Mountain Hostage

by Hope White

  When he’d received her text about moving to the Ashford Inn, he’d been relieved indeed. He was glad she told Sergeant Peterson so he could assign patrols to regularly cruise by the inn. Maybe she registered under a different name. That would protect her identity and location. Yet he suspected Zoe wasn’t one to misrepresent herself.

  He knew little about the Ashford Inn, but after reading the reviews, he thought it a good choice for her, at least for tonight. Unfortunately it didn’t accept canine guests, so Jack couldn’t stay there, as well.

  Would she consider it pushy if he wanted to stay on the same property?

  You’re thinking too much.

  One step at a time. Next step: make sure Zoe was safely settled in.

  He directed his phone’s virtual assistant to call the Ashford Inn.

  “Ashford Inn, Ruthie speaking.”

  “I’m calling to confirm my friend, Zoe Pratt, has checked in.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I cannot share that information.”

  Irritation quickly dissolved into appreciation.

  “Of course, thank you.” He ended the call. He’d cruise by the property to see if her car was parked out front.

  A few minutes later he spotted flashing lights of two patrol cars near a car that had gone off the road. It wasn’t raining so he wondered why the driver had lost control. He shot a quick glance toward the scene.

  And spotted Zoe’s car.

  His fingers clenched the steering wheel. He pulled over to investigate. As he approached her car, he could tell the airbag had deployed and the front end of the car was smashed against a tree. Since he didn’t see an ambulance, he wondered if they’d already transported Zoe to the hospital.

  A deputy blocked Jack from getting too close. “Stay back, sir.”

  “Zoe Pratt,” was all he could say.

  Sergeant Peterson turned. “Hey, Jack.” He motioned the deputy to allow Jack access.

  “What happened?” Jack said. “Is Zoe okay?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “What?”

  “We found the car like this, abandoned with no one inside.”

  Jack thought about that for a minute. “She wouldn’t have wandered off, unless she went back to the road and caught a ride.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Or maybe what?”

  “We received a report from a motorist who saw the accident. He said another motorist stopped to assist. The second motorist said the first one had called 911, but when we arrived, Zoe and the other motorist were gone.”

  “Did you get a description of the Good Samaritan?”

  “The second person who stopped only saw him from behind, but they said he was about six feet tall, had dark hair and wore a leather jacket.”

  “The guy from last night,” Jack blurted out.

  “We don’t know that for sure.”

  Jack turned and walked away.

  “Jack!” Sergeant Peterson called. “Stay out of it!”

  Not possible. Jack wasn’t going to sit by and do nothing while Zoe was being tormented. He shouldn’t have left her.

  No, she wasn’t his responsibility.

  Trauma flooded to the surface.

  Zoe was an adult, capable of taking care of herself. She wasn’t a lost and injured teenager. Not his fault. Jack had done everything humanly possible to help her, save her.

  The trauma he’d managed to keep locked away suddenly burst free. He got into his truck and slammed the door. Pounded closed fists against the steering wheel, his heart racing.

  Romeo whined from the back seat.

  “We’ve got to find her, Romeo.”

  The dog barked as if he’d understood Jack’s words.

  Jack thought he’d successfully put that tragic incident behind him. He’d cataloged all the evidence from other SAR members, from the elements, from the Lost Person Behavior resource guide. He and his team had done everything according to proper procedure.

  They were still unable to save her. Bottom line.

  It didn’t seem like other team members, including Sally Frick, were unduly affected by their failure. It happened. Part of the job.

  People died.

  Zoe’s bright, expressive eyes filled his mind. He would not lose Zoe.

  He ripped out his phone and did a cursory search. Grabbing his laptop, he opened his locator app to track Zoe’s phone. It was more powerful than similar apps and would give him an exact location in real time. Wherever her phone was, he’d find it.

  He hoped she still had it in her possession.

  A ding indicated the location. The bright red spot on his screen was...

  Not far from him. In the middle of the surrounding forest.

  * * *

  Zoe raced through the woods like a woman with her hair on fire. That’s how she felt: like her head had been lit up with firecrackers. But she shelved the pain and focused on getting away from the creep.

  Good thing she remembered the special karate move Shannon’s brother had taught her, the one that never failed to neutralize a male attacker when he was coming at her head-on. It was enough to stun him so she could flee, although she hadn’t a clue where she was going.

  She still couldn’t believe the goon who’d broken into the cottage last night thought she’d surrender without a fight.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Didn’t see or hear anything. Her attacker must have given up. After all, it wouldn’t take long for someone to see her car tangled with a tree and call the police. If the guy didn’t want to be identified or caught, he’d have to flee the scene.

  Zoe crouched low beside a tree to catch her breath. She had no idea which way to go. She’d been swerving so much she couldn’t tell north from south or east from west.

  She was lost. It was pitch-black. And she was running out of phone battery. Maybe she had time to make one more—

  Then she saw it. The blink of a flashlight.

  Had the creep found her?

  She dialed 911 in the hopes the little bit of battery she had would enable her to make the call. “It’s Zoe Pratt,” she whispered as soon as the operator answered. “I’m in the woods. He’s coming for me.”

