Ranger Courage

by Lynn Shannon

  “We’ll get her back.” Weston didn’t take his eyes off the road. He couldn’t at nearly sixty miles an hour in town.

  “She’s the knight.” Avery’s voice was hollow. “Knights were soldiers in medieval times. Savannah did three tours in a war zone only to come home and be kidnapped from her own church by a lunatic.”

  They didn’t have confirmation Savannah had been taken by the Chessmaster, but in his heart, Weston knew she had. Troopers had been assigned to watch over Marla and Savannah until Rachel’s disappearance. Finding the missing woman had taken priority, and every available law enforcement officer was pulled to pursue leads. It’d left Savannah vulnerable. Something Weston was mentally berating himself for.

  He whipped into the church parking lot. Sheriff deputies held back reporters and townsfolk. Debra’s funeral service had been cancelled. The church was a crime scene.

  Weston circled to the rear of the church and stopped at the service entrance. Luke and Emilia were in the vehicle behind him.

  Calvin met them at the door. The retired FBI agent went straight into a report. “We were setting up the reception area. The pastor’s daughter asked Savannah to assist her in the kitchen with final food preparations. They left, but the pastor’s daughter got sidetracked by another issue. Savannah went into the kitchen by herself. We discovered she was missing thirty minutes later.”

  “Did you conduct a search of the building?” Avery asked.

  “There’s no need.” Calvin pointed to a camera overhead. “We have video. Come on.”

  He led them to the church office. Marla rose from the couch, tears staining her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Avery. She was only gone—”

  “No.” Avery hugged her grandmother. “This isn’t your fault.”

  “It’s mine,” Calvin said. “I shouldn’t have let Savannah out of my sight.”

  “No one is to blame except the man who took her,” Avery said. She passed a knowing glance at Weston. “No one.”

  Her words didn’t relieve his guilt, but they put a dent in it. Weston pointed to the television on the wall. Four camera angles were frozen on screen. Two showed the church kitchen, two others were on the rear parking lot. “Time is of the essence. Let’s see the video.”

  “I’ve got it cued up for you.” Calvin hit a button on the computer.

  On screen, Savannah appeared in the kitchen. She removed some trays from a high shelf and set them on the stainless-steel countertop. Out of camera range, something caught her eye. Her mouth moved. Weston surmised she was talking to someone. Beside him, Avery squinted, as if trying to read her sister’s lips.

  A man came into view wearing a blue hat, jeans, and a button-down. He was heavy-set and a beard covered the lower half of his face. Weston stepped closer to the screen. He’d seen the man before but couldn’t place where.

  Avery gasped. “It’s Tom Belvin.”

  Luke shot her a glance. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. He’s altered his appearance with a fat suit and beard, but it’s definitely him.” She pointed to the screen. “It’s the way he walks. Like a bodybuilder.”

  “She’s right,” Weston said. “I couldn’t place it, but I recognized him too.”

  On screen, Savannah nodded and turned her back. It was all the opportunity Tom needed. He grabbed her head and shoved it into the countertop. Savannah fought back and nearly escaped, but Tom jabbed her with a syringe. She went limp.

  He carried Savannah out to the parking lot and loaded her into his SUV. The plates were spattered with mud. The entire incident, according to the clock on the security camera, lasted for two minutes.

  Weston’s fingers twitched, and he had the urge to ball his hands into fists. Instead, he turned to Calvin. “We need a still shot of Tom to hand out to all law enforcement, along with one of his vehicle.”

  “The pastor is already making copies in his office. I’ll get them.”

  “I’ll join you, Calvin.” Luke turned to Marla. “Ma’am, can you come with us? I’d like to ask some follow-up questions.”

  “Of course.” Marla swiped tears from her cheeks. “That man in the blue hat was here all morning helping to set up for the funeral. He seemed so nice.”

  They left the room, and Avery sank into a chair. “Well, that explains why Savannah let him get close to her. She had no reason to be on guard.”

