“Tucker, find.”
TWO
Tucker set off. The long leash snapped tight and Patrick followed at a brisk pace.
Jennie had to hustle to keep up. Her legs didn’t want to move that fast, but she forced them to stick with the harsh pace. Nate. Jennie prayed with every step as they climbed up the side of the mountain.
She was so tired. Her head throbbed, and she could feel the sticky wet on her leg. But did that matter, when her son was out there somewhere? He was either alone on the mountain in the dark, or he’d been caught. Dragged back to that house. Or taken somewhere else at gunpoint.
And now this man in front of her showed up? Of all the people in the world, the love of her life—or so she’d thought at one point—was the responding police officer.
Nate.
Patrick might be here, but her son was all that mattered.
Your son.
Did he not know? How was it even possible that Patrick seemed to have no clue Nate was his son?
He’d talked to her father before he left.
The boy Rick Sanders, whom she’d known in high school, was no more. This was a man, Patrick Sanders the police officer. His youthful features had matured into handsome ones, catching her attention now far more than ever. Or she’d hit her head. Yet she couldn’t help but notice he looked...strong.
Jennie had been relying on herself, and God’s strength, since the day he’d left town. She didn’t need a man in her life now. No, what she needed was Officer Sanders and his K-9 with the vest that read Search and Rescue.
Tucker sniffed the air as he battled his way up the steep trail. Every step the animal took was like a competitive athlete going after that gold medal while he dragged Patrick along. The dog’s shaggy coat looked warmer than her thin sweater and he was focused in a way that made her think he was on an adventure. The animal seemed to love his job.
She’d been about to explain exactly who Nate was before Patrick had cut her off, reminding her that finding Nate was the priority here. Was he being purposely obtuse?
He was right, though. They had to find Nate. He was probably so scared.
That had nothing to do with the fact Patrick clearly hadn’t wanted to be there for her when she’d found out she was pregnant. In fact, he’d left town without even talking to her. Telling her father that he wasn’t interested in being part of her life anymore. Her dad, the criminal, had vowed to stick with her through it while the best guy she’d ever known had deserted her.
Talk about a slap in the face.
As soon as this job was done, he would no doubt leave all over again. He’d moved on to bigger and better things, this town nothing but a memory.
The thought of him having a new family slashed through her worse than any knife.
She looked for a ring on his left hand, but he wore gloves. Maybe he had a wife. A family. He wouldn’t need Nate, or Jennie, in his life. Another woman wouldn’t want an old girlfriend and her son showing up.
A whimper worked its way up her throat. Maybe it was better if she let him go on believing Nate wasn’t his, and then he would just leave. Life would go back to normal. That might not be fair to him, but it would certainly be easier for her. Why did doing the right thing always have to be so hard?
“Come on, Jennie.” He sounded irritated.
She started to reply, but her foot caught on something and she went down. Her injury smarted and she cried out in pain.
“Tuck!” Patrick barked the dog’s name as a command.
She looked up. The dog stopped and turned, looking about as impatient as Patrick. She clambered to her feet, Patrick there holding her elbow.
“Quickly but carefully, okay?”
She nodded.
“We’ll find your son.”
The words cut through her. Nate. It didn’t matter if Patrick had no interest in him. The two of them were a team, and they would get through this.
He looked down at her, then knelt. “You’re bleeding.”
She winced as he shifted her pant leg. “It’s fine. We need to get Nate back.”
He stood. “You’re sure?”
She nodded, and man and dog set off again. In the moonlight, she saw the outline of his gun and shuddered, even though he was a cop.
She looked up at the hill beside them, the steep incline. She groaned. “How far did I roll?”
Surely, the house where they’d been held was just over this ridge. She would get Nate back, give him the biggest hug ever and promise nothing bad would happen to him again. That wasn’t realistic, but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t believe every word she said.
As the dog climbed the hill, practically dragging Patrick behind him, Jennie followed. She kept her gaze on the back of Patrick’s jacket.
Walking away. Her going after him. The same way she’d done so many times in high school—the girl with the criminal father and a crush on the football captain, the golden boy. So her life had basically been a giant cliché, which occasionally she thought was amusing. When she wasn’t angry at him for leaving her alone and pregnant.
He’d known what her father had been like, and yet Patrick hadn’t even told her himself that he didn’t care about the baby. He’d left it to her father to give her that message.
Clearly, Patrick’s only concern here was getting this assignment done as fast as possible. Hot anger roiled in her empty stomach. But it was better than fear. Fear left a person powerless. Anger was like taking back control. Though, that wasn’t more than an illusion, whereas fear was very real right now.
God, help me find Nate. Help him not be scared. Don’t let him get hurt.
It wasn’t Nate’s fault that the land they lived on was useful to bad men. Drug traffickers. Neither was it his fault that Jennie had refused to allow them to cross her land. She didn’t want armed bad guys anywhere near her son. Thinking they could do whatever they wanted when it was her property. She had a right to keep her son safe.
