Some ten feet away, behind another tree, a sniper crouched. The insignia on his uniform read Utah State Police. If negotiations went south and they had to go tactical—storm the cabin—the snipers would provide cover as the SWAT unit moved in to breach the door.
In the next minute voices on the TAC channel sounded in Randy’s ear.
“Volt and Rex ready.”
Shaley, just a little while longer. He pictured the teen freed, calling her mom. Randy couldn’t wait to see that.
“Bray and Starsky ready.” Cover for those two would be the garage, on the other side of the cabin.
“Bear and Eagle ready.”
Eight law enforcement vehicles, both from the sheriff’s department and Utah State Police, gunned up the dirt road. Two of them carried the rest of the SWAT unit’s gear in their backseats—masks, ear protection, and other equipment needed if the team had to go tactical. For now the men did not wear the masks, as they decreased visibility. The cars slid to a halt, kicking up dust, lined up one behind the other. A man leapt out of each car and squatted behind it, weapon aimed at the target. One of them was Adams.
Shaley’s kidnapper had to be feeling the heat about now. What would he do?
From inside the cabin, Randy heard the phone start to ring.
One jangle. Two…three…four…Randy lost count after ten.
He knew Trayna was phoning from the command post, Stockle by his side. If the HT didn’t answer the phone, Trayna would move behind the sheriff’s department vehicles and use the megaphone. But that would be a one-sided conversation. Always better to engage the HT, try to win his trust. It was the best chance of persuading him to give up.
The phone rang and rang…then stopped. Randy exchanged a glance with Coop. Not good, but not unexpected. It could take hours for an HT to decide to talk. Hours more to convince him to surrender.
The phone started ringing again.
Randy thought of Rhonda and Stevie. They’d be getting up about now. Stevie would be eating breakfast—pancakes, since it was Sunday. Rhonda would make him a special one in a heart shape. Stevie loved that. He’d insist on buttering it himself. And he’d pour on too much syrup.
Ten rings…twelve…more.
Randy squinted at the cabin windows. He saw no peering face, no hand with a gun. What was happening inside? Randy shifted on his feet. This was the hard part—waiting.
Time ticked by. The phone rang and stopped, rang and stopped. After half an hour, Randy heard Stockle’s voice in his ear. “We’ve giving up on calling. Moving in to megaphone.”
Soon a sheriff’s deputy car drove up behind the others and stopped. Trayna got out. Using the cover of all the cars, he stooped low and made his way as close to the cabin as possible.
“Ronald Fledger!” Trayna’s amplified voice split the quiet morning air. “This is Chuck Trayna from the Utah State Police. We want you to come out with your hands behind your head. We have the cabin surrounded. The best way out of this for you is to come out quietly. Nobody will be hurt.”
The words faded away—then silence.
Randy focused on the windows, seeing nothing.
Stockle waited a few minutes, then tried again.
No response.
A third time. No response. Just agonizing quiet.
Sweat trickled down Randy’s neck. The longer the silence, the more likely they would hear the sound they all prayed wouldn’t come—one shot in the cabin, followed by a second.
The HT’s murder of his victim, then his suicide.
Randy held Shaley’s image in his mind. So young. So much to live for. A cold feeling crept through his gut. Something was wrong inside. Very wrong. They should have seen something, heard something by now. Even if the HT shouted at them to go away. Better to hear him curse and rave than this impenetrable silence.
Trayna tried again and again. Each time—nothing.
Randy and Coop exchanged another glance. The time was coming for Plan C. They could feel it.
Trayna lowered his megaphone and fully disappeared behind the deputy’s car.
No words in Randy’s earpiece. Most likely Trayna was on the second channel that connected him to Stockle and Bear. As commander of the mission, it was Stockle’s decision alone to make the call to go tactical.
In the lull birds sang in the forest, and a breeze ruffled the weeds around the cabin.
What was happening in there? What was the HT planning?
