Tempting Evil

by Allison Brennan

  “The Johnstons are going with you along with Marie Williams. Brian Bates is going to help us keep watch. Any questions?”

  “Are we taking the kids down to the shed?” Nash asked.

  “No. We’ll bring the snowmobiles here to the front door. I want to do it before the sun rises. We don’t have a lot of time. The storm has lifted and Agent Bianchi and I feel if Doherty and Chapman attack, it’ll be not long after daybreak.”

  “Then we’d better get going,” Nash said. “We need to fuel up and—”

  “Stan and Brian already left to fuel the snowmobiles.”

  Jo said, “You’re going to need all the snowmobiles to get that many people to the Worthington ranch.”

  “All but one,” Tyler said. “In case of an emergency. I’m hoping we’re not going to need it.”

  Hans spoke up. “I talked to the Helena office this morning. They can’t fly yet—the storm moved north into their flight path—but they predict liftoff within two hours.”

  “Three hours to get here,” Tyler said. “That means we only need to hold down the fort for five hours. Then we’ll have a SWAT team holding it down for us, with enough people to start a manhunt. If these bastards haven’t shown themselves by then, we’ll go out and find them.”

  “Let’s get moving,” Mitch Bianchi said.

  The bite of the predawn morning chilled Jo as soon as she stepped out, but she relished that the air was clear. Already she could tell the sky was lightening. They might see blue today.

  The weather could turn so quickly here, from brilliant blue to a blizzard in hours. Sometimes the blue sky would last for weeks; other times, it would disappear between dawn and noon.

  But she’d take every blue-sky minute she could find.

  Tyler stopped her from going down the steps. “Go back inside. Get the kids lined up. They’re to bring nothing except the essentials Stan packed for them.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t argue with me, Jo. We don’t know where these two are. They could be watching us now.”

  “You’re right.”

  He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “It’s going to be over soon. Then we can focus on us.”

  He didn’t wait for her response, but with rifle in hand he stood sentry on the deck as Nash and the others went to the garage to retrieve the snowmobiles.

  Jo had been raised with guns, but she’d never seen so many out at once. She pictured a scene from the Wild West, with the menfolk protecting the ranch from bandits. She looked out the front window, then turned to make sure the kids were ready.

  “Trixie, where’s Stan with the emergency provisions?”

  “He went down to the root cellar about twenty minutes ago.”

  “I’ll go help,” Jo said

  She opened the root cellar door and flipped on the light, thinking it strange that Stan hadn’t turned it on. Maybe he’d already come up and Trixie hadn’t seen him.

  Stan was sprawled at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh my God, Stan!” The stairs were very narrow. She’d always been afraid that her grandfather was going to fall and break his hip. Now Stan—

  It wasn’t until Jo reached the bottom of the stairs that she realized they weren’t alone.

  Aaron Doherty stepped from behind a high stack of boxes. The pepper spray had made his face swell, his eyes were still red. He held a gun on Stan.

  “Don’t scream or I’ll kill him. I promise you, he’s not dead. Yet. He was kind to me, I didn’t want to hurt him. But if you betray me again, I will shoot and it will be your fault. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  He took three steps toward her. She unconsciously took a step back. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. With his gun hand aimed at Stan, he patted her down. “Making sure you have no gun or bear spray.” He backhanded her and she stumbled, tripping on the bottom step and sitting down hard. “That was for attacking me yesterday. But I forgive you. You didn’t understand. By the end of today, you will understand I will never leave you and we’ll be fine.”

  She found herself nodding as her terror increased. How was she going to get out of this without anyone getting hurt? One look at Aaron’s face told Jo that he expected to kill someone today.

  And that person may well be her.

  Aaron pulled her up. “Let’s go.”

  As the sky lightened, Tyler felt uneasy. Nothing specific, but something wasn’t right.

  He got on his walkie-talkie. “McBride to Bianchi.”

  “Here.”

  “You at the garage?”

  “We’re about to come up, just a minor problem here. Mechanical.”

  “Hold on a minute.”

