by Liz Crowe
*****
Something was wrong. Michael knew it deep inside, he could feel it. He’d been calling Graeme’s cell every ten minutes for the last half-hour. Each time it had gone straight to voicemail. It was turned off. He couldn’t think of a single reason Graeme would turn it off. Someone had turned it off for him.
He couldn’t wait any longer. His profession was security, and he was responsible for Lizzie’s safety. Graeme wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Liz, wake up. I need you to get dressed now. I’ll tell you what’s happening on the way.
To her credit, she didn’t ask questions, just got up and started moving.
“Should I pack?” she asked.
He thought for a second. “Get us each an extra pair of jeans and a couple of shirts. We both need jackets, too. We can buy anything else we need. I need to make some calls,” he said and went to the living room, already dialing the phone.
“Jolynn, it’s me,” he said.
“Go,” she said.
“I haven’t been able to reach Graeme for the last thirty minutes. He called to say he was meeting the investigator at the rest area and would be here within the hour. That was less than ninety minutes ago, and now his phone is going straight to voice mail.”
“Ashford,” she said. “Fuck!”
“Yes. You know what I’ll do. Get things in motion. Call me if it’s not safe. Otherwise maintain silence with me.”
“I will. Be safe, Michael. I love you.”
“Love you, too, Jo.”
He turned to find Liz staring at him with her big green eyes, clutching an overnight bag.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “No more talking in here. Follow me,” he said as he led the way to the garage apartment.
A small alarm sounded as soon as they entered, and Michael reset the security precaution. He went to the monitor and saw the instant message from Jolynn that included the name of a hotel in Sedona along with which of his identities he should use. He smiled. She was fast. He typed a quick thanks and told her he was shutting the system down and taking the processing unit. It would prevent any intruders from hacking into their communications. He grabbed two of the pay-as-you-go phones stored in the cabinet and left his own phone behind.
“Give me your phone, Liz. We’ll leave these here.”
“How will Graeme find us, then?” she asked, and he could hear the fear in her voice. He didn’t tell her Graeme might already be dead. He couldn’t bear the alternative either. If Ashford was keeping Graeme alive, he would be tortured until he begged for death. Jo hadn’t shared the whole story with everybody that night at dinner.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Graeme can call his own office or mine. Either way they’ll be able to track us down. Right now, you and I need to get out of here and someplace safe. Then we can talk about how to find Graeme, okay?” He kissed her forehead.
An hour later, they had swapped vehicles, and he was now driving an older looking Tahoe, instead of his sleek black version. This one was appropriately dented, scraped, and looked to have lived a tough life. In reality, it was bulletproof, equipped with a powerful engine, and swept clean of tracking devices. He silently thanked Jo for her insistence on leaving a clean vehicle where he had access. He’d thought it was unnecessary. He’d been so very wrong.
*****
Fuck. They’d gotten out before he could get back to Kennedy’s cabin. He’d called in a reported sighting of a vehicle going off the mountain near Flagstaff to draw the other deputy as far from the sheriff’s house as possible. Since he had Kennedy tied up at the moment, it would be a while before help would arrive. He’d planned to go in fast, before any backup could arrive from the hidden alarms. He should have checked the fucking tracker first.
Fuck it. He always had a backup plan. He quickly scanned the cabin and located the mini command center above the garage. As soon as he noticed the equipment had been disabled, he knew they weren’t coming back.
He calmly went downstairs and brought in the gasoline containers from the back of his truck. Humming softly, he opened the lid, reveling in the aroma, letting the memories wash over him. He walked through each room, covering the walls and floors, working quickly, knowing he’d tripped the alarms on his way past the perimeter system. Someone would be here soon, but he wasn’t sticking around. He tossed in a match, stepped back, then moaned as the blast of heat washed over him.
He used his phone to take a picture before running to his truck and speeding away. “Hope you’re awake when I get there, Graeme. We need to…talk.
*****
“Goddamn it, Marcus!” Jo shouted. “The whole fucking cabin?”
“Yes,” came the low cultured voice. “The whole place. From the patterns of the alarms, he went through the house first. He discovered the garage unit. We got all of that from the interior security cameras before we lost contact. They just aren’t made to withstand the heat from the fire he set.
“The good news is, no one was home. The bad news is, if the sheriff survives, he’s got nothing left to come home to, I’m afraid.”
“If Graeme survives let’s hope that’s the worst problem he has. We know how Ashford likes torture. Christ, Marcus. We’ve got to find him, now!”
*****
“Jo, we’re here, what’ve you got?” Michael barked.
“We caught him on camera at Graeme’s cabin. He was alone. No one’s heard from Graeme since an incoming call to his private line ninety minutes ago. No one was running a tracer on the sheriff’s line, obviously, but we do know his dispatcher logged him as departing for the rest area to meet a state investigator at the scene of the crime. After that we got shut out, and no one will talk to us. Marcus even spoke in person to the deputy. No go. No release of information to private individuals,” Jo said, disgust layering her voice.
“I assume you’re monitoring now through less traditional means?” Michael asked, knowing she would be.
“Yes. Michael, you’re not going to like this, but I think Ashford has had a complete psychotic break.”
