Vengeance On the Run

by Wylder Stone

  The Force brothers were now set up at Broken Saddle Stables, having snuck in under the guise of darkness the night before. Their command center was there, and they were watching everything, around the clock, rotating shifts, not a minute unguarded. Cade and Connor had followed Owen and Trista back to Bear Springs but drove on through so as not to be detected as anyone other than passersby.

  Later that night, Cade and Connor circled back around and returned to town, leaving their vehicle just on the outskirts. They hiked through the wood to Trista’s house and came in from the north, where nobody would see them, right into Trista’s garage through a side door.

  The cousins were their secret weapon. Mark would anticipate the Force brothers’ presence, despite not seeing them. Cade and Connor, however, left them with the upper hand and element of surprise. Mark didn’t know them well and didn’t know them to be active in Elite Force Security. He would see the Force brother’s coming but wouldn’t see Cade or Connor when they got a trace on Mark. He’d walk right into them. They were the eyes and ears Mark didn’t anticipate.

  The brothers were spread out. Derek and Troy were staged at the Force family hunting cabin, where they were less likely to be tracked and able to come and go following leads without detection. Mark knew the cabin, but it was just far enough out of the way that he couldn’t watch them and everyone else. They kept the lights out at night and hid in the shadows, making their presence less than obvious and nearly undetectable if he did wander in their direction.

  James and Jackson stayed at Broken Saddle Stable on the opposite end of town. Mark didn’t know they were there and wouldn’t think to even look. It wasn’t a common place for the Force family to frequent, completely off Mark’s radar. James had his cyber recon equipment set up, watching everything happening in Bear Springs and all the way to Crooked Creek, the next town over.

  Tayler and his local team of deputies were working overtime, spread out around town as well. No matter where Mark was or how he decided to strike next, there was a team nearby. He couldn’t watch all of them all of the time. The pressure was on, and Mark was sure to falter.

  When Trista left the house, she left with Owen. He was the only person Mark would see with her. Mark would bank on that when he finally decided to make his move. An entire tribe of operatives would keep him in hiding. A single man he had a grudge to settle with, and he’d take his chance and pounce his prey in no time. Especially if Mark thought Owen had little to no backup nearby. The plan was becoming foolproof.

  James’s facial recognition software finally had a hit. It picked Mark up in Crooked Creek again, using area security cameras. He was at a gun shop. Something they had been relying on finally paid off. Cade and Connor were on the road within minutes, taking the one highway that sat between the two towns. Mark wouldn’t see them coming until it was too late.

  It was a good twenty- to thirty-minute drive, one way, from where they were, with ice and snow on the roads. While they moved in, James tracked Mark’s movements through Crooked Creeks’ city cameras, then the Caltrans, California Department of Transportation, cameras once Mark hit the highway. He was headed to Bear Springs and right into Cade and Connor.

  “He’s headed right for you, boys. silver, extended cab pickup, late model. Twenty minutes to target,” James instructed.

  “Copy that, command. We’ll run the spikes one mile out. Road conditions aren’t prime for this. We’re expecting a rough impact,” Connor said through the radio call, referring to road spikes that would disable Mark’s vehicle.

  Everyone was dialed in and listening to the event go down, some watching over James’s shoulder. It was eerily silent as they sat and waited. Tensions ran high, emotions higher. Mark was finally being brought to justice in only a handful of minutes.

  “I got him on the next camera. Target is ten miles out, on his way to you,” James informed.

  “Copy – ten miles. Change in plans – I don’t like these conditions. We’re tossing the spikes here. Five miles out, so we have time to set them, then driving on. We’ll circle around when we pass him and follow him right into the spikes.”

  “Shit.” James hollered. “I think we have a camera out. I don’t see him, and there’s no movement on the feed. He should have passed by now. We’re blind, guys. Keep your guard up. Should be hitting visual in four miles, five miles to target.”