Randy let his eyes glide over the deputies behind their cars, pistols aimed at the cabin. He could see Rex and Volt in their positions at the rear. He couldn’t see the other four on the team, but he knew they were there, weapons ready. All those guns. All that ammunition. And one seventeen-year-old victim who could so easily get caught in the crossfire.
A crackle in Randy’s ear. Bear’s voice came over the channel. “Stockle just gave me the green light. We’re moving in.”
24
If anybody comes here to rescue you—you’re dead.” I gaped at Joshua, his words echoing in my head. The 9-1-1 operator had said the police were on their way. Now it was too late to stop them.
Joshua caught my wrist in a viselike grip and swung toward the bedroom door. With a jerk he pulled me behind him. “Come on,” he growled.
I stumbled after him, sick and trembling. Up the hall he dragged me, then down the stairs. Tears blurred my eyes. We hit the first landing. I tripped and fell into Joshua. He grabbed a bunch of my hair and pulled me up like a broken doll. I yelped. He shoved me over to the couch and pushed me down. “Sit. Don’t move.”
I cringed on the dingy sofa, head hanging.
Joshua stomped over to the TV and smacked it on. Punched the channel button again and again. Was he searching for news? Fear chewed at me. Surely my call wouldn’t be on the news this fast…
All we saw were commercials.
Joshua ran into the kitchen. Rummaged through drawers. With a grunt he banged the last one shut and strode back to me, carrying a three-foot piece of rope. “Gimme your hands.”
I did as I was told. He wound the rope around my wrists, a sneer on his face. “Thought you could beat me, didn’t you. Thought you could get away. Guess what, Shaley. No one’s taking you away from me alive. Not ever.”
25
Brittany slumped in a chair next to Rayne in the great room, numbly watching through the rear windows as sunlight leaked into the backyard.
At five in the morning Ed Schering, needing something to do, had rounded up Rayne’s three bodyguards plus his own security guys to bring down the great room furniture from the storage shed. Now all the Rayne band members, including the three backup singers, were gathered with Agent Scarrow in the big room. Some stood, some paced. Carly, Shaley’s favorite backup singer, sat with her dark head bowed—probably praying. Kim and Morrey huddled together on a couch. Ross stood with legs apart and arms folded, gazing out the back windows at the rear gardens.
Agent Scarrow stood near the wall, one hand rubbing his lips. His phone—their connection to news, the bright possibility of this horrible nightmare ending—sat clipped to his belt.
Tension vibrated the room. No one spoke.
Feeling wooden and heavy, Brittany turned her gaze to the floor. A dozen terrible scenarios whirled in her head. Shaley, killed by her kidnapper. Or caught in the crossfire of her rescuers. Shot dead…wounded…paralyzed for life.
God, please get her out of there safely!
Agent Scarrow’s phone rang. Brittany jumped.
Every person in the great room tensed. Every pair of eyes snapped to the FBI agent.
He pulled the phone from his belt. “Scarrow.”
Brittany clutched Rayne’s hand. Her heart whirred into erratic beats.
“Okay.” Agent Scarrow focused across the room. He wouldn’t look at Rayne. Did that mean something? Why wouldn’t he look at her?
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
He punched the end button and lowered the phone. Finally he met Rayne’s
gaze.
Stop! Brittany thought. Stop, don’t tell us! What she heard next could kill her—and she didn’t want to know…
Gary wrapped an arm around Rayne’s shoulder. His breathing sounded ragged.
Agent Scarrow spread his hands. “They can’t get an answer out of the suspect. The SWAT unit is moving in.”
“Unnhh!” Rayne let out a wail. Gary clung to her, still as a stone. Kim gasped, and Ross uttered a curse. Brittany couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk or cry. Rayne’s head slowly turned toward her, and they locked eyes.
Within minutes, this horrible nightmare would finally be over.
But would Shaley still be alive?
