by Alex Ander
“As sure as I can be.”
“They could’ve been heading back to their own cabin when you saw them.”
Drawing his Sig Sauer twenty-two pistol, “We’ll know soon enough,” he crept toward the abode in question, Stockwell behind him, both operators keeping to the shadows.
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 19
Saint Christopher
11:48 P.M.
Stockwell crouched down and made herself small on the dark side of a building that afforded her an unobstructed view of the target house. She gave each direction a long look then settled her gaze straight ahead. “You’re good to go, Jake.”
*******
Fifty feet away from his partner’s position, Jacob emerged from the shadows, peeled around a railing, hopped onto a porch, and tried the doorknob.
It moved.
He said a silent prayer of thanks, eased open the barrier, and slipped inside.
The dwelling was dark, except for a bit of moonlight coming in through a window on the far side of the space.
He noted a common living area with a small kitchen in the far-left corner before looking right and seeing two doors; both were closed. He plucked a Pelican 1910B flashlight from a shirt pocket and sneaked toward the door on the right. Swinging open the door, he tapped the boot on the end of the Pelican twice in succession then held his thumb on the button.
A wide beam of fourteen lumens showed an empty room.
He let go of the 1910B’s switch. Repeating the entry process for the second room, and spying a girl lying on her right side, he fast walked across the floor and covered her mouth.
Trying to scream, she fought him, but her arms were tangled under the covers.
Jacob laid his right forearm over her flailing arms and let more of his weight come down on her thin frame. “Chrissy Toberman?” he whispered.
She stopped struggling.
“Are you Chrissy Toberman?” He released some of the pressure holding her head still.
She nodded her head against his hand.
He aimed the flashlight, so he could compare her features with the digital image he had memorized. She sure looks like Chrissy. “Miss Toberman, my name’s St. Christopher. I’m here to take you home.”
All the resistance, all the fight she had mustered evaporated, and she closed her eyes.
Jacob saw a tear escape from under each eyelid. “I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth, but I need you to stay quiet. Is that clear?”
Another nod.
He pulled back his hand, let go of her arms, and righted his upper body. “We have to go. Please get dressed.”
She threw off the bedspread.
At the sight of a teen girl in her underwear and a bra, Jacob quickly averted his gaze.
She donned a white dress, slid her feet into sandals, and faced him.
He spied her and whispered, “That’s it?”
Chrissy held her arms out to her sides. “This is what every girl here has to wear.”
He twisted his head one time. “All right, then. Let’s go. Just stay behind me and stay quiet, as we make our way to the fence.”
“So,” one hand gripping his shirt, she followed him into the main living area, “you said your name was Saint Christopher?”
“I did.”
“Wasn’t there,” she paused, “some guy from a long time ago with that same name...some holy man?”
“Yes, but he was a much better man than I am.”
The image of a joyful reunion with her parents flashed across her mind. “Not in my book.” She paused. “So, what about the others? Did you already get them out of here?”
“You’re my mission, Miss Toberman. Getting you to safety is my only objective.”
“No.” She stopped and pulled on his shirt. “You can’t leave. You have to save Miranda, too.”
“That’ll come later,” he took her hand, “when you’re safe and sound.”
She jerked her arm free of his grasp. “No.” Her voice went louder. “You don’t understand. She needs you.”
“And I’ll,” he reached for the teen, “come back for her once you’re—”
She retreated.
He stood taller. “Miss Toberman, please don’t make this more difficult than it already is.”
She backtracked to the foot of her bed. “You can’t let this happen to her.” Her face twisted, and the tears flowed. “You can’t,” she blubbered, “let him do to her what he...”
Taken aback by the sudden emotion, he went to one knee and took hold of her upper arms. “All right. All right. Take it easy, Miss Toberman. Just take a breath and tell me what’s wrong.”
Ten seconds later, she got her breathing under control, wiped her cheeks, and stared down at him. “He’s going to rape her...”
Jacob flinched inwardly.
“...tonight. She turned sixteen today, and he’s going to,” she wavered before her voice cracked on her next words, “do awful things to her. I know...because he did the same things to me.” She covered her face and whimpered into her hands.
Jacob stood and held her in his arms. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He felt her every shudder. “You’re safe, kiddo. He can’t do anything to you, anymore. I won’t let that happen. I promise.” He studied the floor while going over the mission in his head. Get her to safety and come back with a search warrant. He winced. A lot of good that does the sixteen-year-old girl getting—he could not bring himself to finish the thought.
Two minutes later, Chrissy sniffled and ran a finger over her nose.
He fished out a handkerchief.
She took the folded square and wiped her eyes and nose. “Thank you.”
Jacob pivoted away from her. “Did you get all that, Stockwell?
“Yeah, but we have another problem.”
“What is it?”
“I think you have a tango heading toward your location. He’ll be on the front porch in thirty paces. I have a clean shot. Advise.”
Jacob rubbed his forehead, “Negative on the shot,” then whirled around. “Miss Toberman, in fifteen seconds, we’re going to have company. You need to pull yourself together. Can you do that for me?”
