by Rita Herron
“Why Mexico?” Jordan asked, resorting to the calming voice she used with patients.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Anybody ever tell you that you ask too many questions?”
Jordan shrugged. “I’m a woman, we like to talk. I know Mexico is beautiful, but is there another reason? Do you have friends or family there?”
He had reacted when she’d talked about his mother.
“Is that where your mother lives?” she asked.
An odd expression colored his face, and he walked the length of the barn, then paused and leaned back against the wall as if remembering something.
“Did you grow up there?” she asked. “Or maybe your mother took you on vacation.”
A bitter laugh that sounded far away echoed in the air. “My mama didn’t have money for vacations. She used every penny she made on cigarettes, booze and drugs.”
Another piece of the puzzle. His mother had slept around—or was a prostitute. Had she made him watch?
If so, no wonder he hated women and thought they were whores.
The fact he’d grown up without money had motivated him to work hard and become financially independent.
Suddenly Miles shouted again. “Dugan, the chopper is on its way. Is Jordan all right?”
“I’m—” Jordan opened her mouth to shout, but Dugan backhanded her. Her head whipped sideways. Timmy jumped up to defend her, but she grabbed him and held him firmly by her side.
Dugan checked his watch. “Five minutes, that’s all you have left,” he yelled. “Five minutes till I start shooting.”
Jordan gritted her teeth. She had to keep talking. Keep him thinking, distracted.
“It is your mother you’re going to see in Mexico, isn’t it?” she asked.
He stormed toward her, lifted her chin and pierced her with his maniac eyes. “Yes. Don’t you think she’ll be proud of what her baby boy has become?”
A cold chill slithered up Jordan’s spine. Now she understood. All the women he had killed—they were only substitutes for the mother who had sold her body to support her habits.
He was going to end his killing spree. But he intended to do it by finally murdering the real source of his anger and hatred—his mother.
* * *
MILES WANTED TO HEAR from Jordan. He told himself she had to be okay, that he had heard her voice just then, although he couldn’t be sure.
“Where are we on the chopper, Brody?” Miles asked.
Brody cleared his throat. “Johnny said it would be here in a few minutes. We have to keep Dugan calm.”
Miles nodded. His son’s life depended on it.
“I talked to the sheriff. I’m moving these kids to the dining hall with the others.”
“Good. We don’t want them out in the open in case something goes wrong.” And bullets started flying. “Any word from Cook? Have they spotted Ables on the ranch?”
Brody shook his head. “Hopefully that’s a good sign.”
“Maybe. But he still could be hiding out, waiting to help Dugan escape.”
“We’ll keep looking,” Brody said. “The sheriff called in a couple more deputies to comb the property. One of them is close by.” He pointed to the rocks on the hill to the north. “He’s watching from that angle in case we need him. And when Dugan heads to the chopper, we’ll catch him. Or the deputy might get a shot at him.”
Miles clenched his jaw and stepped behind the tree near the boys. “No one shoots unless I say so. We can’t do anything to endanger Timmy or Jordan.”
Brody nodded, then gestured toward the group of boys. “My truck is about two hundred feet away, hidden behind some mesquites. I’m going to drive you back to the dining hall.”
Carlos stood and faced Miles and Brody. “I want to stay here and make sure Miss Jordan and Timmy are okay.”
“Me, too,” Justin said.
The other boys all jumped up to join Carlos and Justin as if they were a team.
These kids all had troubled pasts, and the fact that they were bound together now by this event had seemed to strengthen them. Still, it was his job to protect them.
“I know you guys are worried, but you have to go with Brody.”
Carlos crossed his arms. “We’re not kids so don’t treat us that way.”
Miles laid his hand on the teenager’s shoulder. “I realize that, Carlos, and you’ve been a tremendous asset here. But it’s time for the lawmen to handle it. You can help by protecting the younger kids.”
Carlos squared his shoulders and stared into his eyes as if he wanted to argue. Miles knew he was trying to be a man, and felt for the kid. So many of these boys had seen things no kid should have seen.
