“Thank God you figured it out. I’m not sure things would’ve ended well for me if you hadn’t,” Declan said, rubbing at the friction burns on his wrists.
“I’m going to call this location into Nick and let him work out the details with local authorities. We can’t be here when police show up. We need to find the girl, and getting tied into this ambulance crash is just going to slow us down,” Izzy said, assuredly.
“Agreed,” Declan said, hopping out of the crashed ambulance.
He looked at his phone. The red dot on the screen was on the move. He assumed that whoever intervened at the bus station wouldn’t be far behind.
As he sat in the passenger seat of the blue Camry, his eyes had a steely focus to them. Like the calm before a storm.
Chapter 47
The vibration of the bus had a soothing quality and was lulling Mouse toward sleep as the wave of adrenaline from the strange encounter at the Memphis bus terminal receded. She couldn’t allow sleep. No chance that her guard would be let down again.
She went from row to row, scanning the bus’s occupants, unable to discern friend or foe. Everyone around her was an unknown. It was an awful feeling to be surrounded by people but feel completely alone at the same time. It was in these moments that Mouse longed for her mother and father. She tried to fight the sudden upheaval of emotion. She was caught off-guard as a tear fell from her eye.
The sensation of the salty drop rolling down her cheek was a foreign one, and she could not recall the last time she’d shed one. But the release had caused an unsuspected chain reaction. Mouse pulled her feet up on the seat cushion and wrapped her arms tightly around her legs. Rocking back and forth, she pressed her face into her thighs and let go. She cried silently for several minutes, allowing her tough exterior to soften for a moment. It was a cathartic release.
Once the wave of sadness had passed, she wiped her face against her sleeve, removing any evidence of her exposed feelings. She tucked them back into the deep recesses of her heart, where they would return to their dormant state.
Her thoughts returned to the man and woman at the station. They called her by name. They knew Nick and Anaya. It didn’t matter. Nobody could protect her. The bald man proved that. He was able to come for her when she was under their protection.
Poor Nick, she thought, wondering if he was still alive. The last time she’d seen him he was covered in blood with the bald man on top. She shivered at the image.
The bus began to slow, the hiss of the brakes as they engaged, protesting the work. They’d only left the Memphis station about half an hour ago. Not a good time to stop. Not with people so close behind. Then she saw the reason. The blue and red lights flashed alongside the windows, casting a strobed effect in the bus’s interior. The passengers rumbled in excitement, twisting to see. Some protested quiet complaints as the bus crossed into the breakdown lane of the highway.
Mouse clutched her backpack tighter, seeking some comfort from the lumpy sack. The bus came to a complete stop, and the interior lights came to life, illuminating the cabin. A boom of thunder filled the air. Abruptly, the day’s humidity gave way to an evening storm. Lightening filled the sky intertwining with the cruiser’s strobes as the rain began to pour.
The driver pulled the lever, and the doors to the bus swung inward. A police officer wearing a light brown shirt and green pants entered. He had an olive drab green hat with a large, round brim. His clothes were soaked from the poorly timed rain, and his face didn’t look pleasant. He seemed as annoyed as the passengers at this inconvenience. He spoke briefly to the driver. Then he stood erect and faced the passengers. He looked from seat to seat and then glanced back at an image on his phone. The Trooper made eye contact with Mouse, and his face seemed to lose some of its rigidity. Some, but not all.
He walked directly toward her, ignoring the stares and whispers from other passengers. He stopped at her row. Mouse was in the window seat and pretended not to notice the man as he bent down. He was a lean man with a tight jaw and short gray hair. He opened his mouth to speak. Mouse, half-expecting to hear a yell, cringed at the crackle of his voice.
“I’m Trooper Landers, and I’m here to help you,” Landers said softly. His voice was a stark contrast to his wiry frame and tough exterior.
Mouse turned her head and looked at him but said nothing.