  “It’s not uncommon for killers to attend the funerals of their victims.” Emilia stepped over to the computer. “Or in this case, assist in setting up one. It allows the killer to relive the murder.”

  She replayed the video. “He’s deviated from his pattern, but it’s still there. A blitz-style attack, using a rear door, and kidnapping the victim. And yet…something is bothering me.” Emilia leaned against the table, her eyes glued to the screen. “I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Tom used his own SUV this time.” Weston watched again as the attacker loaded Savannah into his vehicle. “The other times he used a delivery van with stolen plates.”

  “That’s because a delivery van would’ve stuck out.” Emilia pointed to the other vehicles in the lot. “Every other car is personal. He wanted to blend in.”

  “Everything about him is designed to blend in,” Avery said. “The clothes. The beard hides the bottom half of his face. And the bodysuit he’s wearing makes him appear out of shape and harmless.”

  Emalia nodded. “The disguise is to hide his identity, but the choice he made when selecting it supports your assertion, Avery. When did your sister and Nana decide to assist with the funeral?”

  “They’re part of the decoration committee for the church. It’s standard for them to be here for a funeral.”

  “The problem is Tom doesn’t fit the profile.” Emilia squinted at the television screen. “He’s mild-mannered. Other than the drug arrest, he has no criminal history. He’s never physically abused any of his girlfriends. His boss described him as awkward and not prone to independent thinking. Tom’s a follower, not a leader.”

  “So what are you saying?” Weston rocked back on his heels. “We have the wrong man?”

  “No.” Emilia frowned. “Profiling isn’t an exact science, but personalities are important—”

  Avery’s cell phone rang. Weston’s gaze shot to her as she pulled it out of her pocket. The caller’s ID had been blocked. She answered, hitting the speaker option. “I’m going to lock you in a jail cell and watch you rot.”

  The Chessmaster laughed. With the voice distorter, it sounded mechanical and cold. “You have to catch me first. Your sister is my insurance policy. Theater building. Five minutes. No cops.”

  “I—”

  “Do as I say or I’ll kill both Savannah and Rachel. Ditch the ranger, Avery. You have five minutes.”

  Nineteen

  It took four minutes to get back to the university. Weston and Avery spent it coordinating with Grady via cell phone. They needed to trick Tom into believing they were following his instructions. Undercover officers, dressed as students and faculty, were being mobilized.

  “Priority number one is keeping civilians safe,” Avery said. “There’s no telling what Tom has planned, and I won’t put innocent lives at risk. The second is capturing Tom alive. The third is me.”

  She didn’t want any confusion about what the goals of this operation were. Police officers, no matter their uniform, were a family. They would try to protect Avery, and Tom might get away in the process.

  “Understood,” Grady said. “I’ll make sure they know. Avery, there isn’t time to wire you with a camera and microphone.”

  “I know. Tom designed it this way.”

  Noise came over the truck’s speaker. It sounded like Grady was walking. “Weston, a change of clothes will be waiting for you in the music building. First floor, men’s bathroom. An earpiece as well, so you can hear what's going on.”

  Avery couldn’t imagine where Grady located an additional pair of clothes to fit Weston so quickly. She prayed the disguise woul
d fool Tom into believing she’d ditched Weston as ordered.

  Weston turned into a faculty parking lot. “Avery will be in the theater building on time. Thanks, Grady. Stay safe.”

  “You too.”

  Avery undid her seat belt with a snap and reached for the door handle, but Weston gently grabbed her elbow, halting her exit from the truck. The look in his eyes crushed her. Worry mixed with love.

  “I’m counting on you to come out of this in one piece, Avery. Do you hear me?”

  She kissed him, quick and hard. “Yes. Rumor has it, there’s a candlelight dinner in my future.” Avery took his hands in hers. “Can you lead us in prayer?”

  Weston bowed his head. “Lord, wrap us in Your strength and wisdom. Help us do Your bidding. Protect those that are innocent, especially Rachel and Savannah. In Your name, we pray.”

