Danger at the Border

by Terri Reed

  Losing herself again wasn’t going to happen. At least not now, not with this guy. They had a job to do. Nothing more. Get a grip.

  “We need to get moving,” he coaxed.

  Wide-awake and eager to be gone from this forest, she scrambled to her feet without his offered help and inhaled the crisp morning air. Her stomach rumbled with hunger. Her limbs ached from yesterday’s excursion. She rubbed the kink in her neck.

  Jeff walked over to a lush, tall plant. Tessa blinked, her gaze sweeping over the multitude of similar plants growing among the trees in dense rows all around them. Surprise squeezed her lungs tight. “Uh, Jeff. Do you know what those plants are?”

  He picked a leaf, bringing the broken foliage to his nose. “Yep.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I’d say we’ve walked into a major grow.”

  She swallowed as the implications of his words reverberated through her mind. They were looking at hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of dollars’ worth of marijuana, and that was only the plants they could see. Who knew how far-reaching the expanse of the pot farm went?

  “A grow like this would be watched and closely guarded.” Anxiety twisted in her chest, making her heart rate double. “We need to make tracks and fast.”

  “Tessa, look.” Jeff pointed to the overflowing pipes of an irrigation system. A current of fluid flooded from in between the pot plants and flowed along the forest floor. The conduit for the toxin. Gravity did the work of taking the contaminated liquid all the way to the lake. “Must be some sort of insecticide in the water.”

  “This is bad. Real bad.”

  In two long strides, he reached her side and cupped her elbow. “We need to head in the opposite direction and pray we make it to the road undetected.”

  “Too late for that,” said a deep male voice from behind Tessa.

  She whirled around. A dozen men dressed in camouflage with bandannas covering the lower half of their faces stepped out of the forest like chameleons. Each man held a nasty-looking rifle aimed at her and Jeff.

  They were surrounded with no way out.

  The man who had spoken—clearly their leader—raked his gaze over her before his flat, lizardlike eyes met hers. “It’s a pleasure, Dr. Cleary.”

  Tessa gaped. How did the man know who she was?

  Jeff tugged her behind him. “Who are you?”

  “Your worst nightmare, Agent Steele.”

  “I doubt that,” Jeff stated, his voice hard.

  “We shall see.” The man flicked his wrist at them.

  From behind her, a bag came down over Tessa’s head. She yelped with surprise.

  “Hey!” Jeff shouted. She heard a sickening thud. Had they hit him? Killed him? Panic clogged her throat and seized her lungs.

  Rough hands ripped her away from Jeff’s side and dragged her into the forest.

  FOUR

  Tessa gasped for air inside the burlap sack that had been thrown over her head and pulled tight. She struggled against the restraints holding her hands behind her back, desperately wishing she could claw the bag away and take a deep, clean breath. She’d never take oxygen for granted again.

  Despite her best efforts, panic constricted her throat; her lungs burned from breathing in her own carbon dioxide. She resisted the man’s rough hand clamped around her upper arm like a manacle, but he was too strong. He forced her to stumble forward at a fast clip.

  Were they marching her to her death? The panic increased. She hyperventilated. Dots appeared before her eyes. No. She wouldn’t pass out. She fought to stay conscious.

  Where was Jeff? After his shout, he’d gone silent. Did that mean they’d separated them? Had they killed him?

  Her chest caved in at the thought. “Jeff!” she screamed.

  “Here” came his muffled reply.

  A measure of relief loosened the tightness cramping her insides. This was her fault. If she’d waited for the full team to assemble...they all might be prisoners now, not just her. And Jeff.

  “Put her in the back.” The harsh command came from the leader, the one who’d looked at her like a choice steak he wanted to devour. She shivered with distaste.

  Hands hauled her off her feet. She kicked wildly, connecting with hard muscles and bone. Her captor let out a satisfying yelp of pain. She was dumped sideways on a hard metallic surface.

  She heard Jeff’s groan as he landed next to her. She scooted toward him, until her arm bumped his broad back. His arms were twisted behind him. His bound hands gripped the fabric of her jacket.

  “We’ll be okay,” he told her, his voice barely audible.

  “No talking!” a voice ordered.

  A thud jolted through her—an impact of something hard hitting something soft. Jeff grunted in pain. Tessa could only imagine what assault he’d suffered for trying to reassure her. Though she appreciated his effort, she wasn’t naive enough to believe they would get out of these woods alive. It made her sick. Doors slammed. The roar of an engine rumbled beneath them. They were inside a vehicle. From the pinging of rocks on the underbelly and the echoing noise of the bumpy terrain, she guessed a cargo van of some sort. They were being driven away from the pot field, away from the toxic runoff. Away from any chance at surviving.

  No! She wouldn’t think that way. There must be something they could do, some way for them to escape. They hadn’t killed them outright. That was good, wasn’t it?

  Please, dear God in Heaven, we need You. Please, please protect us.

  She hoped God was listening. Even as the thought formed, she chastised herself for being one of those people who only looked to God in their time of need. Her grandma Vida would be so disappointed.

