by Cindi Myers
“Would that be big enough to hide a vehicle?” Jackson asked.
“For sure,” Sophie answered and pressed onward. “About two miles away there’s another structure. A cabin. See this square at one side? Probably a chimney.”
“You’re sure that’s a cabin?” Jackson asked.
“Without a doubt,” Robbie said and then shifted to an image zoomed and enhanced to show the details of the structure. After that, he displayed several other photos, from slightly different angles, which helped to define the path of the logging trail, as well as a possible trail from the lean-to toward the cabin.
When he finished, he said, “We’ve sent you these photos via email. If you need us to testify to them, we’d be happy to do that.”
“We totally appreciate all you’ve done,” Rhea said, suddenly feeling very optimistic about what the photos had revealed.
“We never say ‘No’ to family,” Sophie said, which prompted a rough laugh from Jackson.
“Hint duly noted, as well as massive guilt, Sophie. I love you guys, and I hope to see you soon,” Jackson said.
“Hope to see you soon in Miami, primo,” Robbie said and ended the video call.
“They sure know how to lay on the guilt,” Rhea teased, and Jackson laughed. He shot to his feet to turn on the lights in the conference room, leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. Peering at Dillon, he said, “You mentioned that logging road might be tough to traverse.”
Dillon nodded. “Might be. We’d obviously need 4x4s and additional manpower. Those guys are probably armed.”
Jackson nodded. “I spoke to the Parks Service, and they’re leaving it up to us to take action. I’m thinking two other officers, SWAT possibly, if the chief approves of course.”
“I agree. Weather tomorrow is supposed to be good,” Dillon said.
Almost too eagerly, Rhea thought.
“I’ll speak to the chief and ask him who will be our backup, but remember this, Dillon. These men are likely dangerous. Possibly murderers, or kidnappers if Selene is still alive,” Jackson said in warning, likewise sensing the young officer’s almost misplaced enthusiasm.
“Alive? It’s been over six months, boss. Sorry, miss,” Dillon said with a guilty look in her direction.
“It’s okay, Officer Dillon. I understand.” She peered at Jackson as he continued to lean against the wall.
As her gaze met his, determination filled his gaze, but also pain. They were possibly almost at the end of their journey. It might end at a most dangerous place tomorrow, after they made their ascent up the mountain and to the structures the images had revealed.
“I’m going with you tomorrow, Jax. Make no mistake about that,” she warned.
“We’ll discuss this later. Right now, I have to get the chief’s approval for this operation.”
He didn’t wait for a reply from either her or Dillon. He rushed out, his face dark with worry and hurt, gray eyes as stormy as rainclouds. His lips a thin line in a face as stony as granite. Closed off from her, and she understood. He wasn’t just preparing himself for the danger to come.
He was preparing for her to leave.
* * *
HE MOVED IN HER, his big body driving her toward release. His gaze locked on her, wanting to see when she went over and to hold that moment close before he lost control.
Her blue eyes had darkened, were almost black with desire. A soft moan escaped her with one thrust, and he worried he might have hurt her until she dug her fingernails into his skin and arched her back, deepening his penetration. He thrust again and she urged him on, wrapping her legs around him.
Inside pressure built, his heart pounding harder and louder. Almost as if calling out what he was feeling. Love you, love you, love you, but the words never left his mouth, trapped by fear.
Beneath him, her body shuddered and tightened, and she called out his name, her release washing over her. Spilling onto him as he drove into her one last time. Her name escaped his lips and he fell over with her.
He held his weight off her, but then she reached up and cradled his shoulders. Invited him to rest on her, their bodies still united. But after a short minute, he rolled onto his side and took her with him, tucking her close.
They lay there in silence until Rhea stroked a hand across his chest. “It’s going to be okay.”
A rough laugh escaped him. “Funny. I thought that was supposed to be my line.”
She didn’t respond, she just moved closer, her hand resting over his heart.
He understood. As much as he had searched for the words since they’d left the police station earlier, he hadn’t found them. Hadn’t been able to figure out how to tell her that he loved her. How that had happened in just a few days. What he hoped for the future with her. If there even was a future.
Rhea rested beside him, her hand tucked over his heart, listening to the beat as it settled into a steady rhythm. She felt his tension growing. The muscles beneath her hand were tight, unyielding. The arm resting down her back, keeping her near, didn’t exude that feeling of comfort or protection that his touch usually did.
It made her wonder if it would be okay, as she’d said earlier. If after tomorrow, no matter what happened, they could make this relationship work. If they could explore the love that had somehow blossomed between them at such an unlikely time. But it had taken hold and sunk its roots deep in her heart.
Has it done the same in him?
She refused to think that it hadn’t, but tomorrow would tell. No matter what happened, they might have to go their separate ways.
But can we find our way back together?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The turnoff to the logging road was blocked by a wall of underbrush, but the tire tracks in the soft dirt confirmed it had been recently used. Jackson and Dillon got out of the SUV and, after examining the tumble of vines and brush, pulled it away to allow them to pass.
