Tracing a Kidnapper

by Juno Rushdan

  Fury burned through Madeline.

  Bring it on, Chloe.

  I won’t go down without a fight!

  * * *

  JACKSON DROVE AS close as he dared to the entrance of the Survivalist Zone. He parked behind a stand of pine and grabbed the loaded gun from the case. Then with an eye on the locked gate, he crept through the woods in its direction.

  He spotted the government SUV. His heart leaped, but there was no sign of Madeline.

  Nothing moved around the cabin. No one passed in the dark windows. No smoke curled from the chimney.

  With his nerves singing, he entered the code at the gate. The lock disengaged.

  He slipped inside, closing it slowly, quietly behind him.

  Passing the SUV, he noticed the tires had been slashed. All of them.

  He made his way to the front door, careful of where he stepped, and edged inside the cabin. Glancing around, he caught sight of Theon’s picture on the wall. But he didn’t want to look at it. Theon was gone. As tragic as his suicide was, he was gone. Emma was alive. And here somewhere. That’s all he cared about it. Finding his little girl and Madeline and getting them both out safely.

  Jackson walked through the room, searching for a sign that Emma had been in the cabin. A floorboard creaked. He stopped and walked back over it.

  Staring at the floor, he remembered. Theon had constructed a bunker. Concrete walls. Concrete floor. Like the room Emma was being held hostage in.

  Jackson kicked the bed aside. Found the door and opened the hatch. He climbed onto the ladder, got down two rungs and jumped down the rest of the way, sending a pang through him.

  He spun around and the air caught in his lungs. Emma!

  “Daddy!” Emma raced to him and launched herself into his arms.

  Ignoring the pain slicing through his side, he wrapped his little girl in the biggest, tightest hug. “Oh, baby!” He kissed her head, her cheeks, her hair. But where was Madeline? “Honey, have you seen anyone else besides Liane? Did a nice woman find you?”

  “Madeline?”

  He set his daughter down. “Yes. Do you know what happened to her?”

  Emma shook her head. “Liane made her go outside and Madeline told me it was safer to stay down here. She promised help would come. She was right.” His daughter wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Despite the pain, Jackson lifted her in his arms. He’d gladly endure any discomfort if it meant he could hold his child.

  He climbed out of the bunker. Opening the door, he peeked outside.

  “You can’t hide from me!” Chloe said in the distance. “Come out and I’ll make it quick. If I have to find you myself, it’ll be slow and painful, Agent Striker.”

  Madeline is in trouble.

  Jackson darted out of the cabin, making his way back through the gate. This time he left it cracked open. Down the road, he cut into the trees to his car. He opened the back door and placed Emma inside.

  “I need you to be a brave girl for me. A little longer. Stay down in the footwell.” He grabbed the blanket from the seat that he always kept in the car and covered her with it. “Daddy’s friend Madeline is in danger. I have to help her. Liane wants to hurt her.”

  “But she wants to hurt you, too.”

  That woman already had. “I know, baby. But I’m going to be careful. Stay here until I come back or the police arrive. Don’t move for any other reason. Understand, darling?”

  * * *

  “YOU CAN’T HIDE from me!” Chloe said, her voice circling closer. “Come out and I’ll make it quick. If I have to find you myself, it’ll be slow and painful, Agent Striker.”

  Slow and painful it would be unless Madeline killed her first because there was no way in hell she was surrendering.

  Something moved on the ground, underneath the same bush. A squirrel? Maybe a rabbit.

  No, it was smaller.

  Madeline didn’t dare move an inch to see what it was, praying it would crawl or scamper off. But it didn’t. It slithered closer.

  A snake! Madeline swore in her head. She hated snakes, was terrified of them. But in terms of things to fear, Chloe was higher on the list.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she sucked in a calming breath. She hoped, prayed, it would slither past. Most of the snakes in Washington were nonvenomous. Not a concern. The only one she needed to worry about was—

  A distinct rattle clacked under the bush.

  Madeline gulped hard around the lump of ice in her throat. A rattlesnake was cause for concern. It could kill her. Not on the spot. Pain and swelling would start at the wound site and travel and spread from there.

  With Chloe stalking her, there was only one thing Madeline could do.

  Killing the rattlesnake wasn’t an option. Crawling to a new hiding spot wasn’t an option.

  She braced herself as the snake slithered closer. The sound of the rattle filled her ears along with the frantic drum of her heart.

  The sting was vicious. Brutal. But the rattler sank its fangs into her ankle twice. The second bite caught her off guard. Though she swallowed her cry, she’d jerked back, shaking the bush.

  Chloe lunged into the underbrush, snatching Madeline by the hair, and dragged her out.

  Screaming, Madeline rammed the spear up into flesh with all her might. She didn’t stop thrusting the sharpened pole into the woman until Chloe let her go.

  Madeline’s vision blurred. She tried to stand, but the leg the snake had bitten turned to jelly, and the other, wounded from the arrow, was too weak to support her, so she crashed to the ground. Her thighs and calves were aching in agony, her lungs on fire. Rolling on her back to keep Chloe in her sights, Madeline shuffled backward. But there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. She couldn’t even run.