  “Copy. We’re in position. Spikes are down, driving toward target. Two miles, no visual.”

  There was a long pause with nothing to see or report on either side.

  “He’s off the grid. Do you have a visual?” James asked, trying to sort out where they lost him or if it was just a technical issue.

  Connor responded with a simple, “Negative.”

  “Target should be in view. Do you have a visual?” James’s tone turned angry as if asking again in an angry tone would simply make Mark appear.

  “Still a negative, James.”

  “Son of a bitch. Where is he?” James pulled up live satellite maps, looking for movement from an aerial view. “Too late to get a drone up. Dammit.”

  “We’re moving forward, seeing if he’s just pulled over somewhere to make it easy for us,” Connor informed.

  Jackson chimed in, offering an update, “Plates are back. The truck’s stolen out of Washington.”

  “I have an aerial view. You’re the only vehicle on the road. Mission’s a bust. He’s in the wind again,” James said, slamming his fist on the table.

  “Could he have turned around?” Trista asked.

  “No, he would have shown up on the cameras, and the software would have alerted us,” James answered.

  “We’re turning around and picking up what we left behind. There are a few turn-offs out here. Not sure if these are private driveways or supposed to be roads with all this snow. You can see them better on your maps than we can,” Connor offered. “Give me coordinates if you want a search.”

  Troy laid out large grid maps on a table nearby and traced Mark's route from start to where he was last picked up by the software. “Okay. There are about a half dozen roads between where Mark was last seen on camera and where we lost him.”

  “So just search those roads. There are only six. That’s easy, right?” Trista asked.

  “No, it isn’t,” Troy replied. “They are forest service roads, some active, some not. They branch out in every direction. There are probably hundreds of possible routes here that he could have taken. Some lead to Bear Springs, some out of the area. Mark could be anywhere.”

  “Smart. That’s why we haven’t been able to track him. He’s getting around on those roads and has a truck. Mark can get anywhere he wants to while out there and pretty much unseen. He knew James would use the damn cameras,” Jackson said.

  “And we haven’t been looking this deep with the snow. We haven’t had reason to without a single lead until now,” Derek reasoned.

  Owen ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “So where is he staying? We know it’s not in town. Here’s our first clue.”

  “There are numerous old forest service buildings and fire towers, hunting cabins, and vacation homes between here and Crooked Creek. Mark’s likely been using one,” Troy said, still looking at the map.

  “So we start looking,” Derek said, “just need to know where to begin.”

  “Shit, that’s looking for a needle in a haystack,” Jackson added, pacing the room, trying to come up with a reasonable solution.

  “Not necessarily.” James smiled. “Call the boys in. I have an idea.”

  James turned to his computer screens and started typing away, tuning out the rest of the crowd while he worked. As he formulated a plan, the rest of the group stood by, waiting for their next move.

  Days went by without a sign of Mark. Trista felt like she was being watched, but that was because she was being watched by every Force in town, at the very least. Mark was still hiding, plotting, and preparing, or so they all assumed. He hadn’t been out in the ope
n again, or they would have picked him up in his travels. If he’s moving, it’s through back roads or on foot through the trees.

  They stuck to the routine, with the exception of Trista working more than usual as she tried to keep her mind off what was going on around her. It made the days go by faster. The hope was that with each passing day, they’d be closer to apprehending Mark Thomas, but they weren’t. Not yet. They were at a standstill, despite their recent near encounter and discovery as to where he was staying. Even with the busy distractions, it felt a little like sitting around and watching the grass grow.

  “How was Santa Monica?” Estella asked, walking into Trista’s office. “You look different. Mason seems happy. Good trip?”

  “I feel a little different,” Trista replied. “I guess time will tell if it’s a good different. We had a good time, though, for the most part. It was nice to get away from here and feel safe for a bit.”