Just like his son.
They’d had to grow up fast.
Miles pulled him aside for a moment while Brody talked to the others. “Please,” Miles said. “Help me out, Carlos. The other guys look up to you. You’re their leader.” He gestured toward the mound of rocks on the hill. “The deputy is waiting on that hill, the chopper is on its way, but we have no idea if things will get ugly. Dugan is armed and dangerous. We have to get these other boys out of the way in case we have to rush in and rescue Jordan and Timmy. The others will listen to you, so do your job and let me do mine.”
Carlos shifted restlessly, then seemed to accept what he’d said. “All right, man. But...don’t let anything happen to Miss Jordan. She stood up for all of us in there.” He jammed his hands in the pockets of his dusty jeans. “She’s getting to him, too.”
Miles drew a deep breath. Jordan was smart. She would do that, try to figure out a way to calm him.
He just hoped that it worked and that she and Timmy both came out alive.
* * *
DUGAN HAD TO GET THE damn woman out of his head. Stop her incessant talking.
His mind raced, voices whispering at him to shut her up. To torture her and carve her up like the others.
“Just look at Timmy,” she said. “Don’t you see yourself in him, Robert? Don’t you see that innocent little boy? He’s lost his mother. All he wants now is to be with some friends. Learn to ride horses and grow up.”
“Shut the hell up!” He strode over and slapped her again.
Her head whipped back, and Timmy cried out. Then suddenly the brat ran over and bit his arm.
Dugan bellowed and shook him free, then threw the kid against the hay. Jordan jumped up in front of Timmy, and Dugan shoved her aside. The gun went off again, and Jordan screamed.
“Kill her,” the voice whispered. “Take the boy and run. You know what you have to do.” Yes, he did. There would be no time for pleasure with her.
Although that certainly would have tormented McGregor more.
He had to get out of here, had to get away.
See his mama.
“Dugan!” Miles shouted.
Outside, footsteps pounded. Something banged against the barn door. Suddenly the side door flew open, and a deputy dived in firing.
Jordan screamed again, and he hit her with the butt of his gun and knocked her to the ground. Timmy dived on top of her.
“Miss Jordan...”
Everything happened so fast. Bullets flying. The deputy shouting his name. McGregor racing in.
Dugan jerked Timmy up and pulled him in front of himself. McGregor halted and threw his hand up to warn the deputy not to come closer.
Dugan had no choice. The damn bitch started this. But he had to finish it.
He pressed the gun barrel to the boy’s head then glared at McGregor. “Don’t come any closer or you’ll be putting your boy in the ground beside his mother.”
Chapter Fifteen
Miles stared at the scene in front of him in horror. Jordan on the ground. Blood on her blouse. Not moving.
Timmy in the clutches of the sadistic monster who’d killed his mother.
Dammit, what had gone wrong? The gunshot...the deputy barging in...
“Daddy?”
Timmy’s choked voice dragged Miles back
to the moment—his son had actually spoken.
“It’s okay, bud. I’m right here.” He cleared his throat of the emotions threatening to consume him. “Don’t hurt him, Dugan.”
“Then stay back.” Dugan’s hand trembled, which made Miles even more nervous. “Is that chopper outside?”
Miles forced himself to rein in his temper. “Not yet but it’s on its way.”
The deputy groaned and panic flared in Dugan’s eyes. “Where’s your car, Deputy?”
Miles glanced at the deputy who was pressing his hand over his thigh to stem the blood flow. “On the hill out back.”
“Keys?” Dugan asked.
The deputy dangled them.
“Toss them to me,” Dugan ordered.
Timmy struggled but Dugan tightened his grip. “Be still, kid, or your dad will get it.”
His harshly spoken words froze Timmy with fear.
Miles silently cursed but gestured for the deputy to toss Dugan the keys. They jangled then fell at Dugan’s feet. He stooped down and stuffed them in his pocket.
Miles had to reason with him. “Come on, Dugan, you can get away faster if you’re by yourself. Everyone will be looking for you if you kidnap a child.”
