Line of Fire

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “Fine,” he muttered. “I heard what happened outside the house, and I’d be hanged before I let that fellow get away with it. This place once had a chicken coop attached, so I snuck around and came inside from there.” From the ripped sleeves of his flannel shirt and the ugly-looking swelling on his forehead, I gathered it hadn’t been as easy as he made it sound.

  “Good thing you left me the gun,” he added, pocketing the pistol.

  I wanted to hug him, but the pain etched on his face warded me off. Besides, there was still the matter of Jenny Vandyke.

  Shannon had reappeared at my side. “Let’s get him over there.” He pointed to a sturdy-looking crate between a green cooler and the wood stove, whose light was almost extinguished now. Cody let out repeated grunts of pain as we helped him to the crate.

  I met Shannon’s gaze and could see his concern. “I’d better check with Tracy,” he said. “See how far out help is.”

  I nodded but didn’t take my gaze away from Cody. “Kirt got away,” I told him. “He said he was going after Jenny. Levine has partners, and I assume those are the men from Portland who want to take revenge on Jenny’s birth father. You have to tell me where she is.”

  Beside me Shannon stiffened.

  Cody nodded. “Okay. I’ll take you there.”

  He knew. Cody had known where Jenny was all along. The sick feeling once again knotted my stomach.

  Chapter 23

  I tried not to show emotion at Cody’s admission. I’d come to Hayesville to find out if my birth father had any connection to the girl’s disappearance, and now I knew.

  “Is she still alive?” I asked.

  Cody scowled. “Of course she’s still alive.”

  “Why did you take her?”

  He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them. “Look, let’s just get there before Kirt does.”

  “Tell us where,” Shannon said. “You need to get to a hospital.”

  “And after that, prison.” Huish appeared beside us. “Give us the address, old man.” Cody shook his head. “It’s a new place. Not on any GPS. You won’t make it in time if he’s already found the right location. I have thirteen properties I bought under my new company, but there’s no telling how many he’s already checked out.” He grimaced. “I don’t even know the exact address without my files. I just know how to get there.” He folded his arms, trying to look tough, but only succeeded in looking closer to passing out.

  Thirteen properties? Just how successful was his art?

  Shannon met my eyes, and I nodded. “Commander, I’ll take full responsibility for him,” Shannon said. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere with that wound, and if we wait for backup, we might miss the opportunity to get there before Kirt does.”

  “You should be in a hospital yourself,” Huish said.

  Cody stood. “Do you want to save her or not? Because if they take her, you’ll never find her, and you’re the one who will have to explain that to Mrs. Vandyke.”

  Huish didn’t think long. “I’ll call you after I talk to our backup,” he told Shannon. “Let me know where you are, and I’ll coordinate with the FBI and local law enforcement to meet you there.”

  “Will do.” Shannon took one of Cody’s arms and started toward the door. I didn’t know which one was holding up the other.

  We appropriated one of Levine’s cars, a sleek, black sedan. Cody collapsed in the backseat, looking considerably worse by the moment. I told myself I shouldn’t care, not after he’d taken Jenny, but somehow I still did—and not only because I wanted to know about my heritage. He’d saved us. He was a hero, and yet he’d known where Jenny was all the time. The two things didn’t make sense. I couldn’t even dwell on why he’d taken Jenny or how much he might have hurt her.

  “Head west toward Keizer,” Cody said from the backseat where he was sprawled. “Yeah, turn here and go straight until I say to turn.”

  Police lights and sirens drew our attention. Three cars and an ambulance passed us, driving fast, and a double row of cars ahead blocked our way.

  “Looks like Tracy came through,” Shannon said.

  Even after seeing Shannon’s badge, the FBI agents wouldn’t let us pass until they called Special Agent Cross and received permission.

  After passing the blockade, we drove in silence for several minutes until Cody said, “It’s not what you think.”

  I shook my head. “You knew all this time.” Whatever he said couldn’t possibly make it better.

  Words tumbled from his lips. “It was my idea, but I was only helping Mrs. Vandyke. She knew her daughter had been searching for her birth father and about his visit. She was scared.”

