by Robin Perini
A tear leaked out and ran down her temple.
Her vision grayed.
“Sir, are you certain you want her dead?” Niko said. “I might be able to convince her to tell us . . .” Niko’s voice faded away.
Ashley fought to stay conscious, but it was no use.
God, she hoped Justin and Dave made it to safety. Someone needed to tell the world what these people were doing.
A knock interrupted, and the pressure on her throat eased a bit.
“Warden, we may have spotted them on a traffic light surveillance camera. They hitchhiked with a trucker a few hours ago. We’re trying to locate the semi now.”
“Find them. Kill them. Kill whoever is with them. Leave no witnesses, do you understand? No more loose ends.
“Your fault,” the Warden rasped, tightening his grip on her throat even more.
Ashley’s fist clenched and she tried to buck his hands free, but there was nothing she could do. The spots faded. The gray shifted. And then her world turned to nothing.
It didn’t take Zach long to drive to the end of the valley and up into the foothills. The Jeep eked its way up the snow-packed road. Without the four-wheel-drive feature and the chains on the tires, they’d have plummeted into a ditch several times over.
When Zach stopped the vehicle, he turned in his seat. “Maybe I shouldn’t go in. Too many unknown faces might upset them too much. You and Deb should be the ones to go in. I’ll wait here.”
Gabe breathed a sigh of relief and nodded. “Good plan.” He held out his hand to Deb. “Let’s go. This is going to be hard.”
They picked their way across the rocky driveway to a multilevel log home.
Gabe knocked on the door.
An older woman answered, her face lined with sadness. Gabe couldn’t see any resemblance to Whitney Blackstone.
“Mr. Montgomery?” the woman queried, her voice a bit shaky.
“Yes, ma’am, and this is a friend of mine, Deb Lansing. We’d hoped to speak with you about your daughter.”
An older man stepped through from the kitchen. His gray hair had thinned at the top, but what he had stood on end. “Whitney says you’re related to Patrick Montgomery. The cop who tried to save our Shannon?”
Gabe bristled a bit. “Yes, Patrick Montgomery was my father.”
“We never did get a chance to thank him.”
“He passed away five years ago,” Gabe said, wanting nothing more than to shift the conversation.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Whitney walked into the room, and the resemblance she bore to the rest of the Montgomery family hit Gabe like a slug to the gut.
Shannon’s mother gestured. “This is our other daughter, Whitney. She and Shannon were best friends before she came to live with us after her mother died. She can probably tell you even more than we can. Whitney, this young man and his friend are here to talk about Shannon.”
Whitney nodded to Gabe but didn’t move near him. “Yes, Mom, Mr. Montgomery and I have met before.” Then she extended her hand to Deb. “I just learned of your travails a moment ago, Ms. Lansing. I’m sorry about your sister’s disappearance. I hope you locate her soon.”
Gabe raised his brows. Whitney Blackstone had some serious connections if she’d learned about Ashley this fast. She’d obviously checked them out since his phone call. He should have kept closer tabs on his half sister over the years. Just who was she?
Mrs. Devlin looked at everyone in the room, as if uncertain what to say. Finally, she pointed to the fireplace. “These pictures may help familiarize you with my daughter Shannon. She was an amazing girl. Brilliant. Funny. Gentle. A mother couldn’t ask for more.” Her voice broke again.
Gabe stepped closer to look at the series of photos decorating the large mantel. Half were of a smiling blonde teenager who looked amazingly like Ashley Lansing.
He felt Deb stiffen in shock beside him. He couldn’t imagine what she was feeling right now, knowing this girl might have been murdered by the same people who now had Ashley.
Gabe examined the photos. In several, she held blue ribbons. “She was beautiful, and she looked happy.”
