Lethal Ransom

by Laurie Alice Eakes

  “Kristen?” Nick’s voice cut through the roar in her head. “Don’t leave me now.”

  “Leave you? Of course I wouldn’t leave you.” She wiggled her toes inside her sneakers.

  Unlike the rope on her wrist, the tape hadn’t cut off circulation. She could walk. She could get Nick free.

  She hauled herself to her feet, ducking as the guard passed the window. “I need something sharp to cut you loose.”

  The flashlight from outside had given her a view of the single room. It didn’t contain much, but shelves holding a few dishes and canned goods gave her hope maybe the cabin’s owner kept rudimentary cooking implements there. Things like a knife. Even a little one would help. Even the blade of a can opener would be better than nothing.

  So she didn’t show herself through the window, she crawled across the floor, wincing at splinters and dirt and worse. Nothing had lived there for months, maybe even years, except for mice. She shuddered, yearning for hand sanitizer.

  After she freed Nick.

  She reached the row of shelves. Plastic plates and bowls, nothing to break for a sharp edge. Two ceramic mugs too thick to be useful if broken. A shoe box. She pulled off the lid and heard the rattle of plastic flatware. Spoons, forks and knives with serrated edges, but too fragile to be useful blades. Though she checked each shelf, she found nothing more useful, not even a can opener. All the canned goods had pull-off lids.

  Pull-off lids with sharp edges.

  She grabbed one at random and lifted the ring. But when she tugged, the pull tab broke off in her hand.

  She closed her eyes, fighting the tears of frustration, struggling against the urge to throw the useless can against the wall. That action would likely bring the guard, who would notice she was free and tie her up again, maybe even to the other chair, and leave her as helpless as Nick.

  She picked up another can. This time, she took more care with lifting the ring and pulling off the lid. The sweetness of peaches rose to her nostrils and she started to reach in to pull out some of the fruit. At the last moment, she remembered her filthy hands and lifted the can to her lips, drinking the juice she would have thought far too sweet under other circumstances. At that moment, it was nectar clearing her head.

  She set the can on the shelf and turned to Nick. “I have a can lid and a butter knife.”

  “A can lid? That’s amazing thinking.”

  The praise warmed her. More than warmed her. She was blushing like he’d told her she was pretty.

  She made herself shrug off the sensation. “It might be too flimsy to work, but it’s worth a try. And there’s a little bit of a serrated edge on the knife.”

  She crossed the room to kneel behind Nick’s chair. The way his arms were bent and bound, he had to be grossly uncomfortable, yet he didn’t complain. Tough guy. Hid his feelings. He was too calm, too composed. Compared to how she too easily cried or panicked or even laughed, he was an oak to her...squirrel?

  There, she wanted to laugh. This was no time for that. She might go off in hysterics if she started laughing.

  She began to saw at the tape with the knife, then the can lid. The edge nicked her fingers more than it cut the tape. She made only the tiniest of tears and had to stop and dash back to the sofa when the guard’s light approached the window.

  “How many times is that?” She posed the question without expecting an answer.

  “Fifteen rounds, and he takes about five minutes per round.” Nick’s answer was immediate, confident.

  “An hour and fifteen minutes. The boss could come any minute.”

  “He could.” Nick was quiet for a moment, then said, “If you can’t free me before the next round, I think you should leave.”

  “How? Out the window?”

  “Maybe. Check if it opens far enough.”

  Kristen went to the window. “It will open far enough—if I can get the nails out.”

  “That will take too long and make too much noise. You’ll have to go out the door.”

  “Even if I can manage that, where will I go?”

  What will happen to you? she didn’t dare ask for fear of the answer.

  “When you’re free, head for water. That’s either downhill or where the trees thin or both. I’ll be surprised if you don’t find other cabins or houses near the water.”

  “But how do I get out?”