26
At Bear’s command, Randy and Coop abandoned their positions in the forest, as did the other men in the unit. Within one minute they had regrouped, taking cover behind the deputies’ cars. Double the adrenaline now pumped through Randy’s veins. Storming the cabin was necessary but so risky. So many things could go wrong.
Bear spoke low and rapidly, telling them the plan. “Okay.” He nodded. “Mask up.”
From the backseats of the two vehicles, they pulled their extra gear. Volt carried an attachment for his weapon—the XM–26, which used short-range, nonlethal bullets that could turn a door’s lock into dust. Once the breach was complete, Volt would transition his weapon to fire lethal bullets.
Randy pulled on his mask and fixed the protection over his ears. Outside sounds muted. He could hear the thump of his heart. Sheriff’s deputies on scene donned their own ear protection.
Crouching down, the men formed their lineup. Bear signaled go to the two state policemen, who’d put on their own similar gear. They took off toward the woods to circle behind the house.
Randy gripped his MP5, every muscle in his body gathered to spring.
Seconds ticked by. Randy envisioned the two officers. They’d be reaching the rear woods by now, taking out their flash-bangs. When they threw the grenades to create a distraction, they’d look away, eyes closed—
Bang, bang! Through his ear protection, Randy heard the muted explosions.
“Go!” Bear’s command.
Randy jumped up and stacked against the man in front of him. In a tight unit, they ran toward the front door. They flew up two steps. Volt veered to the left side of the door, Rex toward the right. Volt raised his weapon and fired at the lock at a forty-five degree angle. The lock disintegrated. He kicked in the door.
Rex threw in a flash-bang.
Randy jerked his head away, closed his eyes.
The stun grenade exploded.
Bray stormed inside, gun raised. The rest of the team pressed in after him.
Every man peeled off in his specified direction.
Randy jumped inside the cabin behind Coop, his eyes glued to his target—the staircase to the right. In the split second it took him to reach the bottom step, he sensed the quick movements of Bray and Starsky as they cleared the downstairs.
No gunfire.
Randy pounded up the steps.
In front of him, Coop swerved left. Randy stayed inches behind him.
Bear and Eagle cleared the threshold of the first door and ran inside. Coop and Randy sprinted to the second. Weapon up, Coop checked around the doorjamb, then burst inside. Randy followed.
Small bathroom.
Tub, sink, toilet.
Clear.
They returned to the hall.
Still no gunshots. Vaguely, Randy heard the men in the second bedroom.
“Downstairs clear.” Bray’s voice in Randy’s ear.
“First bedroom clear.”
Randy keyed his radio. “Bathroom clear.”
He looked toward the second bedroom. The only place left.
Rex stepped into the hall. “Second bedroom clear.”
Randy’s muscles sagged. No way. The cabin was empty?
No HT, no Shaley.
Mission over.
Just like that.
Everything in Randy’s body slowed as his adrenaline tried to dissipate. He shook his head at Coop. He still couldn’t believe it.
“There’s a TV on down here.” Bray again. He cussed, sounding like Randy felt—crushed. “Must be the voices the deputy heard.”
Randy leaned against the wall and let out a long breath. They’d failed. The HT had escaped—hours ago. And Shaley O’Connor would now be in more danger than ever.
27
I lay on my side in the third-row seats of the Explorer, hands still bound with rough rope. The fibers bit into my wrists, and my head pounded. My whole body felt weak. Dully, I gazed at the back of the dirty beige seat in front of me, the scene at the cabin playing over and over in my mind.
I never should have called 9-1-1.
After Joshua had tied my hands, he slammed out the cabin’s front door, pulling me with him. “We’re leavin’ now. No rest for us here—thanks to you.”
We didn’t even stop to turn off the TV.
He hauled me to the garage, pulled up the door and jerked me inside. Getting into the Explorer was harder with bound hands. Joshua pushed me in and ordered me to the third row. “Lie down on the floor.”
He backed out the SUV, then hopped out to close the garage door. We sped away from the cabin so fast I was sure we’d crash.