“Yeah, but no one will shoot.” The glow of victory lit Dugan’s eyes.
Miles took a step forward. “Taking me hostage serves the same purpose.” He rested his hand on the handcuffs at his belt. “Come on, let Timmy go and you can handcuff me.”
He’d trade his life for his little boy’s any day.
Dugan’s mouth crinkled with a smile as he looked down at Timmy. His expression was twisted and demonic.
Then, for a moment, almost affectionate.
What the hell... The sick bastard.
“Sorry, McGregor, but the kid is my best chance.” He rubbed one hand over Timmy’s head. “Besides, your girlfriend made me start thinking about things. How I never had a kid of my own. How I could have done better than my mother.”
Miles’s blood ran cold. What was he going to do? Kill him then raise Timmy as his own?
* * *
JORDAN SHOOK THE REMNANTS of fog from her mind as she stirred. Her brain felt fuzzy, her temple was throbbing, her arm burning. What had happened?
She heard voices and looked up to see Dugan holding Timmy at gunpoint. Miles was trying to talk him down. The deputy lay injured across from her.
Then Dugan started backing toward the barn door with Timmy as a shield.
“Dugan, don’t.” Miles lurched forward, but Dugan raised his gun to fire. Jordan had to do something. She couldn’t let him kill Miles.
Especially in front of his son.
Summoning all the strength she possessed, she shoved herself up and threw her body at Dugan, knocking the gun upward so it discharged into the air. Timmy yelped, Miles ducked, and the bullet pinged off the roof. Dugan swung his hand back and pushed Jordan back again, then dragged Timmy out the door.
“Stop!” Miles yelled.
But Dugan fired again, and they were helpless to do anything but watch him drag the little boy up the hill toward the woods. Jordan staggered to the door while Miles inched outside, raising his gun and following Dugan.
Seconds later, an engine cut through the night, and she sagged against the doorway as Miles’s bellow of frustration echoed through the air.
Jordan ran toward him. Miles looked crazed and swung around to her in a blind panic. “I have to go. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’ll go with you.”
“No.” Miles touched her head and came away with bloody fingers, then gestured toward her shoulder. “You need a doctor. I’ll call an ambulance for you and the deputy while I drive.”
Jordan caught his arm. “Please, Miles. I connected with Dugan. I might be able to help.”
His gaze latched with hers for a brief moment, then he nodded, took her hand and they raced to his Jeep. She jumped in the passenger side and he tossed her his phone while he peeled down the road after Dugan.
Jordan called Brody and got him on the line “The deputy is alive but was shot in the leg,” Jordan said. “Miles and I are chasing Dugan now. He’s headed east off the ranch in the deputy’s car.” Which would make it harder to pinpoint and stop. But hopefully the sheriff was alerting other authorities that he was in a stolen police vehicle.
“I’ll call Johnny and tell him to use his chopper and see if he can spot him from the air.”
The police siren wailed as his taillights disappeared over the hill. Miles pressed the accelerator, engine redlining as he swerved off the road and took a shortcut across the land.
“We’ll catch him,” Jordan said, more to reassure herself than him.
He snapped his eyes toward her. “Are you really okay? You look like hell.”
“Thanks,” Jordan said sarcastically.
His jaw tightened even more if that were possible. “I mean it. You have a head injury and you’ve been shot. I should be driving you to the emergency room.”
“My head is fine. It’s just a scratch.” She barely resisted rubbing her shoulder. She thought it was just a graze, but the wound stung like fire and a dull ache had rolled through her arm.
Pain underscored his tone. “It damn well better be.”
“I’m tougher than I look,” she said, desperate to lighten his guilt. For God’s sake, he had enough to worry about without being concerned for her.
The Jeep bounced over the ruts and grooves in the terrain, jolting her as he steered it onto the main road from the ranch toward town.
“You certainly are,” Miles said, although this time a note of admiration softened his voice. Then he reached out and squeezed her hand. “You nearly got killed trying to protect Timmy.”