  While she worked at his bindings again, he told her how he thought they could get out. It was risky. It was uncertain. She couldn’t think of a better idea. Trying Nick’s plan on her own seemed even riskier. It put an end to the idea that she could exchange herself for her mother.

  But that was unlikely once she freed Nick. Considering how the men had tried to kill him in the river, they didn’t plan to let him live.

  And her, too?

  Either way, she had to ensure Nick’s freedom.

  With new impetus to free him, she wrapped a little tape from her own bindings around the edge of the can lid and sawed with more vigor. Having a better grip gave her more traction. The tape began to part little by little, but not fast enough. The guard was making his rounds again before she finished her work. In frantic frustration, she grabbed the tape with her teeth and gnawed through the last inch like...a squirrel.

  She scrambled back to the sofa in time to avoid the guard’s light. Once it passed, Nick bent to free his feet.

  “We need a weapon.” Nick stood. “I thought maybe a chair, but they’re too heavy to swing effectively.”

  “The lantern?”

  “Not strong enough.”

  Kristen thought, skimming her memory over what she had found in the cabin. Cans were too small and the plates too flimsy. But the shelves lifted from their brackets.

  “One of the shelf boards.” She started for the wall. “If we just pull it free, it will create a racket when everything falls off, and that should bring the guard to us where we can get at him.”

  “Let’s do it, then.” Nick joined her at the makeshift pantry. “You go stand behind the door. I’ll free this then join you.”

  She crossed the room to stand behind the door. As the guard’s light approached the window, Nick yanked the shelf from its brackets. Cans thudded, plates clattered and the silverware rained down with a tinkle like untuned wind chimes. Kristen cried out to accompany the tumult.

  Footfalls thudded outside. “What’s going on in there?” The guard pounded on the door. He wasn’t foolish enough to simply barge into the cabin.

  Nick joined Kristen on the hinge side of the door. Neither of them answered.

  “I asked what’s going on in there?” the guard shouted.

  Kristen and Nick remained silent.

  Muttering unpleasant comments about them, the guard removed the padlock and pushed open the door. “What the... Where are you?” He stepped beyond the edge of the door.

  And Nick felled him with the shelf.

  The entire shack shook on its foundation when the guard hit the floor. With no way to tie him, Kristen and Nick bolted outside, slammed the door, and fastened the padlock. When he regained consciousness, the man could work on getting the nails loose from the window frame and escape. Or wait for his boss to arrive. Either way, Kristen couldn’t worry about him. They had to get moving.

  They had to get moving faster than they possibly could, for as they turned from the door of the cabin, they caught the distant rumble of an engine and the flash of headlights through the trees.

  * * *

  “Run.” Nick caught hold of Kristen’s hand and headed for the far side of the cabin.

  The trees grew thick there, a blend of pine and deciduous. Needles and last year’s fallen leaves carpeted the ground, deadening their footfalls. Above them, the leaf-laden branches stretched in a canopy blocking the starlight and obliterating the moon.

  They couldn’t run. One of
them would smack into a trunk or branch and fall. But the men were close. Too close. Close enough Nick not only heard their voices, but caught a few words.

  “Gone.”

  “Not far.”

  “No choice now.”

  No choice for what? Nick feared they meant no choice but to kill them now.

  He moved near Kristen so he could murmur in her ear. “Walk right behind me.”

  She nodded, her ponytail tickling his face, then rested a hand on his shoulder, gripped it like a drowning woman clutching a lifeline.

  He hoped her trust wasn’t misplaced. Keeping away from the men in pursuit wasn’t going to be easy in the dark woods when Nick had no idea where they were and only a vague idea of the direction in which they should travel.

  He took his advice to Kristen—head for the water. He didn’t hear a stream, so they were probably near a lake. First they must shake their pursuers.

  He began to walk in a zigzag pattern, trying to move forward and not circle, yet not remain in a straight line. Twigs poked through his socks. They scratched the soles of his feet, warning him not to step hard and break them with a snap that would give away their location.

