And that, Liam thought, was the difference. Rafe might have more—probably much more—death to his credit, but there had been reason.
The deaths to Liam’s account were cruel, pointless, senseless.
He was not going to let it happen again. He would die himself first. Because if it did happen again, if he had to add yet another name to the list, he was dead anyway. All that would remain was the formality.
That grim determination carried him along the ever-rising trail, behind the ever-watchful Cutter, who made sure his partner didn’t get too far behind. A couple of times he stopped just to listen, knowing how sound could carry in the still of a forested mountain. Cutter would stop and sit, waiting. Liam wondered if the dog would do the same if he stopped because he was tired. Somehow he doubted it; the dog was on a mission and, while tactical decisions were accepted, lack of resolve or strength would not be.
He caught up with the dog when he reached a three-direction option on the trail. Cutter had run ahead a little on the trail they’d been on and then stopped, sniffing deeply as he cast around on the dirt path. His tail had dropped, and his ears were back. Liam knew this body language, the dog’s signal he’d lost the scent. Taking this as a sign their quarry might have turned off, Liam checked the other two trail options while the dog cast around. This trail was obviously used often enough to keep the actual track clear of growth but not the sides. At least not used enough by humans, less at home here than the deer and other creatures he guessed used it. He studied a branch that was bent at an unnatural angle, trying to determine if it was recent.
That was when he saw the glint.
Not much sunlight made it through the thick canopy of the trees, but this spot, where a tree had come down and now lay at an angle alongside the even narrower path, allowed a single beam through. He moved and saw the glint again, bright silver and unmistakable in that tiny beam of light.
A moment later he had it in his hand. A small earring, a rendering of a crossed saw and hammer. The Connelly Hardware logo.
We help people who build and fix things.
Well, he would fix this. His resolve expanded, until there was no room for doubt. And then Cutter was there, nose down, that ever-reliable detector searching. The moment he started down the trail where Liam had found the earring his demeanor changed, his tail went up and he began to trot in the same way as before, back on the scent.
Cutter would have found the trail again anyway, but Ria didn’t know that. And that earring told him something even more important anyway.
Ria was alive.
She was alive and thinking, although Liam figured with her the one followed the other.
He tucked the earring carefully into the watch pocket of his jeans as he followed Cutter up the trail. He would return it to her once she was safe. And she would be safe. He would see to it.
What would happen after that, he didn’t know, nor did he allow himself to think about it. Because right now nothing else mattered but that she be alive and well. Not even the fact that the feelings that had once been so tangled were now as clear and bright as the glint of that earring.
The trees began to thin, whether from natural arrangement or because the area had once been logged he didn’t know. Or care, actually; his entire being was focused on Ria and Kevin.
“Three minutes out.”
“Copy,” Liam said softly in response to Quinn’s terse report. He knew Ty had been reporting on Liam’s own position via the GPS built into his Foxworth phone, but he had tuned it out to concentrate on tracking. Not that it was taking much, not with Cutter along. He had a sudden boyhood memory of how his father had always sent him out without the dogs, saying he needed to learn to track himself so he could learn to understand what the dogs were saying with their body language when on a scent. There’d not been much of a learning curve with Cutter; despite the legion of animals that Liam had known and grown up with, he’d never seen a more expressive, able-to-communicate dog.
Even as he thought it, the dog’s demeanor shifted again. His head came up, although his nose was still working fast. Testing the air now, sucking it in over those millions of scent receptors, his sides moving like a bellows.
The air.
He was no longer following the trail on the ground. They were close enough that he was getting the scent by air, carried by the faint breeze Liam could barely feel.
“Cutter’s on the wind,” he said, knowing Quinn would understand what that meant, in all senses.
“Copy,” Quinn said.
“Easy, boy,” he said to Cutter. “Slow.”
He didn’t want to startle Oakley into anything. A panicked predator was a more dangerous one. He didn’t know what kind of predator Oakley was, natural or situational, but he suspected the latter since the man had apparently lived a law-abiding life.
Until now.
Cutter whined but obeyed the command to proceed slowly. Liam hoped the rest of his training held. He and Quinn had worked together to get the dog to wait for his human companions to assess a situation before following his instinct to rush in. Liam hadn’t been sure the lesson had taken, because it had been so easy. But the dog had yet to fail, so Liam had to assume it had. This was not the time to start second-guessing his partner.
The trees got thinner still. Light dappled the ground in large patches, where the ferns also gave way to plants suited to the sunnier spots. The path curved to the right, along the flank of the mountain. He could tell by the way the trees stood on his left that they were on the rim of a steeper section, with the drop-off more severe. And then the trees became sparse, the trail curved back left and he caught a glimpse of what was ahead.
Severe drop wasn’t the word. Only a few trees clung to the rocky outcropping the path topped out on. A jutting outcropping that no doubt made for a great overlook of the park and the Olympic range. An outcropping that perhaps was even the reason the trail existed at all.
An outcropping that was also potentially dangerous if you didn’t watch your step, with a sheer drop at least seventy-five-feet high.
And there was only one reason he could think of that Oakley would drag a child and a woman up here.
