by Cassie Miles
“Seems too easy.”
Their headlights shone on the weathered wood of the house. The front door hung open on one hinge. The glass in the windows had been broken. Weeds and buffalo grass had overtaken all but a gravel path leading to the doorway.
She peered through the windshield at the sky. Though the dark had begun to lift, it was not yet dawn. “I wish there was more light.”
“And I wish we had backup,” he said. He pulled his gun and checked the clip. “First, we search the house. Then we’ll go around to the back. Move fast.”
Aggression was the best defense. That was one of the first lessons at Quantico, but those training exercises had been a long time ago. She stuck her flashlight into her belt and unholstered her automatic. Move fast. Make quick, accurate decisions. She hoped her reflexes hadn’t turned to mush.
As she looked at him, there were a hundred things she wanted to say. She wanted him to know that she’d never stopped caring for him. To tell him that he was the only man she ever wanted to be with, the man she wanted to share her future with.
Instead, she gave a nod. “Ready.”
Simultaneously, they threw open their car doors and raced toward the hovel. Flynn dove through the front door and went to the right. She went left into a small hallway, where there was a bathroom and a bedroom with a table and a mattress on the floor. There were signs that this room had been used. The window wasn’t broken. The wood floor had been swept, and there was a lingering scent of candles. In the corner, she spotted a discarded plastic water bottle. This might have been where Grace had been held, but she wasn’t here now. There was no one.
“Clear,” she shouted.
Flynn echoed. “Clear.”
She ran toward the sound of his voice. He stood at the open back door, staring out at a wood corral that was missing most of the crossbars.
“I think Grace was held in this house,” she said.
“A damn lot of good Mackenzie’s search did,” he said. “I know this quadrant was crossed off his map.”
“Don’t be hard on him. With all these trees, nobody would find this place unless they knew something was here. What do we do now?”
“We search. You go first with your flashlight. I’ll watch your back.”
She liked that arrangement. Though she did well in marksmanship, she had never actually shot another human being. She trusted Flynn to be alert for possible snipers in the trees and shrubs surrounding this clearing behind the house.
She stepped out into the gray pre-dawn light. With her flashlight she swept the area, spotting an old pump and a lean-to. Moving quickly through the high weeds and grass, she went to the corral. The shape was roughly circular, similar to the way the Judge had cut the map.
Lowering the flashlight beam, she looked directly down at her feet. If someone had been here, they couldn’t walk through this grass without leaving a trace.
She found a wide swath where the grass was flattened. “Looks like something was dragged along here.”
“A body,” Flynn said.
Her heart pumped faster as she moved along the trail, dreading what she might find, praying that Grace was still alive.
On the opposite side of the corral, she approached a rocky ledge jutting up through the trees. The trail ended. Marisa came to an abrupt halt at the edge of a circular pit, twenty feet wide and six feet deep. “A kiva.”
Flynn came up beside her and stared down into the shadows. “Lower the beam.”
Curled up against the far wall with her wrists and ankles bound was Grace Lennox. She wasn’t moving.
Flynn leaped down into the kiva and rushed toward her.
Holding her breath, Marisa watched as he knelt down beside the gray-haired woman. Please let her be alive. Please.
Flynn shouted over his shoulder. “I’ve got a pulse. She’s unconscious, but I’ve got a pulse.”
Marisa gasped. A burst of relief overwhelmed her. Everything was going to be all right.
She kept the light trained on Flynn as he untied the ropes and rubbed Grace’s hands. She could hear him murmuring reassurances as he peeled off his jacket and wrapped it around the unconscious woman. At the very least, she must be in shock.
“Marisa,” he called out. “I’ll need to carry her. Bring the jeep back here.”
“I need the keys.”
He dug into his pocket, stood and drew back his arm as if to throw the key ring.
“No,” she said. Holding the flashlight in one hand and her gun in the other, she couldn’t be expected to catch a flying key ring.