  On cue, Owen walked in, his expression dark and angry. He had been in and out, spending most of his time in his car or next door at Tasting, watching Trista via new surveillance cameras from his phone, of all things, so he wasn’t hovering. It was the only way to avoid the standout presence at Lalapalooza, too.

  “What is it?” Trista asked.

  “They found a body.” Both women gasped at his statement, which came with no warning. Just a blatant statement, one they weren’t expecting.

  “Mark?” Trista whispered.

  Owen shook his head. “Mark’s body? No. Was he involved? Probably.”

  “Who? Who was it?” Estella asked quietly, not sure she wanted to know. “Nobody from town I hope.”

  Owen looked between the two women and delivered the bad news. “Your missing employee, Garret James.”

  “Oh, Garret.” Trista’s hand went to her mouth, trying to mask the tears that were threatening, but she lost it when she heard Estella hiccup a small sob.

  “I’m uh, sorry for your loss. Tayler is taking over that case and notifying the next of kin. If there is any.” Owen informed.

  “I don’t know. He never really talked much about where he was from. I only remember him talking about his mother. They seemed close.” Trista said, looking at Estella, who shrugged.

  “Tayler will get it figured out.” He said.

  The room remained silent for a spell. Owen gave the two women a moment to feel whatever they needed to feel. Things like this didn’t happen in Bear Springs, especially to people they knew. It was a shock and unsettling to know that their colleague, a friend, had been dead for who knew how long, and nobody had been looking for him. That they knew of anyway.

  “James found a way to narrow the search down by about half,” Owen said, breaking the silence. “He tapped into the electric company mainframe and searched for unusual usage. Either new or increased use, specifically, over the past thirty days. James narrowed the search to a twenty-mile radius around the area we last saw him before he disappeared.”

  “Wow, that’s actually brilliant,” Trista said, impressed.

  “That’s James,” Owen countered. “We’ve cleared a lot of the properties on the list, but when the old fire watch tower up on the hill popped up, we thought we had him. That thing has been out of commission for years. Forest Service built a new one a few miles up with new technology. Old one makes for a perfect hideout. It’s the least likely to be noticed because nobody really goes up there. Squatting in someone’s vacation home – a risk he’s less likely going to take.”

  Owen paused, unsure how to continue his thought and justification. He looked between the women, still emotional from such shocking news, and dropped his head in defeat. He was at a total loss on how to keep them informed but without further upsetting them.

  “But you found Garret instead,” Estella surmised, letting Owen off the hook.

  “Looks like a drug deal gone bad. I’m sorry. Someone was definitely staying there, too. That was obvious.”

  “Mark,” Trista added.

  “Maybe. We aren’t sure.” Owen shrugged. “The only thing we know for certain is that Garrett went out there to buy his bad habit and never left.”

  Trista furrowed her brows, trying to figure out something that could never entirely make sense. “Do you think he was involved? I mean with Mark and trying to get to some of us?”

  Shaking his head, Owen didn’t have the right answer. They were all guessing at this point. “He had access to you, so maybe?”

  “He was a good guy. Played hard, liked snowboarding and rafting, but I would never peg him as being into drugs. It just doesn’t make sense. God, his poor mother.” Tears threatening again, Trista stood, wearing a blank stare, and ran her hands down her face.

  Estella wiped her tears and stood tall. “He wasn’t into that. He’d never…he was good.” Estella nodded her head as if agreeing with herself. “Please excuse me. I think I am going to be sick.”

  “It is entirely possible he wasn’t into that and was somehow lured out there, or his body moved there in an effort to throw off an investigation. We’ll know more in time. The scene was set up to look that simple, though. Bad deal, end of story.”

  Sitting down hard in her chair, Trista looked at Owen. “It isn’t simple, though. None of this is. I think I’m going to be sick, too. This is too much.”

  Reality had settled in, and Trista actually feared for her own life. Sure, she knew they were dealing with a diabolical psychopath with a murderous past, but until now, he was just that. Now there was a body count, and Trista feared someone she cared for could be next. Owen could be next. She could be next.

