“Nah, those guys are long gone.”
“I’m outside your cabin. There’s another car here. I can’t see who’s in it. You gotta come get me. Just watch your back.”
“That’s precisely what I’m doing.”
Franklin heard the icy tone. “W-what’s going on? I thought you swapped me for the kid.” The shooting stopped. He ventured a look out the window.
“I did, but not for the reasons you think.”
“We’ll go into business together. I’ll pay you back for getting me outa this.”
“Will you now? Hmm. As of a few hours ago, I’m two mil richer. And from what I can tell, partnering with you could be bad for my health. No, that won’t work.”
Franklin felt the tightening grip of fear. “Then what do you want? With my computer skills, I can get you anything.”
“Tempting. But you—more than most—know the drive for revenge can be more powerful than money. Right, boss?”
“Revenge?”
“You sicced the Feds on me. Same as the Asian guy did to you. If it weren’t for my finesse, they’d have me in custody.”
“I did no such thing!”
“You put something in my phone. That’s how they traced me to the cabin. Took me a bit, but I figured it out. Traitor.”
“I-I . . .”
“Save it, Oakley. You’ve had a good run. Au revoir.”
Franklin stared for a moment at the phone in his hand, then another shot rang out. The phone dropped to the floor. He bent low, taking cover. “Help!” he shouted, aware that there was no one other than a stone-cold killer to hear him.
***
Theo was searching for cover. Stupidly, he’d left his phone charging in the car. Whoever was shooting was an awful shot, getting nowhere near him. Maybe he could make it back to his car unscathed.
Then he heard a phone ring. From inside the Subaru. He sensed some movement, saw someone in the back seat open the far side door. Theo ducked down protecting himself.
The shooting stopped and he heard someone shouting, desperate. Why weren’t they driving away? Suddenly, another shot hit the gas tank, followed immediately by the distinct smell of gasoline. And then a whoosh of combusting air.
Fire!
Theo shouted, “Get out of the car!”
“Gerard? Get away from me!”
Who’s Gerard? “My name's Theodore Davis. Let’s go! We can get out of here together.”
No answer.
Maybe the guy had been shot. Theo crab-walked to the car and at a kneel, snaked his hand up to the door handle, opened it and peered inside. A man sat there, arms held protectively over his bent head, looking like a trapped animal. He looked up, his face a mask of fear. And hatred.
Realization hit swiftly. Theo gasped aloud, taking in the sight. The man had no legs.
Chapter 56
Tahoe National Forest
Nearly two decades had passed since Franklin had been with his father. A wave of emotion washed over him as he heard his father identify himself. And again seconds later when his father’s face peeked past the car door. The whole situation was surreal. He’d despised this man for so long. Yet, now with his life at stake, his father materializing in time to help him, the dominant feeling was relief.
It was short-lived.
Dad came to save me quickly shifted to shock and anger when it dawned on him that his father had come for his other child. His resentment flooded back, as if it had never receded at all.
“Franklin?” Theo’s eyes were filled with tears, his face drawn in pain, studying his son’s swollen and bruised features. “Are-are you hurt? Your face . . .”
Franklin’s eyes darted out the window. “Someone’s shooting at me,” he said, stating the obvious instead of answering the question.
“We need to get out of here.”
Franklin shook his head, his expression morphing into one of fear. The fire was building.
“The gas tank’s hit. We need to go. Now.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you. He’ll shoot me the minute I leave this car.”
Theo’s voice turned calm, almost soothing. “There’s no choice.” He held out a hand. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Seemingly realizing the irony of his words, he beseeched, “Please, son.”
Another shot, this one shattering the window of the open car door inches from Franklin’s head. He grabbed his father’s outstretched hand and let himself be pulled out the other door.
***
Theo grasped his son’s hand. It was soft, uncalloused. Pulling him to the edge of the seat was easy enough, his body lighter given the absence of two limbs. The stumps were covered in long elastic liners. “Where are your legs?” The heat intensified, the smell of gasoline reeked. He saw Franklin peer out the back window eyeing a large box on the trunk. It was surrounded by flames.
