by LENA DIAZ,
Iceman’s eyes narrowed. “You said you have the codes on your computer.”
“Yes, yes, I know. But Lauren and I are a team. We each know different parts of the...encryption algorithm. We set it up that way so neither of us could take all the money ourselves. Both of us have to work together.”
Greed and lack of trust were apparently things Iceman identified with. Some of his own distrust faded and he stepped back. “All right. Both of you. Get out.”
The man who’d been staring at Lauren gave Iceman a sullen look.
“Later,” Iceman said in a low tone as if he didn’t think either of the women understood that he was promising Lauren to the other man.
A shiver ran through Lauren, transmitting to Ashley through their joined hands. They climbed out of the van, which was parked beside Dillon’s big white house. Her last memories of him, lying on the floor, blood pooling around his head, had her throat closing up.
Iceman’s gun shoved against her back. “Move. To the barn out back. Let’s find this mare of yours and get that computer.”
* * *
DILLON SHOOK THE man’s hand and turned with Chris to head back to the truck parked in the man’s driveway. Mr. Jones had only recently moved to Destiny and he’d been in town buying groceries until a few minutes earlier. He didn’t know anything about a white van in the area. And from the way his eyes had grown big and round as he noted Dillon’s bloodstained hair and shirt and Chris’s soot-streaked face, Dillon was betting the man might be rethinking his decision to move here.
Chris pulled back out onto the rural two-lane highway. They’d stopped at half a dozen homes already and either the people weren’t home or they hadn’t noticed a van drive by. But he wasn’t giving up yet. Someone had to have seen Iceman.
The cell phone holstered on Dillon’s hip buzzed, letting him know he had a text.
Chris slanted him a look as he pulled the phone out. “Did the chief realize we aren’t on our way into town and he’s firing us both by text?”
A familiar canned message filled the screen. “It’s my home security system. One of Mr. Finley’s cows probably escaped again.” He punched the attached picture icon. A white van filled the screen.
With Iceman at the wheel.
And behind it was another car, with two more men inside.
“Turn around, turn around. Iceman’s at Harmony Haven.” They’d passed his driveway ten minutes earlier.
Chris slowed and turned around in the middle of the highway. “What’s he want at your house?”
“I have no idea. But he brought muscle with him. I count five guys total—three in the front of the van and two in a car following. No telling how many might be in the back of the van, though.” He punched another button on his phone and put the call on speaker so Chris could hear it, too.
“Last I heard,” Chief Thornton’s voice came through the phone, “they don’t allow people to use cell phones in the emergency room. I had better hear a nurse telling you to hang up or I’m going to be royally ticked off that you aren’t where I told you to be.”
“My security alarm just snapped a picture of Iceman and at least four other men heading down my driveway.”
“What the heck is he going to your house for?”
Chris slowed and turned onto the long road that led to the house.
“I don’t know,” Dillon said. “But you need to activate the SWAT team and get them over here.”
“Here? Here? Are you telling me you and Downing are at your house instead of the hospital?” The chief added a few choice swear words, not waiting for a response. “When this is over, if we all live to tell about it, I’m going to make you scrub my executive bathroom for an entire year until you learn to respect the chain of command. You got that, Gray?”
Chris laughed.
Dillon narrowed his eyes. “Yes, sir. Got it. Sir, the SWAT team—”
“Yeah, yeah. They’re gearing up right now. Let me talk to Downing.”
Dillon held the phone closer to Chris but left it on speaker.
“This is Downing, sir.”
“The team will be there in twenty minutes. We’ll bring your gear. I don’t care if you have to sit on Detective Gray or handcuff him to the bumper. Do not, under any circumstances, let him go after this Iceman on his own. That’s an order. If you’re not both waiting for us when we get there, you can kiss your jobs goodbye. By the time I bad-mouth you all over the county, you’ll be lucky if you can get a job as a door greeter at Walmart. You got that?”
Chris winced. “Yes, sir. Loud and clear. Wait for backup.”
Dillon ended the call and shoved the phone back in its holster.
Chris pulled the truck to the shoulder and cut the engine. “I don’t suppose there’s any way to convince you to wait like Thornton ordered?”
“Not in this lifetime. And if you try to handcuff me to the bumper, I’m going to fight like hell.”
“Yeah, I figured that.”
“There’s no need for you to get in trouble with me. Give me your gun and wait here for the team.”
“Shut up and pop the glove box open.”
Dillon opened the glove box and grinned. “Does this mean what I think it means?”
“I reckon I can get used to saying ‘Welcome to Walmart.’ Kind of has a nice ring to it.”
Dillon grabbed the Glock 17 out of the glove box and they both hopped out of the truck.
* * *
ICEMAN GRABBED ASHLEY’S arm at the entrance to the barn. “If we see anyone, you’d better convince them nothing’s wrong and find that computer.” He shoved the gun against the side of her ribs as if to remind her it was there.
She nodded. He motioned for two of the men, the ones who’d been in the car, to accompany him and Ashley inside. The others waited outside with Lauren.
