by Cindi Myers
“You’re telling me. I promised her as soon as it was safe to do so, I’d bring her to him.”
“You did the right thing.”
“Yeah. But I’m not sure she believed that.” He slowed as he neared the small community of Cimarron, which boasted one gas station, a post office and a few campgrounds and motels mainly utilized by fishermen and people visiting Blue Mesa Reservoir or Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park. “I’m almost at the motel,” he said. “I’ll do a drive-by and see what I can see.”
The Magpie Inn consisted of a row of seven connected rooms, all facing the highway, a big picture window in each room giving a clear view of the road and the parking lot. The office sat to one side of the rooms. Anyone in the rooms or the office would spot a police vehicle as soon as it drove in, so Ethan sped past. If anyone at the motel saw him, he hoped they would think he was on his way somewhere else.
Just beyond the inn, a silver and blue Colorado State Patrol unit had parked on the side of the highway. Ethan swung his cruiser in to park behind it. A uniformed deputy stepped out of the patrol car to greet him. “Mike Gladwell,” he said, shaking hands.
“Ethan Reynolds.” Ethan nodded toward the motel. “Can you tell me anything about this place?”
“The owner is an older couple, the Johansons,” Gladwell said. “The wife is the only one there right now. I talked to her on the phone when the call first came in. She says the two guys registered as brothers—Thad and Tom Smith. The baby is Thad’s son, Timmy. They’re in room six—next to the last on the end farthest from the office.”
“I suppose that could be their real names,” Ethan said.
“I ran the plates on the car,” Gladwell said. “It’s a rental—rented to Thad Smith. They rented a car seat along with the car.”
“Who called this in, do you know?” Ethan asked.
“The motel owner, Mrs. Johanson, thinks it’s the wife of a couple in the room next to the Smiths, on the end. The lady was asking the owner about these guys—she said it didn’t look to her as if they had a clue how to take care of a baby.”
“Anything else we should know?” Ethan asked.
“Mrs. Johanson said they haven’t acted like your typical vacationers. No sightseeing or hiking or fishing or anything. They’ve pretty much stayed in the cabin, out of sight.”
“Where is the owner now?” Ethan asked.
“I talked her into locking up and going to her house up there.” Gladwell pointed up the hill from the motel. “She’ll stay there until I give her the all clear, and she promised to call her husband and let him know not to stop by here. He planned to spend the morning fishing.”
Two other Ranger cruisers pulled in behind Ethan’s vehicle and Carmen, Lance and Simon got out. After introductions, Lance asked. “What’s the plan?”
“Someone needs to watch the back while Simon and I approach the front,” Ethan said.
Simon nodded. “We’ll park behind the office,” he said. “Where they can’t see us. Then we’ll approach their door from the side, on foot.”
“We’ll take the back,” Carmen said.
“I’ll watch the parking lot exit,” Gladwell said.
“All right,” Lance said. “Let’s do it.”
They checked their weapons, then took their positions. Simon pulled his cruiser in behind the office and he and Ethan stayed close to the building, out of sight of anyone in the rooms. They moved quickly, weapons drawn. When they reached the room the Smiths were registered in, they positioned themselves on either side of the door and Ethan knocked.
No one answered, but the curtains over the window twitched. Ethan knocked again, harder. “Mr. Smith, we need to speak with you, please.”
The door opened, and a man in his twenties with shaggy brown hair and the bronzed skin of someone who spent a lot of time out of doors peered out. He wore a faded blue T-shirt and tan cargo shorts and was barefoot. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Child welfare check,” Ethan said. “Do you have an infant here with you?”
“Uh...”
Ethan figured he was about to lie, but at that moment a baby began to wail, somewhere in the room behind the young man. He glanced over his shoulder. “That’s just my son, Timmy.”
“May we see him, please?”
“Why?”
“A woman called in a concern about his welfare.”
Thad—if that was really his name—swore under his breath.
“We need to make sure the child is all right,” Simon said. “If you could just bring him to the door for a moment.”
“Uh, sure.” He stepped back and shut the door. The sounds of movement and low, muffled voices followed.
Ethan’s eyes met Simon’s across the door. “What do you think?” he asked.
“I think if he doesn’t come out of there in thirty seconds, we go in,” Simon said.
The gun blast tore through the door, sending wood splinters flying. Both officers flattened themselves on the ground. Ethan began scooting backward, away from the room, his eyes on the door. Though he held his weapon at the ready, he didn’t dare fire blindly into the room, for fear of hitting Hunter.
“Let us go and the kid won’t get hurt,” Thad called. “Try anything and he’s dead, I swear it!”
* * *
MICHELLE HAD TO muster every reserve of strength to keep from racing down the driveway after Ethan as his cruiser pulled away. While objectively, his words about keeping clear and staying safe, letting the Rangers do their job, all made sense, her mother’s instinct to be with her child and protect him threatened to overwhelm any practical logic. Hunter needed her. He was probably frightened and confused right now, and she was the only one who could comfort him.
She forced herself to stand and go into the kitchen. She’d make coffee, and then maybe find something to watch on television. She would do her best to distract herself, all the while waiting for the call that would tell her her son was safe.