  “Amen,” Avery said. She took a deep breath. The heavy weight of responsibility bearing down on her shoulders wasn’t gone, but it did feel lighter. “Let’s do this.”

  She exited the truck and ran down the walkway. Weston veered off, headed to the music building. Avery slowed to an easy walk as she approached the theater building. Five minutes on the dot. Her hands were clammy, and she shook them out before tamping down on her jitters. There wasn’t any room for self-doubt. The Chessmaster would use it against her.

  Shoulders back and spine straight, Avery pulled open the door and stepped inside. Music and a cacophony of people greeted her, far more expected on a Saturday afternoon. The scent of pizza drifted in the air. Where had all these people come from?

  A corkboard hung on the wall and she scanned it. A flyer caught her attention. Open House Party. Free food. It wasn’t one of the scheduled events.

  Her phone rang and Avery glanced at the caller ID. Blocked.

  She answered it. “You arranged for a crowd.”

  “I thought it’d be better that way.”

  It was. Easier for the Chessmaster to get lost during his escape. Her gaze swept the lobby. “And I was so hoping it would be just you and me.”

  “Soon it will be.”

  A shiver raced down her spine. The voice distorter only made his words creepier. She scanned the lobby again. There were so many people, it was hard to keep track.

  There. A flash of blue on the second-floor landing caught her eye. The man was standing perfectly still in a sea of moving people. His back was to her, and a blue hat covered his hair, but Avery recognized him. He was still wearing the same shirt and jeans from earlier. Tom Belvin.

  She stepped toward him, but a crowd of rowdy college men got in her way. She lifted her gaze back to the landing, but Tom was gone. Had any of the undercovers seen him?

  “Go down the hall on your left,” he ordered. “Quickly.”

  She followed his instructions, keeping to the center of the hallway. Victor’s attack from a few days ago—was it only a few days?—was fresh in her mind. “Where is Rachel?”

  “You’ll see her soon. Go out the door at the end of the hallway, down the walkway, and into the athletic center.”

  Her footsteps faltered. The athletic center was under construction. It was closed off from the public. No one would be able to follow her inside. “I—”

  “Now, Avery.”

  A click punctuated the order. He’d hung up. Avery gritted her teeth and shoved her cell phone back inside her pocket. There was no choice. Two innocent women were counting on her. She undid the snap on her gun holster, and jogged down the hall to the door.

  The fire alarm in the theater building went off. Screams echoed from the lobby. Avery paused with her hand on the handle, but only for a second. Tom had made this move before at his house. The alarm would create chaos and draw law enforcement to the theater building.

  Avery traversed the short distance to the athletic center. A flock of crows lifted off from a nearby building, flying overhead like a bad omen. It sent a shiver down her spine. She typed a code into the panel on the door, and the lock released. The metal handle was cool against her heated palm.

  Avery pulled her gun and, heart pounding, stepped inside.

  The door shut behind her with a click. It echoed across the empty lobby, bouncing off the marble floor. She forced a deep breath. Was that…music?

  It was faint but there. Hair rose on the back of Avery’s neck as she moved through the lobby. The sensation of being watched plagued her. Her heart skittered as the location of the music became clear.

  The pool.

  Avery quickened her steps, racing to the pool area. The scent of chlorine burned her nose and humid air smacked her in the face. She stole a few precious seconds to clear the immediate area. Several closed doors led to locker rooms and other areas of the athletic center. She didn’t have time to search thoroughly. There was something at the bottom of the pool.

  She raced around the edge to the deep end. No, not something. Someone.

  Rachel.

  With shaking hands, Avery undid her service belt and boots. She set them on the edge, along with her gun and cell phone, and dove in. The water was murky from sitting stagnant during the building repairs.

  Please, Lord. Please don’t let me be too late.

  She kicked, dragging herself down to the bottom. Her movements were slowed by the heavy weight of her uniform. Rachel was floating underwater, her eyes closed, hair swirling around her head. Avery’s lungs burned for air. She’d never been a good swimmer.