  “Something wrong?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Tyler listened to the random plops of snow from the trees. He walked across the deck to where Deputy Billy Grossman was on the far side. “I’m going to walk the perimeter.”

  “I’ll cover you.”

  Tyler went down the steps, slowly circled the lodge. He was only a quarter way around the building when he saw it.

  Footprints outside the root cellar window. The snow had been shoveled away and the window pried open.

  Running too slow in the fresh powder, he got on his walkie-talkie. “Mitch! They’re in the lodge. Get up here ASAP.”

  “McBride—all the snowmobiles have been sabotaged. None of them will start. We’re on our way on foot.”

  Tyler took the stairs two at a time, slipped, caught himself on the railing. He flung the rifle over his back and had his service pistol in hand. He tried the door.

  Locked.

  He pounded on the door. “Jo!”

  Gunfire popped inside the lodge. Bang-bang-bang. Tyler hit the deck, crawled out to the snow, found a relatively safe place crouching in the wet snow.

  “Report!” Bianchi called over the radio.

  “One of them is inside.” Tyler looked for Billy. Saw he had overturned a heavy wood table and was behind it, gun aimed on the door.

  Shit shit shit! They’d had the damn house secured, then they left. Thought the women and children were safer inside. Doherty and Chapman had to have been watching and saw who left the house. Still, they didn’t know how many men they had.

  Then he realized Chapman could have been watching the lodge yesterday while Doherty was out with Jo and the scouts. If he counted heads, he’d have a damn good estimate. When had they gotten into the cellar? Sometime during the night? Right before dawn? Were both of them inside or just one?

  Tyler needed to get inside, but he was too broad to crawl through the cellar window.

  Which meant so was Chapman. He couldn’t have gone that way. Doherty had to be the only one inside.

  How could Tyler use that to his advantage?

  He heard a snowmobile in the distance.

  The gunshots must have been a cue for Chapman to bring the sled. Aaron had a hostage.

  The front door opened and Tyler trained his gun on the opening.

  It was Jo. Just above her lip was a smear of blood. Doherty had hit her. Tyler’s jaw tensed.

  “Jo—”

  She shook her head. Right behind her Aaron Doherty had a gun at Trixie’s head.

  Jo watched Tyler’s face from his position at the bottom of the steps. He barely moved, but his face turned grave.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “He was in the root cellar. Stan is unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. Someone needs to help him.”

  The snowmobile was approaching. There was no way they could fit four people on one snowmobile.

  “Doherty!” Tyler called. “Let them go. If you end this now, no one will get hurt. I’ll tell the prison authorities you cooperated.”

  Doherty laughed. “I’m already a dead man, cooperation or not. I’m not going back to Quentin. You’re just jealous about Joanna and me. Don’t think I didn’t read that love note you sent her. Love, Tyler. You bastard.”

  Using Trixie as a shiel
d, Aaron fired his gun at Tyler. It came close, damn close. Doherty was a good shot.

  “Hold your fire!” Tyler called.

  “Fuck you, Sheriff McBride.” Doherty fired again, but this one was far off. Tyler had moved from Aaron’s best angle.

  “Don’t, Aaron. Please,” Jo begged.

  “Do you love him?” Aaron demanded.

  “No, Aaron. I only love you. You know that. Haven’t you read my books?”

  Doherty’s face softened almost imperceptibly. Then his expression grew stern again as he looked at Tyler. “I need you to move away, or my friend won’t come closer. He’s waiting for my signal.”

  “FBI SWAT is on their way,” Tyler said. “You can’t get out of the valley.”

  “That’s what you think. Sit by the radio, Sheriff. I’ll be in contact.”

  “I’m not letting you take them.”

  “You don’t have a choice. There’s a bomb ticking in the lodge. And all those kids are going to die.”

  Tyler’s eyes widened. He glanced at Jo.

  “He’s telling the truth,” she said, her voice catching. “He has both gas stoves open and on, blew out the pilot light. A lit candle on a shelf. It’s only a matter of time—ten, fifteen minutes—before the gas rises and the candle ignites it.”