“They’re gone,” Franklin said, his tone bitter.
Without asking, Theo lifted Franklin, protectively leaning over his son. “I’m gonna get us to my car. Hold on tight. Ready?” Franklin’s arms encircled his father’s torso as Theo took off. At that moment a shot rang out. It hit the Subaru. For a millisecond, the atmosphere seemed to hold its breath. And then, as nature demanded, the car exploded into a raging ball of fire.
***
Placer County Sheriff’s Office
North Lake Tahoe
“He could see me,” Jon whispered to Luanne who stood beside him outside a two-story stone building that housed the sheriff’s office. One of the deputies had given them a ride.
Luanne’s eyes widened. “You think Gerard was there, at the cabin?”
“It was the way he spoke. I can’t put my finger on it.” Then, “The ranger.”
“Huh?”
“Did you see the forest ranger on horseback?”
Luanne shook her head. “I was in the car with Oakley. Poor vantage point. You think it was Gerard?”
“Maybe. Several people were on their phones, but they all looked legit. The ranger was too far away to see, but he could have made the call to Oakley’s phone. And if it was him, he could make a quick exit unencumbered. Blocking the roads will mean nothing if he has a way to get around while avoiding them.”
Luanne said, “Gotcha, but this is all speculation. With today’s tech, someone could be watching you from Canada.”
“True, but we know he’s nearby. He just got his money. Maybe he stuck around.”
“Can’t imagine why. First thing a criminal does is get as far away as possible from the scene.”
Jon held the door open for Luanne and together they entered the building, making a beeline for the sheriff’s office. Jon held his creds aloft, ignoring the looks of staff working nearby. Jon knocked on the office door, then opened it a moment before hearing, “Enter.”
A large desk dominated the room. On it, thick black binders were piled high beside a multi-line phone system, a slew of loose papers obscuring the rest of the surface. The sheriff stood up behind it.
Jon said, “Thanks for having one of your deputies give us a ride.”
“Sure thing.”
“I know you’re not happy with this plan.” It wasn’t a question.
Harding said, “Correct.” Then, “What can I do for you?” he asked.
“There was a ranger on horseback on the hill behind the cabin.”
The sheriff furrowed his brow, remembering. “Yup, it’s not unusual. They’re patrolling. On the lookout for unauthorized campsites. Even though we offer designated grounds, there are always some tourists who want to do their own thing. Usually teens leaving behind empty beer cans and pit fires they don’t put out properly. The forest is nearly 900,000 acres. Of tinder.”
“Did you recognize the ranger?”
The sheriff shook his head.
A red flag waved in Jon’s mind.
Harding must have seen the look on Jon’s face. “I’ll put in a call. See if any rangers were out at the cabin earlier.” He pressed a button on hi
s phone console. “Mike, get me someone at the American River Ranger District Office.”
“What about the horse?” Luanne asked.
The two men turned to face the reporter.
Jon asked, “What?”
“The horse. Can you describe it?”
Jon paused, thinking back. He closed his eyes, conjuring up what he could. “Black, has a white stripe down its mane. Made me think of the cartoon skunk, Pepé Le Pew.”
The office phone rang. The sheriff answered it, gesturing for Jon and Luanne to wait outside. Jon hesitated, but left when Luanne gave him a look.
Ten minutes later a deputy told them the sheriff wanted a word.
Back inside, Harding said, “All the rangers were accounted for. None were anywhere near the cabin over the last several days.”
Jon asked, “How on Earth did they all report in over the last few minutes?”
“They didn’t. They only had to check the app. The horses have chips.”
Luanne said, “Then, it was Gerard, dressed as a ranger. Incredible.”
Jon was irate. “He’s playing games with me! With all of us. Stringing us along while a little girl remains at his mercy.” A pause, then, “Is that normal? To have a horse microchipped?”
