Matt

by R. C. Ryan

  Mr. D. Of course. Running scared and taking desperate measures.

  Beware desperate men, her father often said. When backed to the wall, they become more vicious than feral animals.

  As the SUV passed through a thick wall of trees and came up over a rise, the land that was spread out below them appeared as wild and desolate as a moonscape. Here there were no herds. No wranglers. No buildings. Only wilderness for as far as the eye could see.

  Vanessa’s heart froze. The perfect spot to make their video and send it to her father, as instructed.

  As the vehicle slowed to a halt, Vanessa steeled herself. She needed, more than ever, to look calm and composed. She would rather die here and now than give them what they wanted. She would not break down and weep like a frightened victim while they recorded every tear, every quivering moan or sob. She was determined to swallow her terror and show her father a defiant, uncompromising woman who would make the district attorney of Cook County proud.

  The driver unlocked the car doors, and the man in the backseat stepped out and cut her ankle restraints before hauling her out roughly by the arm.

  “Where do you want her?”

  The driver pointed to a large, flat rock. “There.”

  She was pressed down, arms behind her back, facing a cell phone camera. While the driver recorded, the other man held a Chicago newspaper up to the camera, showing the masthead, the date, and the headline, which read: DEPIETRO JURY TO BEGIN DELIBERATIONS.

  The driver snarled, “Tell Daddy you’ve been a bad girl and got yourself caught by the big, bad wolves.”

  Vanessa kept her silence and lifted her chin defiantly.

  His big hand slashed out, slapping her so hard her head snapped to one side, and she saw stars. She was infuriated when tears pooled in her eyes and she bit down hard on the cry that almost burst from her lips.

  He swore. “This may be your last chance to say anything to your daddy. You wouldn’t want to leave this world without telling him how much you love him. Right?”

  She clenched her jaw.

  His voice grew shrill with agitation. “Suit yourself. As for you, Mr. Big Shot DA, take a good look at your smart-ass daughter. She may be a good actress, pretending she’s too good to cry, but the blood you see is just a sample of what you’ll see in the next video if you don’t do exactly as you’re told.”

  Vanessa had forgotten the blood. The sight of it would horrify her father.

  The stranger had already turned away, electronically sending the video that would shake her father’s world to its very foundation.

  The second man yanked her to her feet and hauled her back to the car. Once inside, he affixed fresh restraints around her ankles before slamming her door and climbing into the back.

  Minutes later they were once more on their way, keeping always to the wooded areas, away from civilization.

  Burke, standing with his wranglers as a herd of nervous cattle milled about, saw the plume of black smoke and whipped out his phone.

  “Something’s wrong. Get the crew up here now.”

  He rang off and drove his truck toward the range shack.

  By the time he got there, Luke was just parking his Harley, and Reed and Colin were stepping away from their all-terrain vehicles. The three were racing toward the ridge, where the smoke was so thick it burned their eyes.

  Because they couldn’t see through the black cloud to the bottom, they began the treacherous descent into the gorge.

  Burke hurried toward the cabin, where the door was standing open. An ominous sign. Inside, he stared around, noting the half-burned log in the fireplace, proof that its occupants had been gone only a short time. As for the rest of the cabin, it was spotless. As though Matt and Vanessa had been preparing to leave.

  Outside, half a dozen logs were neatly stacked, with one log uncut, the ax lying on the ground nearby.

  Burke knelt and touched a hand to the dark moisture in the grass.

  Blood. Quite a lot of it.

  With a heavy heart he turned away and followed Luke, Reed, and Colin down the circuitous route to the bottom of the gorge.

  Darkness came early in the hills. Once the sun had set behind the mountain peaks, the land became cloaked in shadows.

  The driver seemed sure of himself as he guided the car across shallow streams and around rocky outcroppings before coming to a halt inside a cave.

  Of course, Vanessa thought. These two men had planned this carefully. If anybody happened to be searching by air, this hiding place would never be spotted.