  The phone went black.

  She searched the ground for a fallen branch, anything she could use as a weapon.

  The sound of boots crunching on twigs pierced the night. The guy was coming closer.

  She grabbed a branch off the ground, the rough bark pricking her skin as she clenched it tight. She pushed up, leaning against the tree for cover and waited.

  Snap. Crunch. Snap.

  He was only a few feet away.

  What if she missed?

  Heartbeat pounding in her ears, she rested the branch on her shoulder. She grew dizzy, unsure if it was the concussion or the car crash or both.

  Snap.

  She pushed away from the tree and swung. Missing her mark, she stumbled forward and nearly fell to the ground.

  “Miss Pratt, stop!” a voice said.

  A young voice. She spun around.

  And was looking at Trevor Willis, one of her teenage clients, wearing goggles on his face. Okay, she was losing it. She’d passed out and was dreaming up this scenario.

  “Sorry,” Trevor said, removing the goggles. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “What’s happening?” was all she could say.

  Someone sprang out of nowhere and tackled Trevor to the ground.

  “No, stop!” she cried. After all, in this dream sequence, someone was hurting her client. “Leave him alone!” she cried. She swung the branch and it connected with the attacker’s back.

  In one swift motion he jumped up and ripped it out of her hands. She squinted and covered her face with her arms, expecting the branch to be used on her.

  “Zoe.
”

  Her name. Yes, her name was Zoe. But who was—

  “Zoe, it’s Jack.”

  She slowly peeked through her arms. A lantern clicked on, illuminating his face. She glanced from Jack to Trevor, who lay on the ground, eyes wide, terrified.

  “Why did you attack Trevor?” she asked Jack.

  “Who’s Trevor?”

  She knelt beside the young man, who sat up.

  “Isn’t this the guy—” Jack began.

  “No,” she interrupted. “Trevor is one of my clients from Portland. Wait, is this really happening?”

  “The pain in my back would suggest it is,” Jack said.

  “Right, sorry.” She turned to Trevor. “What are you doing here, buddy?”

  “I was worried about you.”

  “But how did you—”

  “Helen and Dirk are responsible.”

  “Your foster parents?” Zoe said. “They’re responsible for Shannon’s kidnapping? But—”

  “Who’s Shannon? No, I came because I heard Dirk say he was going to put an end to the counselor’s meddling.”

  * * *

  “We should go,” Jack said, scanning their surroundings. “We can discuss this when we’re safe.”

  “You think he’s still out there?” Zoe said with a tremble in her voice.

  “I’d rather not take a chance.”

  Zoe helped Trevor stand.

  “Hang on.” And he grabbed something off the ground.

  “What are those?” Zoe asked.

  “Night vision goggles,” Jack and Trevor said at the same time.

  Jack motioned the pair to follow him, then texted his location to Sergeant Peterson.

  “Be alert,” Jack said to Zoe and the teen, not knowing if the threat was still in the area.

  Although Jack was focused on his surroundings, he couldn’t avoid hearing the conversation taking place behind him.

  “You and your foster parents... It’s getting worse?” Zoe asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Trevor?” she pressed.

  “No, he hasn’t done that again.”

  Jack wondered what the teenager meant.

  “It’s difficult when the people who are supposed to love you don’t act loving,” Zoe said.

  Love. Jack found himself picking up his pace, as if to distance himself from the four-letter word.

  “How did you find me? How did you get here?” Zoe asked.

  “I tracked your phone.”

  “Trevor, you’re not supposed to use your talents for things like that. It’s inappropriate.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “I borrowed Gran’s car. I needed to warn you so you’d know to be careful, but then I saw the accident and the guy pull you out of the car and then you nailed him and escaped into the woods. That was rad.”

  “You should have called the police,” Zoe said.

  “Then Helen and Dirk would have come for me.”

  “They don’t know you’re here?” Zoe asked. “Does your grandmother?”

  “No, I didn’t want to worry her. I was hoping to come out and warn you, then get back home before everyone figured out I was gone.”

  “Still, there are better ways to warn someone of trouble.”

  “You could have called,” Jack said.

  “Who’s this guy?” Trevor asked.

  “A friend,” Zoe said. “He’s good.”

  “I did call her, but it went to voice mail and I didn’t want to leave a message, okay?”

  “Trevor, you know how we talk about privacy in regards to what you share with me in session?”

  “Yeah?”

  “The same goes for me. I deserve my privacy, right?”

  “Yeah.” The kid sounded disheartened that Zoe was upset with him.

  “Jack!” Sergeant Peterson called out.

  “Over here!” Jack responded.

  “Who’s that?” Trevor said.

  “Sergeant Peterson.”

  “Aw, man, not the cops.”

  “There’s more going on here than your paranoia about your foster parents wanting to hurt Zoe,” Jack said.

  “It’s not paranoia, dude.”

  “It’s okay, Trevor,” Zoe said. “And thank you for caring so much that you’d drive all this way to find me.”