  She dove deeper, grabbing onto Rachel’s feet. The woman was attached to some kind of weight. Avery used her fingers to trace the band around Rachel’s ankle. Velcro. She squeezed her mouth shut and willed her body to hold on, despite the searing desire for air. Avery tugged on the band. The first one came off.

  She moved to the second one, but her fingers couldn’t find the edge. Desperation narrowed her vision. Avery’s lungs were screaming. She closed her eyes and put her attention on the band. Her fingers tripped over the edge. She tore at it.

  Rachel floated free. Avery grabbed the other woman and kicked for the surface. Panic clawed at her throat. She wasn’t going to make it. Her clothes weighed her down, every move only seemed weaker.

  At the last second, her head broke the water’s edge. Avery dragged in a ragged breath. Then another. She was shaking. “Rachel? Rachel, can you hear me?”

  The other woman was cold and still. Avery turned on her back, and put Rachel’s head on her chest. With trembling fingers, she tried to check for a pulse but couldn’t manage. Better to try again out of the water. She kicked across the pool to the stairs, sapped of strength. Still, she kept moving.

  She needed to call for help. It wasn’t until she was in the shallow end, Avery realized her cell was on the other side. Along with her gun.

  She dragged Rachel out of the water and onto the tile. The woman wasn’t breathing. Her lips were blue.

  “No, you don’t, Rachel. You stay with me.”

  Avery scrambled to clear Rachel’s airway. She started doing CPR. Her focus was on one thing: saving Rachel’s life. She completed one round of chest compressions. Then another. Her own heart thundered, her breathing raspy. “Please, Rachel. Come on!”

  She bent down and breathed twice more in the woman’s mouth. Rachel jerked. Avery turned her as Rachel threw up a mountain of pool water.

  Tears ran down Avery’s face. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you.”

  A noise came from behind her. Avery whirled as something slammed into the side of her head. Stars exploded across her vision. She toppled sideways, skating across the wet tile floor. Footsteps came closer. Avery kicked, but the move was weak and off-balance.

  Her attacker straddled her. Something jabbed her neck. “Checkmate.”

  No. The jab had been from a syringe. He’d drugged her. Rachel.

  Avery threw out an elbow and had the sweet satisfaction of hearing her attacker grunt. The success was short-lived. She scrambled to find purchase on the tile floor. Adrenaline sped the drug through her system. She swung with her
fist, but it landed on his shoulder. Dark spots danced in front of her eyes.

  “I don’t have time for this,” he growled.

  The attacker grabbed her hair, throwing her head against the floor.

  Everything went black.

  Twenty minutes. That’s how much time had passed since the last undercover officer had seen Avery. Weston clamped down on the dread clawing at his insides and focused on the task at hand. “Now that the firefighters have verified there’s no fire, we need to do a room-by-room check, starting with the lobby and branching out.”

  Grady entered through the main doors. Weston pointed to him. “Coordinate with Ranger West to get it done.”

  The leader of the team nodded. “On it.”

  Weston watched as he moved toward the group of officers standing in the corner. The theater building felt huge, now that it was mostly devoid of people. He turned his attention back to the undercover. “Show me exactly where you saw Chief Madison last, Hank.”

  The undercover tugged on his T-shirt and marched across the marble floor. “She was right here.” Hank pointed to the landing on the second floor. “It appeared something up there caught her notice. The chief moved in that direction but was cut off by a crowd of guys.”

  “And then?”

  “She disappeared. One minute she was here, the next she wasn’t. Then the fire alarm went off and everyone panicked.”

  Weston had entered the building, dressed in his undercover clothes, in time to witness the stampede. Frantic minutes were spent getting everyone out. It was a miracle no one had been seriously hurt.

  Except for Avery.

  No. He wouldn’t go down that road. Weston needed to keep his attention on finding her. “Anything else you can think of, Hank? Anything that might help?”

  “No, sir.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, sir.”