They bumped their way up the uneven road, which was fairly navigable despite the large boulders and soft loose dirt at numerous spots along the path. At one point, the SUV behind them carrying the two members of the Regina SWAT team got bogged down in one of the softer ruts. Jackson got out, cut down some branches with his machete and tucked them under the tires, providing the traction to get them out of the rut.
Inside their SUV, Dillon manned a tablet with software that Robbie and Sophie had provided, which visualized exactly where they were based on the LIDAR images. As Dillon lifted the tablet, a 3D rendering of the area around them sprang to life. But as they got closer to the first structure identified by the drone imagery, they didn’t need a tablet to tell them what was right before their eyes: the SUV from the photos at the pub.
Jackson got out of the car, stood on the running board and gestured to everyone to hold their positions with his upraised fist.
He hopped off the running board and carefully approached the lean-to, which housed the SUV, worried that anyone who had taken the time to hide the turnoff for the road might have created a booby trap to protect the vehicle.
He inched his way all around the area, searching for trip wires or hidden traps.
“All clear,” he said and gave the hand motion to go.
Everyone exited the vehicles and came over to examine the SUV against the pub photo.
“Definitely the same car,” said the one SWAT officer as he stood in front of the Jeep, his rifle slung across his chest.
Jackson squatted to examine the custom bumper. There were rough gouges and scratches in the thick steel, a testament to when they’d used the vehicle to ram them. There were even still some hints of white paint from the police cruiser’s bumper.
“This is the vehicle that attacked us.” He straightened and faced his team.
“These men are dangerous. They are likely armed. We need to use extreme caution on our approach and you—
” he gestured to Rhea “—you hang back and stay close.”
Jackson hated that she was even with them, but Rhea had insisted, and he knew it wouldn’t have done any good to argue with her. They had come so far together, and it would end with them together. He walked over to her, cupped her jaw and said, “You understand, right? I don’t want to see you hurt.” For good measure, he checked the bulletproof vest and helmet she wore, making sure she’d be secure.
Rhea cradled his face. “I understand. I’ll stay close, because I don’t want to see any of you hurt.”
He nodded and went to the head of his team. Gave the Move-out symbol.
There was a narrow trail from the SUV lean-to westward, and they hiked on it cautiously, watching for booby traps or alarms. Checking the tablet to see just how close they were to the cabin, which had been revealed by the LIDAR.
Jackson figured the structure was a good two miles from the logging trail. Not a long hike normally, but he and the other officers were in full protective gear. It was hot and sweaty beneath the body armor and helmets. Still they pressed on, navigating the trail until the cabin came into view, just where the LIDAR had said it would be.
He gave the Hold command and examined the clearing around the structure. Off to one side, there was an area with a woodpile and log with an ax buried in it.
One less weapon for them, Jackson thought.
Crude chairs fashioned from branches graced an equally crude and rustic porch, clearly an add-on to an otherwise solid log cabin. Curtains in an indiscriminate color hung on the windows, blocking his view into the building.
Wood smoke escaped the chimney, and the smell of it drifted over to them along with the scent of bacon. Someone was making a meal. Maybe a late breakfast.
A good thing. It meant they were home and maybe not paying too much attention to the exterior of the cabin.
He gestured to his team members to come close, and once they had gathered around him, he spoke to them in a low tone, directing each member to a different side of the structure. With a quick glance at Rhea, he said, “You stay down and close to me. Understand?”
Rhea nodded, comprehending Jackson’s concerns. But there was no way she was going to miss this moment after all that they’d been through to get here.
She hung back, as close as she could so as not to hamper Jackson, and watched as the other team members fanned out. They had only gotten about halfway to their positions when a clanging sound rang out. A cow bell, warning anyone in the cabin that someone was outside.
The SWAT member who had tripped the alarm dropped to the ground, trying to avoid detection, but a second later came the sound of glass breaking and a shot rang out in his direction. Bark flew off a tree in his general direction.
A curtain shifted in the front of the cabin, and the glass shattered as a second rifle barrel poked out.
Jackson muttered a curse and shook his head. With a backward sweep of his arm, he tucked Rhea behind the protection of his back. Having been discovered, he had no choice but to shout, “Police. Drop your weapons and come out with your hands up.”
A round of gunshots came in their direction, smashing into the trees and brush around them. One of their team returned fire, but Jackson radioed them and said, “Hold your fire. They could have a hostage in there.”
He again called out to the men in the cabin. “We don’t have to do this the hard way. Surrender, and I can speak to the DA to keep the sentence reasonable.”
In response, a female face suddenly appeared in the window, but then was hauled back abruptly. “We’ll kill her,” someone shouted.
Selene. Alive. Selene’s alive, Rhea thought and stood up slightly, her gut reaction to run to her sister.
Jackson hauled her back down and looked over his shoulder at her. Blood dripped from a cut on his cheekbone and a bit of bark stuck to his helmet. Eyes hard, he said, “Steady, Rhea.”
Without missing a beat, he turned back toward the cabin and screamed, “You can make this easier for yourselves. Let the woman go, and I’ll talk to the DA.”
