by KG MacGregor
Marleigh was nowhere in their plans, a fact that grew more terrifying by the second. She’d only been brought along to placate Bridget. At literally any moment, Ancil could put a bullet through her forehead knowing it would terrorize Bridget into doing exactly what they said. She had to get out now.
From her seat in the third row of the SUV, the only possible means of escape was through the rear cargo door, which could very well be locked. Each time Ancil looked away, she stole a glance at the latch behind her. Even if she managed to crawl over the seat while their heads were turned, she’d never be able to open the door without them hearing it. And then what? They’d stop the vehicle and—assuming she could still walk after falling out onto the pavement—chase her through the neighboring fields, where she’d be gunned down like an animal.
He jingled both sets of handcuffs. “S’il vous plaît.”
As he wrenched them into place, Marleigh acknowledged that she was actually relieved. Why would he bother to cuff her if he intended to kill her? She figured into his plans for now but every minute she stayed alive was a gift.
Lake Champlain appeared through the leafless trees on their left. The vehicle slowed and turned through snowy ruts into a cluster of small cabins she recognized as a sportsman’s club for hunting and fishing enthusiasts. It was abandoned except for a single vehicle, a white luxury SUV without a speck of snow on its hood or top, a sign that it was parked there earlier that day as part of their meticulous plan.
David beamed. “Look-a-there. They brought us a Cadillac.”
“It’s not for you, dumbass,” Warner grunted.
The four men filed out and gathered at the front of the vehicle to talk, ducking as a pair of police cars roared by with sirens wailing and lights flashing. Whatever their plans were, David appeared to be the only one out of the loop.
Meanwhile, Bridget was close to hyperventilating. “Please tell me those police were looking for us.”
“They must be.” That would mean the cops had figured out the ruse only minutes after they left. “Zann would have told them we were headed to Chimney Point. We heard them say so in the break room. Could be they’re setting up a roadblock.”
“They won’t be looking for a white Cadillac.”
Over at the other vehicle, the agents traded their DEA jackets for ordinary civilian coats.
“I should have known,” Marleigh said with a groan. “Those guys aren’t even real DEA. They were waiting here the whole time in case Ancil and his friends got caught. The whole thing was fake.”
“Well, they’re not faking now,” Bridget blubbered. “I don’t know about you but I’m scared shitless. What are they going to do with us?”
The answer to that was too grim to put into words. “If something happens to me, Bridget…you need to make a break for it. Run away, yell out for help. Whatever it takes. It can’t get any worse than it is now.”
Marleigh used her elbow to wipe the condensation off the inside of the window so she could watch them. It was hard to make out details now that it was dark. Ancil and David had retrieved winter gear from the white vehicle—ski suits, caps, heavy gloves.
Warner pointed toward the lake and handed them something from his pocket, an object too small for Marleigh to see. Then he and the driver got in and drove off, leaving Ancil and David in the lot.
It made no sense at all. They couldn’t continue in the black SUV—the cops would be looking for it.
David wrenched the sliding passenger door open and tossed the fake DEA jackets on the floor with a bundle of cell phones. “Out. Both of you…follow him.” He nodded toward Ancil, who was walking cautiously back toward the highway, checking up and down for traffic.
It was then Marleigh noticed another set of tire tracks in the ankle-deep snow, too narrow to be from either vehicle. They picked up again on the other side of the road.
She elbowed Bridget and pointed down the lake bank. “Look. That’s how they’re getting us across the border.” She hadn’t seen it when they turned into the sportsman’s club, a motorboat tied to the dock across the road. No more than eighteen feet long, it had a paneled glass windshield with a canvas top, but seating for only two.
Ancil stood in the middle of the road and waved them on frantically. “Allons-y! Get on the boat.”
On the off chance someone discovered their getaway car, Marleigh took care to lift her feet high with every step so they’d leave distinct footprints in the snow. As they crossed to the boat dock, she saw signs of commotion in the form of flashing lights and a long line of taillights about half a mile up the road near the Lake Champlain Bridge—a roadblock. And in only minutes, their boat would pass underneath, oblivious to those desperate to find them.
