One Last Song (A Thomas Family Novel Book 3)

by Kristi Cramer

They’d covered most of the distance back to the site of the stupid, senseless shootout when they came upon a line of traffic, flashers on and people outside their vehicles, a sure sign the road was closed.

  Without further contemplation, Alan pulled the car around, crossed the median, and headed back the way they’d just come.

  “Must have missed them,” he growled.

  Maria bit her tongue to keep from asking how many times they were going to go up and down this highway before they gave up. The look Alan shot her confirmed she was right to keep her mouth shut.

  This time, they drove even slower. Maria fidgeted, both with the need to go to the bathroom and with her nerves stretched to the breaking point. She was just about to say something when a strange sight caught her attention.

  “Slow down,” she said, then pointed off to the right side of the road. A gravel road intersected with the highway, but something wasn’t right. “Do you see that?”

  Alan slowed to a crawl, leaning forward against the steering wheel. “I’ll be....”

  They were on a curve of the road, which would explain why they hadn’t seen it on the way back. It was so subtle, there was no way they could have seen it the first time by, either, rocketing past at a hundred and twenty miles per hour. But there it was. Deep swathes of disturbed rock in the gravel of the road. Beyond that, they saw the glint of early afternoon sun off of something metal, low to the ground.

  Alan maneuvered the pickup onto the gravel road and followed it until the gravel turned, but a scar in the lip of the gulley beyond told the tale of something large tearing through at great speed. They each opened their doors and stood on the running boards to glimpse the RV lying on its side in the wash.

  “The little idiot wrecked it,” Alan said, jumping down to investigate.

  Maria followed, though at a much slower pace. She didn’t think she could bear to see any more corpses in one day. As she rounded the front of the vehicle, she saw the giant hole in the windshield, saw Alan’s shadow inside as he climbed back from the cab of the vehicle, then heard him call out.

  “They’re not here. Signs of blood, so somebody’s hurt, but no bodies.” Alan climbed back out the way he’d gone in. “They’re on foot.”

  “Can you track them?” she asked, looking at the ground. Even she could see footprints leading off into the desert.

  “If they stay in this wash, it should be easy. Ground’s sandy. They get up onto that hard pack, though, and it could get tough. We’d better get started.”

  “I’ve got to pee,” she said. “Would you go back in for some TP and, while you’re at it, empty out the secret compartment?”

  He nodded, a look of surprise on his face, like he hadn’t thought to recover their false documents.

  She was pleased to prove she wasn’t as useless as he might think.

  ⋘⋆⋙

  “I paid for the fuel,” Cody said through clenched teeth. “Dylan wouldn’t even be here without me. Plus, it’s a civilian aircraft. You can’t just commandeer it.”

  He didn’t care that Dylan, several FBI agents, and the airport personnel all watched his dispute with the agent in charge with varying degrees of interest and amusement.

  “The hell we can’t,” Agent Sanderson said, practical as ever, but closer to losing her temper than he’d ever seen her. “That is exactly what commandeering is about. The only reason your pilot got the clearance for the search is because of me. Do you want to miss a sign because you’re not trained in search and rescue? I have six successful air-based recoveries under my belt. Six.”

  “What am I supposed to do while you’re up there?” His frustration came in good part because he knew she was right.

  Sanderson put her hands on his shoulders, ready to give him a pep talk, but her ringing phone interrupted. Leaving one hand on his shoulder, she answered.

  “Sanderson.” She listened for a moment, then turned away. “You’re kidding me. Do you have an ID?” Another pause while she listened. “This guy is really starting to piss me off.... No. I’m going up shortly. Keep me posted.”

  By the time the agent turned back to him, Cody had resigned himself to keeping his feet on the ground—for the time being. “What happened?”

  “They found a body in the culvert by the burned-out cop car. A male, early twenties. No identification on him.”

  “Jax?” Cody’s heart sank. He didn’t know the kid very well, but knew he was sweet on Kylie.