“I can have my gun out in less than a second. And there are two more gunmen behind me. Remember that.” He shoved his gun in his waistband at the small of his back. “Open the door.”
Ashley grabbed the handle and pulled the door back on its rails as she’d seen Dillon do the day before. She stepped inside the barn, blinking until her eyes adjusted to the darkened interior.
Griffin stood in the middle of the aisle, a scrub brush in one hand and a bucket of water in the other. His brows raised in surprise. “Miss Parrish. I figured you and the boss were still at the police station. The FBI man, he let you go?”
At his mention of Special Agent Kent, Ashley closed her eyes, horrible images flashing across the inside of her lids, images of the agent being swept off his saddle by the force of a rifleman’s bullet.
Iceman nudged her. “The computer,” he whispered.
She opened her eyes and saw that Griffin was frowning now, his gaze jumping from her to the man beside her, then to the others a few feet farther back. She forced her lips into what she hoped was a reassuring smile, her only goal to get Griffin to leave without becoming suspicious, so he wouldn’t get hurt.
“Mr. Griffin, good to see you again. Actually, ah, Dillon is still...at the police station. He sent me—us—back for my computer. It was in the duffel bag on the back of the mare. Dillon said she’d follow the trail back to the farm. Have you seen her?”
He nodded slowly, his gaze staying on Iceman. “Yes. She’s in her stall. Came back about an hour ago, along with the boss’s stallion. Both of the duffel bags are in the tack room.” He set the bucket and brush down beside one of the stalls. “I’ll get them for you. Why don’t you have your gentleman friend wait here and you can help me find it.”
“Okay, thanks.” She started forward, but Iceman grabbed her arm.
His gun was out in a flash and he shoved it against Ashley’s side. “Hold it. We’ll all get the bags together.”
She winced at the fee
l of the cold metal shoving against her ribs. Griffin waited for them to reach him, then he slowly turned and they headed into the tack room. The two bags were sitting on top of a trunk beneath a row of harnesses.
“Stop,” Iceman ordered.
Griffin looked at him in question.
“Miss Parrish will get what she needs.”
Ashley hurried forward and retrieved her computer bag. Her purse was right next to it, and she knew her cell phone was inside. But there was no way to unzip the purse and get her phone without Iceman seeing. She glanced over at Griffin, then at the duffel, trying to signal him in case he could get to her purse later.
“You’ve got the computer now. Get over here. And you’d better not be bluffing about being able to log in and get my money out of that account.”
Dread settled into the pit of her stomach like a block of ice. She hurried out of the tack room. Iceman backed up, hauling her against his side. She noticed he winced when he did so, which reminded her that she’d shot him—or at least she thought she had—in the shoulder back on Cooper’s Bluff. The injury must not have been as bad as she’d thought, because he was using his arm just fine. But that little telltale wince told her it at least pained him. That was something she’d file away in case she could use it to her advantage.
“You,” he said, motioning to Griffin with his gun. “How many workers are on the farm right now?”
“None. It’s just me.”
The deafening sound of the gun being fired filled the barn.
Griffin collapsed to the ground, holding his thigh.
Ashley gasped and started forward to help him, but Iceman jerked her back again.
“He’ll live, unless he does something stupid. Like lie to me again. I repeat. How many others are on the farm right now?”
“Four,” he gasped through clenched teeth. “They’re out riding the fence line, checking for breaks.”
“Call them back here, now. You do anything to warn them and the next bullet goes in your brain.”
Griffin kept one hand pressed against the wound on his thigh and used his other hand to pull out his cell phone. His face was pale and drawn as he punched in a number and made the first call.
A few minutes later, Griffin and the farmhands were locked in the tack room. Iceman had taken all their cell phones, ensuring they had no way to call for help. But he hadn’t taken the one from Ashley’s purse. She prayed Griffin or one of the others would realize that before it was too late.
One of Iceman’s men kicked out some planks from a stall and used them to brace the tack room door closed, effectively sealing Griffin and his men inside.
“Stay here and keep a watch out,” he instructed the three men. “If anyone approaches the house or the barn, shoot them.” He led Ashley out of the barn toward the house, with Lauren and her bodyguard pulling up the rear.
* * *
DILLON AND CHRIS stayed off the road and made their way through the woods toward the house. When they reached the top of the last hill that looked down on Dillon’s property, they both paused.
“Too bad we don’t have any binoculars.” Dillon braced his hand against the tree beside him. “I don’t know if we’re dealing with five men or more, or whether they’re in the house or one of the outbuildings.”
“Or both,” Chris added.
“Yeah, or both.”
“That backup is sounding really good about now.” Chris looked at his watch. “The team should be here in another ten minutes.”
“Ashley could be dead in ten minutes. I can’t wait that long.” He didn’t say what they were both thinking, that she could already be dead.
“You have a plan?” Chris asked.
“Working on it.” He studied his property with fresh eyes, not as the owner, but as a man who needed to sneak down the hill and into the house without being seen. There weren’t any shrubs up close to the house, by design. No sheltering trees close enough to take cover behind, or to enable someone to climb into an upstairs window. Thirty head of horses grazed all over the green pastures but again, no cover. The only cover was the cornfield, but that was behind and to the right of the house, with no way to get to it without being seen, unless they went back out to the main road again and worked their way from the east side of his neighbor’s property.