First, she’d called the sheriff. He’d driven out half a dozen times and had even spoken with men on her land. They’d told him they were merely lost. The last time, she’d called the Drug Enforcement Agency.
She was still waiting for a callback.
And then this happened?
Being taken from their house and held at gunpoint was a clear message. Let us do what we want. Or else.
She needed to get Nate back before she lost everything good in her life.
* * *
Tucker had the scent. He could smell the boy on the wind, and knew he was close by. Now it was just a case of the dog tracking it to the source, where the scent would be strongest. How he could tell the difference between her son Nate’s smell in the air, or what was likely embedded in Jennie’s clothing, Patrick didn’t know. A canine’s capacity to differentiate scents was fascinating.
And not something he needed to be distracted by right now. Though that would be better than the full force of being here with Jennie.
Never mind that he’d dreamed of her a million times over the years. He’d even thought about contacting her a few—thousand—times.
He didn’t need to lose focus when Tucker was on the long line, working. Still, it was part of Patrick’s makeup as a cop to ensure the victim present with him was all right.
“How are you doing back there?” He glanced over his shoulder.
She had on jeans, cowgirl boots and a thin sweater that probably wasn’t doing much to ward off the cold.
“I’m...” She hugged herself. “I’ll be good when we get to Nate.” She glanced up the hill again.
She was bleeding. Might have even hit her head. She’d said something about falling, but she still wasn’t slurring her words, so she likely didn’t have a concussion.
He’d hear all about what happened in the hospital, when she got medical attention. Safe. Sound
. Her and her son.
Why did helping them seem different than what he did for any other person he’d ever helped as a cop?
Patrick didn’t have the time to think about it too much. He pulled off his jacket and tucked it around her shoulders, which allowed her to pick up her pace to match the dog’s.
By his side now, she said, “I thought dogs weren’t supposed to pull on the leash.”
“When he’s working, it’s all about tension. If I let it slacken, he’ll lose focus.”
“And this is what you do? Rescue people.”
Patrick said, “Sometimes. We also go into situations where there may be bad guys hiding, and Tucker will find and flush them out. Recently we did a training course set up like a disaster zone. Tucker is certified to go in when there’s been an earthquake or a building collapse. He can be sure-footed even when the terrain is unstable and still find his man.”
“Must be nice,” she muttered.
“We will find Nate.” He glanced up at the top of the hill. Close now. Both of them were breathless. He was sweating, despite giving away his jacket. Most people preferred to be distracted. “We were specifically requested by Sheriff Johns because he knows what Tucker and I can do. And because I know the terrain.”
She said nothing.
He acknowledged to himself that the terrain here was definitely proving unstable. And he wasn’t talking about the mountain.
Too many of his memories were associated with the town at the bottom of the ridge. Mistakes. Things both of them would probably rather forget. After all, they’d built lives. Separate ones, after vowing they would never part.
He blew out a breath.
Tucker’s head snapped to the side.
Patrick watched as the dog picked up on something then let out a low growl.
“What is it?” Jennie whispered.
“I don’t know.” But he had a free hand poised to reach for his gun nonetheless.
“God, keep him safe.”
She whispered the words, and he knew they weren’t for him. It seemed too intimate for him to be part of her private prayers. Did she believe now? Good for her that she had faith to fall back on at a time like this.
He’d left his faith behind a long time ago. Right around the time he’d been torn from her life, unable to come back. Not that she’d wanted him anymore. All they’d had? She’d tossed it aside the second things got hard. No longer interested. So he’d walked away from everything.
It had been the most painful experience of his life.
“He’s all alone.” Her soft voice carried to him on the breeze. But reassuring her could only go so far. He had to find her son. It was the only thing that would truly give her peace right now.
Tucker crested the ridge.
Patrick clicked his tongue and got the dog’s attention. They crouched at the edge, side by side, and looked over.
“That’s the house.” She pointed to a structure tucked against the hillside to his left. A floodlight had been turned on, illuminating the yard, which was nothing more than the same sandy dirt and scrub brushes.
Except for a truck parked out front. Engine running. Door open so the dome light was on but there was no one inside.
“How many men were there?”
She sucked in a breath. “Two that I saw. But I thought I heard more voices than that.” Fear lived in the quaver of her voice.
He’d never known what it felt like to be so scared and hoped for her sake that her son would come out of this unscathed. If Patrick could help him through it—before he left town when they were safe again and he was back in Albuquerque—then he’d do what he could. Maybe it would be enough to keep the kid from having nightmares.
“How many rooms?”
She briefly described the layout, but it sounded like she’d seen only part of the house. “I’m sorry. They shoved us in one room, and then when we left we just found the closest door and ran for it.”
“Why did they want you? Did they say—”
The back door swung open.
One man strode out, dragging a smaller person with him. A child.
Her hand grasped his arm. To get his attention or for solidarity? He didn’t know. She whispered, “Rick.”
