Settling back into position, she scanned the two top screens of the video feed which showed the dark outline of the front door and the deserted pumps at the “easy-on, easy-off” ramp next to the road. A chill of apprehension shot down her spine as she thought about Isobel’s husband, Ricky. Cal was right about Ricky not being the type of person to give up easily. Even though the SUV had driven past One Duck Shop without stopping, who was to say that it wouldn’t be back? If Ricky was half as cunning as Isobel claimed, the discovery of their hiding place was inevitable.
She glanced at the lower screens on the shelf, which offered a bird’s-eye view of the inside of the store. Mr. Ratten had set up monitoring devices at four surveillance locations. The extra precautions hadn’t been necessary back when she had worked the register. But five years ago, there had been a number of incidents involving petty theft and vandalism. The crime wave continued for several weeks, and the police had been stymied in their attempts to catch the delinquents. Nearly a month had passed before three teenagers were apprehended when information was provided through an anonymous tip. A few weeks later, when she was picking up a coffee at One Duck Shop, Mr. Ratten had confided his secret. He had caught the culprits in action on his newly installed security cameras and revealed their identities to the police.
What would Mr. Ratten say when he arrived in the morning and discovered the broken window and watched the security tape of what had transpired overnight at the store? She’d been mentally keeping track of all of their “purchases” and had scrawled a quick note to explain. But Mr. Ratten wouldn’t be worried about the lost revenue. He’d be glad to have done his part in protecting the town’s citizens from the kidnappers.
She looked down at the baby. His eyes were closed, his lips pursed as he slept. How incredible that such a tiny human being was so tough and resilient. God was good. She closed her eyes and offered up a prayer of gratitude.
Bam.
Abby’s eyes blinked open. Her gaze fixed on the top right video from the camera at the front of the building. It showed a shadowy figure pointing a shotgun at a blown lock on the door. The man—now clearly visible as Ricky—moved to the side of the threshold to allow his companion to enter before him.
Thunk.
“Ouch.”
“What the...?”
At least Cal’s makeshift booby trap seemed to have worked. Abby peered at the grainy images on the black-and-white screen. She still couldn’t discern exactly what was happening. But judging from the shape of the silhouettes, the trip wire had sent Martina tumbling to the floor. And it was Ricky who had stepped over her prone body and, with his hands outstretched, was moving catlike along the wall.
She needed to get out of here—and fast. But before she could make a move, the lights blinked on, and the store was illuminated in a dull, yellow glow.
Uh-oh. From her current position, she could watch Ricky and Martina on the security cameras. But she would be a sitting duck as soon as they began to search the store. And where was Max? If he’d been tasked with checking the outside of the building, it would only be a matter of time before he came face-to-face with Cal.
It wouldn’t be a fair fight. Max had a gun. And Cal was unarmed.
Ricky and his companions had already proven that anything that happened to her and Cal would be collateral damage to their plan to kidnap the baby. Abby’s eyes flicked back to the security feed. Could she make it out the side door without being seen?
She glanced again at the screen. Ricky was halfway down an aisle on the left side of the store. And Martina was headed toward the back.
A torrent of expletives exploded into the air as the video feed clicked off and the store was plunged back into darkness. Abby felt her lips twitch into a smile. It appeared that Cal was alive and well, and doing everything he could to thwart the kidnappers. Including hitting the circuit breaker to kill the lights.
This was her chance. She needed to find a way to escape with the baby before Ricky realized what was going on. But even if she made it through the back door, where would she go and what would she do then? The best move she could make at the moment would be to try to take out Martina. It would be fitting after what happened in the parking lot at the bank.
Tucking the flashlight into her pocket, she pulled up the hood on her One Duck Shop sweatshirt and inched out from behind the counter, one hand cupped around the baby in the sling. “Sleep soundly, little one,” she whispered, bending to kiss the infant’s soft downy head. She moved slowly toward the back of the store, pausing as she passed the hardware section to let her fingers skim past the packets of picture hangers, nails and screws until they closed around a Phillips-head screwdriver.
Creak. Slam. Creak. Slam. From the sound of it, Martina was inside the bathroom, checking out the stalls. Abby made her way up the center aisle that led to the back of the store. As she turned the corner, she could see Martina exiting the restroom door and moving toward the janitorial closet. Although there was a hasp on the top edge of the door, the space was usually left unlocked, and Martina had no trouble twisting the handle and stepping inside.
Abby took a deep breath to calm her thundering heart. She knew what she needed to do. She rushed forward and slammed the door shut, moving quickly to flip the hasp and slide the screwdriver through the slot of the hinged metal plate. From inside the closet came a yelp of surprise, followed by the rat-a-tat of fists banging against the wood.
A sigh of relief passed through Abby’s lips. Martina was trapped in the closet, at least for the time being. But Ricky was still on the prowl. Pressing her hand gently against the baby in the sling, she raced back down the aisle, stopping only to listen. Was that the soft tread of footsteps? They were close, and getting closer.