“We are not going to lose him,” Jordan said, injecting confidence into her voice. “We will get him back, Miles.” She pointed to the right where Dugan was making a turn.
Miles sped up, skimming the edge of the road and nearly spinning out as he tried to keep up. They chased and followed him for half an hour, twisting onto side roads, veering down alleys in the small town they passed through, driving through the desolate area near the reservation, but when he made it onto the highway toward Mexico, he sped up and maneuvered around traffic.
Minutes later, just as the first rays of sun broke through the night, Dugan disappeared out of sight.
Miles raced across the intersection, tires screeching as a truck roared toward them head-on. The Jeep spun a hundred and eighty degrees, skidded through the traffic light, scraping the side of a parked car along the edge, then careened toward oncoming traffic.
Jordan gripped the dashboard with white knuckles. If Miles didn’t get the car under control, they were going to collide.
* * *
MILES JERKED THE JEEP to the right, steering into the skid, trying to regain control. Tires squealed, brakes locked, and the wheels screeched as he rode the embankment.
The truck flew toward them, full speed, the thick fog blurring the driver’s vision.
Miles swerved again, skimmed the side rail and barreled around a sedan, then swung toward the exit. Free and clear, he skidded to a stop on the side of the road.
He slammed his fist on the steering wheel with a curse. “Dammit, we lost him.”
Jordan sighed with relief, her hand still clenching the dash. “Maybe the police will spot him.”
“I’ll call Johnny. The chopper is our best chance.” Miles punched in Johnny’s number, praying he was on Dugan’s tail. “I lost him,” Miles said. “Where are you?”
“I’m flying over the highway, but it’s so foggy I can’t see a damn thing.”
“I’ll phone the sheriff and see if they’re tailing him.” Miles’s stomach churned. They had to find him. He couldn’t lose Timmy.
When he hung up, Jordan was watching him. She looked pale, her face bruised from the blows Dugan had inflicted. Dried blood still dotted her forehead and hair, and she was gripping her arm at an odd angle.
> “What do we do now?” Jordan asked.
Flashes of his son haunted him. Timmy’s scared face. His mother’s dead body.
Dugan holding the gun to Timmy’s head.
He fought through the blaze of panic paralyzing him and forced himself to think like a cop. “There’s no need to just drive around. We’ll go back to the ranch, pick up our passports and take care of your injuries.”
Jordan touched his arm. “Miles, we don’t have to take the time to do that.”
Miles grunted. “What else can we do now?”
A pained silence fell between them.
“Maybe the police are on him,” Jordan said.
Her calm voice snapped him from the overwhelming terror holding him prisoner, and he nodded, then dialed the sheriff’s number.
A pause while he waited on the sheriff to pick up. “Sheriff, it’s Detective McGregor. We lost Dugan. Have any of your men spotted him?”
“No, but I’ve put out a statewide alert for him and the deputy’s car.”
“And an Amber Alert?” Miles asked.
“Yes, I’ve already put it on the news, but if you have a picture of the boy I’ll get that out, too.”
Miles started the engine and turned the car back toward the ranch. “I’m on my way there now. Ask Brody and he can give you one of the pictures from the camp. They took photographs the first day.”
“I’m on it,” the sheriff said.
“Thanks, Sheriff, I have to go.”
He disconnected the call, then turned to Jordan. “Did Dugan tell you where he might be headed?”
“Not exactly.” Jordan pursed her lips. “We talked about his family. He kept saying you ruined his life, that everyone believed he was guilty, even the woman he loved.”
“The only woman we know about is Renee Balwinger, the one who gave him an alibi, but she’s dead.”
Jordan shook her head. “I think there’s someone else he was involved with. Maybe back before the murders and trial. Her first name was Janet.”
Miles’s pulse jumped. “Did he mention a last name?”
“No,” Jordan said. “But perhaps she attended the trial. There would be records. Or maybe she visited him in prison.”
“I’ll ask Blackpaw to look into it.” Miles sped up, anxious now to reach the ranch. “What else did he say?”