  The one bright spot in Tessa’s life had been her grandmother on her mom’s side. Grandma Vida had had a deep faith in God and had hoped to instill that faith in Tessa. But hearing about God when Grandma visited once or twice a year hadn’t been enough to convince Tessa to rely on Him.

  But facing a forest full of men with guns apparently revived what little faith Tessa had absorbed.

  By the time the vehicle came to a jerking halt, Tessa’s body felt bruised and sore. Doors opened. Hands grabbed her by the feet and dragged her along the floor of the van before tipping her upright so her feet were on solid ground. The sunlight filtering in through the burlap material assaulted her eyes. The humming noise was louder here.

  “Take them to the holding cell.”

  She didn’t like the idea of that, but at least she and Jeff would be together. She wanted to believe that together they would find a way out of this.

  An unseen man led her forward. Gravel crunched beneath their feet. She heard the squeak of a door hinge. The bag was removed from her head. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light. She was standing in front of the open door of a wooden toolshed.

  “Go in.” The man at her side was young, maybe twenty, with long, stringy hair and dull brown eyes. He didn’t look like a killer.

  “Please, help us,” Tessa pleaded in a low voice.

  “Go in,” the young man repeated more firmly this time before his now-fearful gaze darted past Tessa. “Hurry.”

  Following his gaze, Tessa saw a big, burly man with a ragged scar down one side of his face shove Jeff, who still wore a bag over his head, toward them. The burly man did look like a killer. Or at least what she imagined one to look like, but she’d never faced one before, so she really didn’t know. Hysteria danced at the edges of her mind. A chill chased down her spine. She hung on to her self-control by a thread.

  The younger man pushed Tessa. She stumbled into the shed.

  “Get in there,” the burly man barked as he thrust Jeff inside.

  Jeff fell to the floor. The door slammed shut. For a moment, the young man peeked through the small window in the door before disappearing from view.
A side window provided light but no air to the dank space.

  “Tessa?” Jeff got to his knees.

  “Here.” She went to him. “Stay down for a sec. Let me try to get the hood undone.” She turned her back to him. Her bound hand fumbled with the hood but she managed to work it up and off his head.

  When she turned around to look at him, she gasped. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. A bruise formed on his cheek. “You’re hurt.”

  “Not bad.” He got his feet beneath him and walked to the window. “We’re in some sort of compound.”

  She joined him and peered out. Two buildings were visible. Several young men walked by.

  “We need to get untied,” Jeff said. “Turn around and let me get those ropes off you.”

  She felt his hands tugging at the knot holding her wrists together. She winced as the rough material cut into her flesh. Then the bonds loosened enough that she could wiggle her hands free. “You did it.”

  She hurried to untie the rope wound around his wrists. The knot was stubborn, but she prevailed. The rope dropped away.

  “Good job.” Jeff moved to inspect the door, the walls.

  Rubbing her wrists, she said, “How long do you think they’ll keep us here?”

  “No telling. I’m not sure why they are keeping us alive.”

  “We’re going to die, aren’t we?” She hated the panic rising in her voice.

  He moved to her side and cupped her cheek. “We’ll find a way out of here. God expects me to do all I can and trust the rest to Him.”

  His words were reassuring. But the dread in her middle didn’t lessen one bit. She searched his eyes and saw the same certainty reflected back at her—they were trapped in a four-by-six shed with no way out. Escape was their only option. But how?

  * * *

  Jeff kept watch out the window. One of the two visible buildings appeared to be the mess hall. Several young men came out carrying plates of food. His mouth watered, and his stomach cramped.

  He inspected the hinges of the door for the umpteenth time. There was no way to pry the hinges apart from the inside without some sort of knife. His had been taken when they confiscated his utility belt along with his service weapon. He should have hidden the blade in his boot before they set out. He shoved his hand through his hair. He should have been more prepared for something like this happening.

  “You should save your energy.” Tessa sat against the sidewall, her knees drawn to her chest.

  He paced. “I’m too keyed up to sit.”

  The sound of the lock on the door unlatching sent Jeff’s heart racing. Tessa jumped to her feet, her eyes wide with anxiety. He hurried to a position by the door so he could ambush whoever came in.

  The door opened. A young guy walked in carrying a tray of food. He paused, noting their untied hands. He shrugged. “I’d have to untie you so you could eat, anyhow.”

  Jeff hesitated. No way would they let this unarmed kid come alone.

  “Set the tray down and come out,” a harsh male voice called.

  Jeff peered around the corner of the door. A behemoth of a man stood two feet away with a rifle pointed at the teen’s back. He was too far away for Jeff to disarm him, and if he tackled the kid and used him as leverage, the guy with the rifle wouldn’t think twice about shooting them both.

  The kid set the tray down laden with two sandwiches of indeterminate meat and cheese and two bottles of water.

  Tessa moved close to the young man and whispered, “Please, you have to help us.”

  The guy straightened and backed out, showing no sign of hearing her plea.

  Then the door slammed shut.

  Jeff smashed a fist into the wall. Pain reverberated up his arm.