She swallowed then nodded a beat later.
“Good. This is what you’re going to do when you hear a knock on the door.”
*******
“Open the damn door and stand back, Emma,” said the beefy six-foot mid-twenties man with an athletic build, well-muscled arms splitting the seams of his black t-shirt. “You don’t want to make me mad. Even though we’re not officially joined, yet, you know I have the right to you.”
Listening from behind the closed door to the bedroom next to Chrissy’s room, Jacob scowled. Joined? I have the right to you? What the hell kind of place is this?
Beefy cursed, laid a hand on Chrissy’s chest, and pushed. “Get out of my way.” He stormed into the structure, slammed the door, grasped her forearm, and hauled her into her bedroom. “You and I are going to get a few things straight tonight.” He shoved her.
Her feet crossed, and she stumbled before landing on the bed.
He pushed her further onto the mattress, grabbed her arms, and sat on her stomach. “Women shall not disrespect their men. I realize you may be new here, but...”
Chrissy fought back.
“...that is,” he pinned her arms to the bed, “that is commandment number five in this community.”
“Let go! You’re...hurting,” she let out a groan, “me.”
“I’ll let go of you when we’ve reached an understanding on this matter. I’ll let go of you when—”
From behind, Jacob clamped his left arm around the man’s neck, locked his left fist into the crook of his right elbow, and dragged Beefy to the floor. “You like,” on his back, he wrapped his legs around the man’s waist and lurched backward, “hurting young girls?”
Gasping for air, Beefy pulled on his attacker’s arms before swatting at Ja
cob’s face.
“Let’s see how you fare with someone your own,” Jacob grunted and squeezed harder, “size.”
During the next thirty seconds, Beefy’s rearward punches turned into half-hearted slaps. The man’s arms fell to his sides at the end of the next thirty-second interval. His eyes closed. His body went limp.
Jacob released Beefy, tossed him aside, and got to his feet.
Chrissy slid off the bed and staggered.
He steadied her with a firm hand. “You okay?”
“I-I think so. Is he,” she gaped at the crumpled form near her feet while rubbing her forearms and wrists, “is he...”
“Dead?” Jacob retrieved three plastic ties from his vest, zipped the man’s wrists and ankles separately then zipped them together. “No. He’s just sleeping.” He yanked a pillowcase off a pillow and shoved the material into the hogtied man’s mouth. “That should keep him quiet until we get out of here.”
Chrissy confronted her rescuer. “No, we can’t lea—”
“Not,” Jacob pumped a hand at her, “until we’ve found your friend...” he looked at her.
“Miranda.”
“Right. Not until we’ve found Miranda.” He dragged the bedspread off the mattress and covered the bound man. “Change of plans, Stockwell. We have one more Innocent to secure before calling it a night.”
Stockwell: “I’m in. What’s the play?”
He faced Chrissy. “Well, that depends on what Miss Toberman can tell us about the layout of this place.” He lifted eyebrows at the girl and cocked his head a half inch.
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 20
Sweetheart
AUGUST 18th; 12:01 A.M.
Dressed in a red, sleeveless mid-thigh sweetheart dress that had been sent to her cabin two hours ago, Miranda turned a corner in the main house and dawdled down a hallway, her ankles unsteady in her red spike heels.
The dwelling was quiet, except for muted voices coming from somewhere on the other side of the structure.
A hand touched her back.
She jumped.
“He’s waiting for you upstairs,” said an armed man while he gestured toward the top of a staircase.
She looked upward.
He nudged her. “He doesn’t like to be kept waiting. Go.”
Rubbing the backs of her upper arms, she navigated the steps, nearly rolling an ankle twice.
On the second level, she glanced toward the first floor.
Her escort was gone.
Miranda turned back and spied three closed doors. ‘Go to the one at the far end,’ she had been instructed. After another peek downstairs, she slipped her stiletto knife from between an overlapping section of material on her dress and pressed on the knife.
The blade sprung open.
The teen flinched at the noise that seemed much louder than it was. Miranda filled her lungs and exhaled, hoping the act would settle her nerves. She put a hand to her stomach.
The butterflies continued to flutter.
Miranda gave the sharp blade a long look, glimpsed the closed door ahead, and came back to the knife. Another deep breath later, she closed the weapon, returned it to its hiding place, and took the first step toward the bedroom door.
*******
12:04 A.M.
Having broken into the main house via the back door, Jacob and Chrissy passed through a mudroom and entered a dining area. His ears picked up voices. Where are they coming from? He glimpsed his companion and whispered, “Which way?”
FIVE MINUTES EARLIER
IN CHRISSY’S CABIN...
Jacob: “Stockwell, I want you to use your bolt cutters on the fence and get her out of here. I’m going to—”
“No,” Chrissy said. “I’m coming with you.”
“Not happening.”
“People here know me. Me moving about at night won’t draw any attention. I can scout out the area between here and the house and signal you when it’s clear.”
Jacob made a face while shaking his head.
“And I’ve been there before. I can take you to where you need to go quicker.”
