by Tate, Harley
It was a lost cause. After a minute or two, her thumb was on the edge of burning. She was wasting fuel. Madison released the lighter and the flame blinked out. The afterglow drifted across her field of vision, a fading burst of red and orange.
She reached down and picked up the closest stone. It was warm, but the heat wouldn’t last for long. After setting them all in the passenger seat, Madison climbed in and shut the door. The temperatures outside were hovering around freezing. Inside wasn’t much better.
“Brianna? Can you hear me?” Madison called out to her best friend. She received no response.
She reached over and felt for Brianna’s pulse. Steady and strong. Thank God for small favors. One at a time, she tucked the warm stones around her friend’s body, placing one at her feet and two on the seat near her hands and chest.
“Don’t worry. We’re going to make it.” Madison climbed into the back and hoisted up the rifle she’d used earlier to shoot at the snowmobiles. As she turned to climb back into the front, something in the distance caught her eye.
She crept closer to the window, squinting into the gloom. Am I hallucinating already? She cupped her hands around her face and blocked out everything except the darkness where she’d seen it.
There! Madison dropped her hands and a shiver racked her body. This time, it wasn’t from the cold.
Out in the distance, a speck of a light wobbled and glowed. Was it a flashlight? A fire? She couldn’t tell from the distance.
She swallowed and checked the status of the rifle. If the light belonged to one of the snowmobile riders, then he was out there, searching. Madison pulled off the glove on her right hand and slipped her finger around the rifle’s trigger. Her hand was so cold, she didn’t know where the metal began and her skin ended.
Her teeth chattered and her knees knocked together as she stared out the window at the light. It wavered every so often, but it barely moved. Was he hunkered down in the wind? Taking a break?
Madison clamped her teeth to slow the shiver and brought the rifle up into position. She balanced it on the seat back and hunkered down, barely taller than the rear gate of the Jeep, and waited.
No one was sneaking up on them. She would defend herself and Brianna no matter what.
Chapter Eighteen
TRACY
Clifton Compound
10:00 p.m.
Tracy sat at the small table, following the wood grain with her fingers. Something was wrong. Even if the loading of the U-Haul took all day, Walter, Madison, and the rest of Tracy’s makeshift family should have been home by now.
Fireball purred in her lap, oblivious to her inner turmoil. He’d taken quite a liking to the inside of the cabin over the winter months, refusing to go outside unless someone picked him up and plopped him on the porch. Even then, he’d only rush out to do his business and run back, meowing and clawing to come inside.
She absentmindedly ran her fingers through his fur. “Come spring, you need to earn your keep. More mousing, less snoozing.”
At the door, Lottie pricked her ears. The little Yorkie rose up, whole body at attention.
“Are they home?” Tracy stood up and Fireball jumped to the floor.
Lottie whined and pawed at the wood.
“It’s okay. I’m coming.” Tracy tugged on her coat and yanked the door open. Lottie ran out to the porch barking and jumping. A large pickup truck pulled through the gate to the Cliftons’ property, followed by the U-Haul they had prepped early that morning.
Tracy frowned. This isn’t the plan. She craned her neck to see around the trailer. Where was the Jeep? Tracy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from panicking. There has to be an explanation. Don’t think the worst.
She stepped off the porch and hurried to meet the pickup truck as the driver’s door opened.
“What’s happened?”
Colt stepped down. “You know that worst-case scenario we outlined?”
Tracy nodded.
“Think worse.” He opened the door to the back seat. “Help me get Ben inside. He needs medical attention.”
“Ben Jacobson?” Tracy rushed to the rear of the truck. Ben sprawled across the back seat, one leg dangling down to the floorboard. “Why did you bring him here?”
“It’s a long story.” Larkin hustled over from the U-Haul. “We can fill you in once he’s stable.”
Tracy looked past him. “Where’s everyone else?”