Someone could lie at the bottom, undiscovered for decades; it was hardly unheard of.
At that instant the dog let out a low growl. And Liam saw Oakley, half dragging, half carrying Kevin out onto the rocky point. His eyes darted until he spotted Ria, limping but whole, a few feet back.
He was already operating at a high pitch, but a new burst of adrenaline shot through him. He felt his pulse kick up, and it took everything he had to make his approach quietly. He appreciated even more that Cutter obeyed that command to go slow, because he himself wanted to charge in gun blazing. He tried to channel that tension into moving quietly. Surprise was his chief advantage here. With luck Oakley had no idea he was being followed, but Liam wasn’t about to trust Ria’s life, or Kevin’s, to luck.
He skirted the edge of the rocks, using what trees there were and the thicker underbrush for cover. Cutter moved like a wolf, low, silently but with deadly focus on the pair ahead.
Liam was at the side edge of the outcropping now. He stayed there; he didn’t want to approach Oakley head-on, maybe startle the guy into going over while he still had the kid. He gauged the distance. Calculated the time it would take him to cross the sixty-or-so feet. Too long. Oakley said something, but Liam couldn’t make out the words. Ria took another step forward, gingerly. But this time she put the leg she’d been limping on down solidly. She’d been faking, he realized. Stalling.
That’s my girl, he thought for a third time. And meant it more than ever. He was going to break this damned curse, here and now. Or die trying.
He unslung the rifle, the feel and balance of it long familiar. He readied the weapon and his mind. It could come down to split seconds now. Cutter
growled, low and deep. His gaze was fastened on Liam, waiting, begging for the signal to go. Would the hurtling dog be distraction enough? He had to hope so.
And then Oakley pulled Kevin to the edge. The boy screamed. The terror in it echoed off the rocks. Liam saw the gleam of a blade at the boy’s throat.
There was no doubting his intent now. No denying it was murder.
He let Cutter loose. The dog charged Oakley.
But in the same instant so did Ria.
Chapter 33
She had to do something. Anything.
Ria knew it in the moment Oakley dragged Kevin to the edge of that horrifying drop. The boy was so terrified it made her heart ache beyond bearing. The man was likely going to kill them both anyway, but she’d be damned if she’d make it easy for him. And maybe, just maybe if she could make him worry more about her, Kevin could break free.
She dug one foot in against a small ridge in the rock. Kevin struggled, screaming. Oakley screamed back at him to shut up.
She launched, running toward him. Oakley whirled, yelling at her. She kept going. Readied herself to lunge. She’d hit him at the knees. Hope she could put him on the ground, so Kevin could run.
She caught movement, low and fast, on the edge of her vision. It was a split second before she realized. Cutter!
Liam was here. She’d been right. And in that instant she made the hardest decision she’d ever made in her adult, independent life. She stopped. Skidded, slipped, fell. Her left knee screeched a protest, but she never took her eyes off Oakley.
She could see his eyes dart from her to the dog and back, rapidly. Confused. More important, frozen in place.
That’s it—keep looking at us. You have no idea what’s really coming at you.
She looked toward the spot to her right where Cutter had emerged. Saw Liam, solid, steady and armed. Startlingly close, which told her how silently he could move. Their gazes locked. He gave a short, sharp nod. She took it to mean stay where she was. She could only hope she was right. He pointed upward. She had no idea what he meant by that.
“Give it up, Oakley,” he called out as he moved forward, out onto the rock, in full view.
Oakley wheeled to face him. The man’s side was to the drop now, although he could still get there easily. He was wild-eyed, and Ria was afraid he’d lost all grip on reality. He—and Kevin—were still perilously close to the edge. He shifted, bringing the knife he’d lowered in his shock at being charged on two fronts—now three—back to Kevin’s throat. If the sight of Liam’s weapon gave him pause, it didn’t show.
“Last chance, Oakley. Let the boy go.”
“I’ll cut his throat and toss him over,” Oakley warned. Kevin looked as if he were afraid to breathe.
“You don’t want to do that.”
“You don’t know anything. Back off.”
Oakley inched toward the edge. Ria wanted to scream herself, barely managed to stifle it. Another couple of steps and he would be close enough to turn and throw Kevin over without much effort. The boy’s eyes were closed now and he had gone limp, as if he’d passed out or his ten-year-old brain had simply been overloaded with fear and shut down.
Liam, on the other hand, was utterly cool. A true alpha male. She heard him speak but quietly, too quiet for Oakley to hear. “Buzz him.”
She heard it then. The powerful sound of an engine above. And getting closer. The helicopter. Foxworth. That’s what he’d meant by pointing up. He’d brought the air force with him.
To Oakley it must have seemed like the helicopter had dropped out of nowhere. Against the clear blue sky it was an ominous, gleaming-black machine, coming straight at him. From the corner of her vision she saw Liam raise the rifle to his shoulder. Oakley looked upward, stunned. Kevin slipped downward. For just an instant the hand with the knife drifted as Oakley gaped.
For that instant, he was a clear target.
Liam shot.