“It’s okay. You’ve got some people very worried about you. Come with me, and we’ll get you back home,” Landers said, conveying a genuine concern for the small teen.
Mouse nodded. There was no point in arguing. It would be a lost cause.
Mouse slipped her arms into the straps of the backpack and exited her seat. She walked slowly through the aisle with her head down. The police officer followed behind, keeping his left hand on her shoulder. A gentle reminder not to run.
Trooper Landers thanked the bus driver, and he stepped off onto the shoulder of the road. Mouse stood in the rain and thought about running, but the large hand of the trooper squeezed her shoulder. He obviously anticipated this reaction. She shrugged her acceptance and placated the lawman. They walked toward the police car parked at the rear of the bus. The flashing lights were blinding and the downpour added to it. The trooper tipped his hat to deflect the glare.
“Let’s get you out of this god-awful rain,” Landers said, gently guiding her forward.
Thunder boomed as lightning simultaneously lit the darkened sky. The Greyhound bus pulled away, continuing its journey north. She was being pulled back to her start point as she watched the brake lights of her future disappear down the road.
Trooper Landers’ hand suddenly gripped her tightly and then released. Mouse looked back and saw him lying on his back clutching his neck. His legs flailed as he squirmed. A low gurgling sound came out of the man. The rain washed away the blood as soon as it emptied from his neck. Landers’ hands clasped tightly at his throat, trying without avail to ebb the flow. His were eyes wide with panic as he gasped. No words followed. Death did not give the dying man a final goodbye.
Mouse turned from the fallen officer to look for the threat, but as she did, she was hoisted into the air. The grip clenched around her midsection was like a vice, knocking the wind out of her. Her arms pinned, she flailed relentlessly. Mouse’s writhing did little to release her constraints. She bucked her head, hoping to make contact with his nose or face but found the shoulder instead. Mouse buried her heel into his groin, but her kick had no effect. Not even a grunt of discomfort was uttered in response.
Past the cruiser was an SUV without any headlights on. Its silhouette was made visible as lightning shot sideways across the sky. She was carried to the passenger side, her body slammed to the ground, and she felt the man’s impressive weight as he placed his knee in the center of her back. The force of it pushed the air from her lungs. Mouse turned her head to the side, fighting to breathe, and got a mouthful of muddy water. Her arms were yanked behind her back, and she felt something bite at her wrists, pulling them together tightly. Hard to tell, but it felt like a rope or cord. There was no slack for her to manipulate her hands.
She heard the click of a door opening, the massive hands grabbed her by the hair and legs. Mouse was painfully hoisted upward and tossed on the floorboard of the backseat. She landed hard, and with no hands to break her fall, she scraped her face along the floor mat, tasting blood. A heavy blanket covered her, blacking out the lightning filled sky.
The car drove off without any word from the man. Mouse lay in the shrouded darkness and tried to plan her next move. Her way out. She heard her father’s words, Focus. Visualize what you need to do.
For the first time in a long time, she couldn’t come up with a plan. For the first time in a long time, Mouse was truly terrified.
Chapter 48
“Well, it’s official. Izzy is in charge of all the driving from this point forward,” Declan said, talking into the speakerphone of his cell.
“If we keep letting her save our asses, then we’re neve
r going to live it down,” Nick said, chuckling softly.
“Where are we meeting the trooper that located her?” Izzy asked, interrupting the banter.
“At their Memphis headquarters on Summer Ave. We’re waiting for the confirmation when he’s back en route,” Jones interjected from the background.
“Well, we’ve been tracking Mouse’s blip. It stopped briefly and started moving in the opposite direction. I’m assuming the trooper already has her,” Declan said.
“We saw that too. You’re probably right. There’s a slight delay in communicating with the state police. Give me a second, and I’ll make another call to verify,” Jones said.
Nick took the phone off speaker and pressed it closer to his ear.
“Hey, guys, are you okay? I feel really bad about putting you in this position. Never my intention.”
