Lethal Ransom

by Laurie Alice Eakes

  He sighed against the burden on his heart and gave her a truthful answer. “I’m afraid it will be a dingy hotel with a female deputy marshal for company.”

  “For a guard, you mean.”

  “Something like that.”

  “And they won’t let me see you.”

  “Not for a minute.”

  He glanced sideways to see what her reaction was. He didn’t know if he should be encouraged or dismayed by her tightly closed lids and teeth sunk into her lower lip.

  As if her feelings for him mattered now. As long as this situation continued, Nick wouldn’t be allowed to see her after tonight.

  He clasped her hand in his just as a black SUV rolled up the driveway.

  “My carriage?” Kristen’s fingers tightened on his.

  Nick nodded, suddenly unable to speak for fear of what he would say to her, things wholly inappropriate for the moment, the circumstances, their short acquaintance.

  But oh so true.

  He rose, drawing her up with him. They stood tall on the steps, darkness ahead of them, lights from the porch and house behind. Pure silhouettes. Pure targets.

  Targets? That was a ridiculous—

  Nick caught the muzzle flash in the trees. “Kristen, get down.”

  His hands on her waist, he lifted her and spun her to the far side of the steps in one move. She didn’t fight or scream. She dropped and rolled under the porch, then out the side.

  Nick followed, counting shots, fighting spiderwebs enfolding him.

  Two. Four. Six. Direction? East. Between them and the road. Beyond the government SUV. Bullets pinged off the Escalade. Two shooters. Countless rounds of ammunition. Screams inside the house.

  No sound from the marshals.

  Shot in the initial firing? Simply hunkered down in the SUV? They weren’t firing back.

  Nick didn’t like that. Even hunkered down, they would try to get off a shot or two.

  No time to check on them. Kristen was his responsibility. She had nearly reached the trees on the other side of the clearing. Nick sprinted after her, grasped her arm to stop her. “I need you to hide while I check on my coworkers.”

  “And get yourself shot?” Kristen spoke in a screaming whisper. “You’re nuts to go back.”

  “They could be hurt.”

  “And they could be in on it.”

  Nick stared at her, though he saw no more than the blur of her face in the darkness beneath the trees. “You think two deputy US marshals are conspiring with Kirkpatrick?”

  “Why not? The shooting began as soon as that SUV pulled in. If your friends didn’t lead them to me on purpose, they’re too careless to have their jobs.”

  “But Kristen—” Nick stopped, unable to find a good argument other than, “They took a vow to serve the country.”

  “Right. And law officers have never broken those oaths before.”

  “Not these two. I happen to know these two. We started in the service together.”

  “Can you declare that for certain?”

  Nick opened his mouth to say, “Of course I can.” But knew he couldn’t for certain. At the least, they had been so careless they brought Kirkpatrick’s men right to Kristen.

  And him.

  For the moment, the shooting had stopped. Not good. The men could be sneaking through the woods to find him and Kristen.

  “Regardless,” Nick said, “you need to hide.”

  “Of course I do, but you won’t know where.” A sob broke through Kristen’s words.

  Nick raised his hand to touch her cheek.

  She brushed it away and plunged into a thicket of saplings and underbrush.

  He stood motionless, listening to her go, listening for what might lay too close, listening for his coworkers Dillon and Belk.

  He had to go back. He needed a weapon, if nothing else. He couldn’t protect Kristen without one. And whether she was right or wrong about the loyalty of Dillon and Belk, she needed to be protected.

  Yet if he returned to the SUV, he might be shot, captured, permanently separated from Kristen while she ran through strange woods by herself, two men and two deputy marshals in pursuit.

  Nick kept to the shelter of the trees as long as he could. When the trees ended, he ran to the SUV in a zigzag pattern, making himself a less reachable target. As he approached the vehicle, the doors opened and Dillon and Belk slid out.

  “Get into the house,” Belk commanded.

  “You’re not going after Kirkpatrick’s men?” Nick stared at them as he backed toward the porch, casting his glance from his coworkers—former coworkers—to the treeline. “Won’t we endanger the family by going inside?”

  “Kirkpatrick’s men aren’t going to shoot an innocent family,” Dillon said with a lack of conviction.

  They had taken an innocent judge. They had run Kristen and her mother off the road regardless of the accident they could have caused.

  “Give me a weapon and I’ll go after them,” Nick said.

  Belk snorted. “Can’t do that. You’re on administrative leave.”

  What a nice euphemism for being fired.

  Nick felt sick. Kristen was in those woods without support. A kind and generous family were in the house, too quiet. And somewhere nearby, men fired guns indiscriminately because—

  “They wanted to separate me from Kristen.” Nick spoke aloud.

  Belk and Dillon’s gazes snapped to him. “What?”

  “The gunfire. They knew I’d go after them without Kristen.” Nick applied all his willpower to stop himself from charging into the trees after Kristen.

  Not without a weapon. He was nearly useless to her without a gun. He had to get Dillon away from Belk. Dillon was more flexible than their female coworker, who was determined to be a U.S. marshal one day.

