Desolation Point

by Lisa Phillips

  He balled his fist and slammed it into the man’s stomach in an uppercut. His feet left the ground, but he kicked back.

  One boot hit Drew’s swollen knee.

  He cried out.

  The other man jumped on this, an admission of weakness that could be exploited. And a man who shot someone at point blank range just for fun was all about exploiting a weakness.

  Drew’s knee threatened to buckle. He hit the man again, but the guy was already moving. He used his free hand to punch Drew in the temple, then stomped again with his boot.

  Drew cried out. His legs buckled. He planted one hand on the office carpet, pushed off his good foot and barreled into the guy.

  The man’s back hit the wall.

  The gun went off.

  Two other men rushed into the room. Guys he’d tied up earlier. Drew didn’t quit fighting this one. Not until the others had his arms pinned back. They dragged him to the far wall and held him there.

  The man he’d been fighting stood straight. Brushed off the front of his shirt. His upper lip curled, but he wasted no time lifting his gun.

  It went off, the boom echoing through the room. Drew waited for the pain as the bullet hit him.

  But it never came.

  He opened his eyes and saw the surprise on the man’s face. A red stain began its slow spread across his chest.

  He fell to the ground.

  The other two let go of his arms and launched forward. A man stepped into the room. He shot one, then the other.

  Drew nearly collapsed, but the floor was kind of crowded. “Mark?”

  His friend’s lips pressed into a line. “I think this clears off all debts. Everything I owe you.”

  “Except the pizza.”

  Mark shook his head. “No mushrooms this time.” He held out his hand. Drew took it, partly a shake and partly his needing a steady hand to aid his movement across the room. “Not sure I’ve ever seen you look worse than this.”

  Drew grabbed a chair and sat. He held up a hand and for a few moments just breathed. Adrenaline subsided, leaving shakiness in its wake. An awareness of all the new places he’d just gained bruises. It felt like his whole body was one big injury.

  Sweat rolled down his temple. He swiped it away with a gritty hand. “Ellie.” She probably thought he was dead. They’d taken her. But where?

  “That your girl, the deputy?”

  “Yeah.” She was his girl. He wanted to find her so he could tell her how he felt. No more of this back and forth. She needed to know that he was more than halfway in love with her right now.

  Especially with her, “No” still ringing in his ears. She thought he was dead. He’d heard heartbreak and the wealth of her feelings for him in that one word. It hurt to think she was in pain right now, thinking he was dead.

  I need to set her straight, Lord. Find her and make her safe. After that…well, he wouldn’t mind the chance to kiss her. And to see how she felt about him. Hear her say it out loud, not just listen to the look in her eyes every time she turned that gaze his way.

  “So you wanna go find her,” Mark said, “or are you going to sit in that chair all night?”

  “I don’t know where they took her.”

  “I’m sure there’s a live one. I didn’t kill them all.” He headed for the hallway, his FBI suit shifting as he moved. Mark had always spent far too much on clothes but he claimed the more expensive they were, the better they felt. Drew preferred his jeans and the shirt he’d bought at the grocery superstore two towns over.

  That only made him wonder what Ellie’s stance was on all that. She was hardly a heels and purse kind of woman, but what did he know? Drew wanted the chance to find out. Take her to that steak place and get the chance for them both to dress up.

  Mark tapped his fingers on the side of his leg. “Seriously. Come on.”

  Drew got up, swayed. Sat back down.

  “Yeah. Scratch that. Stay there, I’ll be back.”

  True to his word, his federal agent friend reappeared a minute or two later and shoved a guy to the floor in front of Drew. “Talk.”

  The man spat. In whose direction it was supposed to have gone, Drew wasn’t sure.

  “Where did they take Deputy Maxwell?”

  “How should I know?” The man’s handlebar mustache twitched even when he wasn’t speaking.

  “You know.” Drew motioned to Mark. “And this special agent with the FBI is going to prove it.”

