Love Inspired Suspense June 2014 Bundle 2 of 2: Forced AllianceOut for JusticeNo Place to Run

by Worth, Lenora; Post, Carol J. ; Laird, Marion Faith

  Lorie deliberately slowed her breathing as she scanned the controls of the gurney. How hard could it be to operate?

  “We have to get out of here. There’s a bomb threat.”

  “You know how to drive this thing?”

  “I’m fixing to learn.” Lorie took the side rail of the gurney and started wheeling Dad back the way they’d come.

  *

  Matt and Vincent ran down to the basement.

  The place was abandoned. Watching the indicator light on the elevator, they waited in gun stance where they’d be out of sight of the perp.

  The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. The man in the lab coat stepped out, breathing hard.

  “Freeze!”

  The man ducked back into the elevator and pushed a button. As the doors began to close, Matt dived in after him. The perp aimed a kick at Matt’s hand. The gun flew out a narrow gap in the doors and clattered to the basement floor just as the doors closed.

  The perp lunged at Matt as the elevator began to rise. Matt ducked to one side, grabbed the man’s arm and slammed his head into the elevator wall with a mighty thud. Before he could regain his balance, Matt got him in a headlock.

  “Who paid you? Who’s behind this?”

  As the man started spewing curses, Matt tightened his chokehold. A gurgling sound made Matt loosen his hold just enough to keep from knocking him unconscious. He wanted him awake for interrogation.

  The elevator stopped on the first floor. As the doors opened, Deputy Vincent stood outside, breathing hard, arms braced in gun stance.

  “Cuffs!”

  The still-winded Vincent stood down and helped Matt cuff the would-be kidnapper.

  “Any word as to whether someone’s found a sign of a bomb?”

  Vincent shrugged. “Can’t take chances. We still need to get out of here. Bomb squad’s already on the premises.”

  “My piece still in the basement?”

  Vincent pulled Matt’s gun from the back of his belt and handed it over.

  At Vincent’s quizzical look, Matt glanced at the perp.

  “Long story.”

  “You’re too late.” The man’s voice held a sneer. “By now, she’s gone.”

  Matt’s heart sank. Lorie!

  *

  Mom had been herded out the doors with the rest of the people in E.R. by the time Lorie maneuvered Dad’s gurney back toward the emergency exit. The empty corridors echoed with mindless beeps. Her footsteps on the worn gray tiles sounded like gunshots.

  No one remained in E.R. The ambulance that had brought Dad sat by the emergency-room doors, abandoned, its motor still running. As Lorie pushed Dad’s gurney through the doors, she scanned the parking lot, looking for Mom, or anyone. How far had they made everyone retreat? Clear to the next county?

  If this is a nightmare, I want to wake up now!

  No. There they were, two blocks away—white-coated doctors, nurses in scrubs, patients on gurneys, in wheelchairs, some standing about looking as dazed as Lorie felt.

  “Don’t drive so fast, cupcake. I’m getting seasick.”

  “Sorry, Dad.” Lorie slowed her pace and tried to keep the gurney from running away with her.

  As she headed past the ambulance, a hand clamped over her mouth as a strong arm grabbed her around the waist. Lorie struggled and kicked back against her captor as the gurney rolled to the curb and stopped, jolting Dad.

  “Hey!” Dad’s shout was louder than the hospital’s alarm system, but Lorie doubted the hospital evacuees heard it from all their distance away.

  She tried to open her mouth to let out a scream of her own when a voice murmured in Lorie’s ear. “Come quietly, or your father’s dead.”

  Lorie stilled. A moment later, rough hands threw her into the back of the ambulance and slammed the door. Outside, Dad yelled for help as the engine roared to life. On her hands and knees, Lorie toppled sideways into the gear cabinet as the ambulance careened out of the parking lot. Pain socked the back of her head before the world went black.

  *

  Matt raced out the door to see the ambulance disappearing down the road, with a frantic-looking Ben on a gurney beside the curb. He ran to Ben’s side.

  “Don’t worry about me!” Ben waved his hand in the direction of the ambulance. “Get after her. Go. Go!”

