Rachel punched the button to end the call.
“Leo probably thinks he’ll be safe as long as he’s got those kids as hostages,” Sullivan said. He leaned forward over the steering wheel as if trying to make the van move faster. “God knows what he’s planning to do.”
“If he hasn’t had any medical treatment, he’s probably in a lot of pain,” Rachel said. “He won’t be thinking clearly.” Leo might have reached his hideout by now, with David and Marcy in tow. What would he do in his fury and frustration when he realized he couldn’t get away, that taking the kids wouldn’t protect him from the police? Rachel imagined Marcy cringing in terror as she realized what was happening to her and her brother.
Why didn’t I do something to help her when I had the chance? Why did I let Tom stop me?
***
Tom braked at the foot of the slope and looked up at the little stone house where Leo’s parents lived. Smoke curled from the chimney.
He studied the lay of the land, assessing the danger to his men. This wasn’t a mountain so much as a series of gentle, tree-covered slopes with a few nearly flat patches of ground. The house and several outbuildings rested on the first of those plateaus a hundred feet above the road. Anyone in the house could look directly down the unpaved road and see any vehicles headed upward.
Next to the roadside mailbox a wooden sign about three feet wide warned Private Property NO TRESPASSING in hand-painted letters.
Tom turned onto the narrow dirt road and started the climb, with the other cruisers close behind.
They were halfway up when two gaunt figures emerged from the house. Leo’s parents took up positions on their front porch, side by side with shotguns aimed at the approaching deputies.
Tom’s throat tightened. A bloody scenario sprang up in his mind, playing out as vividly as a movie on the screen. Whatever happened, they were on their own. They couldn’t get through to the dispatcher on their car radios from out here. Cell phones wouldn’t work. Half the county’s police force was on this job, and they couldn’t call for backup if they ran into trouble.
“They’d be crazy to open fire on all of us,” Brandon said. The tremor in his voice betrayed his fear.
“Get your weapon ready,” Tom said. “We need a show of force.”
Brandon unsnapped his holster and slid out his pistol.
***
“Bridger’s not coming,” Sullivan said. He tapped his fist on the steering wheel in a rapid rhythm.
Rachel grabbed his arm. “If you don’t stop doing that, I can’t be responsible for my actions.”
Sullivan had parked his van at the bottom of a dirt path that seemed to be nothing more than a hiking trail. When Rachel looked closely, she saw tire tracks, probably made when rain had reduced the ground to mud. The trail curved out of sight among the trees, and even with most of the leaves down she saw no buildings or activity up on the hillside. They’d been sitting here for twenty minutes.
“The dispatcher will find him,” Rachel said. “He’ll come.” But how long could she wait, knowing that every minute counted, that Marcy and David could be in mortal danger?
Having stopped his relentless tapping, Sullivan now had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel. “If he doesn’t show up in a few minutes, I’m going to leave you here and go up there.”
“You’re not leaving me anywhere,” Rachel said.
“Look,” Sullivan said, “Leo won’t feel threatened if I show up. I’ll pretend I don’t know about the raid, I’ll say I came to take care of the dogs that fought last—Oh, shit.” His eyes fastened on something beyond Rachel.
Rachel turned in her seat to look out the window and found herself face to face with Leo Riggs.
***
“I don’t see Leo’s car,” Brandon said.
“Doesn’t mean he’s not here.” Tom parked in front of the house, and the other seven cruisers pulled in around his, one by one.
In perfectly matched movements, Jake and Maddy Riggs followed the deputies with their shotguns.
Tom got out of his car. Using the door as a shield, he rested his arms on its top edge with his gun trained on the couple. Brandon and the other deputies did the same.
“Can’t you boys read signs?” Jake Riggs demanded. “This is private property. What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”
The man stood with his feet apart, braced to fire, but Tom thought he saw beads of sweat on Jake’s brow and nearly bald head. He wasn’t as confident as he wanted the deputies to believe.
“Lower your weapons and lay them on the floor,” Tom said. “You ought to know better than to point a gun at this many uniforms.”