“Not coming.” Larkin reached past her to help Colt lift Ben from the truck. “We need antibiotics, disinfectant, gauze, and bandages. Maybe sutures.”
“We don’t have any.”
He jerked his head toward the U-Haul. “We have everything.”
Tracy swallowed. If they brought all the medicine and Ben here, something awful must have happened. She couldn’t go on unless she knew. “Are they dead?”
“What?”
“My husband and my daughter. Are they dead?”
Colt shook his head. “We don’t know. Brianna and Madison took off through the woods. A couple of guys followed them. Walter stayed behind to find them.”
She swallowed down the horror. “You were attacked.”
Colt snapped. “We don’t have time, Tracy.” He shoved past her, his arms looped under Ben’s while Larkin followed with the heavy man’s feet. “Help us with Ben or get out of the way.”
She stood in the snow, unable to process what was happening. Her husband and daughter were missing, possibly dead, and Colt and Larkin left them behind to save Ben Jacobson. A man whose family was responsible for Dani’s almost fatal injury and possibly Walter’s as well.
Up until that moment, Tracy had managed to bury her ill feelings toward the Jacobsons, focusing on the positives an alliance could bring. But seeing members of her own little group choose Ben over family? Anger and frustration welled up inside her.
I should have been there. She cursed herself for not insisting on being part of the mission. Now her husband and daughter were out there somewhere and she was supposed to ignore it and focus on a near stranger.
The door to Anne and Barry’s cabin opened and Barry stepped out onto the porch, shotgun in his hand.
Anne followed a step behind, jacket flying open in the wind. “What on earth?”
Tracy crossed the common area. “They were attacked. I don’t know the details.”
“Where’s Brianna?”
“Not here. Walter is still out there, searching for the girls.”
Barry cursed. “I knew this was a terrible idea.”
Anne reached for his arm. “We don’t know what’s happened. Let’s reserve judgment.”
“Colt and Larkin brought Ben here. He’s wounded.”
“What?” Barry bellowed the word. “Why not take him to his own damn farm? They’re the ones with all the medicine!”
Tracy pointed to the U-Haul. “They brought the pharmacy, too.”
Barry stilled. “Well, at least that’s something.” He turned to Anne. “Help as best you can. Once Jacobson is stable, we can all sit down and find out what happened.”
Anne smiled at Tracy. “Help me treat him, will you? The sooner we deal with it, the sooner we can figure out how to help our daughters.”
Tracy exhaled. Anne was right. “I’ll root through the U-Haul for antibiotics, suture kits, and anything else we might need.”
“Thank you.” Anne strode toward the kitchen cabin where Colt and Larkin had taken Ben.
Tracy hurried to the U-Haul. She yanked the rolling door open and gasped. It was fully loaded almost floor-to-ceiling with box after box of medicine. Her daughter’s neat handwriting adorned every box, listing the range of drugs inside. Tracy bit back a sob. She couldn’t break down. Not now.
Thanks to the labels, she found the gauze and a suture kit right away. But antibiotics posed a problem. She didn’t know the generic names for most shelf-stable versions and searching in penicillin and amoxicillin came up empty. She finally found a box of Zithromax in the Z box, sco
oped up the rest of the supplies, and hopped out of the truck. She dragged the door shut and ran to the kitchen cabin.
Anne sat in a chair beside a cot, cleaning what looked to be a nasty bullet wound in Ben Jacobson’s abdomen. “Sorry that took me so long. I couldn’t find any antibiotics.”
“There have to be some in there.”
Tracy held up a bottle. “These should work, assuming he’s not allergic.”
“It’s a risk we’ll have to take. He’ll get an infection for sure without them.” Anne dipped a clean cotton ball in a small bowl of rubbing alcohol and patted the edges of the wound. “Rifle rounds, both clean with minimal yaw. Lucky for him, they were fired at relatively close range. If he’d been any farther out, we’d be digging bits and pieces from his guts.”
