by Dana R. Lynn
Sharps stopped the truck next to the boarded-up building and got out. He dragged her across the seat without any thought to her bound hands. When she fell out of the truck and landed in a heap at his feet, he kicked her, then yanked her upright.
“Okay, woman,” he growled. “It’s time you got what was coming to you.”
He pushed her forward. She cried out as her heel caught in a crack and her ankle twisted. He didn’t care, just kept herding her toward the building. Inside, the only positive thing she could determine was that the building was slightly warmer than outside. She was so frozen, though, she wasn’t sure she’d ever truly be warm again.
Not that she had all that long to feel cold.
Her frantic gaze searched the shadows for any sign of her babies. But neither AJ nor Matthew was anywhere to be seen.
Was she too late?
“Where are my sons?” she demanded, fear forgotten in her concern for her children.
He laughed, a horrible sound. “I ain’t got your kids. Never did. Followed them this morning and the little one dropped the animal. Knew I could use it as bait. You weren’t so smart, were ya? Now I have you here, and no one knows any better.”
He didn’t have her boys. That meant she could fight back without them being in danger.
Lord, help me. And please let Paul find me. I love him, Lord. And I think he loves me.
Her hands were still bound. As Sharps advanced on her, she backed away, looking around for anything she might use to defend herself. As she passed a rickety shelf unit, she noticed a pile of old straw and insulation that was being used for a mouse’s nest. Her wrists were bound, but she could still use her hands. Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed it up in her fists and threw it directly at his eyes. A mouse fell out of the debris and landed on him, biting his cheek in its fright.
Sharps shrieked, waving his arms to rid himself of both the rodent and the debris in his eyes.
Irene didn’t stick around to watch. Whirling, she took off as fast as her boots would let her run.
Not fast enough. Within seconds, she heard him charging after her.
There was a room ahead of her. She ran in and shoved the door shut, locking it with the slide latch.
He banged on the door. Each bang brought a shower of dust. The door frame shook. It wouldn’t last long under the onslaught.
And then he would catch her.
* * *
Paul glanced at the clock on the wall. Three fifteen. Irene would be at work for another hour. He knew she had a meeting this afternoon. Officer Crane was watching her. Paul frowned as he realized that Crane should have reported in already.
A knock on the door startled him. His head shot up. His two new hires were waiting for him. He waved them in. Officer Lily Shepherd entered, followed by Officer Gabe McLachlan. Both had neutral expressions, but he could read the apprehension in their eyes. He smothered a grin. Facing the new chief was always a harrowing experience. Part of him was tempted to growl at them just to see their reactions. Of course, he wouldn’t. He’d been the new guy before. And he’d also been the one shown mercy, so he would do likewise.
“Relax, you two. I just wanted to review a few details before you go on duty for the first time here.”
Shepherd’s shoulders dipped just a little, some of the tightness flowing out. McLachlan grinned and shook his head. Paul smiled back. He couldn’t help it. His gut feeling was that they would both be assets to his team.
“Sit down. I want to see how you’re settling in.”
They had both attended an orientation. He knew neither officer was from the area. Shepherd had started out in Chicago. Her record working the streets there was impressive. Mac was from the other side of Pittsburgh.
They each grabbed a chair in front of the desk and sat, waiting for him to begin.
Paul lowered himself into his chair and reached for the files on the desk. His eyes went to the clock again. Almost three twenty. His gut screamed that something was wrong—it wasn’t like Crane to be late checking in. He’d known the Erie officer for years. He hadn’t become chief by ignoring his instincts. He considered them a gift from God to help him perform his duties.
“Hold on a minute, guys.” He grabbed his phone. “I need to check in with Crane for a moment.”
He didn’t wait for them to agree.
The light on his phone was blinking. He pushed the button and tapped in his access code to unlock it. He smiled, relief leaking through his system. A voice mail. Well, Crane must have called in and he hadn’t heard the phone ring. That was fine.
He tapped the voice-mail icon and held the phone up to his ear to listen in.
The smile slid off his face. He heard Irene gasp. Why didn’t she say something? Then fear plowed into his brain. Someone was talking. The voice was unfamiliar, but the menace was clear.
“Smart lady. Get out of the car and come with me if you want your brats to live.”
Sharps had Irene! And possibly her kids!
It took all his will to force himself to stand and listen to the rest of the message, hoping against hope the killer would reveal a location or some other pertinent detail. Nothing.
He had no time to waste. The moment the call was done, he was around his desk and heading to the door.
“You two, with me,” he barked to the startled officers. Both Shepherd and Mac rose immediately and followed without question. “Jackson!”
Gavin Jackson looked up from his desk.
“Let all precincts know. Billy Sharps has Irene. Parker.” He pointed a finger at the brown-haired sergeant. His finger shook, but he ignored it, as well as the agony pulsing through his system. If Irene died, he wasn’t sure how he’d cope with that. “You need to check in with Zee at Mrs. Tucker’s house. If they are there and safe, let me know. Tell Zee no one leaves. They may be in danger.”
Parker nodded and reached for his phone.