  Vincent was only two steps behind Matt. He jerked his head at the patrol car, and Matt raced around to the passenger side, barely getting the door closed as it roared to life, lights and siren blaring.

  Vincent keyed the unit’s radio. “All units, this is unit A-1 in pursuit of a stolen ambulance northbound on First, kidnap victim inside. Suspect likely armed and dangerous. Over.”

  Units began answering as Dispatch came back, ordering assistance.

  Matt’s heart pounded like a racehorse. If only he hadn’t chased the perp. If only—

  I need to pray.

  Even though he currently was powerless to do anything physical for Lorie, there was still one thing he could do. As the patrol car sped down First Street, blasting through red lights with Vincent leaning on the horn, Matt prayed for Lorie’s safety, and that they’d be able to reach her in time.

  The patrol car clung to the ambulance like a burr to a hunting dog. Vehicles that had pulled over to the right went by in a blur. Matt grasped the armrest, leaning forward as if by sheer will he could make the car go faster. Meanwhile, his mind was racing with questions. How had they been tracked to the hospital? How had the kidnapper even known they’d survived the crash? The way they’d careened off the mountain, he should have assumed they were dead.

  The image of Sam McGee from Search and Rescue radioing their location on ham radio popped into Matt’s brain. Of course. The kidnapper must have been monitoring two meters. Ham radio was wonderful, but it was public. Anyone with a shortwave receiver could listen.

  “Borrow your cell phone again?”

  Vincent nodded without taking his eyes off the road.

  Matt reached for it as the ambulance took a left onto Highway 32. He keyed in Frank’s personal mobile number.

  “Sutherland.”

  “Sheriff, it’s MacGregor. Lorie’s been kidnapped. Lanier County Deputy Vincent and I are in pursuit of an ambulance headed on Hwy 32 toward Dainger County.”

  “Roger. We’ll set up a roadblock.” The phone double-beeped as Frank ended the call.

  As the patrol car raced after the ambulance, a semi hauling a load of chickens pulled onto the highway from a crossroad in front of them. The ambulance swerved around, but its driver regained control. Vincent spun the wheel, leaning on the horn again, but the semi’s driver lost control. The truck skidded across the road and the trailerload of chicken cages fell onto its side, taking the semi’s cab with it. The radio that prevented the driver from hearing their sirens still pounded a heavy-metal beat into the air.

  Matt braced himself for impact, but Vincent stomped on the brakes. Tires screamed in protest as they skidded to a halt, inches away from the mountain of poultry.

  Matt pounded the dashboard as he watched the ambulance race away, taking Lorie with it.

  If it would have helped, Matt would have torn his hair out, especially as the next few minutes passed and he received word that the ambulance had disappeared without ever crossing the roadblock into Dainger County. It could be anywhere. The driver could be clear out of Arkansas into Oklahoma by now.

  Returning to the hospital felt like the wrong thing to do, but after the Highway Patrol arrived to help clear the road of dead and dying chickens and round up the living escapees, Deputy Vincent received the call from his dispatcher to return at once.

  Anxiety twisted at Matt’s guts. Scriptures tried to surface in his brain, telling him not to fret, that God was in charge, but worry kept worming its way to the top. Lorie could be dead by now. The bomb might have gone off at the hospital, injuring her parents and everyone else in a three-block radius. How would he ever explain abandoning them to Lorie if anything happened
to them? If only Lorie were alive to explain anything to—

  As the patrol car neared the hospital, Matt noticed people reentering the building. A couple of police officers were leading the handcuffed kidnapper out and sticking him into a patrol car. Before Vincent had the car parked, Matt leaped out of it with a terse “Thanks.”

  Matt raced to the police car, badge already in hand. “MacGregor, Dainger County Sheriff’s Department. I need to question this guy.”

  “Get in line.”

  Frustration reared its ugly head. Even though he understood the protocol, at times like these he wished he could ignore chain of command. He’d give a great deal to get information out of this guy.

  “You’ll need to phone Sheriff Sutherland and get him in the loop on this.” Matt didn’t make it a question, and to his relief, the police officer nodded.

  As they drove away, Matt scanned the crowd and spotted Margaret and Ben talking with another Campbelltown police officer. He ran to the gurney where Ben sat, Margaret holding his hand.