  15

  Time seemed to stand still in Bear Springs. It was a new trend and getting old fast. Though it had only been a few days, it felt like a lifetime had passed since returning to town and discovering the death of Garret James. The mood was dark and eerie, and it felt like danger was closing in despite no real evidence of such. It was just a feeling. A hunch. An unspoken threat. It was as if they were being chased and played with by a ghost.

  No sooner did they finally see Mark Thomas on the move, and he disappeared again. James’ algorithms and various programs were constantly running, watching for activity of any kind. They were clearing home after home from their list, which was a daunting task since it was peak tourist season, and much of the increased activity on the power grid was simply snowbound vacationers. For all they knew, Mark had been to all the houses they’d cleared. It made the process longer, harder, and dragged out the inevitable.

  However, they did find vacant cabins that hadn’t been vacant long and told a story of menace and mayhem. Mark had been moving around, leaving traces of his presence at each place. It was completely out of character for Mark. He knew better, yet he was getting sloppy. It meant he was getting antsy, perhaps anxious, and that was good news and bad.

  Sloppy meant they were closing in. Mark felt the pressure and was only a single mistake or two away from landing in their custody. He was nearly there with the trail he was leaving. It also meant he could break under the pressure and completely lose his mind. That’s what happens when someone with his level of training had psychopathic tendencies and suddenly felt the walls closing in. They became desperate, and anything went.

  They were supposed to travel back to Santa Monica for Sunday dinner in only a matter of days. They thought they’d have the case closed by now. As much as Trista and the rest of the team didn’t want to miss it and ruin traditions, taking danger back to Santa Monica and exposing everyone to the very danger they were in wasn’t an option. With nothing to lose, Mark just might tempt an ugly fate for the ultimate revenge if he had an opportunity to avenge his grudges and wage war on the entire Force family in one place at the same time.

  Family was everything to Owen, and their loyalty to one another ran deep, but Owen and Trista both knew the rest of the family would understand and agree that Sunday dinner, with a maniac on the loose and crosshairs pinned on them, was like planning their own funerals. They would be sitting duc
ks in that restaurant, not to mention the innocent people along the way he’d surely encounter, bad timing costing those strangers a sacrifice they didn’t sign up for. Traveling down the mountain and back was just as dangerous, and again, it put others who weren’t involved in the middle of a war they didn’t wage simply because of bad timing. The Elite building was safe, but the bar and everything around it would be vulnerable along with the miles between Santa Monica and Bear Springs.

  Lost in thought, Trista was pondering these very things, and no sooner did she think of Owen did he called.

  With a smile on her face, she answered, “Are you almost here?”

  “Change of plans,” he fired back.

  “What happened, Owen?”

  “We found him. We know where he’s staying,” Owen said with an intensity she’d never heard. He was focused, angry, and ready to fight. “The place is covered in pictures. Pictures of everyone. He’s been here a while, watching, logging patterns and schedules.”

  “Oh, my God,” Trista whispered.

  “His personal effects are gone, but Mark left the pictures, empty ammo boxes everywhere, and a letter to his mother, of all people.”

  “A letter?” she questioned. “I don’t understand?”

  “It’s an apology…and a goodbye. Mark doesn’t plan on surviving whatever he has planned, or he plans to disappear for good.”

  “Owen, what do we do now?” Panic set in. Though they had waited for this very moment, Trista was scared to see how it all played out.

  “We set it up for him. His letter said, today, it’s over. He said…he’s taking care of her so he can get him.”

  “Me?” Her voice was small and cracked, fear consuming her. “To get to you?”

  Owen was silent, unwilling to answer. But he didn’t need to say what she was already thinking.

  “No…you mean Mason. He’s taking Mason.”

  “There were pictures of him everywhere. I don’t understand the plan, but Mason is his target. I’m on my way to you now, and we can go to him at Broken Saddle.”