The FBI Thrillers Collection

by Catherine Coulter

  8

  The lump didn’t move. Beau poked his gun harder.

  “Not again.” He jerked back the covers. There was a pillow molded in the shape of a person, a very little person, underneath the covers.

  Both Sam and Keely were gone.

  Katie was nearly giddy. “Looks like my kid’s pretty smart, doesn’t it, Beau?” Thank the good Lord for Katie’s favorite climbing tree.

  “I hate this job,” Beau said. “All right, the little kids aren’t dummies. It’s you and me now, Sheriff, and we’re heading outside. When we’re clear of this place, I’m going to whump your ass.”

  “Okay,” she said, so relieved she thought she’d choke on it, “since you put it so nicely.”

  Where was the FBI?

  At that instant, Katie could swear she heard the soft purr of a car motor. She looked at Beau out of the corner of her eyes, realized he hadn’t heard a thing.

  The rain had picked up again and battered sideways in through the open window Beau had smashed in the living room.

  Beau didn’t look happy. “You’re walking too slow. Move! This is your fault, you bitch! The slower you walk, the more I’m going to hurt you.”

  He shoved her hard, and then, because he wasn’t stupid, he took a quick step back.

  “Go! To the front door, now!”

  You want a hostage, Beau? That’s just fine with me, you bozo.

  She walked swiftly to the front door, slid free the dead bolt, and opened it.

  She saw a flashlight beam aiming toward her, then a hand quickly covered it. Someone was close.

  She wanted to shout that Beau was right behind her with a gun at her back, but she kept her mouth shut. Anyone watching would see him soon enough.

  Beau shoved the gun against her back. “Go, move! Get those arms up, clasp your hands behind your neck. Get out there!”

  She put her hands behind her neck, walked through the open front door, and stopped on the front porch. The overhang didn’t help much since the wind was slapping the rain sideways. Katie shouted, “You out there, Clancy?”

  Not a sound, just another flicker of a flashlight whipping around, cutting through the thick rain, its vague beam a ghostly light. She thought she heard men’s voices, low and whispering. Was Agent Savich here? Or had Wade gotten worried and come over? Whoever it was, she hoped they had a good view of her and Beau.

  Beau shouted, “Clancy, drive the van up next to the front porch! If you FBI geeks are out there, stay back or the sheriff’s dead. You got that?”

  There was no answer, just the wind, rumbling through the trees at the sides of her house.

  “You hear me, Clancy? We’re taking her with us. Then we’ll see about the boy.”

  A man’s voice came out of the night, off to her right. “In that case, Mr. Jones, why don’t you just consider us observers. Do whatever you want to do.”

  Beau jumped. “Yeah, you guys just stay back. I’m taking her and we’re leaving.”

  Katie recognized Agent Savich’s voice, and there was something else in his voice, something meant for her. She wished she could see his face, then she’d know what he wanted her to do.

  The big van came hurtling toward the house, its tires spewing up black mud. Fatso was at the wheel, turning it hard until the front fender scraped against the steps of the front porch. She watched the big man lean across the front seat and push the door open. “Get her in here, Beau, fast!”

  Savich’s voice, loud and sharp, “Now, Sheriff!”

  Katie threw herself off the front porch, jerking her SIG Sauer free even as she crashed against the back tire of the van.

  She heard Beau yell, heard two shots. With no hesitation, Fatso gunned the van, but he didn’t get far. She saw Agent Savich turn smoothly and shoot out both back tires. Fatso skidded in the mud and crashed hard into an oak tree. She could see him hit the windshield, then bounce back, his head lolling to the side. He wasn’t going anywhere.

  Katie swung her SIG Sauer around toward Beau just as Savich leapt onto the porch. He was so fast he was a blur, and his leg, smooth, graceful, like a dancer, kicked the gun out of Beau’s hand. It went flying across the porch, landing against a rocking chair leg. Beau grunted, grabbed his hand, and turned to run.

  Agent Savich just grabbed his collar, jerked him around, and sent his fist into his belly, then his jaw.

  Beau cursed, and tried to fight back. Savich merely belted him again, this time in his kidney. He shoved him down onto the porch and stood over him. He wasn’t even breathing hard. “Sometimes I like to fight the old-fashioned way. Now, you just stay real still, Beau, or I just might have to hurt you. You hear me?”