Oakley went down. Kevin scrambled free. Cutter ran to the boy, who threw his arms around the dog, weeping.
“Guard!” Liam tossed the order at the dog as he ran. To her.
She reacted to him as Kevin had the dog. She threw her arms around to him and clung, weeping in reaction. He held her, strong and steady, assuring her again and again it was over.
In a spot she wouldn’t have thought big enough, the black helicopter touched down. And then Foxworth was there in force, and she buried her face against Liam’s shoulder.
* * *
Ria sat in the Foxworth living room, contemplating the hole in her jeans and the bandage on her knee that she could see through it. She studied it as if it were some great work of art, because it was the only thing that kept her from staring at Liam, who was deep in conversation with Quinn and the other Foxworth operative she’d only met briefly and who had been piloting the helicopter. She’d been told his name was Teague, but she’d forgotten the last name, too puzzled by the way he’d looked at her and then at Liam and said softly, “Now I understand.”
“Ms. Connelly?”
Her head snapped up, and she looked into the steady gray eyes of the detective Liam had promised was a good guy. And he was; she could sense that. Liam hadn’t mentioned he was also a very attractive man, tall, rangy, with a touch of gray at his temples. But, then, Liam wouldn’t.
Belatedly she realized he’d asked her a question. She’d thought they’d finished; she’d given him a detailed statement at the hospital some hours ago. “I’m sorry?”
He crouched down beside her chair. “I was just asking if you’d be able to meet with Detective Devon some time tomorrow and give her what you know on the boy’s situation at home before—” he made a room-encompassing gesture with his hand “—all this. For her report to CPS.”
“Of course. I’m done at school by three.”
Detective Dunbar smiled at her. “You don’t have to work tomorrow.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Liam called them to explain. You’re off through the weekend with Dr. Halvorson’s best wishes.”
She didn’t know whether to be glad or upset at Liam’s presumption.
“Trust me,” Dunbar said gently. “You’re running on what’s left of adrenaline in your system now. It will all hit you hard soon.”
She guessed, as a cop, he would know. She sank back in her chair and let out a sigh.
“Liam knows it, too. That’s why he called them.”
Her mouth twisted slightly. “I won’t take his head off, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He studied her for a moment before saying, “I always suspected there was more under that good old Texas-boy manner than we knew. Something darker, less charming. I’m guessing you found it?”
She thought of the harrowing story he’d told her. “Yes.”
“He’s a good guy, Ria,” Dunbar said, dispensing with the formality, as if he wanted her to know this was his personal opinion. His gaze flicked to Liam and then back to her. “If I’ve learned anything in the last few months, it’s that things like that are easier to carry if shared with...someone.”
Ria wondered what his story was, was sure there was one, but this didn’t seem the time to ask. But she did want to ask something else. “Foxworth,” she began and then floundered.
“Is unique,” Dunbar said with a smile. “They skirt the edges sometimes, and I don’t always appreciate untangling those situations, but there is one thing I am solidly sure of and that is that they are utterly honest and completely true to their mission.”
And then Liam was there. “Ty found the last piece of the puzzle, I think.”
Dunbar lifted a brow at him. Liam glanced at Ria. Dunbar gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I think she’s earned the right to know, don’t you?”
Liam didn’t even answer, just wen
t ahead as if she weren’t even sitting there. “A couple of months after his wife’s death, Oakley took out a sizeable life insurance policy on Kevin.”
Ria’s breath caught. Dunbar asked the question that had leapt to her mind. “Just Kevin?”
“He took one out on Dylan, too, but not until a month later. Maybe he figured out it was too suspicious to only cover Kevin.”
Dunbar nodded. “I’d say reopening Melissa Oakley’s case would be wise at this point. I’ll make a call.” Dunbar walked away, phone in hand.
Clearly she wasn’t needed here anymore, Ria thought almost numbly. The two men had carried on that entire exchange as if she weren’t even here. She should just gather her things and go. Except she didn’t have anything. Even if she had her keys, she didn’t have a car. It was still parked at the Oakley house. Unless it had been stolen by now. She had left it not only unlocked but, she suspected, with the door open. And her purse inside. And her keys were lying in the dirt on that mountain somewhere and—
“Ria!”
The way Liam said it told her he’d said it before. She looked at him.
“You’re shivering,” he said, sounding a bit alarmed.
“I—Am I?”
He turned, did something with a control on the wall, and the fireplace leapt to life with dancing flames. Then he vanished into the compact kitchen. She stared at the fire, wondering why she was shivering when it wasn’t cold. And then he was back, pressing a mug of warm liquid into her cold hands. She stared at it for a moment, vaguely surprised it wasn’t coffee.
“Hot chocolate?”
“The last thing you need right now is a hit of caffeine,” he said.
She looked from the cup to his face. “You’re doing a lot of deciding for me.”
“Right now, yes,” he said. “Drink. You can chew me out later.”
She took a sip. Couldn’t deny the warmth and sweetness were exactly right just now. She felt warmer in general, whether from the fire or the fact that Liam had sat down next to her on the couch.
Operation Alpha Page 23