  Chloe’s lips curled, baring her teeth in a face smudged with camouflage. The woman reached behind her, pulling something from the pack strapped on her back. A weapon. She held a rope, and on the end dangled a rock with spikes duct-taped around it.

  Adrenaline sent Madeline scurrying away, scooting across the ground until a tree stopped her retreat. She swung the spear, desperate to keep Chloe at a distance.

  The woman dodged the last wild swing of the spear and kicked Madeline in the leg injured from the arrow.

  Madeline screamed, but swung the spear again at her attacker.

  Chloe whipped the spiked rock in the air, faster and faster, picking up speed and gaining momentum. She launched the weapon and with a powerful whack split the spear in two.

  The crunch of the wood splintering resonated in Madeline’s soul.

  “It’s over, Agent Striker!” Teeth bared and growling like a wild beast, Chloe started swinging the spiked rock again. Preparing to strike Madeline in the leg. Or chest. Or the face.

  A wave of horrifying panic engulfed her. In a frantic last-ditch effort, Madeline kicked at her. With her dying breath, she’d fight. “Go to hell!”

  Chloe raised the spiked rock over her head and swung.

  Boom!

  The report of the 9 mm sounded like a cannon explosion, so loud it rattled Madeline’s teeth. She froze, confused. Dazed.

  Chloe’s eyes went blank as she dropped to her knees dead before she keeled over to the ground.

  Jackson rushed to Madeline, lowering to a knee. He pressed a hand to her cheek, his frantic gaze traveling over her body. “Are you okay?”

  “Emma,” she said, her throat tight and sore. “Did you find Emma?”

  “Yes, yes. She’s safe.”

  A helicopter flew overhead and circled back, setting down near the cabin.

  She rested her head on Jackson’s shoulder and looked at the body.

  It was finally finished.

  Chloe Lasiter was dead.

  Epilogue

  Three days later...

  Mos
t of the team took up every available seat in Miguel’s hospital room while they enjoyed dinner together and kept him company for a little while. The only person missing was Caitlyn, who was on a date.

  Madeline’s thigh and ankle both throbbed, but the soreness had improved considerably after the first couple of days.

  “I wish I could’ve brought him in alive,” Miguel said, referring to the terrorist suspect he’d had to shoot.

  “We all read your report,” Nick said. “You didn’t have a choice.”

  Dash nodded. “The guy had a gun to the kid’s head. You had a split second to make the right call and you did. You saved a life.”

  “But I wanted to bring him to justice,” Miguel said. “Squeeze him for information that could’ve ended up saving even more lives.”

  “We’re just glad you’re going to be all right,” Madeline said.

  “And you as well.” Miguel glanced at her leg.

  “I’m okay. Compared to you getting shot, this is like a scratch,” Madeline said, downplaying her injury, not liking the attention, but it was also true.

  Unlike Madeline, it would be a week before Miguel would be back on his feet and another two before they’d see him in the office.

  “I read your report, too,” Miguel said. “You almost didn’t make it out of the Survivalist Zone.”

  A shiver ran through her thinking how close Chloe had gotten to almost ending her life. But thanks to Jackson, that disturbed woman had failed.

  For once, Madeline was glad he didn’t listen to her and had gone rogue. If he hadn’t already been on his way out to the site to help her before he’d gotten her text message, he never would have made it there in time to save her life. For a second time.

  “Jackson and I ended up making a good unofficial team and saved his daughter.” She smiled, though her chest ached from not having heard from Jackson.

  Not that she had any expectations. No strings attached.

  Yet deep in the recesses of her heart she had hoped, foolishly, that once Emma was safe, he might still be interested in her.

  But there had been nothing but silence between them. Even thinking of it now, no call, no text, something inside her withered.

  Shoving the thought aside and tamping down the prickle of disappointment, she turned to Liam. With his head hung and pushing his food around in his take-out container, he hadn’t spoken much.

  “Liam, have you and Lorelai not worked things out yet?” she asked.

  He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “I messed up. A part of me was afraid to go through with it and walk down the aisle. I mean, look at my parents. Even Lorelai’s folks are divorced. But now that the wedding is off...” Shrugging, he slapped his container closed. “Careful what you wish for because you just might get it.”

  “This isn’t all your fault,” Madeline said. “A relationship takes two people, and I will admit to you, because I’ve already done so directly to Lorelai, that she was becoming a bit of a bridezilla.”

  The others in the room nodded emphatically.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Nick said.

  Dash patted him on the back. “Whatever is supposed to happen, will.”

  “If you miss her and want to work it out,” Miguel said, “then you can. One thing I know for certain is that life is too short to let an opportunity for love pass you by.”

  * * *

  ON THE DRIVE HOME, Madeline couldn’t get Miguel’s words out of her head. He was right. Life was too short to let an opportunity for love and happiness pass by. But it took mutual interest, mutual attraction, mutual desire on the parts of both parties. She couldn’t force something that wasn’t there, no matter how much she wanted Jackson.