  Aaron laughed. “Everyone is locked in the root cellar right beneath the kitchen. I doubt they’ll survive the explosion.”

  From Jo’s petrified expression, it looked like Aaron was telling the truth. “Please, Tyler,” she said. “I’ll be okay. Save the kids. Please.”

  All his training, every instinct, told Tyler not to let Aaron Doherty leave with two hostages.

  But there were seven kids, two old men, two women, and his injured brother inside that house. If there were an explosion, some or all of them would die.

  “Time is running out,” Doherty said. “It’s going to take Doug at least five minutes to get here after I give the signal.”

  Tyler listened. The snowmobile was idling somewhere, but where he couldn’t see. It could be a mile away or behind a tree, the way sound carried out here.

  Mitch Bianchi rounded the corner, gun in hand, aimed at Doherty’s head. He was steady as a trained sharpshooter.

  “Sheriff!” Bianchi called.

  “There’s a bomb inside,” Tyler responded.

  “And I’d be careful about opening that back door,” Doherty said. “A draft could stir the gas around and boom!”

  Jo looked so lost standing in the middle of the deck. Trixie was white as a ghost, her entire body tense, a whimper coming out of her throat. But she was light, easy to carry, and not putting up a fight.

  Seven kids are going to die if you hesitate another minute.

  “It’s okay, Tyler. Please let us go.”

  Shit. He didn’t want to, he knew it was wrong, but Tyler was trapped. Even if he could take Doherty out, Jo and Trixie were in the line of fire. And the makeshift bomb inside…

  “Go.” It was the hardest thing Tyler had ever done.

  Aaron whistled. Within two minutes, Chapman drove up, towing another snowmobile behind. He stopped when he saw Tyler.

  “You need to stand down, Sheriff. Move to the corner of the house.”

  Tyler did as he was told, though he didn’t let go of his gun—hoping, wishing for an opportunity to kill Aaron Doherty.

  Chapman brought the snowmobiles up to the porch stairs. He released the tow. Doherty said, “Go, Joanna.”

  Jo walked down the stairs. Chapman grabbed her, held a knife at her throat.

  “Don’t touch her,” Doherty warned. They traded Trixie and Jo. Now Doherty had a gun on Jo, and Chapman had a knife on Trixie. This time Trixie screamed, but it was short-lived. Chapman nicked her neck and said, “Next time I’ll slice your throat. Just like I did that babe in the cabin.”

  They got on the snowmobiles and took off down the road. Tyler could have shot either man in the back, but there was no guarantee the bullet wouldn’t go through their body and into Jo or Trixie.

  “Shit!” Mitch shouted. “Fuck!” He started toward the door.

  “Careful!” Tyler exclaimed. “Jo confirmed the bomb.”

  The two men slowly entered the lodge. Mitch said, “You get the kids, I’ll take care of the bomb.”

  “Gas buildup in the kitchen. Watch it.”

  Tyler turned to the root cellar door. He unlocked it and shouted. “Everyone up the stairs, single file, don’t push.”

  Leah was first. “Stan’s down there, hurt. He’s moaning. I don’t know what’s wrong. Help him!”

  “Go outside and follow Deputy Grossman.” Over his shoulder, he told Billy, “Get them as far away as you can.”

  The kids, then the female guests. Karl was helping Stan Wood stand. “He has a head injury,” Karl said.

  “I’ll get him upstairs. You go.”

  Karl started up the stairs. Mitch called down, “All clear.”

  Tyler helped a dazed Stan up the stairs, sitting him on a bench by the front door. The smell of gas filled the air.

  “Mitch! We have to get out—the gas!”

  “It’ll take a few minutes for the gas to dissipate, but I got the trigger—two lit candles—taken care of. The place would have blown in less than five minutes,” Mitch said, his voice calm as if he encountered bombs daily. “Good call on your part. I don’t know what the damage would have been, but with all the wood in this place, it would have been one helluva fire.”

  “What do we do now?” Tyler said.

  “We track those bastards.”