  Behind them, the men chasing them weren’t as quiet. They plowed forward, breaking branches and rustling leaves. They also moved their powerful flashlights through the trees, beacons that pinpointed their locations and lit their way so they could move faster.

  Their pursuers held the advantage of numbers. The three of them fanned out, limiting the path Nick could choose.

  Forward. He must keep them moving forward and away from the shack where they’d been held. They curved to the right, then stepped to the left. A branch broke beneath Nick’s foot before he could lift his weight. The snap sounded like a rifle. Behind them, someone shouted, “Northeast.” Directing the others right toward them.

  They needed a new line of escape. Nick made an abrupt shift to the right and squeezed between two saplings. Kristen flinched, her fingers pressing into his shoulder.

  “Are you all right?” Nick paused to make sure she hadn’t injured herself with something serious such as a twig poked into her eye.

  “Just caught my hair on something.”

  Nick faced forward again and realized he had made an error in the direction he chose. They emerged on a man-made trail with starlight brilliant above them and one of their pursuers a mere hundred feet away.

  “Duck.” Nick drew Kristen down to hide beneath the drooping branches of a pine tree. Seconds later, the man’s light illumined the path, the saplings and a strand of long, blond hair dangling from a broken branch.

  Kristen stiffened beside Nick.

  On the path, the man shouted, “Gotcha.” He began to sweep his light from tree to tree, from crown to root.

  In seconds, he would spot them.

  Seeing no other choice, Nick waited for the man to point his light up, then lunged from beneath the pine tree and swung his leg around to sweep the man off his feet. He landed like a downed deadfall, his flashlight skittering away. Nick dropped atop the man’s back, held him down and covered his mouth so he couldn’t shout for his friends to help him, grabbing one wrist so he could twist the man’s arm behind his back.

  “Can you get his belt so we can tie his hands?” Nick asked Kristen.

  Dumb question. The man was thrashing and bucking and trying to yell through Nick’s hand. Of course she couldn’t get the belt with its buckle under the man.

  “I’ll get one of his boot laces.” She collapsed more than sat on the man’s legs. Nick heard the thud behind him and felt the man’s grunt of pain.

  The other hunters seemed to be farther away for the moment.

  “These are long laces.” Kristen’s voice was shaky, but otherwise she seemed calm enough. “I can tie his ankles.”

  “Start there, then.” Nick wished he carried something like a handkerchief so he could stuff it into the man’s mouth rather than holding his lips against his teeth so he could neither talk nor bite. At best, Nick’s position was awkward, one knee between the man’s shoulder blades, and one of Nick’s hands beneath the man’s jaw to hold his head back so the other hand could cover his mouth.

  Work fast, he silently urged Kristen.

  He didn’t say anything, not wanting to make her anxious. She was doing great so far, a true partner in confining this man from giving away their position to the others. She had thought about the boot laces while Nick was still wondering what would work besides a belt. The laces would work better, were less likely to stretch and slip apart if she knew how to tie good knots.

  “Here’s the other one.” Kristen dangled a shoelace at least a yard long, in front of him.

  “Thanks.” Nick gave her a rueful glance. “Can you tie his hands too? My hands are kinda full.”

  “I’ll try.” She looked at the man’s free hand waving around with fist clenched, trying to hit something other than the trail.

  “Grab it with both hands from behind.”

  Kristen nodded and positioned herself beside Nick, shoulders touching in a way that made him feel they were a team, a partnership.

  A couple.

  No, nothing so drastic. They were fugitives from the same kidnappers and nothing more.

  But they did work together well. Kristen managed to capture the man’s wrist. The man stiffened his muscles, tried to break free.

  A whimper of effort emerged from Kristen. “I don’t think I’m strong enough.”

  “Okay. He might yell, but we can have him trussed up and be out of here before his friends find him.”

  He hoped the others weren’t quite sure which trail the man had taken and couldn’t locate him in an instant. Regardless, he had to risk it if they wanted to get the man tied up so he couldn’t follow them.