“Tell me.”
“He showed up at Graeme’s cabin. The camera in the monitoring room captured him humming and sniffing gasoline before he torched everything. There’s nothing left of the place.”
“Shit,” he said under his breath. He inhaled deeply, forcing air to the bottom of his lungs. Once. Twice. Finally, he asked, “What next?”
“We need access to Graeme’s notes. Apparently, he was on the computer all afternoon, tracking down information from county land offices, but I think his notes must be handwritten. We’re getting stonewalled. You aren’t going to get anymore from the sheriff’s department unless you call in Homeland Security,” Jo said.
“Do it. Patch me through as soon as you’ve got the Secretary on the line. Tell her I’m calling in a marker.
*****
Graeme woke, unsure how much time had passed, only aware of the agonizing pain in his muscles and joints from hanging bound in a ball shape like a fucking piñata. He could no longer feel his fingers and toes. His circulation was restricted, and things were starting to numb. That couldn’t be good.
The sky was fully dark through the kitchen window, and no interior lights shown in the cabin. He judged he was still alone. Pushing away thoughts of Lizzie and Michael, Graeme evaluated his situation. He knew Ashford had him, and he knew where. It was his favorite of the possible locations he’d identified from county records. Unfortunately, he’d told no one, just made cryptic notes to himself on his pad, intending to enter into his computer later.
His deputy was a good man but a plodding investigator, often more concerned with avoiding missteps rather than moving forward. It was not likely he’d share the notes with Michael. Fuck. How could he have been so stupid? He’d walked into the trap like a rookie. Too Goddamn busy thinking about his personal life and not paying attention to the details.
Lights flashed
briefly through the window, signaling the end of this phase of his captivity. He’d seen the reports. He knew what he was in for. Questions, followed by torture, then more questions, more torture. Eventually, he’d wish he was dead.
*****
“I’ll take this one,” Michael pointed to a cabin just off a Forest Service road, about forty minutes from their current location. He’d narrowed the list of possible locations to three, based on Graeme’s research. He was taking the most likely. “Marcus, you’re with me. Deputy, Lieutenant,” he nodded to each of the official law enforcement officers. “I know you’re not happy about how the orders came down. Sorry about that, but we don’t fucking have time to play whose dick is bigger.
“The Secretary and DPS are sending in reinforcements, but there’s not likely to be time to get an assault team to each of these locations. You’re going to have to go in fast and quiet. Consider Ashford extremely dangerous, probably armed with one or more automatic weapons.
“I know Ashford because I’ve studied his profile. He likes to torture. He’s already torched the sheriff’s cabin. The sheriff could be dead within the hour. Get going. We each have a team, and we’ve got a life to save.”
“Vest up,” the lieutenant ordered.
Michael knew the lieutenant was reasserting a small measure of authority by giving that order. His captain was going to be plenty pissed the civilian got to run the show instead of the state officers. If the lieutenant wanted to give an order, he’d let him.
Everyone split into their respective teams, and Marcus and Michael ran for the Tahoe. They could reach the cabin in thirty minutes if they drove like hell. He snapped the magnetic flasher on his roof and knew the cops wouldn’t dare object. With a silent nod of thanks to the Secretary, Michael thought sometimes it paid to have friends in high places.
Once they were on the highway, Marcus said, “I know you’re stressed over this one. You want me to take over command?”
He unclenched his jaw long enough to say, “No. I’ve got it.” Then Michael sighed. “I’m okay, but our standard rules apply. You see me losing it, you take over, no questions asked.”
“Got it. I’ve got your back, boss, and I trust you with mine.”
*****
The door swung open, and Graeme kept his eyes closed, just in case.
“Hey, Graeme. Long time, no see,” Ashford said.
Chapter Nine
This felt right. There was no sign of Ashford’s vehicle, but Michael was sure they’d found his place. They scouted the back, discovered only one entrance, so he signaled for Marcus to go low, and he went high as they burst through the door of the darkened cabin. It smelled like blood and burned flesh. His stomach turned over, and he bit back the acrid bile. A moan from the center of the room told him they weren’t too late. Moving quickly, they determined Ashford wasn’t in the cabin, and they’d seen no sign of his vehicle.
His eyes were well-adjusted to the dark, and he was able to make out something hanging from chains in the middle of the room. Shit. Graeme was hanging from a bondage rack, immobile from head to foot, his legs and arms pressed into a tight ball. He could see the darker areas of skin in the moonlight that indicated blood or other type of injury.
“Graeme! Goddamn, Graeme. Hold on, we’re going to get you down. Marcus, get over here. Turn on the light.”
“We’d give Ashford a target if he’s out there, Michael, you know that. The light stays off,” Marcus said, exercising his right to veto.
Michael nodded, knew Marcus was right, but he needed to see Graeme, needed to know how badly Graeme was injured.
“Hell, we need to get him to a hospital,” he said as he finished unstrapping the bands. Graeme spilled moaning into his waiting arms. “Grab a sheet, dampen some towels, let’s go. We’ll call it in from the car.”
“Michael,” Graeme moaned through cracked lips.