“Sure is. Like with dogs. Or tagging cattle.”
Luanne said, “I wrote an article on this topic last year. The microchip is essentially an electronic device the size of a grain of rice.”
Harding nodded. “That’s right. It’s implanted just below the base of the horse’s mane. If a horse gets out, the owner can use GPS technology to locate it easily. It’s been a God send. Used to be at least ten dead animals found during these winter months. They’d run astray, too many backwoods, no food.”
“What if the horse Gerard was riding is microchipped?”
“I suppose we’d find its owner, though I doubt it’s Gerard.”
“It would be a start.”
Luanne asked, “How do we get the horse’s ID number without having the horse to scan?”
The sheriff looked stumped.
Jon said, “That’s exactly what I’m going to find out.”
Chapter 57
New York City
Matthews listened to Steadman speaking at a locomotive pace as if someone was chasing him. He knew the feeling. The last few days felt like a constant race to get his act together both personally and professionally. It had been radio silence with the Mossad director. Who knew what Kahn was up to?
Jon was talking about Google Earth, inquiring if there was a way to visually pinpoint an individual if you knew their specific location and time. Something about the case involving a child seemed to enflame him . . . more than usual. Jon had even called him “sir” several times. If nothing else, Jon was an onion, a series of layers that stung as you peeled each one back. By the time Matthews hung up, he knew whom to enlist for assistance.
An hour later, Matthews ended the call with his contact at the CIA—a man he despised—who sat in an enviable position of power. And who owed him big time. Not long ago, Matthews was asked to submit a report about a case they’d worked on together in Rome. Jon and a CIA operative had come terrifyingly close to dying. And the CIA man was to blame. Rather than rat him out, Matthews strategically contacted the guy, and the two adversaries arrived at a mutual understanding. Getting the spook’s help today would only be a small percent of the payback.
The man had come through.
Matthews opened the secure email and found a vivid satellite image, impressed with how rapidly the technology had evolved in recent years. He studied the photo. A uniformed forest ranger donning a banded hat obscuring half of his face, binoculars hanging on his chest. His mount was a good-looking horse with a white stripe along its mane. Matthews zoomed in on the photo and immediately knew he’d hit the motherlode.
***
Placer County Sheriff’s Office
Jon and Luanne were walking out the building when they heard the melee. A radio crackled. Fire rescue in on the way. A dispatcher repeated a location. Then called out, “All-points bulletin!”
Sheriff Harding rushed toward Jon and Luanne, heading out of his office. “Explosion outside the cabin.”
Hurrying alongside the sheriff, Jon said, “What exploded?”
Jon was a step behind when he heard Harding say, “Your car, Agent Steadman. Your car exploded.”
***
Tahoe National Forest
The Subaru was engulfed, the surrounding trees in danger of catching fire. It was a bizarre sight . . . a raging inferno surrounded by warped metal debris littering the now-charred grass fronting the snow-laden cabin. Fire trucks were parked askew, their hoses on full blast.
The sheriff parked at a distance. He and Jon exited the patrol car, Luanne staying behind. Jon stared at the blaze, his mind spinning back in time to his college days. That day. He knew the horrors of fire. How it stole lives.
Harding said, “If they don’t get this under control soon we could have a much worse situation.”
Jon felt the heat on his face, forcing down memories he’d been trying for years to bury. “Won’t the snow put it out?”
“Not if the underlying tinder is dry, or if the cabin catches. We could end up with a devastating fire on our hands.”
Neither one spoke the obvious. Where was Oakley?
Jon and the sheriff checked their weapons and instinctively made for the cabin. Each pulled his weapon. Harding said, “Take the lead? I’ve got your back.”
Jon answered by moving ahead and kicking in the front door. When no shots were fired, he stepped aside, Harding rushing past him into the one-room cabin.
“Clear!” Harding called. The interior was just as they’d left it. No Oakley. No Gerard. No dead bodies.
