Sam Jennings and Max Becker—the two officers who’d arrived in vests with the chief—were breaching the front door of the cabin, sending it right off the hinges with a powerful blow from a battering ram.
Peter’s “wait!” was lost beneath the boom of the flash-bang tossed through the threshold. As white light exploded behind the curtained windows, the two officers rushed inside.
Even though he knew it was too late, Peter started running. His heart pounded harder than it had for his first raid. Every freezing-cold intake of breath seemed to seize his lungs.
A flash-bang was disorienting—basically a stun grenade that rendered your eyes and ears useless. When used on civilians, they dropped their weapons to cover their eyes or ears. By the time they figured out what was happening, they were being shoved to the ground by tactical officers.
But the Desparre police force rarely used them, and they didn’t have a tactical unit. All they had were regular officers who received special tactical and weapons training each month in case an emergency unraveled too quickly to wait for state police or the FBI. Five years in war zones had taught Peter that sometimes it didn’t matter what weapons or tactics were used. With a determined-enough opponent, impossible odds suddenly became possible.
He didn’t know a lot about Darcy Altier beyond what he’d read and what Alanna had told him. But he’d witnessed her state of mind. She was volatile, desperate, prone to big swings of emotion. And right now she had three hostages who might be between her and the officers who’d rushed inside blind.
Chief Hernandez was moving, arms spread wide, to block him from rushing into the house. Peter paused, unsure whether to race around her or run right through her.
Then Sam and Max emerged from the cabin, looking grim and shaking their heads.
Peter choked on the sudden emotion that rushed up his throat, then he was pushing the chief aside and running into the cabin.
He waved his hands around to clear the smoke, expecting to see all of them—Alanna, Darcy and the two kids—dead on the floor. But there was nothing but an abandoned shotgun on the floor.
He glanced around, wondering if he’d missed another room, but there were no doors except the open one leading out the back. Darcy and the kids were gone.
So was Alanna.
Chapter Ten
“Follow their footsteps,” Chief Hernandez ordered, already out in front with her weapon raised.
Peter hurried up beside her, insisting, “We need to be careful. We have to assume Darcy is holding the kids. She dropped the shotgun, but she still has a pistol. Alanna is probably trying to talk her down.”
Chief Hernandez gave him a look full of disappointment and disbelief, then motioned for Sam and Max to catch up.
They were tracking two fresh sets of footsteps that led away from the back door of the cabin, with stride distances that indicated the people who made them had been running. The tracks led through the woods in the opposite direction of where the officers had been buried under snow. Back in the direction of downtown Luna. But before that, they would hit a road that might take them toward Desparre or farther north into even more remote parts of the state.
There’d been no vehicle in the driveway, no garage. Had Darcy hidden it at the edge of the woods, near the road, so the cabin would look deserted? That was logical.
Peter put on a burst of speed, panting with exertion that would make his gun hand shake if he caught up to Darcy and she swung her pistol his way. He passed Chief Hernandez, Sam and Max, ignoring his boss’s curse and shout to wait. If they hadn’t already left, if Alanna was with them, Peter wanted to reach them first.
Darting around trees, Peter’s gaze shifted back and forth from the footsteps in the snow to the area in front of him, hoping he wouldn’t misjudge a step, run right into a tree and knock himself out. He slowed as the road became visible and then skidded to a stop at its edge, where the footsteps ended and deep tire indents marked the spot where a vehicle had once sat.
They were gone.
A big chunk of snow fell off a tree overhead onto his head, sliding down his face and inside the back of his coat. He wiped it away just as the chief caught up to him.
“This was a total disaster.” Holstering her weapon, Chief Hernandez got in his face—not an easy task, since she was a good four inches shorter.
Still, Peter straightened and clamped his jaw shut. He knew better than to piss off the chief—at least any more than he already had.
“When I tell you to wait, you wait.” She poked a finger at his chest, fury in her gaze. “You’re my responsibility, Robak. We’re not a big police force, but we’re a team. If you want to be part of it, you need to act like it.”
She strode past him, heading down the road back toward the cabin. Sam and Max followed her. Sam gave him an apologetic glance; Max ignored him entirely.
Peter’s shoulders slumped and a shiver racked his body as the cold and exhaustion hit. His jeans and gloves were completely soaked through and the snow that had dripped down the back of his coat was uncomfortable. He looked once more down the road, then followed his fellow officers.
Had Alanna chosen to get in that vehicle with Darcy? Or had she been forced inside?
He frowned as he glanced at the ground in front of him. Was that an extra set of footprints he was seeing? Had someone else come back this way? Had Alanna chased Darcy, been unable to catch her before she took off in her vehicle, then returned to the cabin?
He hurried to catch up to Chief Hernandez Sam, and Max, noticed them frowning at the extra footprints, too. The chief even had her weapon out again.
The walk back to the cabin didn’t take long—it was a straight line compared to the curved, roundabout route through the woods. But the frigid wind picked up and made him shiver harder, made it seem much farther than it really was. When they finally arrived, Tate was shivering by the road. Chance stood next to him, pressed up against his side as if trying to warm him.