She was pouring coffee into her cup when a knock on the door startled her so much she almost dropped the carafe. She froze and the knock came again, louder this time. Was it another reporter, wanting to badger her with questions? Or someone from the Rangers with news about Hunter?
Heart pounding, she crept across the floor to the door and peered out the security peephole. She choked back a cry of alarm when she found herself staring into Daniel Metwater’s intense dark eyes. He pounded the door again. “I know you’re in there, Michelle.” He sneered her name. “Open up so we can talk.”
Her first instinct was to remain silent and refuse to answer, but even as she was pondering this, he backed up and gave the door a vicious kick. It shook in its frame. A second kick had it buckling inward near the doorknob. She looked around wildly for something—anything—with which to defend herself, and spotted the phone. If she called, could Ethan or one of the others get to her in time?
She had just reached the phone when the door burst open and Metwater rushed in, smashing his way toward the kitchen. Her coffee cup shattered as he grabbed hold of her arm and wrenched the phone away. He hurled it to the floor and stomped on it, bits of plastic flying as he crushed it. She stared at him, unable to speak. Gone was the mild-mannered, charismatic Prophet, replaced by a fierce, angry bully. He dragged her across the room and shoved her onto the sofa. “You’re going to sit there and you’re going to listen to me,” he ordered.
Be tough, she told herself. Don’t let him see how scared you are. She sat up straight and forced herself to look him in the eye. “Whatever you have to say, you’d better say it quick. Ethan will be home any minute. When he finds you here he’ll have you back in jail so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
“Your boyfriend isn’t going to bother us,” Metwater said. “He and that other cop, Woolridge, were headed in the opposite direction last time I saw them.”
>
“How did you find me?” she asked.
“I followed you from Ranger Headquarters last night.”
“You’re supposed to be in jail.”
“They had to drop the charges,” he said. “I knew they would. They didn’t have a scrap of proof that I was guilty of anything but being someone they don’t like. Everybody knows the Rangers like to harass me and my followers.”
“Asteria called and told me what you said about Hunter—that you knew where he was. That’s proof you had something to do with his disappearance.”
“It doesn’t prove anything. I’m a prophet, remember? I have visions and I know things.” He moved toward her. “The way I know that you’re not going to cause me any more trouble.”
She jumped up and tried to run away, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her back onto the sofa. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. He kneeled over her, pushing her back into the cushions.
She forced herself to keep looking at him, trying to read his intentions in his eyes, but all she saw in his expression was the mania of a fanatic, and a hatred that chilled her to the core. “I hate liars,” he said, his hands on her arms tightening so that she bit back a cry of pain. “You’ve been lying to me ever since we met—pretending you wanted to follow me when all you really wanted was to bring me down.”
“I don’t care about you,” she said. “I only wanted to know the truth about your brother, David.”
He laughed, throwing his head back, his body shaking with mirth. “You want to know the truth? You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”
“Your brother killed my sister,” she said. “He gave her those drugs and let everyone think she had overdosed.”
“No, he didn’t do that.” He shook his head. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but my brother didn’t do any of the things people think he did. But he’ll never have the chance to clear his name. Isn’t that ironic? He and your sister—your foster sister—have that in common.”
“Did you know Cass?” she asked. “Did you ever meet her?”
“Yes, I did. She was a lovely young woman. And a very stupid one. If she had kept her mouth shut, she might still be alive. But she had to say the wrong thing to the wrong person. Just like you.” He squeezed harder, and she whimpered. She tried to fight him, but it was like pushing against a wall. Where was Ethan? If only he would come back with Hunter in time to save her.
Metwater straightened and pulled her up alongside him. “Come on,” he said.
“Wh...where are we going?”
“Out.” He dragged her toward the door.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She tried to pull free, but he shook her and slapped her, hard, blurring her vision.
“Shut up!” He yanked open the door and pulled her outside. She blinked at the familiar car in the driveway. Her car.
She opened her mouth to speak and tasted blood. Icy terror gripped her so that her vision blurred and it hurt to breathe. She couldn’t go with him. If she did, she would never come back alive, she was sure. She dug in her heels and hung back.
“Stop it!” He yanked her forward with one hand while he pulled the keys from his pocket with the other.
She looked around wildly—for a weapon, for someone who could help her, for anything she could use to get away. But there was nothing. The other duplexes on this short dead-end street were all home to other members of the Ranger Brigade, who were all away, trying to rescue her son. No traffic passed on the road that connected to the street, and the neat, sparse yard offered nothing she could use as a weapon.
Metwater opened the passenger door and dragged her toward the car. She made herself go limp, her heels digging into the dirt, resisting him with all her strength. He grunted and took hold of her with both hands. “Let me go!” she shouted, and kicked at him, ignoring the pain that shot through her as he wrenched her shoulders. She managed to free one hand and clawed at his face, her nails raking across his skin.
Enraged, he let out a roar and grabbed hold of her hair, yanking her head so far back she thought he might break her neck. She spit at him and writhed in his arms. If she pulled him to the ground, maybe she could crawl away from him...