  I remembered Gail’s lack of surprise when we told her Jenny had been searching for her birth father. Not only had she known but apparently she’d acted to protect her daughter.

  Cody shifted his position carefully. “At first she just asked me to follow Jenny after school for a few weeks, make sure she got home okay. But the child met up with her birth father—that convict—at a restaurant, and two other men seemed to be following her every day to and from school. I never saw Kirt outside the restaurant like he claimed, but I saw Jenny’s birth father arguing with the men following the girl. They talked about money and drugs before threatening him, and I knew Jenny was caught in the middle of something really bad. When I told her mother, she said she knew exactly what kind of man Jenny’s father was, what kind of men he ran with, and asked me what to do. I told her if it was me, I’d hide Jenny, that I’d do anything to make sure none of those men got to her. She asked me to help, so I did.”

  My anger seeped away, leaving me defenseless and weary. “Mrs. Vandyke knew?”

  “Yeah.”

  I remembered her assertion that Cody had done nothing wrong, how she’d defended a man she supposedly barely knew from her charity work. Now I understood her motivation.

  “She should have come clean to the detectives.” Shannon glanced over his shoulder and then back to the road.

  “She was scared. She wanted the police to find who was stalking her girl—both the parties—but at the same time she didn’t want to tell her secrets.” Cody paused before adding, “Some secrets should never be told.”

  His words were so close to how I felt about certain imprints that I knew he’d also experienced private moments from others that he wished had remained secret.

  “You’re saying Mrs. Vandyke hoped the deputies would catch Jenny’s birth father without their knowing his motive?” Shannon asked, shaking his head. “Reminds me of how Bremer wouldn’t tell us he was her biological father just to save his own hide.”

  “Well, he’s scum and he wouldn’t since he was involved with drug running. Anyway, if Mrs. Vandyke had told the detectives the truth, Jenny would probably be far away with that Levine character—or whoever he is.” Cody grimaced at a bump in the road.

  I supposed Gail’s behavior made sense in a twisted way. “So, instead, Jenny’s now only facing being kidnapped by a very angry, wounded man who has something to prove.” I didn’t keep the acid from my voice.

  Cody shrugged and then winced at the effort. “Anyway, I guess Mrs. Vandyke thought that if Bremer did claim to be Jenny’s father, the investigation would still prove he wasn’t fit, so he couldn’t fight her for custody.”

  “Well, with the stabbing and what happened at the gas station, that part’s taken care of.” Shannon’s voice was dry. “I don’t think there’s much chance of anyone giving him custody any time soon. But there could be charges for Mrs. Vandyke. Falsely reporting a kidnapping.”

  “That was Mr. Vandyke,” Cody said. “He loves that kid. His wife should have told him, but she was too afraid.”

  “You mean too afraid to tell him Jenny wasn’t her daughter.” I wanted to shut my eyes and go to sleep for a million years.

  Cody nodded. “I didn’t exactly know all that in the beginning, but I figured it out soon enough.”

  “From imprints,” I said.


  Cody’s eyes went to the back of Shannon’s head before nodding again.

  Shannon glanced at me. “He knows about you?” Who I was to Cody, he meant.

  “He saw my eyes.”

  “Besides,” Cody went on, “like I said, we had no doubt about those men’s intentions. We both thought the detectives would work harder if Jenny was already missing.”

  I couldn’t speak to that, but Shannon’s jaw tightened, and I knew he didn’t agree. “Why one of your properties?” I asked. “Weren’t you worried about being a suspect?”

  Cody shook his head. “We didn’t think I’d ever be connected. But once they knew about my record, no one wanted to look further.”

  “Could have been Levine who pushed them to look at you,” Shannon said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Or maybe it was finding the boot.”

  Cody grimaced, his face looking skeletal in the dark car. “Jenny must have dropped it before she met up with her mother that morning. They pretended she was going to school so it’d look real. I was supposed to make a distraction for the men following her and then meet them. But Gail got stuck in a conversation with her neighbor and was late, so I made Jenny wait under that tree because it started snowing. Must have been then that she lost the boot. She had her backpack full and was carrying a bunch of other stuff.”