  He released the man’s mouth and reached for his wrist. In seconds, he had his captive’s hand behind his back and Kristen was tying the second shoelace around both wrists. Through it all, the man tried to shout, but his position kept his face down and the moldering leaves on the path muffled his voice.

  “Can you keep his head down while I go through his pockets?” Nick asked.

  Kristen moved to hold the man’s head down without a word of question.

  Nick searched the man with trained efficiency. The gun, Nick slipped into his pocket. In another of the man’s pocket he found a packet of tissues. Stuffed in his mouth, they would keep him quiet for a while. They didn’t have any way to secure his mouth shut. But a few moments would help them get farther away.

  Other than the gun and tissues, the man’s pockets yielded nothing. No wallet or form of identification, no pocketknife, not even a cell phone. Caught, the man would have to give up his identification willingly for anyone to know who he was unless he was listed in the fingerprint database.

  Nick did not have access to that. Nor did he want to stick around long enough to get the man’s name from him. He just wanted to try once for a little information.

  “I’m going to lift you up against a tree now,” Nick told his captive. “If you shout for your friends, I’ll put you facedown again. Understand?”

  “I think he nodded,” Kristen said.

  “Let him go, then.”

  Nick grasped the man’s shoulders, preparing to lift him to sit with his back against a tree or drop him facedown in last year’s leaves just as quickly if he tried to make a sound.

  He remained silent, seemingly subdued other than breathing hard as though he were the one expelling the physical effort instead of Nick and Kristen.

  “Let’s go.” Kristen’s tone sounded urgent even in a whisper.

  “One moment.” Nick crouched in front of the man they had caught. “Why are you chasing Kristen?”

  The man shrugged.

  “You’re not going to tell me, or you don’t know?” Nick pressed.


  The man shrugged again. “Why should I tell you?”

  “So you can sit up until your friends find you instead of lying facedown in the dirt.”

  “You aren’t going to get away,” the man declared.

  “We have so far.” Nick smiled.

  The man said something vulgar.

  “You won’t shock either of us with that kind of talk,” Kristen said. “I’ve heard everything and am sure Deputy US Marshal Sandoval has too.”

  Nick pulled the tissues from the plastic sleeve and began to separate them. “I may as well gag you, then, if you’re not going to talk.”

  “You don’t have any way to secure them.” The man’s tone held a sneer.

  “He can pull your T-shirt over your face,” Kristen said. “You’ll get it off eventually, but it won’t be pleasant until you do.”

  Smart lady.

  The man puffed out a long breath. “I only know the boss wants to know where his daughter is.”

  “His daughter?” Kristen sounded as bewildered as Nick felt.

  “Who’s his daughter?” Nick asked.

  “Raven Kirkpatrick.”

  Kristen gasped.

  So the name meant something to her.

  “Now let me go,” the man commanded.

  “Sorry, pal, but we need to get out of here first.” Nick shoved the balled-up tissues into the man’s mouth as far back as he could.

  They wouldn’t hold for long without tying his jaw closed, but the moments he would take to work them from his mouth and shout should be enough time for Nick and Kristen to get away, especially since they now had a flashlight.

  A flashlight they dared only use for a while. Nick hoped the others would see the light and think it belonged to the man now sitting against a tree with his hands and feet tied.

  Holding the flashlight in one hand and Kristen’s hand in the other, Nick started along the path then ducked into the trees so their captive wouldn’t be able to say in which direction they had gone. Somewhere was a lake or river. Somewhere a path led in that direction. Land usually sloped, however slightly, in the direction of the water.

  Nick sought for that drop in the terrain. He listened for sounds of pursuit. A distant shout warned him the man had gotten the tissues out of his mouth. A more distant call followed. Kristen’s fingers tightened on Nick’s. She stumbled and he remembered her bruised and scratched feet. His own feet suffered from a lack of shoes. If he looked, he suspected he would find the soles of his socks shredded.