“No!” he shouted, and slammed her against the side of the car. Pain exploded in her head, and a flash of bright light blinded her, right before darkness engulfed her and that riptide she had been fighting earlier pulled her completely under.
Chapter Fourteen
Ethan crawled backward along the walkway in front of the row of hotel rooms until he reached the corner of the building and cover. He pulled himself to his feet and looked back in time to see Simon disappear around the opposite corner of the building. They were both safe, but what about the men and the baby in that room?
His telephone buzzed and he answered it. “We heard the shots,” Carmen said, her voice just above a whisper. “What’s going on up there?”
“They fired on us,” he said. “They’ve got Hunter in there and they said they’ll kill him if we try anything.”
“Who are they?” she asked. “Why did they take Hunter?”
“No idea. Did we ever track down Michelle’s ex?”
“No. We weren’t able to find him.”
“Maybe he’s one of these guys.” Ethan wiped the sweat from his forehead. “It doesn’t matter. We have to figure out how to get Hunter out of there before things go south.”
“We need to get a hostage negotiator out here,” she said. “Maybe we can talk them into giving up the baby.”
“I’ve had training as a hostage negotiator,” Ethan said. “I’m going to call the commander and see what he wants to do.”
“Okay. Simon is with us now. He seems okay.”
“Good. We don’t want anyone hurt if we can help it.” He hung up and punched in Commander Graham Ellison’s number. The commander answered on the first ring.
“What’s going on out there?” Ellison asked. “A report came in on the scanner of shots fired.”
“We’ve got two guys, registered as Thad and Tom Smith, with a baby we’re pretty sure is Hunter Munson,” Ethan said. “Simon and I went to the door of their room and asked to see the baby. I spoke to Thad, who pretended to cooperate, then opened fire and screamed if we tried anything, he’d kill the kid.”
“You okay?” Ellison asked.
“I’m safe. So is Simon. He’s behind the building with Carmen and Lance. We’ve got a CSP deputy posted at the road. Before we got here he persuaded the motel owner to move to her house nearby, so she’s out of the line of fire.”
“Don’t do anything until I get there with reinforcements,” Ellison said. “Keep quiet and let them sweat a little.”
“Will do.” He ended the call just as Simon slipped up beside him from behind the building. “You okay?” Ethan asked.
“Yeah.” He nodded toward the kidnappers’ room. “What’s the plan?”
“The commander and the rest of the team are on their way. We’re to sit tight until they get here.”
“Is anyone staying in any of these other rooms?” Simon asked.
Ethan had been so focused on Hunter and the kidnappers, he hadn’t even thought about other people who might be in harm’s way. “I’ll find out,” he said. “Gladwell knows the owners. He can tell us how to get in touch with them.”
Keeping out of view of the kidnappers, he slipped behind the office and made his way to the road. A second Colorado State Patrol car had parked behind Gladwell’s. Both CSP deputies walked back to the rear of the second car to meet Ethan. “Everybody okay?” Gladwell asked.
“So far,” Ethan said. “We’re waiting for our commander and some more of the team to get here. Do you know if there are other guests staying here?”
“I asked Mrs. Johanson and she says she had three other rooms rented, but their occupants are all out sightseein
g or fishing or other stuff,” Gladwell said. “I’ll give you her number and you can double-check. I know she’d appreciate an update about what’s going on. We’ll keep any other guests away if they come back before this is resolved.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s the game plan?” Gladwell asked.
“My commander is on his way,” Ethan said. “We’ll try talking first, see if we can get them to hand over the kid.”
“We can get a sniper over from CSP if you need one,” the second deputy said.
“Thanks,” Ethan said. “We’ve got that covered, I think.” Marco Cruz had that kind of experience. They’d position him where he had a clear view of the door and window of the room, though the Smith brothers had the curtains pulled over the latter. Still, if they stepped out the door, Marco might have to chance a shot. Ethan had been on a hostage situation once where, after more than twelve hours of negotiating for the release of two children, he persuaded the kidnapper to accept a delivery of pizza. As soon as he stepped onto his front porch to pick up the boxes, the sharpshooter nailed him. It wasn’t the ideal outcome, but they had saved the two kids.
Ethan would do whatever it took to save Michelle’s kid. Hunter deserved a chance to grow up. And Michelle deserved to see her son again.
Ethan rejoined Simon. “Gladwell says all the other guests are out. I’m going to call the owner, Mrs. Johanson, to double-check and to find out more about the layout of the rooms.” He punched in the number Gladwell had given him.
“Johanson,” a man answered, his voice gruff.
Ethan identified himself and brought the man up-to-date on what was going on with the Smiths. “I wanted to know more about the layout of the rooms,” he said. “Is there a door connecting the room the Smiths are in to the rooms on the other side?”
“There is,” Mr. Johanson said. “It should be locked and bolted from the other side, though.”
“What about windows?” Ethan asked. “Anything large enough for a man to crawl out of?”
“There’s a small window in the bathroom at the back,” Johanson said. “But it’s only about eighteen inches wide. I don’t think either of the Smiths could fit through it.”