“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t try to talk. You’re going to be fine. I’ve got you,” Michael said, finding the strength to carry the big man to the Tahoe. Marcus was there ahead of him, opening the door, spreading sheets across the seats to wrap the bruised and battered man.
Graeme grabbed Michael’s hand with surprising strength, “Wait,” his voice croaked.
“Can’t wait, buddy, I need to get you safe,” Michael said, and he brushed a shaking hand over Graeme’s brow.
“Wait!” Graeme said again. “He said he was going to bring Lizzie back to watch. He knows where she is. Has a tracker in her arm. He’s only a few minutes ahead of us. Go fast, Michael. I’ll be okay. Save Lizzie.”
“Fuck! Let’s go, Marcus. Call it all in.”
“No signal up here, Michael. Hang on,” Marcus said and let the SUV fly.
Michael held Graeme through the screams when the blood started flowing through his long-constricted veins. He’d thought the cuts and the burns were bad, but the screams were worse. He met Marcus’ gaze in the rearview mirror. It was something neither man would ever talk about.
When they reached the bottom of the mountain, the screams had turned to quiet tears, and Michael stroked Grame’s head while he called Jo for help.
“We’ve got him. Ashford is going after Liz. He knows her location. Hurry, we’re only a couple of minutes behind him.”
“How bad is it?”
“Bad. Hurry, Jo.”
*****
He whistled as he drove; it made the time go faster. A quick drive-through for dinner, and he could grab his wife and be back at the cabin doing what he loved to do in less than two hours. If everything went according to plan. He stood outside the hotel room and wanted to laugh at how easy technology had made everything. As if they could hide his wife from him. They had no right. He’d long ago had a tracer placed under her skin. Stupid cunt. Tagged like a dog and didn’t even know it.
He would grab Elizabeth and head back to the cabin for a long night of loving. Maybe they could work on Graeme together. Having someone completely at your mercy was just so fucking enjoyable. Maybe she’d want to join in, to help. They’d have to move by morning, but tonight they would kill Graeme together.
He knocked and called through the door in a passable Middle Eastern accent. “Miss? I have some flowers for you from a Michael Enwright. He wanted them delivered right away, along with the message, “I’ll get him back for you.” He waited a beat.
“Shall I leave them outside the door, or would you care for me to bring them inside?”
Elizabeth’s voice was tight, he thought, as she told him to set the flowers by the door. He did and walked away before circling quietly back. He would give her one minute. Either she fell for it and opened the door or he was going through anyway. He couldn’t afford to wait.
*****
Although she hadn’t recognized his voice, she knew it was Barry. There was no way she’d open the door. Michael would never send flowers in the middle of this mess. She pulled the gun onto her lap and released the safety, just as he’d shown her. Once she had the gun ready, she called Jolynn’s number.
“He’s here,” was all she said. She left the connection open and set the phone on the table. Now she waited.
It didn’t take long.
The door splintered open, and Barry crashed into the room. Liz stayed seated, the gun pointed at his belly.
“Put the gun down, Elizabeth. We both know you won’t shoot me. I’ve got Graeme and if you want to see him, you need to come with me.”
Michael had wanted her to be safe. He’d told her that people would be watching and if somehow the worst came to pass and Barry found her, she needed to keep talking and use the gun if he came toward her. He promised his operatives would be there in less than twenty seconds. All she wanted to know was one thing, “How did you find me?” she asked, proud to notice her voice was strong.
He gave a humorless laugh. “Elizabeth, you’ve been a bad girl. I’ve had my eye on you all along. I know where you go, who you see. I know everything about you. You’re never going to leave me becau
se you’re mine. If I can’t have you, no one can.”
He reached behind his back. She knew he was going for a gun. Time slowed, and she was assaulted by memories of the last years of their marriage. The mostly empty house, the tense reunions, then finally the beatings.
She fired as soon as his hand came around from behind his back holding the expected gun. She aimed just like Michael told her to, pointed right at the center of him. A second shot followed so closely she wasn’t actually sure which one had come first. She jerked, gasped with the shock that rocked her body.
It didn’t hurt, she thought, as she looked down and saw the blood.
Chapter Ten
“Gunshots,” Marcus shouted, throwing open the door to the Tahoe.
“Fuck!” Michael said. “Go, Marcus. Watch for Jo, her team should already be on site. I’m right behind you!”
Graeme was unconscious and shivering, his head cradled in Michael’s lap. He’d gone into shock. Christ! He needed to get to Lizzie, but Graeme needed help right now. He grabbed his phone, reported shots fired, and asked for an ambulance and police backup on scene. He was relieved to discover help was already dispatched and should arrive within minutes. He realized he could already hear approaching sirens. He opened his door, slid out from under Graeme, and began waving a towel to attract help directly to his vehicle.
Michael raced inside as soon as the ambulance crew relieved him. He found Ashford dead in the doorway, eyes glassy orbs staring at the other side of nothing. He pushed past the cops and his own operatives. What he saw made his heart stop. Lizzie was on the bed, eyes closed, her chest covered in blood. Jolynn was half lying beside her, a bloody towel held to her own hip.