He couldn’t keep his gaze away from the other photographs displayed, though. Whitney Blackstone. His half sister. Riding horses, rappelling down a mountain. Graduating from the FBI Academy at Quantico, Virginia. No wonder she had connections. She was a Feebie. Had Shannon’s death dictated Whitney’s career decisions, or were the Montgomery genes at work there, too?
For the first time, he reflected on the impact that night must have had on Whitney. He’d always been centered on his own emotions, his own pain.
She’d lost as much, if not more than him that night, but his anger hadn’t let him see it. His mother wouldn’t be proud of him right now.
Mrs. Devlin reached out and touched one of the pictures, then smiled. “Shannon was so proud of herself in this photo. She and her friends had just won the county math bowl. They were going to state the day she was . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Mr. Devlin walked over to his wife. She leaned against him and he put his arm around her. “They were all murdered, Mr. Montgomery. Shannon in Denver. The boys in the mountains nearby. Their cases are still unsolved.”
Mrs. Devlin sank against her husband. “Getting that call from your father, telling me what happened to my precious daughter . . .” She sobbed. “It was the worst day of my life.”
Whitney went over to her mother. “Mom, this is too much for you. Why don’t you let me handle it from here? Don’t put yourself through any more.”
Mrs. Devlin smiled through her tears and touched Whitney’s cheek. “I thank God every day for bringing you into our lives. If He had to take Shannon, I’m so thankful He also blessed us with you.”
Whitney’s eyes filled and she kissed her mother’s cheek before nodding to her dad to take the frail, heartbroken woman away from the living room.
As soon as they’d left, Whitney faced Gabe. “If you’re here looking into Shannon’s death again, then it appears your investigation and mine are intersecting. I don’t have time for BS stalling and neither do you. I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours, and we’ll try to figure out what is going on before anyone else gets killed.”
The snow crunched under Gabe’s feet as he and Deb left the Devlins’ house an hour later. He clutched Deb’s hand as they made their way across the driveway to keep his head from reeling.
Zach got out of the car, blowing on his hands and cursing. “Remind me to go inside with you next time. Please tell me you found out something that made me freezing my butt off outside worthwhile?”
“You might as well get in the car,” Deb said. “It will take the whole ride to the airport to fill you in. I’m sure the guy would like his Jeep back.”
She squeezed Gabe’s hand and he took comfort in her touch. They headed down the hill once more. Ice coated the roads now, making it even more treacherous.
Gabe didn’t even know how to begin. It wasn’t with Whitney’s true identity, though. “The Devlins’ daughter is with the FBI. I mentioned Intelligent Interactive, the makers of Point of Entry, and Intelligent Solutions, the company who sent Deb the game, hoping she could use her resources to get us more information than even Luke can. She made a call. You ready for this one? Intelligent Solutions has the same address as one of the Gasmerati’s dummy corporations that just popped onto the FBI’s radar because of huge transfers of money.”
Zach let out a low whistle. “Jeff Gasmerati.”
“And the game,” Deb said. “It keeps popping up.”
“So what do we do now?” Zach asked. “Visit the company headquarters and take ’em out?”
“I agree with you,” Deb said, her hand on her weapon. “Go in, scare the crap out of them, and find Ashley.”
“It’s not that simple,” Gabe said.
“Luke did some backdoor digging to see if he could trace the package Deb received back to the Reno address. The location is a mailbox center. All fake. Which, of course, makes sense now, but it’s a dead end.”
Zach hauled the wheel to the left to avoid a huge chunk of snow in the road. “So did you find out anything that’ll help?”
“Just that everyone Shannon knew who played that game well is either missing or dead. Whitney showed us Shannon’s diary enshrined in her old bedroom. There were other names mentioned—Randy, Kelsey, Niko, and Liam—but Whitney’s never been able to locate them. They played competitively against Shannon’s P.O.E. team a lot, more for fun than anything else, but when Whitney started searching for them, they’d vanished. Like all the rest.”