“This is our land,” Maddy Riggs said, her pale bony face pinched with anger. She kept her weapon aimed at Tom. “You’re the one that’s got no right to be pointin’ a gun.”
“We’re looking for Leo,” Tom said. “We know he’s been shot. Just let us take him, and we’ll get him right to the hospital.”
Maddy snorted. “Yeah, you’ll make sure he gets treatment—so you can stick him in a prison cell. Or on death row, more likely.”
“That’s for the courts to decide down the road,” Tom said. “It’s got nothing to do with what’s happening here and now. I’m going to ask you one more time to lay down your guns.”
They exchanged a look, then stared back at Tom, their faces hostile and implacable.
Tom shifted his gun, aiming straight at Maddy. He figured she was likely to be the more trigger-happy of the two. If anything was going to go wrong, it would be now, with rage and fear brewing behind those obstinate faces. A band of tension squeezed Tom’s chest. “I won’t wait much longer,” he said.
Jake and Maddy exchanged another look, nervous this time, edgy.
“Do it,” Tom said. “Now.”
They held on for another stubborn moment, their eyes darting from one deputy to another. Slowly, their faces belligerent, they lowered their shotguns. Hatred glittered in their eyes.
“Lay them down,” Tom said.
Again they resisted his order for a few silent seconds before placing the shotguns on the porch floor.
The band around Tom’s chest loosened a little, but they weren’t out of danger. If Leo was around, maybe watching all this, he’d be waiting for the right time to fire his own gun. He would see the protective vest. He would aim for Tom’s head.
“Where’s Leo?”
“He ain’t in our house,” Maddy said. “Go on, tear the place apart if it makes you feel like a big tough lawman. You won’t find him in there.”
But Leo was nearby, Tom felt certain. Somebody would have to stay with Jake and Maddy while the rest of the men spread out, searched the outbuildings. They were not leaving here without Leo Riggs in custody.
***
Rachel swallowed a scream. Sullivan grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him. In the next instant she heard something whack against her window, then shards of safety glass flew into the van, showering her lap, her seat, the floor. When she dared to look around, she saw Leo Riggs, his face contorted with rage, slamming a crowbar against the remnants of the window.
Sullivan fumbled with the key in the ignition, turned it.
Get us out of here, Rachel thought. But they couldn’t leave Marcy and David. They couldn’t run and leave those children behind.
The muzzle of a gun appeared inches from her face. “You’re both comin’ with me,” Leo said.
Chapter Forty
Tom left the protection of his car door and moved closer to the house, his gun still raised. “Where is he?” he demanded.
Jake and Maddy Riggs looked back at him with sullen eyes.
Tom mounted the cinderblock steps. “Is he hiding in one of those sheds out back? Or does he have another hideout around here? You’d damned well better tell me right now. I’m losing patience with the two of you.”
“Leave us alone!” Maddy launched herself at Tom and pummeled his shoulder and chest with her fists.
He raised his gun out of her reach and tried to fend her off with his free hand.
In another second the porch overflowed with deputies, and it took four of them to drag Maddy Riggs away from Tom.
Tom turned his attention back to Jake, who had taken advantage of the ruckus to retreat a few feet. He was leaning down, a hand stretched toward one of the shotguns.
Tom grabbed his arm and yanked him upright. “Somebody get these damned guns out of the way,” he said. As Brandon scooped them up, Tom shoved Jake against the front of the house. “Is Leo hiding out back?”
Jake maintained his show of bravado for a few more seconds, but staring into the barrel of Tom’s pistol brought him around. “He’s got a camp up the hill. Close to the top.”
“Shut up!” his wife screamed at him.
“Is that where he keeps the dogs?” Tom asked.
“Yeah,” Jake said.
“Shut your damned mouth!” Maddy yelled.
“You want us both to get killed?” Jake shouted back. “I’m not aimin’ to die today, woman.”
Maddy let loose a stream of curses.
“Get these two cuffed and out of the way,” Tom told the other deputies. “Put them in separate cars.”
“I’m cooperatin’,” Jake protested. “You got no call to arrest me.”