He ran toward her, and she knelt. The top of his head was even with the rim of the kiva. He reached up toward her. The gray light of dawn illuminated the concern on his face.
When she reached down for the keys, he grasped her hand. His strength flowed through her. “We did it.”
“Grace will be all right. We got here in time.”
“We’re good together.” His eyes narrowed in his trademark squint. “I want us to be together for a long time.”
Forever. He was the only man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Her past, present and future collided. “I want that, too.”
He squeezed her hand as he handed her the keys. “Bring the car around, then find a ladder or something so I can climb out of here.”
She handed him the flashlight. “I’m calling Mackenzie for backup. And an ambulance.”
“Good decision. Now’s the right time.”
“Flynn, I want to—” A declaration of love was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t say the words. There would be time for that later. “Take care of Grace. I’ll be right back.”
She stood and took the cell phone from her pocket. This was the call she’d been dying to make all night.
Mackenzie answered immediately. She gave him their location. Thanks to the Judge’s explicit directions, she was able to tell him the route from Cortez and the mile marker. “And send an ambulance.”
“Is Grace Lennox all right?”
“She will be.”
“Congratulations, Agent Kelso. I never thought this unorthodox procedure would work.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “Hurry.”
She pocketed the cell phone, whirled and ran back toward the hovel. Mackenzie was absolutely correct in his assessment. This rescue was nearly miraculous. The clues were such that she and Flynn were the only people in the world who could interpret them and only through revealing their most deeply buried memories.
But their efforts had paid off. They’d followed the Judge’s rules, and he hadn’t killed Grace. Flynn had been right. Even a sociopathic serial killer sometimes kept his word.
At the driver’s side of the jeep, she flipped her gun to her left hand and used the right to unlock the door. As she pulled it open, she was aware of something moving behind her.
Metal prongs touched the side of her throat. A jolt of electricity shot an intense pain into her body. She’d been hit by a stun gun. Paralyzed, she collapsed. Her mind went blank.
Chapter Fifteen
In the kiva, Flynn cradled Grace Lennox in his arms, willing his body’s warmth into her thin, frail form. Her hands were ice-cold. Until he’d covered her with his jacket, she’d been wearing only a sweatsuit and wool socks. Exposure to the night chill had taken a toll.
“Come on, Grace,” he encouraged her. “Wake up.”
If the Judge had followed the same pattern as Russell Graff, she had probably been dosed with hallucinogenic drugs for the past three days. Before her abduction, she’d been in fairly good health, but he knew she took medication for high blood pressure. What if she’d gone into a coma?
“Grace,” he said, “you’re safe now. You need to wake up. Give me some kind of sign.”
Her eyelids fluttered opened, and she looked up at him. Her lips moved. “About time,” she said.
Still feisty. She was one hell of a woman. “You’re going to be okay, Grace.”
Her eyes closed, appare
ntly exhausted by the slight effort.
Flynn peered up at the edge of the pit. Marisa should have been back by now. What was taking her so long? Was she having problems with the jeep? He thought he’d heard the sound of a car engine starting up.
It didn’t make sense to move Grace before Marisa was back here to help him. Getting out of this pit wouldn’t be easy, and Grace was still too weak to climb out under her own power.
The ambulance from Cortez should be here quickly. They were only twelve-point-five miles away from the hospital. “Paramedics will be here soon, Grace.”
Her trembling hand reached up to her temple, and she ran her fingers through her gray hair. “He cut off my braid. I’ll also need the services of a good stylist.”
He grinned. “I’ll 9-1-1 to a beauty salon.”
“Perhaps I’ll go blond.”
“You’re beautiful the way you are.”
“Nonsense, Flynn.”
“Gorgeous,” he said. “You’re a supermodel.”
“Oh, please.” Now that she was awake, she seemed to be gaining strength with every breath she took. “Do you remember what Bud said? That I’m an ice cube.”