“No, we’d be digging a hole in the frozen dirt out back.” Colt wiped his hands on a rag and pulled out a chair. He fell into it and closed his eyes.
Larkin sat across from him, a bottle of whiskey and four glasses sitting on the table. While Tracy had been in the U-Haul, both Peyton and Dani had joined the group. Dani leaned against the wall, every bit the angry teenager. Peyton sat on the other side of Ben, helping Anne as best he could.
Tracy turned to the men at the table. “Now that he’s being treated, can one of you please tell us what happened?”
Colt tapped the table and Larkin poured a finger of whiskey into a clean glass. Colt downed it, wincing as it hit the back of his throat. “That’s bottom of the barrel isn’t it?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
He flashed Larkin the middle finger and turned to Tracy. “They were waiting for us up Northwoods Boulevard. A roadblock of snowmobiles. Looked to be the same type of men as you described.”
Larkin nodded. “They were all wearing helmets or glasses and ski masks, so I couldn’t get a good look, but they fit the profile.”
Tracy exhaled. She’d feared something like that would happen. It was why she and Larkin insisted on moving the drugs, only they were too late.
“Craig got out of the truck to talk to them.” Larkin paused and pressed his fingers against his lips. “They shot him in the back.”
Tracy sat up with a start. “What?”
“Immediately after, the bullets started flying. Ben was up in the truck, firing from the open door. Walter and I were in the U-Haul. Brianna and Madison were behind us. There was no way to fight them off. Had to be seven or eight of them, all firing.”
He swallowed. “I jammed the U-Haul in reverse and took off back down the road, passed the Jeep, and told them to take off if they couldn’t hold. A few minutes later, they did. Walter saw the girls turn for the forest.”
“And the men on snowmobiles?”
Larkin exhaled. “Maybe one or two followed them.”
Colt joined in. “We took out the rest. By the time the fighting ended, Ben had been hit twice, Craig was dead. We knew at least one snowmobile got away.”
“So you left?”
“We had to secure the medicine.”
Tracy glanced over at Anne. She didn’t look up from Ben’s wounds. Tracy shook her head. “Did Walter know where the girls had gone?”
“No. He took a snowmobile and headed into the forest. He planned to follow the tracks.”
Tracy closed her eyes. Her husband didn’t know the first thing about riding a snowmobile.
“Given the circumstances, we couldn’t take Ben home. One look at the two of us dragging him in wounded and we’d probably have been shot.”
Colt nodded. “And now we have control of the medicine. If Ben doesn’t pull through this, it’s all ours.”
Anne leaned back in her chair. “They’ll see it as an act of betrayal.”
“Not if we spin it right.”
Anne shook her head. “You’ve put us in a terrible position.”
“No. The Jacobsons did that when they shot me and Walter.” Dani pushed off the wall. “Heather’s nice, but this whole thing stinks. You should have dropped him off with Heather and taken the medicine.”
Colt shot her a glance. “We’re doing our best to save him. With the pharmacy’s supplies, there’s nothing Heather can do that we can’t and we don’t have to look over our shoulders every ten seconds.”
“Not until they come looking for their leader.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“What about Madison and Brianna?” Peyton spoke up for the first time. “We can’t leave them out there.”
Tracy stood up. “I’m going to look for them.”
“You’ll need help.” Larkin leaned back in his chair. “No one should be on Northwoods alone.”
“I’ll go.” Peyton glanced at Anne. “If that’s all right with you.”
She nodded. “I’m about done here.”
Tracy smiled at Peyton. “Get your bag and plenty of extra ammo. We’ll leave as soon as we can.” She turned and strode from the cabin, not stopping until she stood on the porch of the sleeping cabin across the way. She sucked in a breath of cold air.
Her husband and daughter were out there somewhere, possibly hurt or dying. If the men from the ambush followed them into the forest, could they fight them off? She let out a sob.
Peyton’s voice made her jump. “We’ll find them, Mrs. S. Don’t worry.”
“What if it’s too late?”