  Funny, she’d gone all these years content to be on her own, and after knowing him a few short days, he’d turned her world upside down. Had her reevaluating what she wanted, needed. Made her consider facing her fear of attachment rather than running from it.

  In her condo, she kicked off her shoes and poured a glass of wine since she no longer needed her pain medication. She pulled the pins from her hair and took down the loose twist. Sipping a glass of cabernet, she figured she’d take a bath and curl up with a book tonight.

  The doorbell rang.

  She groaned, realizing it was that time of year again when kids went knocking door-to-door selling candy to raise funds for their school.

  “One minute.” She set her glass down, grabbed her checkbook and opened the door.

  Her heart flipped over.

  Jackson and Emma.

  The two of them stood hand in hand, smiling. No, beaming at her.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, hearing the words that left her mouth and regretting them when his smile faltered. “I mean, I’m surprised you’re here. But glad.” Jump-up-and-down ecstatic.

  “We both wanted to see you,” Jackson said. “Can we come in?”

  “Of course.” She opened the door wide. “Please.”

  “How are—?” she and Jackson said at the same time and laughed.

  “I’m good,” she said. “Your ribs?”

  “Still healing and Emma is sleeping through the night now and back in her own bed.”

  Emma held out a card. “This is for you. I made it.”

  “Thank you.” Madeline took the piece of folded construction paper and stared at the flowers and rainbow drawn on the cover. Inside was a smiley face inside a heart. Emma had scribbled, “Thank you for saving me.” Emotion clogged Madeline’s throat and she couldn’t speak as surprising tears wet her eyes. “It’s so beautiful. I’ll treasure it.”

  The little girl gave Madeline a hug, and she bent down to tighten the embrace.

  “Emma, why don’t you go sit on the sofa for a minute while Madeline and I talk?” He handed her a kiddie tablet, and she went to the couch.

  “How did you know where I lived?” Madeline asked.

  “Caitlyn took pity on me and told me. I hope that’s okay. I wanted to talk to you in person, not over the phone or at your office.”

  She owed Caitlyn one. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

  “I wanted to come sooner, but I needed to focus on Emma. Make sure she was all right.”

  “She’s your number-one priority. I get that.”

  “I can’t stop thinking about you. I know big, important things about you, but I want to know more. Everything. The name of your third-grade teacher, your favorite dessert, your happiest memory. What your go-to takeout is.”

  “Sushi. Spicy scallop roll and tuna tataki.”

  “That’s a start.” He stepped closer. “Caitlyn also mentioned that you’re taking a couple of days off. I was wondering if you’d like to come to dinner with me and Emma, tomorrow night. In Paris.”

  “Paris?” She owed Caitlyn big-time!

  “Why not? You’ll be on vacation and I’m not currently employed.”

  “You’re not going back to ETC?”

  “I don’t know. I want to take some time. Spend it with Emma. And you.” He cupped her jaw and caressed her cheek with his thumb.

  She was surprised by the sudden twist of desire that stabbed through her, all the way from her scalp to the pit of her stomach. It took her breath away, and she wanted him with a force that frightened her.

  “What do you say about Paris?”

  “I’d love to, Jack.”

  * * *

  Look for Trapping a Terrorist by Caridad Piñeiro, the final book in the Behavioral Analysis Unit series, available next month.

  And don’t miss the previous books in the series:

  Profiling a Killer by Nichole Severn

  Decoding a Criminal by Barb Han

  Both are available now wherever

  Harlequin Intrigue books are sold!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Surviving t
he Truth by Tyler Anne Snell.

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  Surviving the Truth

  by Tyler Anne Snell

  Prologue

  “The conclusion I’ve come to is an easy one, even if it is a frustrating one.” Detective Lovett dropped the box on the sheriff’s desk. It landed with a notable thud. “We need help—and I’m talking specific help, not just me and an unlimited supply of coffee.”

  Sheriff Chamblin let out a breath that sank his shoulders and protruded his belly. He was at his desk but wasn’t happy about it. He was a man who liked to pound the pavement, not pour over paperwork. Plus, with the way things had ebbed and flowed from quiet to downright loud in Kelby Creek throughout the last year or so, it was hard to feel at ease anywhere, most notably behind a desk.

  So Chamblin hadn’t been in the best of moods before the detective had come in and now, with Lovett’s conclusion, he feared it wasn’t going to get any better.

  Chamblin spelled out the obvious. “You want the task force.”

  Lovett nodded. “Normally a place so small wouldn’t need one, but given Kelby Creek’s history, there’re a lot more cold cases that we need to look into. Ones that we thought were resolved but weren’t. Ones that we thought we had the right person for but—”

  “But we don’t,” Chamblin finished. He sighed again and motioned to the box. “We have enough of these cases for an actual task force? What does that even entail? Two people? Four? How would you have handled this in Seattle?”

  The detective thumbed at his wedding band and shrugged.

  “In Seattle we would have had more than enough people to switch their gears, but here?” He thought a moment. “I’m going to suggest that eventually we have two people but, considering we don’t have people lining up to fill the department at the moment, I’d say try for one first. See how that goes. Worst case, it’s a glorified trial period. Best case, it does what the rest of us are trying to do.”