“Marleigh, a car!” Bridget suddenly broke back toward the highway and started waving her arms.
“Bitch!” Ancil raced to her and swung wildly at her head, landing a blow that caused her to crumple. He hoisted her limp body over his shoulder and hurried to the boat.
Marleigh hesitated on the dock, buying a few more seconds so the car’s driver might see them. A shove from David sent her tumbling into the well of the boat and for an instant she considered diving into the icy water. Drowning in handcuffs ended the same as being shot.
David then yanked her up by the hood of her coat and steered her into the tiny cabin space beneath the bow cover. It was little more than a cramped storage compartment and it smelled of fish. Before she could even get her bearings, Bridget landed on top of her and the boat’s engine roared to life.
* * *
Zann paid no attention to speed limit signs as she raced through the twilight over the two-lane road, zooming past slow-moving traffic regardless of the solid yellow line. Every set of taillights in front of her was a potential target until she drew close enough to determine it wasn’t the black SUV.
Vermont Highway 125 was the quickest route to New York State, crossing fifteen miles of farmland to Lake Champlain. The last mile snaked along the lakefront and ended at Chimney Point, Ancil’s apparent destination. The state police had been alerted to expect them and had set up a roadblock at the Lake Champlain Bridge, a strategic intersection of state highways where they could cut off escape in all directions.
At Willow Point, the lake came into view along the road on her left, barely discernible against the night sky. The sportsman’s cottages along the lakefront sat dark, the boat dock abandoned. It would be two months before the lake iced over for fishermen, but few boaters braved the cold this time of year.
She hit the speed dial on her phone for her parents’ number. “What did Ham say?”
Per her instructions, her father was in constant contact with the mayor’s office, where their longtime friend was monitoring the police chase and relaying updates. “There’s no sign of them yet, but you were right about their phones. They found both of them smashed to bits on Crown Street right outside of town.”
She had a feature on her phone that would locate Marleigh’s, and she’d used it after her call went unanswered. “They must have thrown them out when I called her. But it definitely means they’re headed to Chimney Point.”
“Ham said for you to pull out, Zann. You can’t be in the middle of this. They’ve got police all over the state watching for that vehicle.”
“Not going to happen, Pop. I need to find Marleigh. Where else are they looking?” She had to consider the possibility that Ancil would change his plans after learning she and Marleigh had overheard his call.
“Eight checkpoints in different directions, he said. And every law enforcement officer in six counties around Addison. Ham said to promise you they won’t get away.”
That wasn’t good enough for Zann. There were plenty of back roads where Ancil and his DEA imposter friends could steal a different vehicle, making it more difficult to spot them in a search.
Up ahead, a long line of taillights had slowed to a crawl amid flashing blue lights. She’d reached the Chimney Point roadblock and swung into the
left lane to get a better view of about a dozen vehicles in the line. Not one was a black SUV.
“Keep checking in with him and let me know if you hear anything.”
“Zann, be careful.”
She ended the call and slammed her Jeep into reverse for a three-point turn. There was another way across the lake—the ferry at Larrabee’s Point, fifteen miles to the south along Lake Street. Or maybe they’d cut across one of the back roads toward Burlington.
By the time she reached the sportsman’s cottages, flashing lights appeared in her rearview mirror. Of course—they’d seen her ducking out of the roadblock and couldn’t take a chance she was trying to escape. “I don’t fucking have time for this,” she muttered, pulling over on the wide shoulder next to the boat dock. It was all she could do not to scream as she leapt from her vehicle and stomped toward the patrol car.
The officer shined a beam of light directly into her eyes. “Stop where you are and show your hands.” It was a woman’s voice from a car belonging to the Vermont State Police.