  If I’d touched the real boot, I might have learned all this. By exchanging it to protect himself, Levine had actually helped Gail Vandyke keep her biggest secret.

  I had ten more minutes to contemplate the shift in facts and how I now felt about Cody. Even as I turned on my phone’s GPS feature and reported our heading to Commander Huish, I was thinking about telling my sister and how happy she’d be.

  Or would be if Cody was telling the truth. I wanted to believe.

  Finally, we pulled into a subdivision where only two houses had been completed. Construction supplies and machinery lined the entire block.

  Cody pointed. “It’s that one at the end. The one with the light.”

  Shannon cut his headlights and drove down the street. “No cars. That’s a good sign.”

  “Unless he’s already been here,” Cody said grimly.

  A thought occurred to me. “She’s not here alone, is she?”

  “No. Mrs. Vandyke has a friend there. An old lady. Probably eighty-five or more.”

  “Not exactly great protection.” Shannon eased the car to a stop.

  “There was no reason for anyone to ever look here.” Cody reached for the door but let his hand drop. “You guys go ahead. I think I’m going to hold up this seat for a bit.”

  “You still have that gun?” Shannon asked.

  Cody’s only response was a weak nod.

  I went with Shannon up the walk. “We have to call an ambulance,” I said.

  “Agreed. Let’s just make sure Jenny’s still here.”

  “How do we get in?”

  “We knock.”

  “At two in the morning?”

  He grinned. “She’s a teenager away from her parents for the first time. If she’s there, she’ll be up.”

  The house was a small, brown, modern home, perfect for a young couple with maybe one or two children. The door had a pane of glass that showed us the small entryway. On the porch, we could hear the TV blaring even at this late hour. Shannon stood behind me as I knocked. Wearing Levine’s deputy jacket, at least I looked official—and my leg wasn’t covered in blood.

  I didn’t stop holding my breath until I saw a thin, hunched lady with white hair shuffling toward the door. “Who is it?” she called through the glass, looking frightened.

  “Police,” Shannon said. “We’ve been sent by Cody Beckett and Mrs. Vandyke. We believe Jenny’s in danger. Is everything okay?”

  She nodded. “Fine. We’re just watching TV. Before I let you in, let me see your badge.”

  Satisfied, she opened the door and led us across the entryway into a living room where Jenny lay on the couch, her eyes glued to some late-night TV program. She looked about twelve and her long blonde hair framed her delicate face like an unruly cloud. She gazed at us curiously. “Time to go home?”

  I nodded.

  She grinned. “Good, because even though Mom comes to see me, I miss my dad and my brother. Should I get my stuff?”

  “We’ll come back tomorrow for it. Right now, we have to leave.” I didn’t want to be here if Kirt showed up.

  Shannon punched on his phone as we walked to the door. “Agent Cross? Detective Martin here. I take it Huish has filled you in? Good. We have Jenny. Yes, she’s fine. We’re taking her to the station, but I was wondering if you were up to a little stakeout to see if that clerk shows up. Commander Huish has his hands full at the moment, and I’m not sure who has local jurisdiction. Oh, good.” Shannon lowered the phone. “She’s already on her way. We’ll let her wait for Kirt while we take Cody to the hospital.”

  My hand was on the front doorknob, but a movement in front of the house alerted me. Something wasn’t quite right. “Wait, don’t hang up,” I said. I flipped off the lights and peered out. A van had pulled up next to our borrowed sedan. Shannon joined me as I counted five dark figures.

  All of them carried assault rifles.

  “Uh, change of plans,” Shannon told Agent Cross, pulling out his gun. “We have at least five armed visitors who just arrived in a van. I’ve only got ten rounds left. How far away did you say you were? Well, hurry! I’m going to barricade us in.”

  The old woman and Jenny stared at us. “What’s going on?” Jenny asked, her voice high and thin.