  “Impossible to say. Body was burned in the wildfire.” She put her hands on his shoulders again and leaned in close. “Listen, Cody. You and I go way back. I know you’re a stand-up guy, but I can’t let you go up there and maybe end up face to face with the dirtbag who is killing people left and right out there. Plus, you’re emotionally involved.”

  She didn’t have to say it. He knew she didn’t trust that he’d do the right thing and report back if they found anything. And she was right. If he got his hands on the animal who kidnapped his baby girl, the last thing he’d do is bring the authorities in.

  “Are you reconciled to this?” she asked, ducking her head so she could look under the brim of his cowboy hat.

  “Reckon I’ve got no choice,” he said, hating the truth in that statement.

  “This guy thinks he’s clever, but he’s making mistakes. We’re boxing him in on all sides. We will find her.”

  Sanderson turned and marched over to the waiting helicopter, climbed in, and belted up without waiting for Dylan, who approached Cody.

  “Listen, buddy,” Dylan said. “You know she’s right. I’ll do my best to make sure we find Kylie and Jax and bring them home.”

  Dylan gave him a quick hug, then trotted over to the chopper.

  They had lifted off and were arrowing northeast before Cody turned away and followed the agent waiting to take him back to the hotel.

  Chapter Ten

  Tim watched Janie as she pushed the remains of a short stack of pancakes around on her plate. They sat side by side in a booth by the window, while Mitzi, Blue, and Mrs. Thomas sat at the lunch counter with Jax’s parents.

  Nobody spoke. It didn’t seem like there was anything new to say. The command center Mitzi had set up at the café was out of the loop now that all the action had moved on to New Mexico.

  As close as he sat to her, Tim knew Janie was anything but calm. He could feel the tension in her like a live wire humming. And why wouldn’t she feel tense? Her daughter was out there in the hands of some very dangerous people.

  “I can’t stand it,” she said at last, her voice low so as not to carry to the lunch counter. “My baby is out there, and there’s nothing I can do to find her, help her. I need to do something, but there isn’t anything to do except wait.”

  Tim put his arm around her shoulders and leaned his head against hers. He felt useless, too, but he knew a little something about powerless waiting. Maybe he could help her through it.

  “When I was in prison, I had a lot of time on my hands,” he said. “There’s only so much reading, so much TV, so much working out a body can do. There were long hours when I didn’t want to socialize. I mean, how many times can I listen to the brothers brag on their misdeeds or fantasize what it’ll be like when they go home?

  “I’d made a point of learning, getting my GED, studying useful things, all in the name of waiting out my time with a purpose. But there was still a lot of time I spent at loose ends, just waiting. There were times I was ready to scream at the emptiness of those hours—that peculiar kind of emptiness you can only find in a jumble of noise and activity.”

  She was listening to him, but he could still feel the tension in her body.

  “It was never any good for me to think about the future, about coming home. That’s a sure way to go mad. I watched guys put every ounce of energy into the idea of going home. They made plans, and those plans got burned up by the system or the sheer amount of time they had to wait. They stretched their reality so thin, they were just a shell, walking around emp
ty. The lights barely on, nobody home.

  “The same thing held true for thinking about certain parts of the past. If my mind got stuck on all the reasons I was there, on the things I did wrong or the blame I could cast on others, I spiraled down into this pit of anger and regret, and I wound up enraged, with no way to express it. Burning up from the inside with the futility and stupidity of it all.”

  “So what did you do? What worked?” she whispered.

  “I learned to stay in the moment. I used every trick I could think up to help me stay there. What worked best for me was counting heartbeats. I’d lay on my bunk at night and concentrate on my heart until I could feel every pulsating throb of blood moving through my veins.” He took her hand, placed her fingers on the pulse point on his wrist, and let her feel the steady cadence. He placed the fingers of his other hand against her carotid artery, feeling the elevated pounding, much faster than his own beating heart.