Should she make a run for it? As she looked down at the baby, two inky blue eyes blinked open with surprise. Pinpricks of anxiety twisted around her spine. Please, Lord, don’t let the little guy start to cry! Even the smallest whimper would alert Ricky of his son’s presence.
With silent steps, she crept forward, her ears straining for any indication that someone was nearby. She no longer heard footsteps. Had Ricky realized that she was getting closer? Goose bumps edged down her arm. She knew every nook and cranny of the space. She had the advantage. So why did it feel like she was the one being hunted?
She reached forward and felt the shelf on the left side of the aisle, letting her hand skim across hair accessories that were part of a bigger display. She picked up a hairbrush and flung it in the air. It clattered to the floor about twenty feet from the spot where she was standing. She paused and waited. There it was again, the soft tread of footsteps, moving in the opposite direction.
If she could sneak up on Ricky, she might be able to hit him over the head with her Maglite. But she’d need both hands to bring it down with the force needed to knock him out.
The movement stilled. Reluctantly, she lifted the baby from the sling and set him down in the basket by the door.
“I’ll be right back,” she whispered as she pulled the blanket around his tiny shoulders.
Gripping a flashlight in her hands, Abby turned and waited. If she judged correctly, Ricky was in the next aisle over, just a short distance ahead of her. Hardly daring to breathe, she glanced to the left when she instantly realized her mistake.
“Gotcha!” A cruel voice whispered from the aisle to the right.
She froze midstep.
Ricky pulled her sideways, struggling to turn her around to face him. But as she raised her arm, her fingers clicked on the beam. Blinded by the light, Ricky loosened his grip, staggered backward and tumbled into a stack of cans.
Abby took off running. Behind her, she could hear the sound of her pursuer clamoring to his feet. She quickened her pace. Faster. Faster. Just a few more inches, and she’d be at the side door.
But as she reached out to grab the basket from the spot where she
had set it, her heart sank in her chest.
The basket and the baby were gone.
Her eyes darted to the left and the right. Maybe this had been the plan all along. Maybe Ricky had been playing with her, letting her stalk him through the store while Max grabbed the baby. Anger and frustration coursed through her veins. It wasn’t going to end like this. She turned her body, preparing for round two, when the side door clanked open and a long arm shot forward and snaked around her waist.
And with a hard tug pulled her through the door.
* * *
Cal waited until they were safely across the threshold before he released his grip on Abby’s waist.
She stared at him, barely focusing, her eyes wild and her forehead pleated with confusion. But there wasn’t time for explanations. Any second now, Ricky could come bursting through the door. Cal selected a thick branch from the woodpile and wedged it through the handle. It wouldn’t buy them more than a few seconds, but that might be all they needed.
“C’mon,” he whispered.
“No.” Abby grabbed at his arm and gestured back toward the store. “We can’t leave the baby.”
“I’ve got him.” Cal’s voice was low and insistent.
“What?”
“I’ve got him!” He pointed toward the basket lodged against the front seat of the snowmobile. She rushed forward and scooped the infant into her arms. She slipped him back into the sling across her body, her face awash with relief. Her eyes blazed with a sudden fierceness as she scooted across the seat of the snowmobile.
He climbed up next to her and yanked the starter. The engine rumbled.
“Hold tight!” he shouted as he pulled on the throttle and pressed down on the accelerator. The vehicle lurched forward, and he could feel Abby shift backward from the sudden spurt of speed. He eased off the gas. The last thing he wanted was for his passengers to tumble off the back. A moment later, he felt her left arm twine around his waist and the pressure of a small body against his back. The baby was sandwiched between them, but there didn’t seem to be any other configuration that would work.
Thud! The branch gave way, and the back door crashed open. A shower of bullets rained through the air. Whoever was firing at them was clearly trying to disable their vehicle without harming the baby.
Cal slammed down on the accelerator.
“Stay low!”
He could feel Abby huddle down on her seat to protect the child between them.
He twisted on the handlebars, making the vehicle zig to the right and then to the left. The skis of the snowmobile sunk deeper to the ground, their speed drifting slower and slower as the vehicle fought against heavy drifts. Bits of ice and sleet bit at his face as he continued weaving from side to side.
They were almost to the road. A dusting of light flakes sparkled in the clear air, and a full moon illuminated the frozen landscape. He hunched his body lower. The rumble and the shouts suddenly seemed far away.
Ding!
A bullet grazed the side of the snowmobile. The vehicle tilted to the right, and the ski on the left side rose up out of the deep snow. Tipped on one side, the snowmobile actually seemed to be gaining momentum. Bracing his knees against the seat, Cal stood up and shifted his body to the left.
Thunk.
Another bullet missed its mark as the snowmobile settled back down on both skis. He turned and looked behind him.
“You okay?” he shouted to Abby.
Her head bobbed up and down against his back. He glanced down. The bullet had scraped the side of the frame, but that seemed to be the extent of the damage.
As the snowmobile bumped down to the road, the skis slid easily along the more densely packed snow, and they began to pick up speed. This was more like it. Cal settled back against the seat. It felt like they were flying along the tarmac.