  The driver opened the door and stretched his arms over his head, leaving Vanessa to his partner.

  As before, her ankle restraints were cut away before she was hauled from the car and shoved roughly to the cold ground inside the cave. Once there her ankles were restrained tightly, and a rope was tied from her feet to her neck, making movement of any kind painful. Making escape impossible.

  The driver retrieved a backpack from the rear of the vehicle and set it inside the cave before announcing, “Honey, I’m home.”

  Again the two men shared a laugh at his little joke. They were, Vanessa noted, in high spirits since sending the video.

  She watched as the driver zipped open the backpack and began removing bottled water and wrapped food.

  She asked, “How long will we be here?”

  The driver answered for both. “We’re here until we’re told to leave.”

  Her throat burned with fury. “I know it was that monster, Diomedes DePietro, who sent you.”

  The driver’s head turned, his eyes hot with anger. “Shut your mouth. You’re not fit to speak his name.”

  “You make him sound like some sort of holy man.”

  “Compared to your old man, he’s a saint.” The driver sat down, his back against a boulder, and began devouring a sandwich.

  The other man followed suit.

  When they’d each eaten several sandwiches, the driver produced a bottle of whiskey. He took a long pull before passing it to his partner, who did the same.

  After several minutes he drank again before looking over at her, more relaxed now. “After my father died and my mother was sick, Mr. D. saw to it that she got the finest medical care in the world.”

  Vanessa wanted him to talk, to keep her from thinking about Matt. And about what was going to happen to her when this ended. “How did your father die?”

  “In a shoot-out with a cop who’d caught him during a stakeout, passing money to a Chicago alderman.”

  Vanessa thought back to the many charges against DePietro. Bribes, money laundering, supplying drugs and prostitutes to politicians in exchange for favors. But none as critical as the murder of a witness set to testify against him.

  “Your father died for DePietro?”

  “Any one of us would have done the same.”

  “How does a man like that earn your loyalty?”

  He took another long pull of whiskey before passing it to his partner. He crossed his arms over his chest and stretched out his legs, trying to get comfortable on the cold, hard ground. “You tell her, Jasper.”

  The taller of the two men, whose hawk-like face bore a jagged scar from his eyebrow to his chin, nodded. “Mr. D. rewards loyalty. The pay’s good, but the benefits are even better.”

  “Benefits?”

  He and his partner chuckled.

  “What sort of benefits?”

  “If we’re in trouble with the law, he provides us with lawyers. If we do time, he takes care of our families until we get out.”

  “And why shouldn’t he? He’s the reason you’re in trouble with the law. It’s the least he can do for the people he hires to do his dirty work. Wouldn’t it be better if he found you honest work to do, instead of sitting back and allowing men like you to get caught up in criminal activities?”

  The driver’s tone grew sulky. “Shut up and get some sleep. You’re going to need it for the morning, Daddy’s Girl.”

  She felt a shiver of apprehe
nsion, wondering what could be worse than what she’d already gone through.

  As the two men drifted into sleep, she lay awake and troubled.

  Each time she closed her eyes, she could see Matt slumped behind the wheel of the truck, blood smearing the front of his parka, and then the terrible sound of an explosion as a plume of black smoke rose up, covering the area with its acrid smell.

  She fought tears of pain and rage at the helplessness of the situation.

  She was trying to put up a brave front for the sake of her father. But inside she was waging a losing battle, knowing that Matt had paid the ultimate price because of her.

  Because of her, the man she loved was dead.

  The man she loved.

  Now there was no need to dissect those strange, troubling feelings she’d been trying to deny. It was love, plain and simple. And now, he was lost to her forever, and oh, the pain of that knowledge was almost more than she could bear.

  All this heartache and loss, brought to the very doorstep of the Malloy Ranch. All these good, sweet people, who didn’t even know her father or his opponent in the trial, were now forced to risk their lives for having welcomed her into the circle of their safe retreat, believing the trial would end quickly and they would be relieved of any responsibility.