“Brianna and Madison are the toughest girls I know. If anyone can fight off a thug on a snowmobile, it’s them.”
Tracy managed a small smile. “Thanks, Peyton.”
“Let’s just go and get them back.” He clapped her on the back and pushed past her to grab his gear. After a moment, Tracy followed him inside.
Chapter Nineteen
TRACY
Woods north of Truckee, CA
10:00 p.m.
Madison jerked awake. Oh, no. She lay, slumped over the rifle, drooling onto the freezing back seat. At some point, exhaustion overtook her will to stay awake. The man out there could have killed them. Anyone could have crept up on the Jeep and she would have failed. Why didn’t he come for them?
She sat up, breath steaming in front of her face. Pain lanced her fingers as she wiggled them inside her gloves. Her feet were two blocks of ice inside her boots. If she hadn’t woken up, she would have slowly frozen to death overnight. What woke me? Madison twisted around, groaning as her stiff muscles protested.
The world outside the Jeep sat still. Too cold for birds or other forest animals, too dark to see.
Ahh! All of a sudden, she was blinded. White light filled her vision and Madison blinked over and over. Tears welled in her eyes and she held a hand up to shield her face. The light bounced away, forming a wide circle on the ground outside the Jeep.
A flashlight.
Madison sank down beneath the seat back. Was it the light that woke her up? The noise of someone approaching. She didn’t know who or what was out there, but she couldn’t let them get the best of her. She had to protect Brianna.
After tugging off one glove, Madison reached for the rifle, but recoiled on contact. It was freezing. I can’t hold it steady.
She twisted around, panic building inside her chest. Brianna carried a backup handgun tucked into an appendix holster. Madison dove beneath the Mylar blanket and dug it out. A Glock 19, warm from Brianna’s body heat.
She popped the magazine out and checked the ammunition. Full, thank God. She shoved the mag back in place and cursed as the noise filled the Jeep. Did whoever was out there hear her? Did they know the sound?
She didn’t know what to do. Staying inside meant limited lines of sight and overwhelming fear. Every bump, every sound, every flash of light would drive terror into her heart. She couldn’t defend herself trapped inside.
But would outside in the wind be any better? Madison turned and lifted her head up enough to peer over the seat back. The light came from the left side of the Jeep. If she exited on the right, could she position herself to take a shot if it reappeare
d? Maybe, but it was the only choice that gave her a chance.
Madison eased over to the rear passenger door and pulled the handle. It squeaked as cold air rushed inside the cab and she winced. As she flattened her back against the Jeep, she eased the door shut.
I can do this.
Madison crept toward the rear of the vehicle, pausing at the bumper. She brought the gun into a defensive shooting position, close to her body as her father taught her. She stepped clear of the vehicle.
A deep voice called out from the dark. “If you’re gonna shoot me, just do it already.”
“Identify yourself.”
The man grunted and something fell into the snow. A light clicked on.
Madison sucked in a breath. He was clad in the black snowmobile gear of the men who chased her and Brianna, but from the grimace on his face and the pallor of his cheeks despite the freezing air, he wasn’t in much of a position to attack.
He sat in the snow, one leg twisted awkwardly beneath him. The flashlight sat light up in the snow, creating an almost halo effect around his body. Is he injured? Did he fall? Madison couldn’t risk letting her guard down. It could be a trap.
“Hands up.” She stepped forward, gun aimed at his head.
He lolled over to the side, favoring his right leg as he shifted in the snow. “Like I said, either shoot me or not.”
Madison aimed at his head. “Are you wearing a vest?”
“Just double tap, sweetheart.” He tapped his own head to reinforce his words before reaching into his coat pocket.
Madison’s finger twitched on the trigger.
He pulled out a small, soft-sided box and tapped it on his hand. He wasn’t listening to her at all. Madison stepped forward as he shoved a cigarette into his mouth and lit it.
“Were you looking for us?”
“When?”
“Whenever.”