  “I hear you, you bastard. I want my lawyer.”

  Katie, her SIG Sauer still in her hand, walked slowly up onto the porch. She looked down at the man who probably would have killed her, killed Sam and Keely, without a dollop of remorse. She shoved her SIG back into the waistband of her jeans, lifted her booted foot and slammed it into his ribs.

  “Here’s one for Sam and Keely,” she said, and kicked him again.

  “That’s police brutality,” Beau said, gasping from the pain in his ribs. “I’m gonna sue your ass off!”

  “Nah, you’re not,” she said. “You’re in the backwoods now, Beau, and do you know what that means?”

  “You marry your brother.”

  “No, it means you’ll marry my brother, if I want you to.”

  Dillon Savich was laughing as he looked at the bedraggled woman, hair hanging down, pulled free from her ponytail, her mouth pale from cold. “Sheriff Benedict, I presume?”

  “Yes,” she said, already looking around for Sam and Keely.

  “I’m Agent Savich. A pleasure, ma’am. You like excitement, don’t you?”

  “What I liked best in all of this was the sound of your voice and sight of your face, Agent Savich. Those were some cool moves you made to take down old Beau.”

  “I tripped, dammit!”

  “Yeah, right,” Katie said, and looked toward the van again. Clancy was still out of it. She was on the point of going over and pulling him out when Sam shouted “Papa!”

  “Mama!”

  She heard a man yell “Sam!”

  “Mr. Kettering?”

  “Yes, that’s Miles. I ordered him on pain of death and dismemberment to stay back. And here’s your little girl, ma’am.”

  Keely was wet to the bone, her flannel pajamas plastered to her, her hair hanging in her eyes. Katie swept her up into her arms and held her so tight the little girl squeaked.

  “Keely got me, Papa! Keely woke me up and opened the window in my room to fool Beau and Clancy, then we went out the window in her bedroom. We’ve been hiding just over there, behind that tree. I recognized Beau and knew we had to stay hidden. Did you see Uncle Dillon? He kicked the crap out of skinny old Beau!”

  Uncle Dillon? Katie smiled, kissed her daughter’s wet hair, and called out, “You wet as Keely, Sam?”

  “I’m wetter than a frog buried under a lily pad.”

  She saw Sam’s smile before she saw the rest of his face. He was being carried by a big man who was as wet as he was, and who was smiling even bigger than his boy. She liked the looks of him, liked the way he held his boy.

  Miles carried Sam up onto the front porch. He saw Beau lying on his back, not even twitching, and he handed Sam to Savich.

  He went down on his hands and knees, closed his fist around Beau’s shirt collar, and jerked him up. “Hello, you miserable scum.”

  “Get off me, you bastard!”

  “Oh, I’m lots more than a bastard. I’m your worst nightmare, Beau. I’m meaner than the man who just kicked your ass. I’m Sam’s father and do you have any idea what I want to do to you?”

  “Get him away from me!”

  “Oh, no,” Savich said, Sam now hanging about his neck, held real close. “You deserve whatever he wants to do to you. If he wants to, he can kick your tonsils out the back of your neck.”


  Miles Kettering pulled Beau to his feet and sent his fist into his jaw. Beau went down and stayed down.

  Miles gave him one more dispassionate look, then turned to take Sam from Savich.

  “You walloped him good, Papa,” Sam said, and he patted his father’s face, dark with five o’clock shadow. “Can I hit him, too?”

  “Nah, he’s had enough. You just stay real close to me until I get over being so scared.”

  Sam hugged his father’s neck, really hard. “This is Katie, Papa. She helped me a whole lot.”

  Katie stuck out her hand even as she held Keely against her with her other arm. “Mr. Kettering, you’ve got some brave boy here.”

  In that instant, Katie saw black smoke billowing up around the front of the van. “Oh no—Fatso, I can’t even see him through that smoke! I forgot about him! I’ve got to get him.” She pushed Keely into Miles Kettering’s arms, and took off running toward the van.