“Bud is a moron.”
“I need a makeover. And I plan to start dating as soon as possible.”
“Good for you.” This had to be the most bizarre conversation he’d ever had with a victim.
Her gaze lifted to his face. “Are you available?”
“Sorry, Grace. I’m taken.”
He glanced up at the rim again. Where the hell was Marisa?
MARISA KNEW HER EYES were wide open, but she couldn’t see anything but endless dark. She was hooded.
When she attempted to move her arm, she felt the restraints. Her wrists were tied in front of her. Her ankles were also bound. Panic surged through her. She’d let down her guard and been caught. No, this couldn’t be happening to her. Inside her head she was screaming in helpless terror.
She felt herself being lifted and carried.
“I know you’re awake, Marisa.”
His voice was whispery, unidentifiable to anyone but her. She knew him from the midnight phone calls in San Francisco. The Judge.
The thought of being held by this bastard revolted her. She wanted to wrench free, but she had no strength. Her paralyzed muscles ached with the remembered pain of the stun gun. The electric shock had been worse than anything she’d ever felt before.
“Did you enjoy the treasure hunt?” he whispered. “All those memories. You still miss little Tina with her pretty blond curls?”
To hear him speak her sister’s name was obscene.
“You could have saved her,” he continued. “If you’d been home to protect her, she’d still be alive today.”
“No.” Though she knew better than to respond to his taunts, the word slipped out.
“You’ve spent your whole life, your whole career, trying to make up for losing Tina. But it hasn’t worked, has it? You still think of baby Tina. So tiny. So helpless.”
Inside the hood, she blinked rapidly. She needed to think clearly, to figure out where she was and how much time had passed. It could have been hours. Could have been less than ten minutes.
She felt a jolt as he dropped her roughly onto a carpeted floor.
He laughed at her and said, “No matter how many killers you apprehend, you’ll still remember Tina.”
“That was a long time ago.” She wouldn’t forget her sister, not ever. But she wouldn’t be ruled by the past. “The important thing is that we found Grace Lennox. We saved her.”
“I saved her. I let Judge Lennox go. She didn’t deserve to die. I judged her worthy.”
“You?” Twisting on the floor, she tried to sit up. She gasped as pain shot through her body. “You have no right to judge anyone.”
“Judge yourself, Marisa. Your own guilt. You know as well as I that you failed your sister. You deserve a death sentence, and someday, you’ll beg me for the final release.”
She heard a door slam.
A heavy silence wrapped around her like a shroud. There had been many times when she’d wished for the relief of death, the final blow to end the nightmare of endless sorrow and guilt. But this wasn’t one of those times.
Finally, she had a future. The potential of a life with Flynn. A home and family. She wouldn’t let the Judge take that away from her.
THE AMBULANCE HAD ARRIVED at the kiva. Paramedics were tending to Grace Lennox. She was going to be all right.
Where was Marisa?
Flynn climbed out of the kiva and raced through the weeds and high grass toward the jeep, dreading what he might find.
The car keys were still in the driver’s side door.
She was gone.
His heart wrenched. He should have known that the Judge had something else planned for them. If he’d been smart, Flynn would have kept Marisa close to him. They would have waited together for Mackenzie to respond to her call. They were trained agents, they should have known better. All the other screwups and failures in his life paled in comparison. He’d lost the woman he loved.
She was gone. The Judge had taken her.
He shoved aside his guilt and despair. It wasn’t too late to make this right. If the Judge had meant to kill her, he could have done it right here. That meant she was a captive. This time, there would be no need for a manhunt. Marisa still had the GPS tracking device planted in her arm.
Frantic, he unlocked the car and reached into the glove compartment for the square plastic box with the screen. He turned it on. A soft beeping sound indicated that the device was working. Two dots flashed on the small screen. When he tried to zoom in, the picture went dead.