More gunfire erupted, but it was followed by shouting from inside the cabin. The thick log walls were enough to muffle whatever it was they were saying to each other, but Rhea hoped they were talking about surrendering. Her hopes were dashed as bullets tore into the underbrush and ground all around the SWAT officer who had tripped the cowbell.
A volley of gunfire erupted from the officer toward the side of the cabin. The dull thud of bullets striking wood reverberated through her.
Once again, Jackson reined in the response. “Hold your fire. Repeat, hold your fire.”
“Copy that,” echoed from all the officers.
The creak of the door drew their attention. It opened, almost in slow motion, providing a partial view of the interior of the cabin. But then suddenly, Selene stood in the doorway, hands held on top of her head.
She paused, a little wobbly. Way too thin, Rhea thought. The tattered shirt hung on her slim shoulders and was stained in various spots. Rhea had given her the shirt two Christmases ago. Her jeans were worn and torn, likewise dirty as if from soot or soil.
“Come forward slowly, hands up,” Jackson shouted.
Selene took another hesitant step toward them onto the front porch. She squinted, as if the sunlight was too much for her, making Rhea wondered if it had been months since she’d been outside the walls of her prison.
“Walk forward slowly,” Jackson said as another burst of shouting came from within the cabin.
A bearded face became visible in the window, and the man called out, “You have her. Now leave us alone.”
More fighting followed that declaration, and with the door open, the words were a little more discernable. One voice, stronger and obviously in command. “Shut the door. Shut the damn door.”
The second, weaker, almost stumbling. “B-b-b-ut—”
“Shut it,” boomed the first person, and the door slammed closed.
Selene jumped, almost as if shot, and it was all Rhea could do not to run to her sister. But Jackson had his arm stuck out, a barrier keeping her back.
The shouting resumed inside the cabin, and Jackson took advantage of that to stand, exposing himself to gunfire. He held out his hand and motioned to Selene. “Here. Come here, Selene.”
Her sister’s eyes widened, but then she ran toward them and dropped to her knees, into Rhea’s arms, when she got there.
Rhea kissed her sister’s face and wrapped her arms around her, unable to believe she was really there. That she was alive.
“You’ve made this easier for yourselves, but you’ve got to surrender. Come out, hands up,” Jackson commanded.
More yelling came from the cabin, followed by an assortment of crashes, as if someone was trashing the place. More shouts, and then silence. Finally, surprising all of them, the sound of a single gunshot.
Jackson sucked in a breath, trying to fathom what that single gunshot might mean. Especially as the door slowly opened again and a hesitant voice called out, “D-d-don’t shoot. Please don’t h-h-urt m-m-e.”
There was almost a nervous quality to the voice, warning him that it might be the younger brother. A gentle hand on his forearm drew his attention back to where Rhea and Selene huddled, arms around each other. It was Selene’s hand, and as he met her gaze, so much like Rhea’s, he was taken aback for a moment. But only a millisecond in this life and death situation.
“It’s Wade,” Selene confirmed.
Jackson nodded. “Come out slowly, Wade. Hands on your head. We won’t hurt you.”
Finally, someone appeared in the doorway. One of the men in the photos. One of Selene’s kidnappers.
“Slowly, Wade,” he repeated as the man faltered on the front porch, clearly afraid as his gaze darted all around, seemingly uncomprehending.
Wade took a few more uncertain steps int
o the clearing in front of the cabin.
Over his shoulder, Jackson asked Selene, “What’s his brother’s name?”
“Earl,” she said harshly, as if it pained her to say his name.
“On your knees, Wade. Where’s Earl?” Jackson said, rising slightly so Wade could see him, but keeping behind the trunk of the tree for safety.
“Dead. Kilt himself,” Wade said and whipped his head in the direction of the cabin.
Jackson radioed his team. “Visuals? Can anyone confirm?”
Dillon spoke up first. “I can see into the cabin. Looks like a body on the floor.”
“Are you sure, Dillon?” Jackson pressed, wanting to avoid any additional bloodshed.
“I’m sure, boss.”
Jackson commanded the two SWAT officers. “Levine. Anderson. Move in. Dillon, hang back and secure our suspect when possible.”
“Copy that,” all the officers confirmed.
Jackson waited, protecting the two women while his counterparts hurried toward the cabin, guns drawn. The SWAT officers paused at the door. Entry areas like that could be a fatal funnel, but as the one officer peered inside, he lowered his weapon slightly.
“Shot himself in the head. Going in to check on him. Cover my six, Anderson,” Officer Levine said and entered the cabin. He emerged a second later and gave the All-clear motion.
Jackson stood and helped Rhea bring her sister to her feet. Together, they supported her to walk to a stump, where she sat and gazed up at them, tears streaming down her face.
“I thought I’d die here...like the others,” she said, and her gaze skittered back to the cabin for a second and then back to them.
“Others?” Jackson asked, hands on his hips as he focused on Selene’s face, so much like Rhea’s, but so much thinner from her captivity. The remnants of a bruise, going yellowish and purple, lingered along her right cheek. He clenched his jaw with anger at the thought of anyone striking her.