  Savich, who saw flames licking up from beneath the van, yelled, “No, wait! No, Sheriff!” He leapt off the porch and ran after her. He yelled over his shoulder, “Miles, protect the kids!”

  Katie was no more than twelve feet from the van when she was tackled from behind, hard, and smashed facedown into the wet ground.

  In the next instant there was a loud explosion, and the van blew up in a ball of orange, parts flying everywhere. He was covering all of her, his head on top of hers, his arms covering both their heads. The heat whooshed toward them, sucking the air out of their lungs, heavy, scalding.

  She heard him grunt. Oh God, something had hit him. She heard him suck in a breath, then she did the same.

  Then it was over. Everything was still again, except she could hear Keely crying, “Mama, Mama.”

  He’d saved her life. He’d known the van was going to blow, and he’d brought her down.

  Katie said, trying to turn over, “Agent Savich, are you all right?”

  He grunted again, then she felt his determination as he pulled himself off her.

  She was up in an instant, standing over him as he remained on his knees, head down, breathing hard.

  “Your back. Oh God, your back!”

  She looked up to see that Miles Kettering had both children pressed against the side of the house, protecting them, just as Agent Savich had told him to. Had he known, too, that the van was going to blow?

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.” She was on her knees beside him now. “Just hold still.”

  But Savich rose slowly, managed to straighten. “I saw the flames, you didn’t. We survived it. I’m all right.” He could feel the rain hitting his back, feel the pain building and building. He could also feel his blood flowing, and that wasn’t good. He looked over at the van, engulfed in bright orange flames, black smoke sizzling into the air, rain mixing with it, making it filthy black soot.

  “Yeah, sure you are, Agent Savich. You just come with me.” She was leaning down to grasp him under his arm, when she heard Beau yell, “All right, you jerks, it’s my turn now!”

  She whirled around to see Beau leaning against the porch railing, his own gun in his hand. She should have cuffed him—even if she believed he was dead, she should have cuffed him. “You bastard, you killed Clancy! Ain’t nothing left of him but vapor. But now I’m gonna take that boy.”

  Sam was tucked against his father’s leg, Keely against him. Miles pressed the children more firmly against the side of the house, shouted over his shoulder, “Give it up, Beau, just give it up.”

  “Send the boy over, or I’ll have to kill you, Mr. Kettering.”

  “Then do it,” Miles said. “Neither Sam nor Keely is going anywhere.”

  Katie could tell that Agent Savich was going to go after Beau again. She couldn’t let that happen. She watched Beau raise his gun, watched him aim that gun at Miles Kettering. She leaned down, smoothly pulled her derringer from her ankle holster, and fired.

  She got him through the neck.

  “Ah” was all Beau said, clutched his throat, and turned to face her, the gun swinging her way.

  She fired again, this time a death shot, even for a derringer, through his chest. Beau fell off the porch, landing on his back, his eyes open to the rainy night. The orange ball of flame flickered in his open eyes.

  Miles Kettering said, his arms wrapped tight around the children’s heads, “Sam, I’ve got to see to things here. Promise me that you and Keely won’t move an inch. Keep your faces against the house, that van just might blow up some more. Do you hear me? Not an inch.”

  Miles raced down, pulled Savich over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and went into the house. Both children raced after him. Good, she didn’t want them to see Beau.

  “Put him on his belly on the sofa. I’ll call nine-one-one,” Katie said and quickly dialed. She got Marge, who always sounded breathless, told her to get an ambulance out here, and Wade, too, then hung up. “Not more than ten minutes. Now, let’s see how bad you’re hurt, Agent Savich.” But first she’d have to move her daughter aside.

  Savich said, “You’re Keely?” One of his arms was dangling over the side of the sofa, and his feet hung off the other end.

  The little girl gently smoothed her fingertips over his face. “I’m Keely and my mama will take care of you. She takes care of everybody. Do you know they pay her to do that?”

  Savich didn’t want to laugh, but it came out of him anyway. It died in a gasp. His back was on fire.

  “I’m glad they pay her, Keely. How bad is it, Sheriff?”

  It was Miles who said, “You’ve got a long horizontal gash, middle of your back, just above your waist, probably from a piece of flying metal. It doesn’t look too deep, Savich, but it’s nasty. You just hang on. Here’s the sheriff.”