The thought that he might have lost contact because he didn’t know how to operate the equipment enraged him. This was one time when his gut instinct couldn’t help. He needed the technology to find her. Holding his breath, he turned it on again. Two dots appeared. One for her. One for him.
He rolled up his sleeve and covered the tiny red pinprick where Marisa had inserted the device under his skin. It kept flashing on the screen. A distraction. He needed to be clear, to focus only on her.
Reaching into the glove compartment, he found a pocket knife and flipped the blade open. If Marisa had been here, she could have shown him a simple method to remove the tiny tracking device. But she wasn’t here. She was being held captive, and he had to find her.
With the tip of the blade, he sliced into the flesh on his arm. Blood oozed from the cut, but he felt nothing. Using his fingers, he removed the tiny sliver.
The blip on the screen continued. How the hell did he turn this thing off?
Flynn stepped out of the jeep. He stuck the sliver into the dirt at the side of the road and drew his weapon. He aimed. Fired once. Dirt and loose gravel sprayed over his boots.
His blip on the screen went dead.
He looked up and saw two cars approaching. They parked. Mackenzie leaped out and ran toward him. His gaze fastened on the gun in Flynn’s hand. “What are you doing?”
“He grabbed Marisa.” Flynn held the tracking screen toward him. “She’s got a GPS tracker inserted in her arm. How do I find where he’s taken her?”
Mackenzie summoned one of the other men, a computer expert, and handed the device to him. “Pinpoint this location.”
Flynn watched as the screen was removed from his sight. Every muscle in his body tensed. Adrenaline sang in his bloodstream.
Mackenzie snapped, “Grace Lennox. How is she?”
“The paramedics are with her. She ought to make a full recovery.”
“Did she identify the Judge?”
With a shock, Flynn realized that he hadn’t even asked. “There wasn’t time to interrogate her.”
The agent with the tracking screen came toward them. “It’s not far from here. In Cortez.”
“I’m going with him,” Flynn said.
Mackenzie studied him with a calm, assessing gaze. From the moment he’d arriv
ed at the safe house, Mackenzie had shown himself to be a good leader. Not only had he followed procedure but he’d taken a chance by allowing Flynn and Marisa to pursue the Judge without backup or communication. If the end result meant harm to Marisa, it was Mackenzie’s butt on the line.
“I’ll take full responsibility,” Flynn said.
“Damn right you will,” Mackenzie said. “And you’ll be supervising the rescue operation for Agent Kelso while I stay with Grace Lennox.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Take three other agents.” He paused. “Bring her back alive, Flynn.”
“I intend to.”
This time he would succeed. Or die trying.
ALONE IN THE ROOM, Marisa had finally worked the black hood off her head. Through the window, she could see the pink of a dawn sky. She was in a small bedroom that looked like a motel. Not a nice motel like the one where Dr. Sterling stayed. The shag carpet in this room smelled like sweaty feet, and a black velvet painting of a bullfighter hung on the wall. This was probably one of those places with a sitting room and kitchenette in the front and two bedrooms in back. A family motel.
For a moment, she considered screaming for help. The walls in this place were probably paper-thin. But if she cried out, the Judge would be in here to stop her and she’d probably have a gag stuffed in her mouth. Better to get free, to explore her advantage.
She stretched her shoulders and forced herself to sit upright. Every movement ached. Her body felt like she’d been run over by a truck, but she couldn’t just sit here and wait for Flynn to track the GPS device in her arm. She might not have enough time. Though the Judge usually held his victims for three days, he’d been ignoring his usual rituals. The profile no longer applied. She needed to get away fast.
From outside the room, she heard the sound of conversation. A man and a woman? The voices sounded angry.
The cotton rope binding her wrists wasn’t too tight unless she pulled. The knots were complicated. Even if she had hours, she probably wouldn’t get them undone. The same was true for the ropes on her ankles.
Reaching down, she felt for the holster strapped to her shin. Her gun was gone.