  “Doherty said he would call. Maybe he wants to make a trade.”

  Hans Vigo entered the lodge. “What the fuck happened?”

  Tyler quickly filled him in.

  “Yes, he’ll call, but he’s not going to make a trade. He’ll want to buy time to get out of the valley.”

  “We need to track them,” Mitch said.

  “Agreed,” Tyler said. “But when they stop the sleds, they’ll hear us. Snowmobiles are loud and the sound echoes.”

  “Forget the snowmobiles. They were sabotaged.”

  “All of them?”

  “Damn straight. Nash and his son are still there trying to repair them, but hell if I know how long it’s going to take.”

  “We need at least two—one to take Wyatt to the hospital and one to track them.”

  “I’ll go to the garage.” Stan’s voice was thick with pain.

  “You need to rest,” Karl said. His eyes were watery and he stared at Tyler as if begging him to save his granddaughters.

  “What about when he calls?” Tyler asked. “If I’m not here, he might do something rash.”

  Hans said, “I’ll stay and patch him through to you.”

  “Will that work?”

  “It’ll have to. These two have proven to be very resourceful. We can’t let them get too far or they just might disappear altogether.”

  Demo version limitation

  TWENTY-TWO

  “Absolutely not.” The group stood beside the snowmobiles as Doug Chapman shook his head slowly back and forth. He stared at the fire tower a mile off South Centennial Road.

  Jo watched the exchange between the men with fearful interest. She didn’t know what Doherty had planned, but it was obvious they hadn’t agreed previously on this part of the plan.

  “Once we’re up there, we’ll be able to see for miles,” said Doherty. “We’ll know when they’re coming. There’s no way they can get to us.”

  “And we’ll be trapped,” Chapman said. “They’ll surround the place and we won’t be able to get out.”

  “We have Joanna and her sister,” Doherty said.

  Trixie whimpered. Jo wrapped her arm around Trix and whispered, “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not!” Trixie said.

  Chapman glared at her. “Shut up.”

  Doherty said, “We’ll radio the Sheriff and make our demands. We’re going to tell him we’re at the refuge center. I ma
de the trail yesterday, and refreshed part of it this morning. There’s no reason to think that we’re not there.”

  “Then why trap ourselves up there?” Chapman looked up.

  The fire tower was no longer in use. Routine flybys by the Forest Service took care of the fire watch. But not too long ago, keeping watch had been part of Sam Nash’s job. As Jo recalled, he’d move into the fire tower at the beginning of the fire season and keep watch over the valley. Times changed. For better, and for worse.

  “What about that town we passed on the road?” Chapman asked.

  “Town?” Doherty frowned. “There was no one there.”

  “There were new buildings. We could keep our ears open, but we won’t be a hundred feet in the air.”

  Jo realized Chapman was afraid of heights.

  Both Chapman and Doherty were right—if they went up the tower, they’d be trapped. But there was no way anyone could approach without being seen—unless another blizzard hit. Jo looked up at the sky. As the clouds moved northeast, it was becoming bluer.

  Still—there was a steady wind, and the temperature hadn’t risen much even with the sun. Jo suspected that by nightfall another storm would move in.

  This particular fire tower was sparsely furnished. When Nash had done his fire duty, he’d bring up a portable generator, a radio, and an ice chest. There was a cot and desk—whether they were still there or not, Jo didn’t know. It was a solitary job, and one of his sons would relieve him every Saturday afternoon until Monday morning. It was a life Sam Nash preferred.

  Jo had been falling into the same quiet, functional despair of the Nash family, she realized. Twenty-two years ago, Emily Nash had tragically died in a skiing accident. Sam and his three sons had never fully recovered. The two oldest sons had moved from the area. Peter, who had watched his mother die, had stayed in the valley, except for his three-year stint in the military.

  Is this the life Jo wanted? Living day in and day out with nothing but memories to keep her warm?

  Did she really think that Jason was somehow a threat to her son’s memory?

  She needed to talk to Tyler, to explain, to make things right. She needed to get out of this mess so that she could truly put the past behind her.