“You’re looking for a couple of drug dealers, right? So am I,” she barked. “I was one of the hostages in Colfax. Those bastards took my wife.”
Inching closer, the woman looked at her sternly. She was bundled up in a bomber jacket with a faux fur collar and a matching hat pulled down over her ears. “Show me some ID.”
The urge to punch her in the face and take off was almost overpowering, but Zann held her temper in check and produced her driver’s license.
“Suzann Redeker…I know you.”
Zann checked her name tag—Lieutenant Lisper—and realized she was face-to-face with Marleigh’s former girlfriend Troop. “Marleigh Anderhall’s my wife. She’s one of the hostages. We heard them say they were going to Chimney Point.”
“It looks like they changed their mind. We got the roadblock up six minutes after the call came in and we’ve searched every single vehicle. There’s no way they got past us.”
“Goddammit!” Zann spun aimlessly, looking up and down the road. “They could have gone south to the ferry. I have to get there before they cross. This guy’s a killer.”
“I’ll radio down there for a unit to intercept. But you need to leave this matter to us. It isn’t safe for…”
Her words faded into nothingness as Zann noticed for the first time a set of tire tracks in the snow leading down the bank to the boat ramp, along with several sets of footprints. She stalked past Lisper to cross the road, following the tracks to a parking area behind the cottages. The black SUV was there, abandoned. A second set of vehicle tracks led out and turned east back toward Colfax.
“I’ll be damned.” Lisper, clearly excited at the discovery, fumbled with her handheld radio as she peered into the SUV with her flashlight, with Zann looking over her shoulder. The beam landed on a couple of dark jackets with yellow lettering, and she threw the door open to check inside.
“That’s Marleigh’s bag!” Zann whirled around for more clues. Using her phone as a flashlight, she frantically examined the cluster of footprints leading back to the highway, including a small set that could have been Marleigh’s.
“This is Unit Seven-Three. Suspects’ vehicle has been located point-four miles south…” Lisper went on to describe the scene, including the mention of a second set of vehicle tracks. A garbled reply over the radio confirmed the black SUV had been reported stolen that morning from a dealership in Burlington. “No sign of suspects or hostages.”
Burlington. So the guys had come down through Vermont, not New York.
Still combing for clues, Zann trudged through the lot to follow a third set of tire tracks—thin and narrow—that led behind the second cottage to a small boat trailer. “They split up!” she yelled. “Look at these footprints. See how small they are? They could be Marleigh’s, and they go all the way to the lake. I’m telling you, they left here in a boat. You need to get patrols out on the water.”
As the trooper slogged over to confirm what she’d found, Zann bolted past her to the Jeep. There wasn’t a second to waste while the cops got themselves reorganized.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Icy air seeped through an open seam three feet long where the boat’s hull met its bow cover. Making matters worse was the occasional splash of frigid water. Since being thrown into the compact cuddy cabin thirty minutes ago, Marleigh had wrapped herself around her still unconscious friend to generate body heat lest they both succumb to hypothermia.
Bridget finally stirred, moaning as her hand went to her head. Marleigh had felt it already, a bump behind her ear from a blow so vicious it could have been deadly. “Where are we?”
She spoke only loud enough for Bridget to hear over the steady hum of the outboard motor. “We just passed under the bridge, going north. How’s your head?”
“Feels like somebody hit me with a baseball bat.” Bridget squirmed to peer out the opening, but their view was almost entirely blocked by David, who sat at the steering console. “I can’t see a thing. Are they taking us all the way to Canada?”
“I doubt it. I didn’t see a spare gas tank, and the one they have won’t get us that far.” She’d strained to hear what Ancil had told David, who clearly had been kept in the dark about their whole plan. “Ancil said something about Shelburne. It’s a harbor on the lake just south of Burlington.” She’d gone there once with her college friends to try windsurfing.
“I’ve been there. One of Luc’s clients has a big house right on the water.” She grunted. “Clients, my ass. Probably one of his drug cronies…that sleazy bastard.”