  “I was sent here to separate you from her,” Belk said. “She needs to come with us. Now get into the house so we can go after her, or I’ll have to take you into custody.”

  She would, too.

  Nick studied her impassive, hard face for a moment, mind whirling around the notion that her orders to separate him from Kristen hadn’t come from Callahan, but from Kirkpatrick’s men. Yet that kind of betrayal to serve her country didn’t fit into her ambitions. Still... And was Dillon on the right side or wrong?

  Deciding his best course of action for the moment was to go along with Belk and Dillon, Nick inclined his head and spun to bound up the porch steps. “It’s Nick,” he called before pulling open the screen door.

  The family had closed the storm door and locked it. At Nick’s knock and repeated call, someone opened it to the extent of the security chain.

  “What’s going on?” Dave asked.

  “Nothing that will harm you.” Nick closed his eyes, hoping he spoke the truth. “They have other things to occupy themselves now.”

  Kristen alone.

  Nick pictured her having one of her panic attacks, shaking and vulnerable to men who wanted to hurt her. Maybe to kill her.

  If Dave didn’t open the door in a few seconds, Nick feared he would kick it in out of pure frustration.

  He kept his voice calm, light. “We need to make some plans and the SUV is too vulnerable.”

  “My wife and children are vulnerable,” Dave said. But he released the chain and opened the door.

  Nick, followed by his coworkers, stepped into the now dark and quiet living room. Murmuring voices, sounding more excited than frightened, drifted down the hall from the kitchen along with a spill of light.

  “I’ve been ordered to stay here with you all,” Nick told Dave.

  That line of light from the kitchen showed the relief on his face. “I can’t turn away strangers in need like you and the lady were, but I wish it wasn’t so dangerous.”

  “Me too,” Nick said.
<
br />   “You and your family will be just fine.” Belk spoke with so much assurance she was difficult not to believe.

  Assurance because she knew what Kirkpatrick’s men intended to do next?

  She turned to Nick. “Do not leave here without permission.”

  If he was fired, he doubted he needed to take orders from her, but he hated to lie, so he merely shrugged.

  “We’ll find your lady,” Dillon said.

  “Of course we will.” Belk set her mouth in grim determination.

  Not if I can help it.

  Out loud, Nick said, “Sure.”

  “Do I need to secure you here?” Belk glared at him from narrowed eyes, and she drew a set of zip ties from her pocket.

  “I think that’s a little extreme.” Nick took a step back.

  He could run through the house and get away from Belk, probably Dillon as well, but he needed to get a weapon off one of them. Somehow.

  “What’s going on here you aren’t telling me?” Dave glanced from Belk to Nick.

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” Nick said. “These two will be gone momentarily.” As though he planned a nice rest, he settled onto an armchair by the door. “Keep yourselves safe.”

  “Dad,” one of the girls called from the kitchen, “can I go outside? I think I left my phone on the picnic table.”

  “Not now,” Dave called back.

  “Lock your doors behind us and stay inside.” Belk spun on the heel of her boot and yanked open the door.

  In silence, Dillon followed. Before he drew the storm door closed behind him, he met Nick’s gaze and nodded to a bookshelf crammed with well-worn paperbacks and lined with chunks of interesting rocks. Then he, too, was gone, both of them headed in the same direction Kristen had taken not long enough ago.

  “I’ll get the door.” Jaw hard, Dave locked the deadbolt and reached for the security chain.

  Nick scarcely registered the departure. He kept hearing Dave’s daughter saying her phone was outside, and seeing Dillon’s nod to the bookcase.

  First things first.

  Heart racing, Nick circled behind him and began to examine the contents of the bookshelf. As he had hoped, as he realized he had prayed, he found a small but serviceable pistol tucked behind a hefty dictionary on the top shelf.

  He was now armed, thanks to Dillon’s sleight-of-hand with what must be his backup gun.

  Nick tucked it into his waistband at the small of his back. “You might want to tell your family what’s going on,” Nick suggested.

  Dave emitted a humorless laugh. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “It’s a long story, but be assured, the marshals have Kristen’s best interest at heart.”

  “And those people who were shooting?”

  Nick sighed. “They do not have Kristen’s best interest at heart. But we—the marshal service, that is, and probably local law enforcement—intend to stop them.”

  Unless Belk and/or Dillon were crooked.

  “I’m not sure I should tell my family what’s going on.” Dave attempted a chuckle. “But I need to find a way to entertain them until bedtime.”

  “Go ahead,” Nick said. “Precautions are probably unnecessary, but better safe than sorry.” He returned to the chair by the door.

  “Join us?” Dave asked.

  “Thanks, but not now.” Eyes closed, Nick leaned back as though intending to take a nap.

  “Come in if you change your mind.” Dave headed for the kitchen.

  Before the man was halfway down the hall, Nick was on his feet, security chain off the door. Releasing the deadbolt took only a second, then he was through the doorway and racing for the trees. First, he would draw Dillon and Belk away from the direction Kristen had taken. Then he would find her or Kirkpatrick’s men...or both together.