  Frank and Grace had lost a beloved son and daughter-in-law all those years ago, and had helped raise three grandsons. And now, they would be faced with the horrible news of yet another loss.

  Matt was a pillar of strength to them. Their firstborn grandson. The strong, steady one among them who, after the loss of his parents, had appointed himself leader of his siblings. He’d worked and studied to become the shrewd business leader of their vast enterprise.

  Picturing the grief the entire Malloy family would suffer when they learned of their loss had Vanessa’s heart breaking into millions of pieces. And knowing she couldn’t be with them, to grieve, to comfort and to take comfort from them, just added to her misery.

  While the two killers snored, deep in sleep, she gave in to the feelings of despair and wept bitter, scalding tears.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Elliott Kettering sat in his office, surrounded by Chief McBride and his men, forced to watch the video yet again. They’d played it dozens of times now, each man in the special crimes unit looking carefully for anything that would tell them where DePietro’s men were holding Vanessa.

  While they dissected it frame by frame, Elliott shoved away from his desk to pace. Though he’d remained silent for the most part, a voice in his head was swearing, screaming obscenities at the vicious killer who thought he was above the law.

  And for now, he was. That’s what had Elliott almost mad with fear. At a thug’s command, his precious only child could be brutalized, tortured, murdered. All the power of the Chicago PD, all the wealth of knowledge at the district attorney’s service, were helpless to keep Vanessa safe.

  A phone call to the Malloy Ranch had only added to Elliott’s frustration. The family insisted that Vanessa was with the oldest son, Matthew, in some secluded cabin, and being guarded by a team of wranglers. But when pressed, they had admitted that they had neither seen nor spoken to Vanessa nor Matthew since the previous day. And the wranglers couldn’t be reached to confirm their safety.

  He should have ordered her to a safe house as soon as this threat had surfaced. And now he was paying the price for his tenderhearted gesture in permitting her to stay at a remote ranch in Montana. To Elliott, it was like sending her to the dark side of the moon. He didn’t know these people, or their ranch hands, or their intentions. Despite assurances from his investigators, for all he knew, they could be on the payroll of Diomedes DePietro.

  “You know the spot?” Chief McBride’s words penetrated Elliott’s dark thoughts.

  He turned and stood behind the chief, who was seated at Elliott’s desk, using a speaker phone.

  Sheriff Eugene Graystoke’s gravel voice on the other end was loud in the silence of the office. “After viewing the video, Frank Malloy tells me he knows it well. It’s on the North Ridge, in a high meadow that isn’t used for the herds. Too many dangerous ravines in that area.”

  “What does he hear from Matt?”

  “No word yet. But Burke Cowley, his foreman, should be checking in soon. There’s limited cell phone service in the area, and we often don’t hear from the wranglers for days at a time.”

  Elliott’s voice cut like a whip. “I don’t give a damn about cell service. Get somebody up to that cabin and find the son of a bitch who allowed these bastards to kidnap and video my daughter, bloodied and helpless.”

  The sheriff’s tone was incredulous. “Have you positively identified her as your daughter?”

  “You think I don’t know my own daughter, you—?”

  Captain McBride lifted the receiver, effectively cutting him off. “Sheriff, my entire team has seen the video. It’s Vanessa Kettering. Now I know the Malloy Ranch is big, but you need to get somebody up to that cabin right away.”

  “We’re on it.”

  “Good. I expect to hear from you within the hour.”

  He disconnected while the sheriff was still responding, and turned to the DA. “I know how you feel, Elliott.”

  “Do you?” Kettering’s face was as dark as thunder.

  “Your job is to keep this under wraps until the jury reaches a verdict. Our job is to find your daughter. And we will find her, Elliott.”