  “I got two strikes.” He glanced between them. “I can’t go down again.”

  “Guess you should’ve thought about that before you took a job working for a bunch of people breaking the law. People who want you to do their dirty work.” Drew let his frustration bleed into the words. “And unless you want to be charged with accessory to the murder of a sheriff’s deputy on top of everything else, then you’d better start talking.”

  The mustache moved again.

  “Maybe we should just kill him, find another one,” Mark suggested.

  Drew had seen that look in his eyes. He wasn’t serious. But the guy on the floor didn’t know that. “So what’s it gonna be?” He motioned to the guys Mark had shot. “End up like them. Go to prison for the rest of your life…or tell me where they took her.”

  He glanced at Mark. Or, more specifically, at Mark’s weapon that was pointed at him. Then he looked at Drew. “Fine. I’ll tell you what I know.”

  Chapter 19

  Ellie crawled across the carpet to her father. They were in a house. A brand new house that seemed to be still under construction. Near as she could tell this was a complex of townhouses, maybe the one on the outskirts of town. Upmarket residences no one who worked in town would be able to afford. So who would buy them?

  She didn’t care what Alan’s business plan involved. Not right now, anyway. Later on she would use the law to come up against this. No matter what the outdoorsy-types who worked remotely, and their disposable incomes, did for the local economy.

  “Dad.” She patted his cheek, scared to wake him. Would that just make his pain worse?

  “I’m awake.” Like he’d just been taking a nap.

  He cracked one eye open. The other one was swollen shut. She did a mental inventory of the rest of his injuries. They’d said there was no internal bleeding, but that was then. Maybe his condition had changed with all the moving they’d done.

  “We have to get out of here.”

  His head shook, a tiny movement. All he could do. “Go.”

  “I’m not going to leave you here.”

  “You can get help. Bring them back here for me.” But she didn’t believe him. It was there in his eyes, that determination to do the right thing. To make sure she was safe. Regardless of what happened to him in the process.

  “I’m not going to just leave you here.”

  “You will.” He shoved at her with a weak hand. “Go, Ellie. Before they come back.”

  Someone chuckled. Across the room Deputy Coughlan stepped into view holding a shotgun. Talk about overkill. Then again, he’d had some funny ideas all along.

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” She turned and sat, her body providing cover for her father’s. Whether Coughlan shot her or not, she wasn’t going to let the blast hit her father. “Maybe I knew it all along.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  “Working with Barb. Under a little old lady’s thumb this whole time. Figures.” She was mad enough she wasn’t sure if she could stop herself before she completely provoked him.

  He’d probably shoot her then.

  Still, all she could consider was how seriously frustrated she was right now. She couldn’t help her father. She hadn’t been able to help Drew. She hadn’t known her best friend was betraying her—along with the rest of the town.

  Mad was much better than overcome with sadness. One gave you the strength to do what was necessary, while the other paralyzed you. She had no wish to be overcome with grief. That could come later, when she was alo
ne.

  Laney stepped around him. Coughlan’s whole demeanor changed. She had a paper in her hand. He paid it no mind, but—wow—the look on his face. He was in love with her and Laney had no idea. She walked over, then frowned back at him. “Lower that shotgun, Peter.”

  He did.

  Under the thumb of another woman? Ellie tried to figure out how she could use that. Meanwhile, Laney pulled a pen from her back pocket and handed it over along with the paper.

  “What is this?” The reason why she was still alive?

  “Alan wants you to sign this.” Laney swallowed. “It’s the deed to your father’s land, which you will inherit after his death.”

  “And who am I signing it over to—” She paused. “—in the event of my untimely death?”

  Laney paled. “Alan.” Her voice broke, but there was no other reaction.

  Ellie looked away and shook her head. “No one is going to believe that is legit. I can’t deed him property I don’t own and have it still be valid...even after my suspicious murder.”