  “Can you feel it?” Their foreheads pressed together, he opened his eyes to look at her. “That is real. Focus with me. Feel the beat of life. Breathe in long, deep breaths. Find the strength in this heartbeat song.”

  “But what good does this do?” she asked. He could tell she’d started to let go, but caught herself in fear of releasing the illusion that she could somehow control what was happening.

  “This focus helps you accept what is, Janie. If you can do that, you can deal with whatever the next moment brings. This moment, right now, is full of uncertainty, but there are some things we can take to the bank. First and foremost, you love your daughter. You’ve always done your best to show her that, and she knows you love her. She’s also a strong, smart girl who has a passion for life. That makes her a fighter. She’s not going to give up on getting back home.”

  He noticed Janie had drawn in a breath, but hadn’t released it. “Breathe, Janie. Breathe with me. Let’s do it together.”

  For a few moments, they just breathed in and out, in and out.

  “Can you feel your heartbeat?” He tapped out the rhythm against her palm. Tap-tap, tap-tap, tap-tap.

  The tension in her shoulders began to ease as he continued to speak softly. “The other thing to remember is that she has a higher power watching out for her, and that higher power is mighty strong. So much stronger than any worry you can conjure up. He loves her with the fire of a thousand fathers, and knows her better than her own mother. That higher power has the highest and best in store for everyone, and all we’re required to do is breathe and accept it.”

  That “highest and best” notion was the tricky part because he knew it meant survival wasn’t a given. God had His own reasons for doing whatever He did, and even prayer couldn’t stop it if the plan meant someone had to die...or worse.

  Prayer was for the living; comfort was for the survivors.

  He knew better than to suggest that possible outcome to Janie right now. She only needed to hear the positives. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her against his chest.

  Tim continued to breathe in and out audibly, deliberately, letting the hypnotic nature of the meditation do its magic and lull Janie into sleep. He knew it wouldn’t be a deep sleep, but there was no doubt she’d feel better after unplugging for a while.

  ⋘⋆⋙

  “What do you see?” Vera hissed at Danica, who had frozen in her position at the window.

  “I can’t tell,” she answered. “I thought I saw something dark moving between the shrubs back down by the ditch, but I can’t see it anymore.”

  Vera stood and joined her at the window, while Kylie reached for Jax’s hand and squeezed it tight. He realized she was scared. Of course she was scared. So was he. It was just that she seemed so calm. Despite his intention to save her, she’d actually been the one to drag his butt to safety. While he was too out of it to be of any use to anyone, she’d held them together.

  “There it is again.” Danica kept her voice quiet, but Jax felt his heartbeat stutter and he squeezed Kylie’s hand in return.

  Vera’s chuckle offered relief. “It’s just a coyote.” A hand on her own chest showed how tense she’d been, too. “Do you want me to take over watching for a while?”

  Danica had to tear her gaze away from the window, but she offered Vera a grateful smile. “Thanks. It’s hard to stare out there for too long.”

  “Now that Jax is awake, I’ll take a turn,” Kylie offered, shifting to stand. He had to force himself to let go of her fingers, but managed to release them before it got awkward.

  Once Kylie was in position at the window, Danica wandered away, looking anywhere but at Jax as she paced back and forth. He noticed the cuts on her arms and face, along with traces of dried blood. Finally, he gave the floor next to him a pat. “Why don’t you sit here by me?”

  She gave him a timid smile, then came and sat, leaving a good two feet between them.

  “I’m sorry about earlier.”

  Her voice was little more than a mumble and he drew his eyebrows down, then frowned at the pain in his head. “What for?”

  “When you were throwing up out there, I kind of suggested we leave you behind. I was scared.”

  “We’re all scared, Danica.”

  “Not you. You got us away from them. I could never have even tried to sneak up and drive that RV away.”

  “You’re wrong. I’m terrified at what has happened, and terrified that I’ll let you, Vera, and Kylie down. I may have gotten us away, but we’re not safe yet.”

  They might be in worse danger now. He didn’t say it because she didn’t need to be thinking about what a failed escape might lead to. If they were caught now, there was bound to be a harsh reprisal—quite likely fatal.