  “Where’s Lorie?” Margaret’s hopeful expression made Matt’s heart sink like a stone.

  “We’ll find her.”

  Ben squeezed Margaret’s hand as her face crumpled with grief. “We need to pray, honey.”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing?” Margaret sounded as if she’d been stretched past her limit and had finally broken.

  “When the situation is desperate is not the time to stop praying, sweetheart.”

  Ben’s words soaked into Matt’s heart.

  The E.R. doctor joined the city policemen at their side.

  “I don’t have to stay overnight, do I?” Ben looked hopeful, despite his obvious pain.

  “No, you can go home, but I want you to see your own doctor tomorrow.” He handed Margaret an oversize file folder. “The X-rays are in there, and he can call for any further information.”

  As the Narramores were thanking him, a car from the rental agency Matt had called earlier pulled up.

  “Matthew MacGregor?”

  “Here.”

  Matt took the keys from the driver, a kid who looked barely old enough to have a license. Matt signed the paperwork, and then helped the Narramores into the car.

  As they headed north toward Hwy 32, Matt glanced at Ben, carefully strapped into the front seat next to him. “Can you get a signal on your phone?”

  “Margaret, do you have it?”

  “Right here.”

  “Please call the ranch and let them know we’re on our way. I’ve already spoken with Sheriff Sutherland.” Matt recited the number.

  Margaret nodded and began dialing.

  Ben turned his head to look at Matt, letting out a stifled groan. “Aren’t we going after Lorie?”

  “I’m going after Lorie, but I’ll need reinforcements.”

  “We can help.”

  Matt sensed Ben’s frustration. “I know, but you’re a wounded warrior. The best thing you and Margaret can do is pray. Pray we find her. Pray she’s all right.”

  Ben sighed. “That’s my little girl. This is killing me.”

  How could Matt reassure Ben, when he needed his own reassurance? He kept to the speed limit, wishing he had his portable light and siren. Being stopped for a ticket wouldn’t get him to Lorie any faster.

  Lord, please keep her safe. And let us find her before it’s too late.

  NINETEEN

  Lorie’s head was going to explode. Unless she died of being bounced to pieces first. Opening her eyes a tiny crack, she saw an oxygen tank attached to a wall. Oxygen tank?

  Memory came flooding back. She’d been thrown into the back of an ambulance. She ran through a mental checklist of who else might be in danger. Dad? On a gurney, probably safe. Mom? Most likely with the rest of the people evacuated from the hospital. Matt? She’d last seen him running after Dad’s attacker. Did he know she’d been taken? Was he following her? Or simply wondering where she was?

  Lord, please protect them and bring us safely back together. If I’m going to die, Lord, please keep them safe.

  Fear threatened to choke her. No. She wasn’t going to give way to her situation. God was in charge. He would help her be strong. And she needed all the strength she could get, since no matter what happened, she wasn’t going to give in without a fight.

  The ambulance jolted to a stop. A traffic light?

  The rumble of the engine died.

  They’d reached their destination. Lorie scrambled to a standing position and looked for anything she could use as a weapon.

  The ambulance shook a little as the driver jumped out.

  “I know he wants you, but there’s no reason why you and I can’t have a little fun first,” she heard the man say. The handle turned. A second later, Lorie’s kidnapper yanked open the door.

  Lorie saw the gun and let loose a stream of foam from the fire extinguisher. She aimed it at his face, and he choked. Gasping for air, he dropped the gun.

  Lorie leaped out of the patient compartment, nearly spraining her ankle, and raced past the man, carrying the fire extinguisher with her. He’d left the driver’s-side door open, and she jumped inside, ignoring the nick from the scalpel she’d put in her pocket as she tossed the extinguisher on the passenger’s seat and started the engine. Lorie slammed the door as her kidnapper grabbed at the handle, wiping foam from his eyes.

  The miserable excuse for a road had no place to turn. Lorie drove straight on into the woods, aware that the path could peter out at any moment. Behind her, the man’s shouts grew fainter as she put as much distance between them as she could.

  The pines towered over the road, so thick that Lorie couldn’t determine the direction of the sun. She glanced at her watch. Unbelievable that it was still morning after so much had happened. The sun should be in the east still, if she could ever see past the trees.