  “Actually, evidence has come to light.” Coughlan took two steps toward her. She saw his boots out the corner of her eyes. “Turns out you’re the leader of a group forcing people from their homes. I discovered this, and I came here to confront you. Unfortunately, I had no other choice but to shoot you before you could hurt someone else.”

  Laney let out a whimper.

  But she didn’t put up a fight against Coughlan.

  Ellie shut her eyes. “You guys have thought of everything, haven’t you?” She wanted it to sound sarcastic, as though she still had the strength to put up a fight. But she couldn’t, and her words only sounded sad.

  “Just sign it.”

  She looked at her friend. “No.”

  “He’ll kill your father,” Laney said. “And then Deputy Coughlan is going to kill you.”

  “Good luck explaining all that away. Especially when Drew told everything to his friend at the FBI.” He trusted Mark, and Mark was coming here. She prayed the assistant director wouldn’t be swayed by easy explanations. That he’d trusted Drew’s judgment of her and what was going on in their town.

  She prayed justice was done even after they were all killed.

  “Ellie.”

  Outside, a grouping of gunshots sounded. Three round bursts. It was answered by single shots. Someone cried out.

  Coughlan ran from the room.

  Laney slumped in front of her. “Why couldn’t you just do what Franz wanted?”

  “Because I’m not going to roll over when a bully comes at me. I stand. And I fight.” She lifted to her feet then, just so Laney knew she was prepared to do that right now.

  “I tried to tell you. I tried to give you enough information to figure it out,” Laney cried. “You and Drew never connected until you went looking for Simon Mills, but when you did that’s when I knew you were going to figure it all out. I wanted you to. Don’t you understand? I basically told you everyone that was in the group. You were too stubborn to realize.”

  “Like I was too stubborn to realize my best friend was right in the middle of it?”

  “I didn’t have a choice. And I didn’t know what Franz was doing until it was too late to stop it. He’s the one that hurts people. Besides, we pay the homeowners plenty of money to go live somewhere else.” She sucked in a breath and continued with her emotional excuse.

  That’s all it was, an excuse.

  And Ellie couldn’t listen to it right now. She wasn’t going to let Laney try and vindicate herself. Not when her father was lying behind her, and Drew was dead. And not just because Franz had decided to go on a rampage just to cover up everything he’d done.

  “This has gone too far,” she said. “You can’t get out of this when you stood there and let him murder Mills.”

  “He would have shot me, too!”

  Ellie shook her head. What was she supposed to say? Laney should have done the right thing from the beginning, and then it would never have reached this point. She couldn’t have known it would end with murder. But she should have known it wasn’t worth manipulating people just to get her business running. Nothing was worth hurting someone else.

  Coughlan ran back in, breathing hard. “Get up.” He yelled it as he turned back to the door. “Your boyfriend is here. It’s time to go.”

  She was already standing. Laney grabbed her arm, Ellie wasn’t sure why. She couldn’t tell if Laney was about to drag her along with her, or if she was standing with Ellie in solidarity.

  All she could think of was one thing.

  Drew was here.

  . . .

  Ellie.

  All he could think about was getting to her. His head filled with it. Like it swelled up because his mind was so overwhelmed. Nothing else mattered. Not in the whole world.

  Mark went first. Drew followed him down the front walk to the open door, so thankful his friend was here. He needed this backup. And the solidarity of having a friend here to help him.

  Mark said, “Where’d he go?”

  They’d shot out the front window. Franz had moved out of sight, but where had he gone? They breached the front door.

  “Ellie!” He couldn’t hold it back. He had to get to her. Had to know she was okay and that her father was as well. Who cared where Franz went? So long as he didn’t—or hadn’t—hurt Ellie, Drew knew he would find him. Justice would be done.

  A gunshot blasted.

  They separated, both moving for opposite walls. Shotgun. Nasty, and Drew had no intention of getting hit by it. Shotguns were serious overkill. Hard to hit what they were aimed at, but they more than made up for it in destruction.