He looked away.
“Please.” She gripped his tactical vest. “I want to do everything I can to help Miranda. She’s been so nice to me.” The girl glanced down and remembered her plan to cut her own wrists. “She saved my life.” Chrissy blinked a few times and confronted the side of his face. “Plus, if anything goes wrong,” she gestured toward his armaments, “you have the guns to protect me.”
He met her gaze. Oh, if it were only that simple. He filled his lungs and exhaled through his nose. But she does make a good point...points. He turned toward a wall and envisioned his woman hunkered down outside. “Another change in plans, Stockwell. The Innocent’s coming with me. Can you find a place with a good view of the front of the main house?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Good. We’ll be going in through the back door. How’s it looking outside? Any unfriendlies?”
Two beats.
“You’re clear, Jake.”
“Copy that.” He took Chrissy’s hand and eyeballed her. “You ready?”
She nodded.
“Let’s go. Stockwell, we’re on the move.”
*******
PRESENT TIME...
Standing in the dining area, Jacob spied the blank look on the teen girl’s face. “Chrissy,” he whisper-shouted.
Startled, she confronted him.
“Which...way...to the stairs?”
“I-I’m not exactly sure. We always came in through the front door. But,” she raised a finger and pivoted her head a couple times to get her bearings, “I think they’re,” she pointed to the right, “that way.”
“Stay here.” His Sig Sauer in hand, Jacob sneaked to the other side of the dining area, rotated his head left and right to survey the area in both directions, and beckoned her.
Chrissy drew up behind him.
He led her down a hallway.
The voices he had heard earlier grew louder.
He held up a fist before showing her an open hand when he realized she most likely had no knowledge of military hand signals. He advanced and peered into a room on the right.
Six men, all armed, stood around a table looking down at a large sheet of paper.
Jacob took in as much detail as possible then gestured at Chrissy while keeping his eyes on the men.
She approached.
He took her arm and pulled, guiding her to go behind him.
She passed by the room.
After verifying her movement had gone undetected, he joined her on the other side of the doorway.
Advancing, the duo came to a staircase.
Chrissy threw a wide-eyed look toward Jacob while pointing toward the top of the stairs.
He nodded, aimed the 1911-22 in the same direction, and put one boot on the first tread.
*******
“You look beautiful.” Wearing a royal-blue satin robe, Hendricks combed Miranda’s hair with his fingers. “I have no doubt you will make a fine mate for a good man.”
Miranda swallowed, her butterflies bouncing off the inside walls of her stomach. Her skin crawled at the touch of his fingertips on her bare shoulders. Her mind zipped to the stiletto. She reached for the overlapping panel between her breasts.
He took her rising hand, “Come,” and led her to the side of the bed. “Don’t be frightened.” He sat on the edge of the mattress and slid his hands down her arms while giving her a prolonged once-over.
Staring straight ahead, gaping at the wall beyond the top of his white hair, Miranda felt nothing, heard nothing. She only envisioned the stiletto.
Hendricks stood, slid hands around her body, hugged her, and kissed her cheek.
She tensed.
He put lips to her ears. “It’s okay.”
She slipped fingers into the fold of her dress, pulled out the knife, and flicked open the blade.
Miranda thrust out her hand.
The edge of the blade missed its target, the man’s gut, but sliced through his robe and broke the skin below his right pectoral muscle.
He bellowed, disarmed his attacker, and threw her onto the bed while calling her a vulgar name. “This,” he eyeballed the stiletto, “is how you repay my kindness?” He came at her with the point of the blade.
She scrambled backwards over the bedspread.
Hendricks dug a knee into the mattress. “I’ll—”
Gunshots.
*******
FIVE SECONDS EARLIER...
“Who the,” a curse, “are you?”
Still with only one foot on the first tread, Jacob turned to his right, toward the male voice. “We’re blown, Stockwell.” He raised his twenty-two and squeezed the trigger three times.
The gun hissed three times.
The man fell where he stood.
A man appeared at the top of the stairs.
Spotting him in his peripheral vision, Jacob whirled left and fired.
The man spun out of the way.
Jacob took Chrissy’s right hand in his left and towed her away from the staircase, away from the dead man. He rounded a corner and met Miranda’s escort from earlier.
A pistol in both hands, Escort hesitated while his eyes darted from a familiar face to one that he had never seen.
Pinwheeling his left arm outward, Jacob redirected Escort’s weapon.
The gun went off.
A .40 S&W bullet punctured the wall on his eight o’clock, a foot from Chrissy’s head.
She screamed.
He touched his weapon’s sound suppressor to the underside of Escort’s chin and fired two quick shots.
Escort dropped as if his legs had suddenly disappeared.
His port-side ear ringing from the .40 S&W round, Jacob holstered the twenty-two and drew his Coonan. “We’re really blown now, Stockwell.” He pivoted left, toward the way they had come, and pulled the Innocent by him. “Get behind me.”
She tiptoed past the crumpled mass at her feet.
He peeled around the corner on his starboard side and emptied the Coonan at the men pouring out of the room.