  I was still staring outside, willing none of the black figures to look in the backseat of the sedan.

  Shannon dragged me away. “Is there any place without a window?” he asked, his voice remarkably calm.

  “L-1-1-1-aundry r-r-r-oom,” stuttered the woman, her eyes fixed on his leg and the red stains.

  “Show the way. Go!”

  We hurried through the kitchen to a little room, where Shannon handed me the gun and the phone before locking the door and heaving the washer in front of it.

  “Everyone, get down behind the washer,” he ordered, taking back his gun.

  “Agent Cross?” I said into the phone.

  “We’re on the street. I see the van.”

  I sighed with relief. “There’s a guy in the backseat of the sedan,” I told her. “He’s been shot. He’s with us.”

  “Cody Beckett?”

  “Please keep him safe.”

  “We’ll do our best.” The line went dead.

  Jenny was huddled next to the old woman. “Don’t worry,” I said. “The FBI is outside. This is only a precaution to keep you both safe.”

  “Then you’re really the good guys?” Jenny asked, her voice quavering.

  I forced a smile. “Yeah, we are.”

  Shannon met my gaze briefly before turning back toward the door. Fresh blood seeped through the makeshift bandage on his leg. I wanted to reach out to him, but we had to stay alert.

  The shooting began.

  We ducked instinctively as a bullet ripped through the top of the laundry room door, followed by three more. More shots echoed throughout the house. Shannon’s back was against the washer as he crouched behind it, his gun lifted partially over the side. Ten rounds. Would it be enough?

  Shouts and more gunfire but farther away now. Shannon threw me a reassuring smile.

  Seconds later, the shooting ended, and we heard knocking outside the door. “Hey, Martin, you in there? We got ’em.”

  We moved the washer and opened the door to find Cross standing there, grinning, her short blonde hair unperturbed.

  “With the way they’re jabbering,” she said, “something tells me we’ll be recovering that semi they got away with.” She looked us up and down as we squeezed around the washer to join her. “I don’t know which of you looks worse. Good thing we have a couple ambulances on the way.”

  Shannon smiled, but when he took a ste
p, his leg gave out. I hurried to him, helping him lie down on the carpet. “I’m okay,” he said, his head in my lap, “but I think I’ll wait right here for the EMTs.”

  “You do that.” Cross holstered her gun. “Once when I was shot, I had to walk a mile for help. Hardest thing I ever did.”

  “What about Cody Beckett?” I looked up at Cross.

  Her smile faded. “Doesn’t look good, but I’ll tell the EMTs to take him first.” She motioned to Jenny and the old woman. “Come on. We have agents ready to take you to the sheriff’s station. By the time we get there, your parents should be waiting.”

  • • •

  Four hours later I was in a hospital waiting room, staring sightlessly at a tiny TV as we waited to see if Cody would be all right. They’d whisked him into surgery upon his arrival, which had lasted nearly three hours. He’d made it through but was still in critical condition, and they were slowly bringing him back to consciousness.

  Shannon’s wound had been bandaged and the remaining bullet fragments removed. The bullet hadn’t caused any major problems, though Shannon was already griping about using crutches and the possibility of being forced to take a vacation. He was cranky, unshaven, and needed a shower.

  “Maybe my captain won’t even know,” he said. “Who’d tell him? I mean, if I can ditch the crutches.”

  “Tracy,” I said.

  His partner was there. In fact, at the moment she was hunting for our breakfast. She’d left Portland immediately after calling the FBI, worried they wouldn’t get the job done. She’d missed all the excitement, though, and she was irritable because of it.

  I received a couple of stitches in the back of my head, though I couldn’t for the life of me remember injuring that part of my body. Worse, I’d broken my second toe on my left foot in that last fight with Levine, and after my boot was taken off, it had swollen as big as a banana. My brain was fried, jumbled with scenes from the day’s imprints, and I felt like falling down and sleeping for a month. In the mirror, I looked even worse, my bruises purple and mottled, raw red patches everywhere. But nothing else was broken or dislocated, and I would recover completely. I felt lucky.