  * * *

  An hour later, back at the sheriff’s office, Zoe described the accident and her near kidnapping. Since it was the same guy who broke into the house looking for Shannon last night, authorities surmised this was still about the Shannon Banks case, not a conspiracy Trevor had dreamed up about his foster parents being out to get Zoe.

  Detective Perry turned his focus on Jack. “You knew where Miss Pratt was and didn’t contact the police?”

  “It’s fine, he found me. It’s all good,” Zoe said.

  “Ma’am, it’s not fine. It’s our job to protect you.”

  “Then where were you when her car was run off the road?” Jack let slip.

  Trevor snickered. Zoe shook her head that Jack’s reaction was inappropriate. Jack seriously needed to keep his thoughts to himself.

  So many things seemed inappropriate lately, beginning with the accusations leveled against him. He wasn’t exactly sure what the detective’s purpose was. Jack had found and rescued Zoe. Wasn’t that everyone’s goal?

  “Jack,” Sergeant Peterson said. “This is a police matter.”

  Jack was being shamed, in front of Zoe, her teenage client and Detective Perry. “I did what I thought was best for Zoe.”

  “And I’m okay,” Zoe said. “Shouldn’t we be focused on getting Trevor home?”

  “We left a message for his foster parents,” Detective Perry said.

  “Great,” Trevor muttered.

  “Kid, this is serious stuff,” Perry said. “You insinuated yourself into a police investigation.”

  “He was trying to protect me,” Zoe defended.

  “Do you have any idea what your dad meant, what he had planned in regard to Miss Pratt?” Detective Perry asked Trevor.

  “No, but I think he’d do anything to keep her out of court.”

  Detective Perry glanced at Zoe.

  “I’m scheduled to go before a judge in two weeks to discuss custody issues,” Zoe said. “Trevor’s grandmother is filing for custody.”

  “There must be pretty serious abuse if you’re recommending he be removed from his foster parents’ house,” Detective Perry said.

  Zoe didn’t respond. Jack figured it was part of the counselor’s code of ethics to keep things confidential.

  “Dirk beat me and locked me in the shed for two days.” Trevor glanced down, as if he felt somehow responsible for his foster father’s behavior. As if he deserved it.

  “Sorry,” Detective Perry said.

  “Why don’t you call his grandmother and see if she can come get him?” Zoe suggested.

  Detective Perry had Trevor write down his grandmother’s number. “I’ll be right back.”

  Perry and Sergeant Peterson left the conference room.

  “It’ll be okay, Trevor,” Zoe said. “I truly appreciate your concern.”

  “But I shouldn’t have come,” he said softly.

  “You were brave,” Jack blurted out.

  Zoe and Trevor both looked at him.

  “Going against your foster parents’ wishes, wanting to rescue someone, even though you knew it could get you into trouble,” he continued. He didn’t know where the words were coming from.

  Jack finally sat at the table with them. He fingered the night vision goggles. “Homemade?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Rad,” he said, repeating the kid’s word.

  Trevor’s
frown eased a bit.

  Jack wasn’t sure how, but he was successfully engaging with the young man, who was both bright and caring. An intriguing combination.

  “Jack?”

  He glanced at Zoe.

  “How did you find me?”

  “Tracked your phone.”

  “Hey, that’s not fair,” Trevor said.

  “Trevor,” she started. “You’re my client. Jack is my friend. There’s a difference.”

  She just referred to Jack as her friend. Did she mean it, or was she trying to illustrate a point for the teenager?

  The door opened and Sergeant Peterson poked his head into the room. “We’ve reached Trevor’s grandmother and she’s on her way to get him.”

  “How? I’ve got her car,” Trevor said.

  “A friend is driving her.”

  “Any word from his foster parents?” Zoe asked.

  “None.”

  “Let’s hope Gran gets here first,” Trevor said.

  “Jack, can I have a word?”

  Jack stood and went out into the hall with Sergeant Peterson.

  “Perry is steaming mad and considering bringing charges against you,” Peterson said.

  “For what?”

  “Interfering with an open investigation.”

  “Because I wanted to help Zoe?”

  “Because you didn’t keep us in the loop.”

  “I was in a hurry.”

  “Look, I told him you meant well, but you have to keep your distance.”

  “Someone needs to help Zoe if you can’t offer 24/7 protection.”

  “True, but you can’t help her if you’re in jail.” Peterson hesitated. “I’ve got an idea. Since we don’t know what Miss Pratt’s role is in all this—”

  “Meaning you think she’s involved in drug smuggling?”

  “Let me finish. I could tell Perry that by keeping an eye on her, you can get us valuable intel—”

  “No.”

  “Jack—”

  “I won’t spy for you.”

  “You can’t protect her from lockup either.”

  “He has no cause to arrest me.”

  “That won’t stop him. Look, I’m on your side. This way everyone wins. You stay out of jail and protect Miss Pratt, she’ll be safe, and we get information—” Peterson put his hand up to stop Jack’s protest “—if you deem it important to share. Okay? Tell me what you discover. You won’t have to deal with Perry. Just think about it?”