Zach let out a low whistle. “What can I do to help? Maybe I could—”
“No way. You’re not taking any more chances. Not with your new family and that baby on the way. The bodies are piling up high in this investigation,” Gabe said, glancing at his phone. He’d missed a call from Nick while talking to Whitney. Another number popped up as well. The caller ID indicated the Air Force Academy.
Gabe dialed back.
“Rappaport.”
“This is Gabe Montgomery.”
“I have the name you wanted of the politician who gave us Point of Entry,” Rappaport said. “Congressman Raymond Reynolds. He was chair of the House Armed Services Committee. Until today.”
Gabe didn’t like the sound of the major’s voice. “What do you mean was?”
“It just hit the news. The congressman and his wife were found in a submerged car in the Potomac. According to the report, they left a suicide note.”
Gabe gripped the phone. Two more deaths. “Thank you, Major.”
“Have you found Ashley?” he asked.
“Not yet, but we will.”
Gabe ended the call just as a low-flying plane buzzed over the Jeep, distracting him. He turned around. It sure as hell wasn’t crop dusting this time of year, but the damn thing flew low enough to handle the job. Nearly took off the car’s roof.
The airfield was only a short distance. Maybe it was a student pilot. He’d never get his license at this rate.
The plane turned and came back. A door slid open.
The hair on the back of Gabe’s neck stood on end.
“Hit the dirt! They’re going to fire!” he yelled.
A spray of bullets ripped through the car, smashing the windshield. Gabe felt the burn through his jacket and knew he’d been hit. It felt like a graze. He couldn’t believe the rest of the shots missed him.
“Is everyone okay?” Zach said, yanking the car off the road into the minimal shelter of the trees in a lot next to the fire station.
No one answered. They just all leapt from the vehicle, hauling their guns from their holsters. “What was that all about?” Gabe swore, the sting in his arm feeling worse as the frigid air froze the blood coming from his wound.
The plane curved around.
“They’re coming back.” Zach ran up beside Gabe, holding a damn scary-looking weapon.
The plane did another pass, strafing everything in its path. The metallic sound of bullets hitting metal filled the air. The spray hit the Jeep again, then tore across the fire station and raked the truck outside.
Firemen raced out the doors, shouting.
“Get down!”
The plane raced past, showering another slew of bullets, littering the fire truck with holes and decimating what was left of the Jeep. Bullets spit through the trees and branches around Gabe, Deb, and Zach, hitting the bark, but not their bodies, thankfully.
“The guy’s not stopping. I’m gonna have to take him out.” Zach pointed his weapon and shot.
The plane teetered. White smoke spewed from the gas tank. It yawed, then turned over and dove into the ground, exploding into a fireball.
“What was that?” Deb asked.
“Piper Cub. Modified with a machine gun,” Zach said. “Someone spent a lot of bucks on that baby.”
Deb cursed. “And someone seriously tried to take us out.”
Gabe pulled her close to his side. “Guess that means we’re on the right track.”
He grinned at his brother. “I like your new toy. Can I have one for Christmas?”
“At the rate you’re getting attacked, I think I’ll move up your gift to Thanksgiving.” He looked down at the gun. “Uncle Sam probably won’t like that I just shot up a civilian plane with their prototype.”
Gabe’s sat phone rang and he put it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Gabe? I just heard there were shots fired near the airport, and there’s a huge plume of black smoke in the air,” Whitney shouted through the phone. “What happened?”
“The cardinals in Rome didn’t elect a new Pope?”
“You’re a jerk. Was anyone hurt?”
“Everyone’s alive. I got winged, but seeing as they wanted us dead, I’ll settle for that.”
Whitney was silent. “Wait for me at the airport. I’ll help deal with the local authorities. I’m going to move my parents someplace safe, then I’m coming with you.”
“To Denver?” Not good.
“Yes, but we’re going via Winslow, Arizona. I’ve got information on a warehouse that might lead to Ashley. We’ll talk more on the plane.”