Keeping their firearms in hand, the two men exited, once again facing the active scene. It took twenty minutes until the fire was under control. By then, the wreckage was complete. If Oakley was inside the car, he’d been incinerated. Maybe taking his legs was a mistake. Jon stopped the train of thought before it took him down a perilous path.
He stepped back to the edge of the clearing, out of the way of the firefighters doing their jobs. As he did so, he sensed movement behind him and swiftly pulled his pistol. An astonishing sight faced him. Theodore Davis, his face burnt and scraped, trudged toward him. In his arms was his son, Franklin Oakley, barely conscious.
Jon holstered his gun, heard a delirious Franklin mumble, “Daddy?”
A lone tear ran down Theo’s reddened cheeks. “Right here, son. I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter 58
Tahoe National Forest
While Jon, Luanne, and Sheriff Harding waited for the ambulances to arrive, Theo told them all that had happened. Franklin was in and out of consciousness and by the time the medics put him in the back of the ambulance, he was unresponsive. Theo wanted to escort him to the hospital, but the medics refused, and minutes later, he too was driven away by a second ambulance. Harding arranged for one of his officers to stay at the hospital and inform them when Franklin woke up.
Now, Jon was seated beside Luanne in the backseat of Harding’s cruiser. His phone buzzed. It was Matthews.
“Dusty.” His boss sounded excited.
“Dusty?” Jon asked.
“The horse. Gerard’s horse’s name.”
Jon couldn’t hold back the frustration. “Who cares?”
“If you shut up for a minute, you will.”
An exasperated sigh. “Fine, I’m listening.”
“I got a satellite picture of the horseman. Can’t see much of his face, but enough to know he isn’t a legit ranger. We’re running his partial photo and an NCIC criminal background check. Your instincts were right.”
“What about the horse?”
“Kudos to Ms. Parker. The saddle blanket was embroidered with the horse’s name, Dusty. We contacted local registries. Dusty has an implanted chip. We tracked its owner.”
“
You serious? That’s great! Who is it?”
“Name’s Louise Simmons. She’s a bit of a hermit, inherited her father’s land, a horse ranch a couple of miles due west of the cabin. He used it to breed horses. When he died, she sold the business, including the horses. All except two. One is Amigo, the other Dusty.”
“So, she loaned Gerard one of her horses.”
Matthews said, “We haven’t been able to reach her. Doesn’t look good.”
Jon felt his stomach flip. “You think she’s—.”
“Let’s not jump the gun. Local field office personnel will help you check on the Simmons lady and look for Lizzy Davis.”
“No. I’m doing this solo.”
“No chance.”
“Listen, Doug. We’ve been down this road already. I can’t risk a hostage situation.” Jon heard himself say “I.” “You bring in the troops, and Gerard could freak.”
“You’ll be walking into a trap.”
“I seriously doubt that. Gerard got what he wanted. Two mil and Oakley. He’s long gone . . . without ever sharing Lizzy’s location. There’s no reason for him to stick around anymore. He figures Lizzy will die eventually.”
“Always so sure of yourself. What if you’re wrong? Have you even considered that possibility?”
Jon heard something in his boss’s tone. Worry. “I’ve been trained for this. You trained me for this. I don’t know what I’ll find at the horse farm, but I’ll be ready. If Lizzy’s there, I’m going to bring her home.”
When Doug didn’t reply, Jon understood the old adage, “Silence is acquiescence,” was in play, and took advantage of the opening. “Gotta run. I’ll call with an update.” He hung up before Matthews could say any more.
***
Bald Mountain, California
Jon stood outside the ranch house, a wood-beamed structure in need of repair, nestled at the base of the mountain. After speaking with Matthews, he clued in the sheriff and sent Luanne back to town. Echoing Matthews's stance, the sheriff insisted on coming along this time as Jon’s backup and was now standing beside him. Jon’s adrenaline spiked, his gun at the ready. Déjà vu.
Vengeance: An Action-Adventure Novel (A Jon Steadman Thriller Book 3) Page 29