  “We need to apply some pressure, Agent Savich—”

  “Just Savich. Or Dillon, that’s what my wife calls me.”

  “Okay, Dillon, I’ll be right back. I’m going to have to put some pressure on this wound and it’s going to hurt, I’m sorry.”

  Savich closed his eyes and willed himself far away, back with Sherlock and Sean, his own little boy.

  “Miles?”

  “Yes, I’m right here, Savich.”

  “You sure Sam’s okay?”

  “I’m here, Uncle Dillon,” Sam said, and patted Savich’s shoulder. “Keely and I are both fine. Did you see the sheriff shoot Beau? Whap! She got him right in the neck, then shot him again when he turned that gun on Papa.”

  So much for protecting the children, Katie thought as she came back into the living room with a thick towel. She leaned down and pressed the towel hard against the wound.

  Savich didn’t know where the moan came from, didn’t know he had it in him. The woman was very strong.

  “Tell me what happened, Sheriff,” Savich said.

  Keely, her fingers still touching his cheek, said, “I heard that bad man talking to Mama in the living room, and I knew he wanted Sam.”

  Katie said, “And so you made a lump in your bed with a pillow, and went to wake up Sam.”

  The little girl nodded. She stuck her hand out to Sam, who took it. “He shoved up the window in my room and we climbed out on my oak tree.” She frowned. “Sam wanted to help you but I told him that you’re really tough, Mama, and that you would fix Beau’s hash. Is that Beau out there?”

  “That’s his sorry self, yes,” Katie said. “Now, Dillon, how are you doing?”

  “Okay,” he said, and she heard the pain in his voice.

  “You don’t seem to be bleeding through the pressure. The paramedics should be here any minute. You’re going to be okay.”

  “Make sure you keep the kids with you.”

  “You can count on that,” Miles said, and he knew that all the adults wondered what could possibly motivate those two to come after Sam again. Money, there had to be lots of money in it for them.

  Katie looked from Keely to Sam. “Now we’ve got two heroes. Well done, kids.”

&nb
sp; They heard the sirens in the distance.

  Katie lightly patted his shoulder. “Just another minute. I guess Clancy is dead. I can’t get near the van, the flames are just too hot and the smoke’s too thick.”

  “He couldn’t have survived that blast,” Savich said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  She heard men’s voices outside, one she recognized. “It’s Wade, one of my deputies.”

  “Ho! What the hell happened here? You got a dead guy out here drinkin’ rain.”

  Katie walked to the front door. “Bring everyone inside, Wade. The paramedics will be here momentarily. Agent Savich’s back was cut by a piece of metal.”

  9

  Mackey and Bueller helped Savich to the ambulance—it felt like a five-mile hike to Savich, who didn’t think he’d ever want to walk straight again—then eased him down on his stomach onto the gurney.

  “It’ll be all right, Special Agent, sir,” said Mackey, so impressed with having a federal officer as his patient that he nearly stuttered. “Sheriff, are you coming with us?”

  “Oh, yes. Give me a minute, Mackey.” She turned to Miles Kettering who was holding Keely in one arm and Sam in the other. “Could you bring the children to the hospital, Mr. Kettering? Oh goodness, they’re all wet. Could you change them into dry clothes? As you can see, Sam’s wearing my sweats. You’ll find another pair in my bedroom, folded in the second drawer of the dresser. They’re drawstring, so you can pull them tight enough for Sam. All of Keely’s clothes are in her dresser.”

  “Don’t worry, Sheriff, I’ll see to both of them. Just go with Savich. And thank you.”

  She kissed her daughter’s cheek, wishing she hadn’t witnessed all the violence, and knowing she’d have to deal with it sooner rather than later. As for Sam, at least he was with his father now.

  As she walked quickly back to the ambulance, Katie said to Wade, “Glen Hodges, FBI Special Agent in Charge from Knoxville, will be here very soon with a couple of agents. Just secure the scene and if any idiots chance to come out here to stop and gawk, threaten to toss them in jail. Oh yes, Wade, do give the FBI all your cooperation. It’s their case since it’s a kidnapping, and it happened in Virginia.”