  He didn’t need a gunshot wound he wouldn’t be able to recover from. And neither did he want Mark to get hurt. His friend might be here with authorization from his boss. But Drew would have some serious explaining to do if the special agent got hurt here, helping him. Drew didn’t want to have to fill out that report. Or face Mark’s sister in order to explain what had happened.

  He fired twice and then moved to the living room for cover. Looked around for Franz. There was a closet, but nowhere else the man could have been hiding. There was no furniture at all. So he had to have headed for the kitchen.

  “Drew!” Her voice rang down the hall.

  The shotgun ratcheted, and then he fired again.

  Everything in Drew wanted to rush forward, down the hall. Get to Ellie.

  Between them, one of Franz’s guys—or the man himself—stood with a loaded shotgun. Behind cover. Hiding somewhere Drew couldn’t see.

  He heard the guy ready it to fire again. Franz hadn’t had a shotgun when he’d been in the front window. Was this someone else?

  Drew motioned to Mark with a tip of his head, then disappeared. Hopefully this open plan layout meant there was a way from the living room to the kitchen, then to the hallway where that gunman stood. Could he cut the guy off? Come up on him from another direction and take him down?

  He prayed again, not having stopped since all this kicked off. Just one long, continuous dialogue. And wasn’t that the way it was supposed to be? Too bad it took Ellie being in mortal danger to get him to figure out how that worked. He couldn’t just pray whenever he remembered. He needed to keep that dialogue going all the time.

  Sorry, Lord. Drew was going to keep asking for help, though. They all needed it.

  He reached the kitchen and found the back door open. He rushed to it, finding cover. Franz raced down the hill behind the house. Dirt, no landscaping yet, and it was slippery. He stumbled. Drew could follow his footprints. But not until he got that gunman neutralized.

  Mark fired off two shots from his SIG, still in the front hallway.

  The shotgun-wielding man fired back.

  Drew crept to the refrigerator, not plugged in yet, and leaned his shoulder against it. He looked around the corner.

  Deputy Coughlan.

  Behind him was a room, but Drew couldn’t see inside. And if he called out a
gain he would give away his position. Never mind that he’d find out where Ellie was. She was here, and his heart cared more about that. Enough to try and convince his brain that calling out and giving himself away was the thing to do.

  Drew pushed all of it aside and lifted his weapon. “Put it down, Coughlan. It’s over.”

  The deputy swung around, rage on his face. Drew had never liked that guy. And he certainly didn’t trust him.

  Drew launched his body away from the spot where he’d been standing. The shotgun blast filled the air with cordite and the sound of a firework. Drew hit the floor, his ears ringing. He lifted his gun and put pressure on the trigger.

  A gun went off, but not his.

  Coughlan fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder.

  “Hold your fire!” Ellie stepped out of the room. She kicked the shotgun away from Coughlan. Saw Mark.

  Turned.

  Then she saw him, standing there staring back at her. Her jaw dropped. “It’s really you. I thought I was imagining it.”

  Mark came over, sliding his SIG back into its holster. “One for me?”

  Drew got up. “Both of them.” He motioned to where Laney stood.

  “I’ll do it.” Ellie held out her hands. Mark handed her a pair of handcuffs. Drew had another pair, which Mark used to secure Coughlan while he lay on the floor moaning. Bleeding. The man had a gunshot in his shoulder, but they didn’t want him pulling anything before they got him to the hospital under armed guard. He looked fit and able to try something. Like go for someone’s weapon.

  There was still the matter of the emergency alert. It needed to be called back. Things had to go back to normal at some point. Hopefully soon. But there was one more thing they had to do before they could tell everyone it was safe to come out of their homes.

  “Franz is out there. I need to go after him.” If they waited much longer, the guy was going to get away. Drew turned to Laney, now wearing cuffs courtesy of her former best friend. “Where would he go?”