“Thompson!” he barked. “Go back to the hospital and see if the woman in custody, Brenda, knows of another possible place Sharps might take someone. Anything she can think of may help. Move, people! Lives are in danger!”
The officers scattered, their faces grim. Irene Martello was well liked by all of them. And even if she had been a stranger, Paul knew he could count on every single one of them to put their lives on the line to protect her. It was their calling. And they were all dedicated to it.
“You two—” He waved a finger between McLachlan and Shepherd. “I want you with me.”
They didn’t question him. They may have been newly hired, but both had strong service records.
He didn’t bother weighing the pros and cons of siren or no siren. He was going in hot. Irene needed him. He would die before he let her down. Cars parted, moving to the side of the road to allow his cruiser with its blazing red-and-blue lights to pass.
Paul’s phone rang. Parker’s name flashed up on the display. Paul jabbed the phone button, putting him on speaker.
“Yeah, Parker. What do you have?”
“Chief, I talked with Zee. Mrs. Tucker and the kids are safe. The doors are bolted.”
“Good. Keep me informed of any developments.”
“You got it.” A pause. “Chief? We’ll be praying for Irene. And for you.”
Paul had to swallow around the lump that had gathered in his throat. “Thanks, Ryan. It means a lot.”
He caught McLachlan’s puzzled glance in the mirror. Well, now was not the time or place to spill his heart. Lord willing, he’d be able to find Irene. Alive. And if he did, he’d never let his past cause him to keep his heart from her again. Right now, however, he needed to focus. Praying silently, he drove to where Irene worked. Her car was still there in the parking lot. His mouth went dry. The driver’s door was wide-open, and the motor was still running. Ire
ne was nowhere to be seen.
He pulled behind Crane’s cruiser. “McLachlan. Shepherd. Go search that SUV. Make note of any signs of struggle. Anything we can use.”
Meanwhile, he opened his own door and stood, letting his training and experience kick in. Scanning the area, he judged that the danger here was gone, then went to check on Crane. He had a bad feeling about it. Crane was an older officer with decades of experience. He wouldn’t have let Irene go with a stranger. Even if he’d been distracted or away from his car, the sight of her door being open would have clued him in that something was wrong.
So it was no surprise to find that the cheerful grandfather of two had been shot. Twice. There was a gash along the side of his head. And the other bullet was in his chest. His Kevlar vest had stopped it from killing him. Even as he watched, Paul could see his friend’s chest rising and falling. The passenger window was shattered, glass strewn all over the seat. Paul opened the passenger door. He could hear Crane breathe. And groan. It sounded beautiful.
“Hold on, buddy. I’m calling for help.” Paul immediately thumbed the radio on his shoulder and called in for an ambulance.
He heard feet running behind him.
“Sir!” Shepherd halted, her eyes excited. “Mac found something, sir!”
And indeed, Mac had found something.
“See these tracks, sir?” Mac pointed at a fresh set of tire tracks, not yet covered by snow. “They’re recent, because it snowed up until almost three. And there are footprints.”
Paul squatted. “Yep. See these? Heels. Like those fancy boots Irene wears.”
“Exactly. And they both stop near the same side of the tracks. It looks like he must have had her get into his vehicle, then he got in the same side. But she was walking, so she was alive. And, I found this.”
He handed Paul a small piece of paper. Paul almost crowed with delight. It was a gas receipt from a nearby gas station. From less than two hours ago.
“Outstanding work, you two,” he praised them, feeling the first ray of hope. “If we can get a description of the vehicle, we’ll be able to put out an alert.”
Trying not to let his excitement get away with him, Paul ordered Mac to remain on the scene until the paramedics came. “I’m going to have Parker meet you at the hospital. I want you to search with him as soon as we have more information. Shepherd,” he said as he turned to the woman beside him. “You’re with me. I hope we won’t need to call on your experience, but I want someone with sniper training, just in case.”
Her eyes were shadowed, but she nodded in agreement.
They were off. Fortunately, the clerk at the gas station did remember the truck. Although there had been a lot of traffic at the time in question, most of the customers had been women in smaller vehicles or SUV drivers out Christmas shopping. The only man to fit Sharps’s description had made himself even more memorable by acting suspiciously while at the pumps. So much so that she had secretly written down the make and model of the full-size pickup truck he was driving and the license plate. When he came in, he’d been rude, but hadn’t done anything else, so she had set the number aside.
Paul thanked her and immediately put out an alert for the vehicle and driver. If all went well, they’d be able to track him down fast.
Paul just prayed it was in time.
SIXTEEN
Paul’s phone rang. He snatched it out of his pocket. It was McLachlan.
“Mac, what do ya got?”
“Chief, Parker and I are just leaving the hospital. The girlfriend remembered our guy talking to his cousin about an old lumberyard they could use as a secret base if things ever went south. She was pretty sure it was within an hour of here.”
Paul thought for a moment. “I know of a couple. One near Cochranton. Another close to Meadville.”
He called the others, having them divide up, searching all possibilities.
He headed for Meadville, hating the fact that it might be a wild-goose chase. But until he had more facts, it was all he could do.
His phone buzzed again. It was Jackson. He jabbed the phone button with more force than necessary. Shepherd shot him a wide-eyed glance, then her expression went flat again.