The name she used to call him, so long ago. There wasn’t time to absorb the way it reassured him. Warmed him, even.
“We have to get him.”
“I will.” He watched the man tug the boy along toward the truck. “Stay here.” Patrick unclipped Tucker’s leash and dropped it to the ground. Then he clicked his tongue again and patted his leg.
Tucker moved with him, keeping beside Patrick’s leg in a perfect heel, where he tracked with every footstep Patrick made.
There was no time to call for backup or check if he even had a cell signal right now. If he and Tucker were going to take this guy down and get the boy out of harm’s way it would be together. In lockstep.
They were partners. Each watching the other’s back.
Patrick kept his head low, weapon drawn, in a jog that ate up the sandy dirt between him and the truck. Jennie’s son.
He’d have only a split second to react when the man saw him. Patrick would have to take that second and use it to his advantage. Act before the man could hurt Nate.
The gunman shoved Nate toward the truck.
The boy cried out, a sound that rang across the mountainside as clear as the night sky.
Patrick took two more steps and brought his gun up just as another man emerged from the house.
“Hey!” Jennie screamed down at the house. “Hey, I’m right here! Come and get me!”
Patrick nearly faltered. What was she doing?
“Mom!” The boy screamed for her, the sound so full of fear that it hurt to hear.
A gunshot rang out, whizzing above Patrick’s head.
He hit the dirt and Jennie screamed.
THREE
She hit the ground and dirt wafted into her mouth. Jennie spat, getting back up to her knees immediately. “Nate!”
Patrick was already up, staying low as he ran toward her son with the dog close to his side. Headed right for the man with the gun. “State police! Put it down. On the ground. Put the gun down, now!”
She didn’t even have a gun and she wanted to obey him. His voice carried that much command.
The gunman with her son froze. Nate cowered by the truck wheel, the engine still running. It hurt to see him so scared, even as her brain reminded her that it was good he’d curled into a smaller target. Patrick might not know who the boy was to him. Should have told him. But he would protect Nate.
“I said, put it down!”
She caught movement to her left, out the corner of her eye. Another gunman had emerged from the house. She couldn’t make out his features, but the stance wasn’t friendly. The second man held a gun in one hand, down by his side. Had Patrick seen...
“Hands on your head!” Busy ensuring their safety by disarming the first bad guy, Patrick hadn’t even acknowledged Nate yet.
The man by the house raised his weapon.
Jennie grasped a palm-size rock and stood, hefting it as she rose so that the rock sailed across the distance between them and hit the second man square in the chest. Thank you, softball. The man yelped and staggered back.
His gun went off as he reeled. Patrick fired a round of his own, causing the man to pitch forward and stumble down the stairs. The gunman toppled to the ground, where he lay moaning. Patrick glanced from the bad guy beside him to the one at the house.
But it was too late.
The man by him launched up and into the front seat of the truck. He hit the gas and the vehicle lurched forward.
Nate dove out of the way, and Jennie had to watch in horror as the truck raced past. The wheel, so close. She tore down the mountainside to her so
n. He hit the ground, well clear of the truck as it sped closer to the house.
“Thank You, God. Thank You.” She fell to her knees and gathered up her son in her arms as she watched the second man, the one Patrick had shot. The last thing she wanted was for any of them to get a bullet in their back.
Nate was safe—or would be in a second. That was what counted right now. The rest would come later, when she figured out why Patrick didn’t seem to think Nate had anything to do with him. She wondered why he didn’t know Nate was clearly his son. He’d known she was pregnant the night he left town, right?
The truck slowed. Patrick raced toward it, Tucker running fast beside him. Jennie watched as the second man, the one she’d hit with the rock, clambered up and hauled himself over the side of the truck, narrowly landing in the bed.
Patrick yelled after them but didn’t shoot.
Jennie almost wanted him to. These men had kidnapped her. They’d terrorized Nate.
She twisted to look down at him, then shuffled the boy in her arms to lay him down. “Patrick!”
He ran over, commanding the dog to “guard” as he dropped to his knees beside her. “What is it?” Patrick grabbed something from his belt. He flipped a switch and the flashlight illuminated. He moved it so the side of the beam lit up her son’s face. “He’s unconscious?”
Jennie just nodded as tears rolled down her face. “He must have rolled and hit his head on something. I thought he was just getting out of the way of the truck.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll call for—I have no signal.”
“It’s spotty up here.” She patted Nate’s face. “Baby, wake up. Mama’s here.” He didn’t like her calling him “baby” since he considered himself a big kid these days. A young man, even. He puffed up when the pastor called him that.
“Maybe there’s a phone in the house?”
She didn’t know if Patrick wanted an answer to his question. She kept patting Nate’s cheek, praying at the same time that he’d just passed out for a second. Shock, not a concussion. “Come on, Nate. Wake up.”
Desert Rescue (K-9 Search and Rescue) Page 2