They were going to get out of this yet.
Crack. Still another bullet splintered the air.
But this one didn’t miss.
It blazed through his skin and exploded into his leg.
TEN
The pain was excruciating. Hot and cold at the same time, like a burning, freezing hole in his calf sending sparks of agony up and down his leg. Ideally, Cal would take a few seconds to regain some control, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the road. There were trees on one side and a ditch on the other, and he needed his wits about him if he was going to navigate through the deep drifts without veering off the edge of the road. He sucked air in through his nose and breathed it out with a gasp. His muscles tightened up, trying to ward off the throbbing torment from the wound. A sheen of sweat started at his neck and moved down to his toes as a cold clamminess settled over him. The hairs up and down his limbs were standing on edge. He shivered, trying to shake off the icy tremors seizing his body.
He drew in another breath. Slow and deep. The trauma from the gunshot was forcing his body to go into shock, but he couldn’t allow that. It was crucial that he slow down his heartbeat and stay calm. Behind him, he could feel the warmth of Abby and the baby and the steady rhythm of their breathing. Relief and gratitude burst in his chest. At least they were okay.
Actually, all things considered, the escape from the convenience store had gone as well as he could have hoped. The old, run-down snowmobile was holding its own in the deep snow. And a bullet wound to the leg wasn’t so bad. At least, he hadn’t been hit in a vital organ.
For a moment there, when the black SUV had pulled into the driveway, it seemed as if all might be lost. The kidnappers’ goal hadn’t wavered from the beginning. They wanted the child, and they were prepared to take out anyone standing in their way.
Which meant him—and Abby. But that wasn’t happening, at least not under his watch.
Priority one had been switching off the power. And once the lights were out, he was able to slip through the side door and grab the baby. Thankfully, the little guy was still asleep, so he’d placed the basket securely on the snowmobile and adjusted the blankets to ensure that he was settled down and warm in his nest. Then, he’d made a beeline back to the store to get Abby.
He had just pulled open the side door when she appeared, her eyes wide with panic. He didn’t even have to think twice. He’d shot out his arm and pulled her across the threshold. After that—well, he was just glad that the engine of the snowmobile didn’t stall out when he pulled the starter. And just like that they were on their way.
Thump.
The snowmobile thudded over a rock on the side of the road. How had they drifted all the way over to the shoulder? Cal blinked as he leveled the handlebars and directed the vehicle back in his lane. His brain felt fuzzy and sluggish. He seemed to have lost consciousness for a second there. Well, that was the wake-up call he needed. They were only four miles from town. Soon, they’d start to see houses and stores and other signs of civilization. All he had to do was to keep alert for fifteen more minutes.
Vrrrrooommmm. Vrrrrroooommmm. The growl of a vehicle approaching at top speed rumbled behind him.
“They’re in their car, and they’re following us!” Abby shouted over the wind.
There was a crack, and then a bullet whizzed by on the left.
“Hang on!” He pulled hard on the handlebars, steering the vehicle to the far side of the road. But the Land Rover followed his move and bumped up behind them. There was no way that the snowmobile was winning a race into town. He needed to do something. Fast.
He tightened his grip and yanked to the right. The snowmobile careened sideways and bounced down the embankment. The gully was just wide enough to accommodate the width of the skis. Crack. Another bullet zinged past. He pulled his gaze upward. The SUV loomed above them on the road.
Ricky leaned out the front window, a pistol in his hand.
Cal blew out a long sigh. His evasive strategy didn’t seem to be working. He needed to get out of the ditc
h onto more open space where the snowmobile would have the advantage.
His brain seized upon an idea. The lake!
A whisper of apprehension niggled at his mind. Winter this year had been relatively mild. There had been plenty of snow, but the temperatures hadn’t dipped too often into the single digits. The ice was thick enough to support a light structure and a couple of ice fishermen. It might even be strong enough to hold a snowmobile with two riders. But for larger vehicles, the ice wasn’t safe. Just last week, he had answered a 911 call from a couple of teenagers in a Jeep who had decided to take a shortcut across the lake. Right when they reached the middle, where the ice was its thinnest, the surface had cracked and their vehicle began to sink. His team had rescued them before they went under, but the accident served as a dire reminder of the dangers of driving on the lake. Could he risk taking Abby and the baby out there?
Another bullet zinged by, and he made up his mind.
He had to take that risk. It was their only option. Yes, the ice was thin, but the snowmobile was lighter than a car, and he could stick close to the shore where the frozen surface was thicker and more secure. Up ahead was his chance. A service road intersected the highway. He hunched his body lower. Ten more feet. Five. Wrenching the handlebars to the right, he stomped on the accelerator, and the snowmobile pivoted sideways, whizzing out of the ditch. With a jarring thump, they landed hard on the snow-covered pavement.
Behind them came the screech of tires as the SUV driver slammed on the brakes. But Cal had been expecting that. He veered off the tarmac and plunged down the incline toward the lake.
Rescue on the Run Page 10