“Chief!” Jackson’s voice was sharper than usual, highlighting the strain they were all feeling. “The Cochranton police said that truck was spotted in Cochranton earlier this morning. It was crossing the bridge. Heading away from where the old lumber mill is.”
“On my way.”
Paul flipped on his siren, then did a U-turn at the next intersection. Shepherd used the radio to advise the others of the new information. Paul swerved onto the route that would take them to Cochranton. It was a relief that the road crews had recently been through there. The roads were relatively clear, letting him go at a normal speed. Unfortunately, he couldn’t go any faster than that. There were so many twists and turns in these Pennsylvania roads. One turn taken too fast and they’d be stuck in a ditch. Which would mean he wouldn’t be able to get to Irene.
It took less than thirty minutes, but it was the longest drive he’d ever experienced. The woman he loved, and if he was honest with himself, had loved since high school, was in danger. Please, Lord. Keep her safe.
As they approached the old mill, he turned off his sirens. No use letting the madman holding Irene know that he’d been located. Pulling off before the mill, he and Shepherd exited the cruiser and walked into the yard.
The truck was there.
Paul could have cried, his relief was so great.
But it was too early to celebrate. Irene was still inside with Sharps. Mac and Parker jogged quietly into sight. He heard Shepherd quietly talking into her radio, letting the other teams know their status. Jackson’s voice replied he was en route. Approximate arrival in five minutes. Good. His team was coming in. There would be no escape for this villain.
Scooting close to the building, he motioned for the others to spread out, covering all the exits. When they complied, he moved. Gently he opened the door a mere inch, listening for any clues as to the location of Sharps and Irene.
Deep inside the structure, a man was yelling. Although he couldn’t make out all the words, he could understand enough. Vile, angry threats of torture and death.
He’d never been so happy to hear such awful language in his life. It meant Irene was still alive. And fighting. Because she was evidently hiding.
Banging. Loud banging. A fist on wood.
A shot.
The acid in his stomach churned. What had been shot?
More yelling. Enraged.
It was time to get in there. Indicating to Shepherd that he needed her to come with him, he entered the lumber mill. The smell of dust, mold and rotting wood was overpowering. There was also the tangy smell that told him rodents had taken up residence.
“See if you can sneak up behind him. If need be, I will distract him, giving you a chance to shoot,” he whispered. Shepherd’s face was troubled. He reinforced his priority. “Irene is the most important thing here. Her safety, and the safety of my officers, has to be my focus.”
Understanding dawned. Yes, he would sacrifice himself for Irene to live. There was never any doubt that he’d do that. Willingly. She nodded.
He followed the sounds and his heart froze as a woman cried out.
Irene.
Paul broke into a run. Sharps had Irene by the hair and was dragging her out from behind an old filing cabinet. His gun was in his other hand. He yanked Irene to him and started to lift the gun.
Paul had to act, now.
“Sharps!” he shouted, breaking the man’s focus. “Police! Let her go!”
Former Private William Sharps whirled, still holding Irene. “Back off! I’ll kill her!” he screamed. Paul knew he was serious. There was no sign of Shepherd yet. She may not h
ave been able to find a way around. It was a chilling possibility. He needed to give her more time. There was no way he could shoot Sharps right now without hitting Irene.
“Killing her won’t bring your cousin back. It was never our intention that he die. No one else needs to die here.”
Sharps sneered. “Like you’re just gonna let me go? Don’t come any closer!”
Paul stopped. He had been inching forward.
“I ain’t afraid to use this gun! I already killed one cop today, so I know there’s no way out for me.”
Irene paled. Paul could see the shudder that went through her. She had probably wondered about Crane.
“He’s not dead!” Paul said, using his most reasonable voice, which was a challenge, because he was shouting inside. “You didn’t kill a cop, you just injured him. He’s on his way to the hospital now.”
He hoped.
The young man scowled, but then his grip on the gun tightened. And his grip on Irene. “No. I don’t believe you. You’d say anything to get me to let her go.”
He placed the gun against Irene’s temple. Her eyes closed, lips moving. She was praying. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
A door’s squeaky hinges creaked behind them. Sharps whirled, pointing the gun in that direction even as he hauled Irene closer, his arm around her throat. Paul shot the gun out of his hand at the same moment that Irene slammed the heel of her boot against his shin. He howled, releasing her.
“Irene! Run!” Paul ordered, his voice hoarse.
She took off toward the door. Parker was there, waiting for her. He grabbed her and pulled her outside.
“Don’t worry about me!” she yelled. “Go help Paul!”
There was nothing he could do about the tiny burst of pleasure that shot through him at the evidence that she was concerned for him. He focused on the man in front of him. Sharps was clutching his hand to his stomach, blood dripping on the sawdust-covered floor.
Paul eased closer, gun still pointed at him. “It’s over, Billy. Put your hands up.”
Sharps let out a whimper and began to raise his hands. Paul stepped closer. He was less than two feet away. The killer started gagging, his throat working as he made retching sounds and started to bend over. In the next moment, he hurtled himself at Paul, a blade glinting in his hands.