“Did Alanna come back this way?” Peter asked. “And why are you out here? Why didn’t you warm up in my truck?” Peter glanced around, realized it wasn’t there and asked, “Did some of the officers take it back? Is everyone okay?” Was Alanna okay? Where was she?
“Everyone’s fine,” Tate said, his teeth actually chattering. “But it’s not us who took the truck.”
“What do you mean?”
“Apparently, while you were still digging me out and the chief was busy watching the front of the cabin, Alanna ran back from the road and took it.”
Peter frowned, realizing that Darcy had been gone long before they’d tried to track her through the woods. That meant Alanna had been climbing into his truck instead of running into the snow to help him pull out Tate.
Tate shivered harder, wrapping his arms around himself. “Nate and Charlie said she was alone. I guess they thought it was okay, since she’d been on your side the last time they saw her.”
“She’s still on my side,” Peter said, although suddenly, he wasn’t sure.
Chief Hernandez shook her head and holstered her weapon, heading past them toward her vehicle. Sam and Max followed.
Peter just continued to stare at his partner, trying to understand. Why would Alanna come back here but not wait for him? Why would she take his truck but not explain herself to any of the officers?
At least she was okay. She wasn’t a hostage. She wasn’t dead.
But if she’d taken his truck, she was trying to chase Darcy down alone.
“We need to catch up to her,” he told Tate. “She could be in trouble.”
“Right now, we all need to warm up and change or we won’t be good for anything.” Tate stroked Chance’s head with hands that shook. “Since Alanna took off, maybe we can make Chance here our K-9 representative.”
Tate had been trying to convince the chief they needed a K-9 unit for as long as Pe
ter had known him. The chief had always countered that the department barely had enough money to pay for officers and their training, let alone add dogs to the mix. Maybe today would change her mind.
Chance looked up at Tate, then over at Peter, as if asking where Alanna was.
“We’ll find her, boy,” Peter told him.
“Robak! Emory! Get over here,” the chief called from inside her SUV. The rest of the officers were already crammed inside. “I’m driving you to the spot the other vehicles were hidden before this unsuccessful raid.”
Peter felt himself jerk at the term raid. The plan had been for the other officers to be backup, in case things went south. Not for them to jump into action from the outset. Hadn’t it?
He glanced sideways at Tate, wondering if anyone else had noticed the slipup. Or if his partner would look guilty for hiding the true nature of their “help.” But Tate was just striding toward the SUV, looking miserable.
Still, his fellow officers had hidden in the woods. They’d obviously waited while Peter and Alanna tried to talk Darcy down. Maybe a raid had been a last resort if the negotiation soured. Or maybe they would have run straight in if it had been clear they could get to the kids safely.
“No one who was in the avalanche is driving.” The chief looked Peter over as he, Tate and Chance joined her, then added, “Not you, either, Robak.”
He took her point. Everyone who’d been buried in the snow—and him, since he’d been hip-deep in it, digging men out—were soaked and freezing. Although all he felt was miserably cold, the rest of the team might have had their core temperatures drop enough to make driving dangerous.
Last night, even after waiting until they’d warmed up some, Alanna had still been violently shaking as she’d navigated those mountain roads. Thinking about her made him anxious to get moving and he yanked open the back door.
Tate’s eyebrows raised as they saw how crowded it already was. “I don’t think we’re getting two more men and a St. Bernard in there. Why don’t you come back for us?”
The chief scowled at him, then the back seat, then finally nodded. “We’ll be fast. The vehicles are less than a mile away. I want everyone who was in the avalanche checked out at the hospital.”
When most of the officers grumbled, she snapped, “No arguments.” Then the back door was slammed shut and the SUV was off, kicking up snow.
“Were you planning to surround me, Darcy and Alanna no matter what?” Peter demanded as soon as they were alone.
Tate turned to him, his lips still tinged blue, his face still too pale. “Are you kidding? Look what just happened here, man. Your backup hid and waited for your signal. Did you even see us out there?”
When Peter shook his head, Tate continued. “Yet somehow, Darcy knew. How do you think that happened?”
Anger heated him. He knew the rest of the team had already been thinking it. But he and Tate weren’t just partners; they were friends. Tate should have trusted his judgment. “You’re insinuating that Alanna tipped her off?”
Chance glanced from him to Tate, as if waiting for the reply, too.
Tate sighed, shaking his head. “She stole your truck. Why do you think she did that? Maybe she was trying to slow you down so you couldn’t catch up to Darcy and she’s mad you brought backup. Or she’s been talking to Darcy from the start and she couldn’t shake you, so she just brought you along and told Darcy what was going down.”
Peter took an aggressive step forward and Chance, sitting between them, got to his feet, looking wary. The dog nudged his arm, as if telling him to calm down.
Peter absently pet Chance, trying to reassure him as he snapped at Tate, “Alanna didn’t even know you’d be here. What happened to you thinking Alanna was genuine, that she was trying to help us?”