That was, what, two hours ago? It was just turning light outside. I couldn’t tell if the sun had risen.
How long would this go on? What would happen when we stopped next?
At least the police knew what kind of car we were driving. They’d be looking for it. Did they know the license plate? Why hadn’t anyone found us by now?
My stomach felt so empty. And I needed water.
I couldn’t live like this.
My eyes closed, tears squeezing through my lids. Fact was—maybe I wouldn’t.
It wasn’t something I’d allowed myself to think about before. But the more I tried to push it away, the stronger the feeling grew. The police knew our car and they knew the cabin. Still, Joshua had gotten away. And he was going to kill me. Maybe today. Maybe tomorrow or next week. But I could never become the subservient wife living in the wilderness that he wanted me to become. If he thought he’d brainwash me to believe in his false Christianity, he was in for a surprise. I wouldn’t. Ever.
One day he was going to get tired of my fighting.
“Shaley!” Joshua barked.
I tensed. “What.”
“I’m going to stop soon. We’ll get a different car. I don’t want you to move until I tell you to, hear? Then you’re going to do exactly what I say.”
“I have to go to the bathroom.”
No answer.
“Joshua!”
“Shut up.”
Get a different car. The words registered. How was he going to do that?
From deep inside me, a new voice whispered. The voice of justice.
Minutes ticked by. The voice grew stronger.
If I didn’t live through this, never saw Mom and Dad again, there was one thing I could do—make sure this man paid for what he did to me. Make sure he wasn’t free to kidnap someone else.
I needed to leave evidence. A trail of clues to prove where I’d been, what Joshua had done.
Vengeance and anger washed over me. It felt good, energizing. I could do something, even kidnapped and with my hands tied.
The Explorer slowed.
Reaching up with my bound hands, I stuck out my right thumb and pressed it hard against the bottom of the window.
I brought my hands to my hair, still loosely bound in the rubber band. Took hold of a small lock and pulled. Pain scratched my skull. I didn’t care. I pulled harder. The hairs came out. I dropped them on the floor.
Our car turned right, then bumped over an entrance.
I swallowed. “Where are we?”
“I told you to shut up.”
The Explorer stopped. I held my breath. Joshua’s seat squeaked as he got out. His door slammed.
Silence.
>
Heart thudding, I dared to half sit up and peek through my window.
We were in a parking lot behind some big store. Joshua stood with his back to me by a maroon four-door car that faced the opposite direction of the Explorer. He was doing something to the driver’s door.
Breaking into the car.
The door opened. Joshua pulled up straight and glanced around. I ducked back down in my seat.
A short time later I heard a motor start.
How did he do that?
The engine kept running. Joshua’s footsteps came around the rear of the Explorer. The back door opened.
“Get out,” he snapped. “Hurry.”
I sat up and wriggled my way to the end of the seat. Pushed to my feet and struggled forward. Joshua caught my tied wrists and pulled me down to the pavement. “Move.” He shoved me around the Explorer and to the maroon car. Opened the back door. “Get down on the seat.”
I slid inside and lay down. Joshua slammed the door.
More noises came from the SUV. Joshua opening up the back? A door on the Explorer closed. Joshua reached into the driver’s seat of our new car, seeking a button. The trunk popped open.
I heard a muffled thump as he threw things inside.
A suitcase? His possessions? I’d never even looked in the back of that SUV.
The trunk closed. Joshua ran around and jumped into the car. With a surge of the engine, we took off.
Only then did the realization fully hit me. The police would be looking for the Explorer. They wouldn’t know about this car—my new prison. And Joshua would be free to take me farther and farther away.
As the sun rose, streaming light from the passenger side windows, I lay on the seat and cried. There was no help for me now.
Mom, Dad. I’ll never see you again.
I had no strength even to pray. But the voice of vengeance inside me did. The voice begged God that he’d lead the police to the Explorer. That they’d discover my hair and the fingerprint. And that they would know Shaley O’Connor had once been there.
Final Touch Page 8