“Don’t ever apologize to me again. You’d do the same for us,” Declan said seriously.
“Fair enough,” Nick said. He was about to add to his comment when he heard Jones yell.
“What was that?” Declan asked.
“Hang on.” Nick pulled the phone away from his face and then put it back on speaker. “You’d better hear this.”
“Trooper’s dead. They found him after he didn’t respond. They contacted the Greyhound bus driver, who confirmed that the girl got off with the trooper. Our guess is that the doer has Mouse,” Jones said, speaking rapidly. No drawl. No time for theatrics.
“Shit! This just became a hostage rescue mission,” Declan said.
“If this is the guy who got the drop on Nick, then we’d better be on our toes,” Izzy said.
“We’ve got an advantage,” Declan said confidently.
“Yeah, what’s that?” Izzy asked.
“He doesn’t know we can track her. We can follow from a distance, and then when they stop, we make our move.”
Izzy registered that Declan’s face held an air of contentedness. The thought of conflict seemed to bring with it a sense of peace. A strange genetic make-up for this battle-hardened man. Her heart raced at the thought of this potential standoff.
Declan smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Izzy. We’ve got this.”
Nodding, she pushed the pedal and accelerated the Camry as Declan kept a watchful eye on the red dot labeled MX1249.
Chapter 49
He punched the message into the phone as he drove. His large fingers nimbly navigated the screen, while maintaining a steady focus on the road ahead. The storm that had helped mask his attack on the lawman subsided quickly. Steam rose from the hot asphalt, and the dense humidity caused him to use the wipers intermittently. The message he sent was simple and clear: She’s with me.
Cain waited for the response, driving south. He didn’t know how the Pastor would like him to proceed with the Heathen, but he knew it was best to begin the long journey back to Texas. His phone alerted him to the incoming message, and he looked at the response: Relax Inn just across the border into Arkansas. Room 117. Key’s at the desk. Someone will be there to meet you.
Cain tried to interpret the meaning. Did he fail again? Why would the Pastor send someone else to finish the task at the bus depot? Was he being replaced?
He squeezed at his massive thigh and could feel the wound re-open. The pain provided little in the way of relief to his sudden frustration. He pressed play on the Ford’s center dashboard display, looking to find solace in the Pastor’s words.
As if the recordings were preset to Cain’s current circumstance, the Pastor rang out his wisdom.
It is not for you to know. It is not for you to control. The direction God gives you in life is known only to him. I’ve been lucky enough to be a vessel to share his wisdom. To speak his commands. To guide the lost. Believe in me. Trust in my words. You shall walk in the light and carry forth on a just and righteous path.
Cain released his leg. Entering the GPS coordinates to his new destination, he was overcome with a feeling of excitement. Almost giddy, he wondered if the Pastor would be there to greet him. It’d been so long since he’d last been in his presence. The wishful thought carried him forward into the night.
The Heathen whimpered behind him, and Cain turned up the volume to drown out the sound. It wouldn’t be long until he would complete his task and reap the reward. The praise he so desperately sought.
Cain retrieved the key from the main desk and went back to the vehicle. The CD played and continued to blare the sermon. This was done to drown out any attempted cries for help that the Heathen might attempt while he was inside. He returned and looked down at the girl on the floorboard. She hadn’t moved. He reached his hand down under the heavy blanket, running his finger along her neck in search of a pulse. Still alive, he drove around to the rear of the motel and parked in front of room 117.
The backside of the motel was L-shaped. There was nothing to the rear of the structure except a dilapidated fenced-in area that protected a filled pool. Weeds had broken through the concrete in several places, reaching out from the ground and up the expanse of the fence. The Relax Inn appeared to be anything but. It was definitely a long-forgotten waypoint for weary travelers. Perfect for meetings like this. Perfect for a Heathen’s end.
It was deserted, except for one light green sedan parked in a nearby spot. Cain assumed this vehicle belonged to the person he was set to meet. Not sure who or why this meeting was to take place, he followed the Pastor’s instructions blindly, trusting in the man who had given his life meaning.