“Your wife’s going in for assaulting a police officer,” Tom said. “I’m holding you for questioning. I don’t have to charge you.”
Brandon held Maddy’s arms while Dennis cuffed her and recited her rights. She responded by trying to spit at him, but she couldn’t get at him and hit a porch post instead. With the help of both the Blackwood twins, Brandon wrestled her down the steps and into the back of a cruiser. Jake was easier, swearing nonstop but putting up no resistance while Tom cuffed him. Dennis led him to another car.
Tom signaled all the deputies to gather round him. “First we’re going to check those sheds out back,” he said. “Then we’ll spread out and go up the hill. If you spot something, don’t go in alone. Use your two-way to let the rest of us know, then wait for my order.” His own two-way radio was hooked to his equipment belt and turned off. He pressed the button to activate it.
Tom left Dennis to watch Maddy and Jake Riggs. The rest of the deputies followed him. Gun drawn, he moved along the side of the house and peered around the corner. Four weather-beaten sheds dotted the backyard, in no particular order, as if they’d been randomly dropped onto the landscape. The brown shed farthest from the house was about a hundred feet away.
Tom paused to think. If Leo had a camp on the hill, they’d probably find him there. The risk of him opening fire from one of the sheds was slight. But slight risks sometimes led to funerals.
He motioned for the deputies to spread out. On his signal, they charged toward the sheds.
They flung open the doors one by one, prepared to shoot if necessary.
The sheds were crammed full of wood, coal, and a jumble of rusted gardening tools. Leo wasn’t there. Tom could see the deputies relaxing, letting go of the tension generated by fear. But they couldn’t relax for long.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go up this hill and find him.”
***
In the rearview mirror, Rachel saw Leo glowering from the back seat. The cold muzzle of his gun pressed hard into the nape of her neck.
“Drive,” he told Sullivan. “You so much as think about crossin’ me and I’ll blow her brains out.”
“Leo—” Sullivan started.
“Get goin’!”
“Do what he says, Jim, please,” Rachel said.
Sullivan turned the van onto the dirt track and started up the hill.
They were going where Marcy and David were, Rachel told herself. They would find a way to free the children. She had to hang onto that thought. Flicking another glance at the rearview mirror, she said, “You’re hurt. You’re bleeding. You need a doctor.”
“I got two doctors right here,” he said. “You’re gonna do what needs to be done.”
“For god’s sake, Leo,” Sullivan said, “you’ve got a gunshot wound in your abdomen. You need a surgeon, a hospit—”
“We’ll do everything we can,” Rachel said. “We’ll do our best. Right, Jim?”
He locked eyes with her for a second. “Yeah,” he said, shifting his gaze back to the road. “We’ll do our best.”
***
Tom threaded his way among the trees, scanning the wooded hillside. He glimpsed Brandon and one of the Blackwood twins, hundreds of feet away on either side of him, moving upward. He’d lost sight of the other deputies.
In some places the hill was easy going, in others it became steep and rocky, and he worked up a sweat fighting his way through brush and tangled vines. He paused when he reached a narrow plateau. If Jake was telling the truth about Leo’s camp being near the top of the hill, he should be getting close.
Tom saw nothing but woods up ahead. He looked to his right. In a clearing a couple hundred yards away, he spotted a vehicle.
For a crazy second he thought he recognized the old van. Jim Sullivan had driven it out to the Bridger farm often enough over the years when the sheep needed a vet’s attention. But Sullivan couldn’t be here. Tom moved closer. The van was parked outside a cabin built of raw planks, faded to a dry gray. At the far edge of the clearing stood an aluminum shed that was bigger than the cabin. Leo kept his dogs in there, Tom guessed. Fallen leaves covered the ground, and half a dozen posts dotted the clearing, dog chains dangling from them.
Tom unhooked his two-way radio from his belt and brought it close to his mouth. Speaking barely above a whisper, he told the other men to move in. Hanging the radio back on his belt, he started toward the cabin.