  * * *

  Kristen felt guilty about borrowing the cell phone, especially when it might prove useless. She knew of only one person to call. She had never asked him for help in her life, but not because she hadn’t wanted to several times. She wanted a father who would come pick her up when a date wasn’t behaving himself. She wanted a dad she could ask for help with math or history or just an opinion essay she was required to write. That man hadn’t existed in her life. He hadn’t even been around for her to tell him his wife had been kidnapped. Kristen didn’t know if he would be available this time. If he wasn’t, she didn’t know whom she could ask for financial assistance to stay safe, to stay out of the marshal’s prison of a protection.

  But she had to try.

  Feet throbbing, she reached the paved road. It wasn’t heavily traveled, but more cars than she liked sped along the blacktop. Tucked between trees on the side of the road, she didn’t know which vehicles held danger either in the form of the marshals coming for her, or Kirkpatrick’s men likely still trying to track her down. She needed to keep out of sight.

  That meant moving deeper in the trees and more difficult walking.

  She had no choice. She stepped off the road and into the trees so she could hide. The growing darkness helped. She crouched behind a tree and pulled the phone from her pocket.

  Two bars of service. Good enough—she hoped.

  The phone was locked, but the virtual assistant didn’t require she use a password to make a call.

  She pushed the button and prepared to speak the number she had made herself memorize. “Call three, one, two, five, five, five, twenty-five, twenty-five.”

  “Calling,” the disembodied voice responded.

  Then...silence.

  Kristen held her breath, fearing the call wouldn’t go through, fearing each car that passed held Kirkpatrick’s men, who would spot her despite her cover, and pull her from the underbrush.

  Her heart began to drum against her ribs. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “No, no, no.” She fought back the rising panic.

  And the phone began to ring. One... Two...

  If he didn’t answer, she didn’t know whom else to call. Her list of numbers had gotten soaked in the lake and she hadn’t memorized any others.

  Three... Four...

  Nausea clawed at her middle.

  Five—

  “Stephen Lang.”

  Relief sent the breath whooshing from her lungs and she couldn’t speak.

  “Hello?” Cell towers and satellite relays couldn’t mask impatience in the voice on the phone.

  Kristen swallowed and tried again. “Daddy, this is Kristen. I need your help.”

  “Kristen, where are you?” Impatience gone, her father now sounded frantic.

  “I’m not exactly sure. Where are you?”

  “I’m in the Geneva airport waiting for a flight home.”

  “I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”

  “I know. I was on retreat. Deliberately incommunicado. Your mom and I—Never mind. Are you safe?”

  “For now. But I need money to stay safe.”

  “I thought the Marshals Service—”

  “Never mind them. They want to lock me up like I’m the criminal. Can you wire me money?” she asked.

  “I can, but are you sure? You’re safer—”

  “Please.” She felt only a twinge of guilt when she added, “I haven’t asked you for anything since I was fifteen.”

  The year her mother became a judge and her world exploded.

  Maybe he would remember that birthday dinner he hadn’t bothered to come home to.

  He was so quiet she feared the call had dropped. Then his breath sighed across the speaker like a gust of wind. “How can I send it to you?”

  She gave him as much information as she’d been able to glean from Becky about the local town. Her father could do the rest, or have his assistant do the rest.

  “All right, sweetheart, but
I hope you decide to go with the marshals instead.”

  She ignored what he said except for the “sweetheart.” He had never called her anything but Kristen all her life.

  She cradled the phone against her ear. “Thanks, Daddy. I’ve got to go.” She disconnected the call.

  Calmer than she’d felt for days, she rose and tucked the phone into the crook of a branch. Now she needed shelter. If she remained along the road, someone would find her. Yet if she ducked into the woods, she might get lost, go around and around in circles until she ended up where she started. Without a light, she might also fall and break something, or encounter a wild animal. Weren’t bears in these woods? Bobcats? Did Wisconsin have poisonous snakes?

  She wrapped one arm around a tree, gasping for breath as though she had just run a mile uphill.

  “Not now. Not now. Not now,” she said aloud, though not too aloud. Just enough to relax, remind herself she needed to keep calm, remain in control.

  Her breathing steadied. Her heart slowed. And she began to walk through the trees, attempting to remain within hearing distance of the road and out of sight of drivers. Those trees made the woods darker than the night had been in the clearing. Branches interlocked overhead. Heavy with leaves in June, little moonlight reached the ground. Brush tangled underfoot—fallen limbs, tiny trees struggling to gain hold beside their larger parents, enough old leaves to keep someone raking steadily for a month.

  She remembered raking as a child. She had grabbed the landscaper’s rake and taken the task on herself. Her shoes had grown wet and muddy. Her hair had caught on low limbs and been pulled from her pigtails, and her muscles ached, but she had loved every minute of the fresh autumn air, the spicy scent of the leaves, the pretty colors. When she created a huge pile of leaves, she had run and jumped in them laughing and laughing until the housekeeper noticed and marched Kristen inside to face the music.

  That music had come from her mother. Kristen was supposed to be practicing the piano, not playing outside. She was supposed to stay neat and clean for a birthday party later that afternoon, not go rolling around in the mud like a farm animal.