Cain lowered the volume on the car stereo. Leaving the Heathen on the floorboard, he stepped from the Ford. His foot landed in a puddle of warm water, a remnant from the recent storm. The water soaked into his shoes, causing them to squeak slightly as he shuffled slowly to the door. The gait of his step was off-kilter, favoring his injured thigh.
The flat plastic electronic key slipped into the slot and a click sounded, indicating that the door was now unlocked. In the stillness of the humid night air, Cain heard the creak of a chair.
Cain slipped the pistol from the holster on his hip. The weapon looked like a child’s toy in his large hand. He held it behind his back as he pushed the handle and opened the door, exposing himself to the room’s occupant.
He entered without saying a word as the door closed behind him.
Chapter 50
“Nick said they’ve got some local support coming. Maybe we should wait. Let them handle it,” Izzy said, wavering in her usual confidence.
“Not a chance! This asshole tried to end our friend, killed a goddamned trooper, and abducted a little girl,” Declan said, intensely.
The focus in his eyes told the remainder. He was in operational mode, and Izzy knew that any further attempts to sway him would be futile. She drew her compact Glock 23 from the inside-the-waistband holster on the small of her back.
“You go, I go,” Izzy said, declaring her trust in the man seated in the passenger seat.
Their Camry remained parked in front of the Relax Inn’s main entrance. Izzy and Declan stepped inside the meager management office. The smell of burnt coffee and cigarettes wafted toward them as they entered. The two flashed their credentials to the clerk. His eyes widened and he wiped his nose on his sleeve, leaning in to inspect the badges.
“What can I do ya fer?” The clerk said, straightening his posture in an attempt to convey some level of professionalism.
“How long has he been in there?” Declan asked.
“Um, which one?” The clerk said, scratching at a scab on his arm.
“What do you mean which one?” Izzy said, jumping in the conversation.
“Well, ya see there is two of ‘em. One came in a few minutes b’fer the other,” the clerk said, his eyes bouncing between the two agents standing before him.
“Okay, so how long?” Declan asked again.
“Dunno. Maybe fifteen. Nah, prob-b-b-bly two-wen-n-t-ty,” the clerk said, taking on a nervous stammer.
“Thank you,” Izzy said, realizing the cl
erk was overwhelmed by the situation. “How about you sketch me the layout of the room?”
Satisfied by the crude drawing of Room 117’s schematic, the two agents left the clerk’s office with the duplicate key he’d made. In the muggy night air, the two moved on foot toward the room. Declan made one last check of the image on his phone’s screen.
“Still there. No movement.”
Izzy let out a long, controlled breath. The tension in her face was only equaled by the strength in her dark eyes.
“You pop the door, and I’m going to push the room. It’s going to be tight. Just be on my ass when I enter,” Declan said, pitching the plan on the fly.
“I’ve got your six,” Izzy said confidently.
“Never doubted that,” Declan whispered.
Declan raised his balled fist up by his ear, halting his progression. The silent gesture stopped Izzy. They made eye contact and Declan pointed ahead, indicating that they were approaching the target. Izzy nodded and they proceeded at a much slower pace as they closed the distance to the room.
Declan stopped again and pointed at the door. Without saying a word, Izzy came around to the front of their two-person assault team. Izzy held the electronic key at the ready, scanning the room’s exterior. The drapes were drawn, and the lights were off. She inhaled deeply and let the tension out with a long breath.
Declan held his pistol at the low-ready. He stood behind Izzy and reached up with his left hand. Squeezing her shoulder, he gave Izzy the signal to initiate, and she pushed the key into the metal slot. The click seemed as loud as a hammer on a nail. She pushed down on the handle, opening the door. Izzy moved to the right, allowing Declan a clear path into the room. His body was a blur of movement as he shot past her. She’d forgotten how fast he moved and lunged into the room to keep up.
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