“I’ve got to hand it to you,” Chris said. “You built this place like a fortress. No one’s getting close to it without being seen.”
“Tell me about it. Looks like we’ve got two choices. Either we go back out and work our way through the cornfield, which will take a good twenty minutes or more, or we take our chances, hope no one’s watching, and make a run for it.”
“I vote for the cornfield.”
“I vote for making a run for it.”
“That could be suicide,” Chris said.
“We’ve both got vests on.”
“What if they take a head shot?”
“Yeah, well, that would suck.”
His cell phone vibrated again. “Maybe our backup is already here.” He pulled the phone out, but it wasn’t a text message this time. And he recognized the number that was calling him. He shot Chris a surprised glance and answered the call. “Ashley? Where are you?”
“It’s Griffin, boss. I’m using Miss Parrish’s phone. She’s in trouble, sir.”
The relief that had shot through him when he thought she was calling turned to a bitter taste in his mouth. “Tell me what’s going on.” He listened to Griffin’s tale, his stomach tightening with dread. “All right. We’ll get you and your men out. Hang tight.” He shoved the phone back in its holder.
“What’s going on?” Chris asked.
“Griffin confirmed Iceman’s got Ashley with him. Iceman shot Griffin in the leg and locked him and the farmhands in the tack room in the barn. He said Iceman seems to expect Ashley to use her computer to log into an account and get his money. That’s why he came here, to get her computer.”
“But she’s not the one who embezzled the money. Her friend did. So why isn’t Iceman having Lauren log into the account?”
“I don’t know. All I do know is that once Ashley isn’t able to log in, she’s in real trouble.”
“What are we going to do?”
Dillon looked out over the fields again, a kernel of an idea popping into his head. “How much longer before SWAT gets here?”
“Five minutes, give or take.”
He explained his idea.
“You’re crazy. Just wait and we’ll do the cornfield approach. It’s the only safe way to get to the house.”
“You heard what Griffin said. I’ve got to buy Ashley some time. And I can’t leave Griffin and his men there to die if Iceman decides to eliminate witnesses. Are you going to stand there arguing with me or are you going to help?”
He swore. “Fine. Do it. I’ll intercept SWAT and tell them your idiotic plan. Dillon—” Chris put his hand on his shoulder “—don’t make me have to put on a suit. I don’t even dress up for church. I sure don’t want to dress up for a funeral.”
Dillon grinned. “You want me to be careful and don’t get killed. Got it.” He melted back into the trees and headed along the tree line, away from the house.
Chapter Fifteen
Dillon stopped his mad dash through the woods. He was as close to the wooden rail fence that bordered the pasture as he was going to get without stepping into the open. Hopefully, he’d have a little luck on his side. He was going to need it.
He put his fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. Moments later he heard the sound of hooves drumming against the ground, getting louder and louder. Boomerang topped the far hill and headed straight for the fence. He hop-skipped to a halt right before running into the fence and dipped his nose over the top rail in question, his nostril
s flaring as he snorted a welcome.
Dillon glanced back toward the house, a hundred yards away. He didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t see him once he left the cover of trees. He took off, sprinted to the fence, then used the bottom rail to boost himself up and onto the stallion’s back.
Boomerang snorted and danced away from the fence.
“Easy, boy, easy.” Dillon sat high on the withers, like a jockey getting ready for a race, and got a good handful of mane in his right hand to hold on to. He leaned as far to the left as he dared, using his legs to guide the horse and keeping his head and shoulders hidden by the long-flowing mane and the horse’s thick neck. “Come on, Boomerang. Let’s round up some help.” He squeezed his legs and guided the stallion across the field toward a group of trail-trained horses, the kind that would docilely follow Dillon’s lead.
* * *
ICEMAN SHOVED ASHLEY and Lauren into Dillon’s library and paused in the doorway to speak to one of his thugs. Ashley stumbled and had to catch herself on the table in the middle of the room, the same table where Dillon and his fellow detectives had been reviewing the case notes two nights ago. A pang of sadness went through her and she glanced around the room as if she could somehow bring Dillon back just by picturing him here. Her gaze swept past the bookshelves, the bank of TV screens to the windows... Her gaze shot back to the TV screens and her mouth dropped open.
It couldn’t be, could it?
There, on the bottom screen, the security camera showed a view of the northwest pasture. A group of six horses trotted through the field, and on the neck of the bay-colored stallion leading the pack clung a familiar figure—Dillon.
Ashley gasped and hurried farther into the room. She glanced back. Iceman was still in conversation with the other man in the doorway. Lauren stood beside the table, watching Ashley with a look of confusion on her face. Ashley grabbed a book from one of the nearby bookshelves and quickly dragged one of the ladder-back chairs over to the corner, praying the chair would block the TV screen from view. She plopped down and opened the book just as Iceman looked over at her.