* * *
CHAPTER NINETEEN
* * *
THE HUGE TRACTOR-TRAILER lumbered down the highway, the trucker recounting tales of the road to entertain them. Justin tried to laugh at the guy’s jokes, but he couldn’t stop looking out the windshield. Where were they? He hadn’t thought southern Idaho was this desolate. He never figured they had desert, but he and Dave had trudged through it for hours before hitting this road.
He wanted to spill everything to the trucker and beg for help, but Ashley and Floyd had warned him about the corrupt cops. He didn’t know who to trust. Still, he wished he could get on the trucker’s CB and announce the camp’s presence to the world and beg them to go in and rescue everyone.
Only the fear that the heavy-duty weapons the guards carried would be automatically turned on all the recruits, including Ashley, kept Justin silent. If the Warden perceived an imminent threat, he would massacre everyone.
Dave wheezed beside him.
“You okay, buddy?”
Dave nodded at Justin, but sweat beaded his brow. Each breath was a struggle. Dave’s asthma had slowed them down but as soon as the cell phone Floyd had stolen got a signal, Justin would call Ashley’s sister. He’d stick to the plan, then get Dave to a hospital.
Every few seconds he looked for the bars to appear. He was exhausted, running on adrenaline. Dave more so. Hitching with the trucker had been a risk, but they’d needed to put distance between them and the camp as quickly as possible. Some of the local cops were probably under the Warden’s control.
“You should have cell service in a couple of miles. This area is pretty dead.” The truck slowed and the driver put on his directional. “Weigh station coming up over this hill.”
The truck slowed to the top and a rest stop appeared, followed by the weigh station.
“That’s strange. This one is usually closed. Guess I gotta stop or the cops will be after me. If you need a bathroom break and a stretch, you can get out and walk around for a few minutes. I won’t be long.”
Justin and Dave froze. Could they trust these cops, or the fact that the weigh station was uncharacteristically manned today? How far did the Warden’s power reach?
“Could you let us out at the rest stop?”
The trucker’s brows rose. “It’s a quarter mile. You sure?”
Justin looked at Dave, who nodded.
“Yeah, we need to loosen up a bit,” Justin said. “The walk will help.”
The guy shrugged and pulled over. �
�Okay, but I’m on a tight schedule. If you’re not inside the truck when the weigh-in is over, you’ll have to hitch yourself another ride.”
“We understand.”
The trucker slowed. Justin and Dave jumped down from the cab. They ran to the nearest bathroom and took care of business.
Dave’s wheezing grew scarily loud. “Should we keep going with this guy or walk until we get a signal? I don’t like the fact that this place is open when it’s not supposed to be.”
“I don’t, either, but you sound really bad.”
“Hey, I’m still alive. That’s something I didn’t expect to be able to say when we planned this escape.”
Justin looked at the blue tinge on his friend’s lips and decided they’d have to go back to the truck. “We’ll walk around and meet him on the other side of the weigh station. You’re not going to make it much farther on foot.”
Dave nodded, his exhaustion obvious. “Okay, then we’d better head out. I’m not moving very fast.”
As they left the bathroom, they heard the drone of a plane.
“Get back. We can’t be seen. We don’t know who the Warden has on payroll.”
They quickly hid and waited, hoping they hadn’t been spotted. A moment later, an explosion rocked the ground.
Dave’s panic stole the rest of his breath. Justin peered out the door. It was an inferno. Flames roared into the sky where the weigh station had been.
“What—what happened?” Dave panted.
“I think that ‘scout’ plane just took out the weigh station and the truck. As soon as it leaves, we have to get out of here.”
Dave’s face blanched. “That wasn’t a scout plane. There’s a bombing range out here somewhere in the desert. I remember reading about it. If the Warden got someone from there to do this, we’re screwed. He knows where we are.”
“I know he runs the camp,” Justin said, “but you really think he has enough clout to deviate a military bombing run?”