Marleigh had to agree. “Does Luc have a friend named Everett? When we were hiding in the break room, we heard Ancil talking to somebody on the phone. That’s what he called him, Everett. He told him we’d be there in three hours.”
“Everett…” Bridget said the name aloud. “That was his name, the guy who had the house. He’s rich as all get-out but weird as shit. The place looked like something out of Rocky Horror. And he was creepy too. Had about five hookers hanging off his arm…oh, and this huge bodyguard who talked like he was Russian.”
A beam of light suddenly lit up Bridget’s face and she covered her eyes with her hand. “Shut up, both of you,” David snarled.
“Turn that light off, you imbecile!” Ancil’s clipped voice and sharp accent made him sound almost effeminate.
“I had to be sure they weren’t up to something.”
“What can they be up to, David? Are you afraid they will escape through a tunnel in the bottom of the boat?”
Bridget’s teeth began to chatter as her consciousness experienced the cold for the first time. “We don’t have to worry about Ancil shooting us. We’re both going to freeze to death.”
In the brief gleam of light, Marleigh had noticed her friend’s shining earrings, thin gold hoops that hung well below her jawline. “Give me one of your earrings.”
“What for?” Even as she asked, Bridget worked a hoop free.
“Keep your voice down. I want to try something.” Though her wrists were bound, Marleigh was able to gently shape the hoop into an L. Feeling her way, she slid one end across the base of Bridget’s handcuffs until it scraped the keyhole. Probing blindly for a spring of resistance, she worked it until the soft gold bent too far from the force. “Damn it.”
“Here, take the other one.”
“No, I can make this one work. I…just…have to…” She bent it in half and used her teeth to twist it into a sharper point. “Okay, let me try again.”
Her makeshift key finally caught the locking mechanism in exactly the right place and the claws sprang open.
“You did it!”
“Shhh…we have to make it look like it’s still locked, so keep your hands down and act like it’s tight.”
Bridget presented her other cuff. “Here, do this one too.”
“Mine first.” She worked her own lock for a couple of minutes, unable to gain purchase to spring it. “Here, see if you can do it. The
re’s a catch inside the hole. When you feel it, try to press against it and they’ll pop open.”
She could hear Bridget’s frustration in the occasional grunt or expletive under her breath. Minutes passed—as if they had anywhere else to be—until Bridget dropped the earring.
“Goddammit.”
Marleigh felt along the lifejackets and down into the cold, wet V of the hull. “Forget it. Give me the other one.”
This time she lay on her back and worked the probe herself. Occasionally she had to stop and shake out the cramps in her hands, which were also numb from the cold. Giving up wasn’t an option. If they got a chance to run, having her hands free could be the difference between living and dying.
When the latch finally released, she almost cried out with relief.
“Okay, so what do we do now?” Bridget asked.
“I wish I knew.” She had no real idea what Ancil had planned for when they got to Everett’s house. Was there still a chance to make a deal with Luc? Was anyone looking for them on the water? If the answer to both of those questions was no, chances were good they’d be killed.
* * *
Zann forced herself to slow down, as the melted snow was turning to ice now that the temperature had dropped. The secluded stretch of back road was one she knew from her teen years when she’d gone joyriding with her friends. It would take her north of the roadblock to a road that hugged the shore all the way to Burlington.
Steering as best she could with her left hand, she dialed a number she hadn’t called in weeks. “Wes, it’s Zann. I need you, man—we’re talking life and death. A couple of drug dealers took Marleigh hostage about an hour ago and they’re going to kill her.”
His rapid-fire questions assured her he was darting around his house gathering what they might need to mount a rescue. There was no one in Colfax she’d rather have on her side right now.
“I’m headed up to Button Bay. You know where that is, right? Meet me at the entrance to the park as quick as you can get there.” He lived well north of Colfax, meaning he could even get there first if he left right away. “And Wes…I need you to bring all you’ve got—this is war, man.”
