We have the same blood type. I’ll give in the ambulance.”
“He’ll need it.”
“I’m okay,” Padre said again. “Megan?”
“Alive.”
“Is she okay?” His voice was weak, his breathing labored. J.T. strode over to the medics to push them to move faster than they already were.
“She will be.” Jack had to believe it, even as she lay unconscious in his arms.
“And Karin Standler?”
“Dead.”
“The plan worked,” Padre said, closing his eyes.
“Not well enough. Don’t you dare die on me, Frank.”
A half-smile crossed Padre’s lips, but he didn’t say anything. When the medics rushed up to them, he was unconscious, too.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
Megan sat in the hospital room feeling like an old woman. Sore and so bruised she could hardly move, she was finally being released. Six days was five days too long to stay in a hospital.
The door opened and she thought it was Jack; instead, it was Hans.
She hadn’t seen him since her first night in the hospital. Jack told her he’d flown back to Quantico the next morning. She’d been pretty much out of it.
“Megan.”
“Hi.”
“I heard you’re being released.”
“Finally.” She tried smiling, but faltered. Hans wasn’t the same man she’d begun this investigation with.
“You’re looking better.”
“Better is kind of relative.” She’d lost too much weight, had had borderline hypothermia, and then a severe fever from infection. She didn’t feel like her old self, but she had turned the corner. She was going home. Jack was flying her back to Sacramento today. He hadn’t left her room except to check on Padre.
Hans sat next to her on the bed.
Several minutes passed before Hans said, “I owe you an apology.”
“You don’t. Hans, whatever it is … we’re friends, right?”
He took her hand. “Always.” He paused. “I used to be married.”
Megan was surprised. She certainly hadn’t known that, or even suspected it. “Why did you keep it a secret?”
Hans stared ahead at the white wall of her room. He didn’t answer her question directly, but said, “Her name was Miriam. She was eight months pregnant with our daughter when she was killed in a robbery.” His words were choked. On a sob he said, “Because I didn’t … I didn’t get her ice cream.”
Everything came clear. Hans’s reaction and preoccupation after learning about the pregnant Loretta Hoffman being gunned down. Seeing her body, remembering his wife.
Megan wrapped her arms around Hans. She murmured sounds, not words, in his ear, to soothe him, and her. She’d never known he’d suffered such a violent tragedy. But he still should have trusted her with the truth.
“You could have told me.”
“I should have told you. I was having a hard time and I didn’t realize it. I didn’t see it right away.”
“Why did you go to the morgue to see Loretta Hoffman? You didn’t need to do that.”
He took a deep breath and pulled away. His voice caught. “I had to. Miriam … she was alive for a few hours after the shooting. I told her the baby was okay. I named her Jennifer, just like Mimi wanted to. But the baby didn’t live, never even took a breath, and neither did Mimi. She died there, after telling me to take care of our baby girl. I couldn’t stay—I didn’t want to see her dead. I didn’t want her to be dead! We were only twenty-one. We had our whole lives ahead of us. After she died, I couldn’t look at her, I couldn’t say good-bye. Now … I wish I had. I wish I had seen her one last time.”
Megan took his hand. “Maybe she wouldn’t have wanted you to see her like that. Isn’t it better to remember her as she was when she was alive?”
“Maybe you’re right. But …” He kissed her hand, tears in his eyes. “I’m here for two days to work with Detective Holden to finish the reports.”
“You can call me. I want to help.”
“I probably will.”
Jack stood in the doorway. “You’re not supposed to go back to work for another week.”
“I won’t. Just a phone call or two.”
“I’ll be watching you, you know that.”
She smiled. “I know that.”
Hans shook Jack’s hand. “Jack, take care.”
“You too.”
Hans left and Jack sat down. He gently pulled Megan into his lap and kissed her. “How are you?”
“Ready to get out of here.”
He held her close to him. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry I couldn’t stop her from hurting you.”
The pain in his voice made Megan’s heart twist. “It’s over. It’s been over.”
“Are you okay? Really?”
“I’m sore. I’m tired. I’m not going to forget, but I’m going to be okay. I have you.”
He rubbed her back and whispered in her ear, “I love you, Megan.”
She drew in her next breath sharply. She hadn’t expected that sort of confession from Jack. She knew he loved her through his actions, but hearing it meant the world to her.
His hands held her face. “I know what I want. I don’t play games. When you walked into my life nine days ago, I never wanted you to walk out. Now I’m not going to let you.”
“I—”
“You love me, too, Megan. Say it.”
She couldn’t help but smile and shake her head. “You’re sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
He kissed her lightly, then harder, then his hands were in her hair and
her body was flat against his.
She broke the kiss only to say, “Yeah, I love you, Jack. I don’t know how it happened, but I love you.”
“Good. Then we’re getting married.”
“I—Jack. We don’t, I don’t, we should—”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speechless.”
“Maybe we should get to know each other better.”
“Life’s too short. And I know what’s important.” He stared at her, held her chin in his palm. “Life is important. Family is important. You are important to me. You are my family. I know what’s in your heart, Megan. I know what’s in your soul. All the other stuff—whether you leave the cap off the toothpaste or gargle in the middle of the night or sing opera on the weekends—it doesn’t matter. What matters is who you are, and that I know. You’re mine, I’m yours, and nothing is going to change that.”
“I have a cat.”
“You think a furry feline is going to scare me off?” He kissed her. “Okay.” “Okay what?” “I’ll marry you.” He smiled, and her heart melted. “I didn’t ask.”
Three Weeks Later
Jack walked up the pathway that led to his parents’ house. For twenty years, he’d been estranged from his father because they would never agree on what happened in Panama. But after losing Scout and nearly losing Megan and Padre, he couldn’t leave his relationship with his father unresolved like this.
Megan took his hand and squeezed it. “This is the right thing. You won’t regret it.”
Jack wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know if his father would talk to him. Listen to him.
But he wanted Megan to be part of his family, and that meant his entire family. Somehow, with her by his side, in his life, he gained the courage to stand in front of his father and ask for forgiveness.
Not for his decisions, because Jack knew he’d done the right thing in Panama, even if his actions could have gotten him court-martialed.
But for not understanding his father’s role, his need to enforce the rules, and his fear for Jack’s life and career. Maybe if he hadn’t been a rash nineteen-year-old, they could have resolved this earlier. Or maybe if Pat Kincaid hadn’t been an overbearing colonel who couldn’t see that not all orders had merit, and some were flat-out immoral.
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