***
Rachel and Sullivan stepped into the cabin with Leo’s gun at their backs. The interior was dim, with natural light through a single small window, and bare except for a cot in one corner and a wood-burning stove in another. Next to the stove stood a big black dog.
Rachel’s first thought was that the animal looked identical to the alpha dog they’d captured. Then she heard the low growl rumbling in its throat and saw the glint of bared teeth. This was Leo’s personal dog, Rachel realized with a shock. The dog that had killed Gordon Hall and Beck Rasey. And it wasn’t chained or tied up.
“Down!” Leo snapped.
The dog dropped onto its belly.
Rachel released the breath she’d been holding.
“He does what I tell him to,” Leo said, easing himself onto the cot. He leaned back, propped against pillows, his gun in one hand. “And if y’all don’t do what I tell you to, you’ll have to deal with him.”
Rachel’s throat was so dry she could barely get her words out. “We can’t do anything without more light.”
“Turn on all the lanterns,” Leo said, waving his gun around the room. “There’ll be light enough.”
Rachel and Sullivan moved around the room, switching on lanterns that hung from chains attached to the ceiling. She never turned her back on the dog, and Sullivan was equally careful. Neither of them went near the lantern hanging directly above the animal.
Rachel tried to keep an eye on the dog as she and Sullivan removed Leo’s blood-soaked shirt and peeled off a wad of sodden gauze to expose his wound. Blood dripped from the gauze as Rachel lifted it.
She stared, horrified, at Leo’s abdomen. The ragged hole, six inches across, still oozed blood. Dozens of gunshot pellets studded the muscle tissue. How had he survived this long without treatment?
“Fix it,” Leo said. He breathed in rough gasps, air whistling through his teeth. His grip on the gun never loosened. “Get that birdshot outta my gut and sew me the fuck up.”
This man was going to die, and Rachel didn’t care. All she could think about was Marcy, waiting for Rachel to come for her and her brother. Where are they? What has he done with them?
Jim Sullivan seemed transfixed by the sight of the wound. “Good god, Leo, if we start d
igging around in there you won’t be able to stand the pain. We have to give you something—”
“The hell you will!”
Leo’s sharp tone brought the dog to its feet, nails scrabbling on the wooden floor, its growl turning to a snarl. Rachel went rigid, her breath caught in her throat.
“You’re not dopin’ me up. You think I’m that stupid?” Leo swiveled his head on the pillow to glare at the agitated dog. “Quiet! Down!”
The dog fell silent and lowered himself to his belly. Rachel breathed again.
Sullivan kept wary eyes on the dog as he spoke to Leo. “We need surgical implements. I’ve got everything we need in my van. I’ll go get—”
“No,” Leo said.
“We can’t do anything for you without the right instruments and supplies.”
“I know you, Sullivan. You wouldn’t think twice about takin’ off. You’d save your own hide, you wouldn’t give a damn about leavin’ her behind to get killed.”
Rachel didn’t want to look at Sullivan. She was afraid to see in his face a confirmation of what Leo had said. She kept her head down and waited.
“But she wouldn’t do that to you,” Leo said, his voice a weak rasp. “Would you?”
Rachel raised her head. Leo’s eyes gleamed with the desperation of a man crazed by pain. Sweat poured off his face. The gun wobbled in his trembling hands. The smallest thing could set him off, make him pull the trigger.
“No,” Rachel said. “I wouldn’t do that to him or anyone else.”
Leo snorted. “A real bleedin’ heart. Always wantin’ to help. Too stupid to live, that’s what I call you.”
“Let me get the supplies and instruments,” Rachel said. “I won’t run, not as long as Dr. Sullivan’s in here with you.”
***
Tom edged closer, using trees for cover. He didn’t see the other deputies yet. He would watch and wait until they found their way to him.
The door of the cabin opened and Rachel emerged.
“What the hell—” Tom realized he’d spoken aloud, and he clamped his mouth shut. What in god’s name was she doing here?
Rachel ran across a carpet of fallen leaves to the van, yanked open the rear door and hoisted herself inside.
Under the Dog Star: A Rachel Goddard Mystery #4 (Rachel Goddard Mysteries) Page 28