“Maybe she was,” Tate replied, not looking at all threatened by Peter invading his personal space. “But maybe she had second thoughts. Let’s be honest here. You cut her out by calling us in secretly. But that doesn’t mean she didn’t figure out what you were doing. Was she ever alone? Did she ever have a chance to warn Darcy before you two came out here? She probably didn’t expect Darcy to shoot at us, but—”
“Alanna would never tip off Darcy. She’d never put those kids in danger.”
“Wouldn’t they have been in less danger if she’d told the police what she knew as soon as she found those locations? You have to admit it—she still loves Darcy. She’s still trying to protect her. What happened to you thinking she had some warped loyalty to her kidnappers?”
“I got to know her,” Peter said softly, backing up a step as his shoulders slumped. If even Tate didn’t believe in Alanna now, what would happen if they caught up to Darcy and Alanna was with her?
Tate nodded, the anger on his face softening as he stared at Peter. “You care about her.” It was a statement rather than a question. “But look around here. She took your truck. She hasn’t tried to contact you. She even left her dog.” He gestured to Chance, who whined and lay on the snowy ground.
“She’s not coming back.”
* * *
CHANCE LOOKED UP from the spot he’d claimed on the floor of the Desparre police station and gave a low whine.
They hadn’t heard from Alanna in five hours and Peter definitely wasn’t the only one feeling anxious over it. He leaned down and petted the St. Bernard to comfort him.
“He really shouldn’t be in here,” Chief Hernandez said, but she sighed and petted him, too.
The chief couldn’t be too stern with the dog who’d just saved half her force from an avalanche. The same couldn’t be said of the way she was treating him. Furious was an understatement. He wasn’t sure if it was because he’d tried to outpace them in the woods to reach Alanna first or because of everything that had gone wrong the moment they’d driven up to that tiny cabin.
She straightened and peered over his shoulder at his computer. “Any luck?”
Since they’d returned to the station, he’d been trying to figure out the other locations Darcy might have gone. Last night, he’d given Alanna a tiny notebook to jot down whatever she could remember of the list she’d found at the cabin. She’d spent over an hour writing things down and crossing them out until she’d finally gone to bed. While she’d slept, he’d slipped into the guest room and snagged the notebook off the side table.
He’d tried not to look at her at all, feeling like he was invading her privacy, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself. The sheets had been twisted beneath her, her long hair tangled around her face, her eyes moving rapidly underneath her eyelids as she dreamed. Was she reliving the avalanche, he’d wondered? Dreaming of her past? Or worrying about Darcy and those kids?
In that moment, he’d had the absurd desire to curl up with her and chase away her nightmares. Then Chance had walked over and Peter had realized the big dog had been watching him from the floor beside Alanna’s bed. He’d given the dog a quick pet, told him everything was fine and gone into the other room to copy the contents of the notebook.
The mix of odd symbols, numbers and blank lines—where presumably Alanna had been trying to remember what she’d seen—hadn’t meant much to him last night. They didn’t mean much more now. She’d translated some of the code, but not enough.
He shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Luna police haven’t had a single sighting.”
Apparently they’d been notified about what was happening less than five minutes after Peter had contacted Tate. It made sense; the cabin was in Luna PD’s jurisdiction. But it still bothered him that so quickly after he’d called for backup, it seemed like everyone knew what was going on. It made him wonder if there was some other reason Darcy had been tipped off, like she’d spotted Luna patrols driving by too often before the Desparre team had arrived.
Still, once the Desparre officers had headed to the hospital after the avalanche, Luna’s
had swept in. Their PD had set up roadblocks to search for Darcy. Although no one had mentioned it to him, Peter suspected they’d been told to stop Alanna, too. He hadn’t protested. He would have been happy if they’d held her, prevented her from catching up to Darcy on her own.
By now, Alanna was either still following Darcy in his truck or she’d lost her and was back to following the list of coordinates. Peter refused to consider the other possibility: that she’d caught up to Darcy and the woman had hurt her.
Peter stared down at the notes he’d taken from Alanna’s room. The truth was, he had a couple of guesses, coordinates he’d worked out based on what she’d written. But that was all they were—guesses that could be dead-on or hundreds of miles off course.
His chief narrowed her eyes at him, like she knew what he was thinking and wanted the specifics anyway. Before he could admit he had some possibilities, she told him, “According to the hospital, all of the officers are okay. Most of them are heading back to the station now.”
“Most of them?”
“They’re hanging onto Tate a bit longer. His core body temperature was a little low when he came in and they don’t want to take any chances.”
Peter swore and Chance came over to drop his head onto Peter’s lap. Absently stroking the dog’s fur, Peter realized how much Chance relaxed him, eased his worry over his partner and Alanna.
Chief Hernandez looked from him to the St. Bernard and back again. “Luna PD isn’t too happy with how everything shook out today. I think they’re wishing they’d said no to our request to handle it. They think it’s time to put out a message to the public, enlist their help.”
“Okay,” Peter said slowly. “But I thought we were holding off on that in case it escalated things.”
“It’s been five hours,” the chief reminded him. “Darcy got through our checkpoints, probably before we even had them up. If Alanna hasn’t been in contact by now, she’s not going to be.”
“Maybe she can’t. Her phone could have—”
Alaska Mountain Rescue Page 10