  The radio crackled, but, aware that radios had probably betrayed their position to the kidnapper, Lorie ignored it. If she called in her position, her tormentor might find her before the authorities did.

  All that mattered was getting safely back to Matt and her parents.

  Lord, You’ve gotten me this far. Please get me safely home. And please let this be over soon.

  *

  When Matt drove through the gates of Rob Roy Ranch, he found the troops already assembling. The sheriff walked up to the car and opened the doors for Ben and Margaret.

  “We’re working with Lanier County Sheriff’s Department and the Arkansas Highway Patrol. I also alerted the prayer chain at church.”

  “Oh, thank you!”

  Frank helped Ben out of the car as Matt joined his brothers and sisters by the Search and Rescue horses. Sandy held his favorite riding boots. Alana had his hiking boots. Good thinking. His Sunday shoes certainly hadn’t helped when they were trying to escape on Chastain Mountain.

  Jim looked down from the saddle atop his usual horse, Trailblazer. “How long has it been?”

  Matt glanced at his watch. “Nearly three hours. Her folks are frantic, but trying not to show it.”

  “You riding or driving?” Jake held out the reins of Lightning.

  Which should he do? Driving was a lot faster, but if Lorie were being held in a stretch of wilderness, riding could take him where a Jeep couldn’t go.

  Frank strode over to their position. “Just got word from LCSD. One of their deputies found tracks where the ambulance may have left the highway. They’re going in to check now.”

  “You have the coordinates?”

  “It’s on the county line, so they’ll probably cross into our jurisdiction close to Fiddler’s Knob.”

  By car, that was half an hour or so southeast of the ranch. “I’ll drive.” Matt took the hiking boots and headed toward one of the ranch’s Jeeps.

  “Matt, wait up.” Frank caught up to him as he had one hand on the door. “There’s news about the cartel Grayson Carl ran. San Diego P.D. and the DEA believe that they have rounded up the rest of the ma
jor players in California. The chances of Lorie’s kidnappers being from there are very slim.”

  The news socked Matt in the gut. “Then we’re back to square one figuring out who’s behind this.”

  “Not necessarily. We’ve been following an anonymous tip about the drug smuggling. This source refused to give her name, but she sent names, dates, places—it all ties in with somebody we’ve already had our eye on.”

  “Adderson?”

  Frank shook his head. “Not this time.” He handed Matt a photograph of a man stuffing drugs into the wheel well of a car. The auto body shop looked familiar. It should. He’d had his F-150’s tune-up done there a month or two ago.

  The Pitt Stop.

  A chill ran down Matt’s spine. “She’s sure?”

  “Very. And you’re not going to believe what else she told me.” Frank held out a sheaf of printouts. “Look at this.”

  Matt stared at the papers. On top was a birth certificate for Grayson Carl, only it called him Grayson Carlos. Born in Colombia in 1970, mother Celia Ortiz y Cabezón. Father—could it be?—José Pitt, attaché to the U.S. Embassy in Bogotá. He raised unbelieving eyes to the sheriff’s face.

  “Joseph Pitt?”

  Frank nodded. “We’ve been busy tracking things down. Turns out Pitt did a stint in Foreign Service, in Colombia, in the late sixties and early seventies. He was married to a Colombian woman who was killed in the riots in 1974, right before he returned to the States.”

  “Leaving a son behind?”

  “That’s the odd part. We’re still trying to piece everything together, but it looks very much like Lorie Narramore shot and killed Supervisor Pitt’s firstborn son.”

  *

  Lorie came to a fork in the trail and stepped on the brakes. One branch meandered down, the other up.

  “Now what?”

  The engine hummed but offered no opinion.

  Up? Or down?

  Up might lead to the top of a mountain. Down might end at a creek.

  “Up it is.” At least if it ends on top of a mountain, I can get my bearings, if there’s a clearing.

  Easing off the brakes, Lorie steered in the direction of the upper trail. The ambulance wasn’t happy with the rutted dirt and rocks. At times, she slowed to a crawl, always listening for the sound of any vehicle in pursuit. Nothing.