  “Don’t insult me with platitudes.” Angry, frustrated, helpless, Elliott Kettering turned away, too agitated to sit, too furious to meet the eyes of the men scattered around his office. He wanted to put a fist through the wall. He wanted to lash out at someone, anyone. He wanted…

  …to hold his daughter in his arms. Just to hold her, and know that she was safe from all harm. Instead, he was forced to pretend to the world outside this room that everything was fine, and that his only concern was awaiting the jury’s verdict. A verdict that he prayed would put away for a lifetime the spineless, heartless thug who had ordered this vicious crime against his Vanessa.

  His baby girl. His sweet, beautiful Vanessa.

  The words played like a litany through his tortured, troubled mind.

  Burke thrashed through the brush, cursing his age and arthritis, desperate to get to the bottom of the ravine. The dampened handkerchief tied around his nose and mouth did little to protect him from the smoke that burned his eyes and had him coughing with every intake of breath.

  Ahead of him, scrambling over rocks and fallen tree branches, was Luke, who had tossed aside his Harley like a toy on the rock ledge above before jumping into the search. Reed was swearing at the brambles that tore at his flesh with every step, and Colin, always the stoic, silent uncle who kept his thoughts and words to himself, moved doggedly forward.

  None of them knew what to expect. All they knew was that something had caused an explosion and a fire, and Matt and Vanessa were missing from their cabin, along with Grace’s truck.

  It wasn’t possible for Matt to lose his way and drive off that rock shelf into such forbidding terrain. He knew this land better than anyone. There wasn’t a careless bone in his body.

  Burke heard Luke’s shout, and followed Reed toward the sound of it. The two arrived at the bottom of the ravine to a scene of such devastation, they were speechless.

  “It’s a truck,” Luke shouted. “I can’t tell if it’s Gram Gracie’s. Too much damage.”

  He peered through the smoke and flames before shaking his head. “I don’t see anyone. Maybe they…”

  At a moan, Burke turned. A body, bloody and wreathed in smoke, lay in a snowbank beneath a cluster of evergreens. Because of the dense underbrush, the rain had yet to melt the snow.

  “Here!” Burke shouted. “Over here! It’s Matt!”

  Luke and Reed gathered around while Burke and Colin knelt beside Matt, checking for a pulse.

  The old cowboy looked up. “He’s alive.” To Matt he muttered, “You’re o
ne lucky guy. If it weren’t for this snowbank, the fall from that burning truck would have clean killed you, son.”

  He looked over at the others. “Let’s get him out of these wet things.”

  They quickly removed Matt’s still-smoldering parka, all the while checking for wounds.

  “So much blood.” Reed, accustomed to treating animal injuries, probed Matt’s chest and shoulder until he located the source of the blood. Leaning close he whispered, “Can you hear me, Matt?”

  His brother’s eyes flickered, then opened. “…hear you.”

  “You’re bleeding from the shoulder. Did it happen during the accident? Broken glass, maybe? Or did something stab you?”

  “…shot.”

  “You’re saying you took a bullet? Who would shoot you?”

  “Thugs. Got Vanessa.”

  The four men looked at one another in stunned surprise.

  Luke’s voice was suddenly filled with anger. “She’s been kidnapped?”

  Matt nodded. “All my fault. Get me up.”

  Colin put a hand on his chest. “You shouldn’t be moved until we’re sure nothing’s broken.”

  “Get me the hell up. Now.”

  His two brothers put their arms around his shoulders and gingerly lifted him to a sitting position. Moments later they helped him to stand, but kept their arms around him to steady him.

  Matt’s voice was raspy from the smoke. “They got a head start. We need to find her. Now.”

  Burke shook his head. “It’s a long climb up, Matt. You’ll never make it.”

  Through gritted teeth Matt said, “I don’t care what it takes. Just get me up there.”

  “I’ll take care of this.” While the others watched, Colin sprinted up the ravine and out of sight.

  Minutes later he shouted to watch for a rope, which was soon seen snaking down.

  “Wrap it around your waist, Matt,” he ordered. “I’ll use Burke’s horse to slowly pull you up.”

  With Luke on one side, and Reed on the other, and Burke close behind to catch him if he fell, Matt made his way slowly, torturously, up the steep climb until he was on level ground.