  He knew they had all agreed it would be better to die than face life as a sex slave, but now that the possibility of death seemed very real, he began to wonder. As long as they were alive, there was hope, but death.... That was just the end.

  Danica wept quietly, her face in her hands. Jax wanted to move to comfort her, but he merely teetered against the wall, unable to shift toward her. Vera saw and moved to her side. To give them privacy, Jax turned his gaze to watch Kylie standing vigil at the window.

  Despite her dusty clothes, tangled hair, and smears of blood on her face, Kylie looked beautiful. His country star was shining bright, no matter the circumstances.

  Lord, he prayed, if we get out of here—when we get out of here—help me tell her how I feel, and help her believe me. I love her, Lord. I always have. If it’s in Your plan, please let her survive.

  ⋘⋆⋙

  Just as Callie Sanderson suggested, Dylan Ducharme flew the grid pattern, working out from the site of the burned police cruiser. Her voice was a constant over the headphones, reading off coordinates and making requests to hover or decrease altitude, depending on what she saw on the desert floor.

  He kept his comments to a minimum, only breaking in when he saw something curious that he wanted to investigate.

  “You’re good at this,” Callie commented after about two hours of flying. Neither of them took their eyes off the ground below.

  “I flew for the Coast Guard out of Air Station San Francisco in the aughts. I’ve been on a few searches.”

  “More than a few, I expect,” Callie said. Dylan ignored the comment, but she knew ASSF patrolled 300 miles of seacoast, so she was certain he’d flown hundreds of hours on search and rescue missions.

  Not one to take the hint that he didn’t want to talk about his credentials or his history, her next question was blunt, designed to take him by surprise. “Why did you leave the Coast Guard?”

  He briefly gave her a sharp look before he went back to searching. Her tone of voice—faintly accusing—was meant to push his defensive button. “Who says I was the one who left?”

  “Ah. What were you discharged for?”

  “None of your—”

  “Dishonorable then?”

  “You’re a piece of work,” he said. Surprisingly, he found humor in the m
oment and laughed. “I’d hate to be on the other side of an interrogation table from you.”

  She glanced at him. “Sorry. Force of habit. When I see something that doesn’t add up, I can’t let it go.”

  “And what did you see?”

  “You love to fly, and you’re skilled at it. By rights, you should be a super-lifer, still flying missions over the Pacific.”

  “Why couldn’t it be that I just got tired of the stress and the missions where we didn’t succeed? Tired of the danger and loss of life?”

  “Were you?”

  Once again, Dylan appeared caught off guard by her direct question, but this time, he simply didn’t answer. The subject was changed for him when he caught sight of something. “What’s that over there? At ten o’clock?”

  She turned her head as he rotated the chopper. “Go in for a closer look.”

  The RV lay on its side in a ditch about a hundred yards off the road, a pickup truck parked nearby. Afternoon sunshine glittered on shards of glass surrounding the vehicle, but there was no sign of movement.

  “What happened?” Dylan asked, but Callie was on her radio, rattling off their coordinates.

  “We’re going to need backup...and dogs, if we can get them,” she said into the comm. “Get out here ASAP.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Cody’s phone buzzed on the surface of the bar and chimed with an incoming text, but he almost didn’t look at it. He didn’t want to deal with a demand for information from Janie, and he couldn’t conceive of anyone else texting him.

  The bartender looked over at him, saw his pint glass was empty, and tilted his head. “You want another?”

  Cody nodded and took several deep drags off his e-cigarette. The vapors weren’t quite cutting his tension, and he contemplated buying a pack of Marlboros.

  He’d been in the bar at the hotel since Sanderson and Dylan had left, running a tab with instructions to the bartender to keep the pints coming. An hour in, the bartender had convinced him to switch from his usual Bud Light to a regional brewery’s offering called Elevated IPA, and he was enjoying it—as much as he could enjoy anything in his despondent state.