  “At least they’re feeding us. That has to be a good sign, right?” Tessa asked as she picked up a sandwich.

  “Wait.” He held up a hand. “We don’t know that they haven’t laced this food with poison.”

  She made a questioning face. “Why go to the bother of poisoning us? That’s a murder weapon with no control when they could simply shoot us.”

  “Poison would be a lot harder to trace than a bullet slug.”

  Tessa stared at the sandwich in her hand. “Unfortunately, that makes sense.” Her gaze rose to his. “How strong is your faith?”

  “What?”

  “You pray, so you obviously believe in God. Do you trust Him to keep us alive? To get us out of these circumstances?” There was a note in her tone that was almost pleading, as if she needed his faith to be strong.

  His faith had never been tested like this before. He’d faced gunmen, had had his heart ripped from his chest by a woman and had felt abandoned by his family for most of his childhood, but he’d found comfort in his faith. He’d resented the many camps his parents had sent him to until his thirteenth summer, when he’d given his life to Jesus. That summer had been life changing.

  And now Tessa was asking him to prove the strength of his faith.

  “I do trust Him. God will not abandon us. God would expect me to be smart and take action. To know not to trust them.” He gestured toward the door and the miscreants beyond.

  She set the sandwich down and moved back to her spot against the wall. “Then we won’t eat.”

  Her belief in him touched him deeply. He picked up the bottles of water and inspected them. The seals hadn’t been broken. He moved to her side, slid down to sit next to her and handed her a bottle. “People will be looking for us.”

  “I know. But will they find us?” The despair in her eyes tore at his heart. “We don’t know how far from the lake they’ve taken us.”

  “I was paying attention, counting out the seconds on the drive here. We’re not more than a ten-minute ride from where they found us in the woods.”

  “From what I could see of this place, it’s been here a long time. Undetected.”

  “Because no one knew to look.” He covered her hand with his. “You can’t lose hope.”

  “I never pegged you for an optimist.”

  “And I never pegged you as a pessimist.”

  “Guilty as charged. I guess if you get knocked down enough, you start to expect it.”

  He ached at the hurt in her tone. “You were put through the wringer with your parents. But I sense there’s more.” He thought back to her question about why he didn’t have a girlfriend. His answer had been less than the truth. Her answer had mirrored his. “What’s the guy’s name who hurt you?”

  She met his gaze, then looked away. “Michael. Michael Compton. I almost became Mrs. Compton.”

  “Ah. He cheated on you.” Typical story.

  Shaking her head, she said, “No. That actually might have been easier to deal with.”

  “Meaning?”

  She stood and paced. “Meaning, Michael had his idea of what a wife should be. And as much as I thought I loved him, I couldn’t fit into his mold. Everything I did was wrong. My choice of career, my wardrobe. Even the car I drove wasn’t good enough.”

  “Sounds like a jerk. How long were you with this guy?”

  “Four years. We met the first week of my doctoral program at Utah State University and were engaged the following year. I was already working for the Forest Service part-time. He thought it was something I would do until after we were married and started a family.”

  “I get that. He feared you wouldn’t make your family the priority.”

  “Exactly. And he wouldn’t listen when I said I could do both. Women work and raise families all the time.”

  “Or hire others to raise their families.” The bitterness rising burned his tongue.

  “Nannies?” She retook her seat beside him.

  “A string of them.” He let out a rueful laugh. “I was a handful.”

>   One side of her mouth lifted. “I’m envisioning you putting creepy, crawling things in your nannies’ pockets.”

  “I’ll admit to a few garter snakes popping up in strategic places.”

  They shared a smile. He admired how brave she was being considering they were locked up, hungry, tired and terrorized.

  When her smile faded and her gaze drifted to the food a few feet away, he said, “So what happened? Did he call off the wedding?”

  “No. He expected us to move to his hometown in Upstate New York, which I didn’t have a problem with. I applied for a position in the Rome Fish Disease Control Lab. It would have been an easy commute. But that wasn’t going to fly. So I called off the wedding.”

  Her career had been more important than the relationship. At least she’d been honest about it, unlike Janie had been with him. She’d said all the right things, but in the end, when she’d been offered a promotion that took her to Asia, she’d left him in the dust. “You did the right thing.”

  “It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

  “But better to do it before making a commitment you couldn’t keep.”

  She drew back. “You’re starting to sound like Michael.”

  He shrugged. “If you can’t give a hundred percent to your marriage, your family, then you shouldn’t get married. And that’s true for a man or a woman.”

  She blew out a breath. “So I take it that’s why you aren’t married? Because you can’t commit?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Partly.”

  “Why else?”

  He grew uncomfortable under her scrutiny, but answered honestly, “I don’t believe in love.”

  She tucked in her chin. “But you believe in God.”

  “That’s different.”

  “How?”

  “Because God is God and the rest of us are, well, flawed and incapable of putting others before ourselves.”

  She canted her head, her gaze troubled. “That’s pretty jaded.”

  Maybe so, but better jaded than hurt. Hoping to steer the conversation away from himself, he asked, “How did Michael take your calling off the wedding?”