Force of the Falcon

by Rita Herron

  “Psychotics often start their abhorrent behavior as children,” Deke interjected.

  “And their violence escalates to humans when they get older,” Brack added. “What was this kid’s name?”

  “I can’t remember. It was over ten years ago.” Cohen pinched the bridge of his nose, then opened his file cabinet and began to shuffle through the contents.

  The crooked wall clock ticked away precious minutes until finally Cohen removed a folder and spread it on his desk. The family’s name was Elmsworth. “His father was shot in the back, and we never found the boy.”

  Elmsworth. The vet’s assistant. Sonya had mentioned that Katie didn’t like him.

  A second later, Dr. Waverman turned to them. “Elmsworth. That’s the man’s name who applied at the hospital. I’ll place a call to the psychiatrist who treated him now.”

  “Let me talk to her,” Brack said.

  “I don’t know if she can help,” Waverman said. “Doctor-patient confidentiality.”

  “Then let’s go see her in person. I’ll convince her she has to help us.” He glanced at Cohen “I’ll call you if we find something. Stay here in case Priestly calls in, and find out where Elmsworth lives, or if he has a cabin where he might take Sonya.”

  Cohen nodded, and Brack and Waverman rushed out the door. Five minutes later, they stormed into the psychiatrist’s office.

  Dr. Waverman explained the reason for their visit, and Dr. Dilliard, a middle-aged woman with curly brown hair and friendly eyes, frowned. “I can’t discuss my patients’ medical files.”

  Brack slapped the file of the Talon Terror victims on her desk and spread out the photos of the mangled women’s bodies. Dr. Dilliard gasped.

  Brack stabbed a finger on the picture of the teenager. “Tell me if Elmsworth is capable of this kind of violence.”

  Her gaze shifted to Waverman, then him. “I-It’s possible.”

  Brack pointed to each woman by name. “He’s kidnapped a woman and her four-year-old little girl who’s handicapped. He’s going to do the same thing to them that he did to these victims if we don’t stop him.”

  “My God…” She removed her glasses with a trembling hand and leaned her head on her hands.

  “He fits the profile,” Dr. Dilliard said quietly. “You don’t understand, though. He’s truly psychotic, schizophrenic. He hears voices. If he’s doing this, he’s delusional again, which means he must have stopped his medication.”

  “Tell me more, anything that might help me catch him if we find him.”

  “He was abused terribly as a child. His father liked to play sick, twisted games with him. He would starve him and lock him in the attic in the dark for days.” She inhaled, then continued. “Sometimes he took him out in the woods and left him for weeks to survive on his own. Then his father hunted him down with a gun like he was an animal. During our sessions, he even claimed that he thought he was descended from the raptors. That his father tracked him down like he was prey.”

  “So he turned the table and shot his father,” Waverman guessed.

  She nodded.

  Brack’s stomach clenched, but he couldn’t allow compassion to enter the picture. Not when Sonya and Katie’s lives hung in the balance. When Sonya moved into his old farmhouse, it might have triggered bad memories, and he’d fixated on her.

  “Do you know where he lives now?” Brack asked.

  She shook her head. “He was released into a group home four years ago.” She consulted her files. “Our caseworkers have changed since. It says here that he hasn’t reported in for over a year. I don’t see a recent address.”

  Dammit.

  Brack punched in Deke’s number. “This is our guy. But we don’t have a current address.”

  “Priestly just phoned. Elmworth was renting a house right outside town.” He recited the address.

  “Good. I’ll meet you and Cohen there.”

  He hung up and raced toward the door with Waverman on his heels.

  “I want to go with you,” Dr. Waverman said.

  Brack shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.” He paused at the hospital exit and shook the man’s hand. “Thank you for your help.”

  Waverman clenched his jaw. “Just find Sonya and save her.”

  Brack nodded and rushed through the door, battling his emotions. Ten minutes later, he stared at the walls in Elmsworth’s house in horror. Dozens of pictures of Sonya filled a black bulletin board. There were also photos of birds of prey feeding on their quarry, pictures of the dead birds he’d destroyed in his own wake of violence, and photos of the women he’d ripped apart with his talons.

  Even more disturbing, they found vials of animal blood, as if he’d drained them from the birds or maybe from other animals he’d helped treat at the clinic.

  “I’m getting a crime scene unit over here ASAP,” Cohen said.

  Deke rushed in from outside. “I searched the property. He’s not here.”

  Brack clenched his jaw. Where in the hell had the sicko taken her?

  SHE WAS so lost. So cold. So afraid for Katie.

  He dragged her through a series of tunnels. Sonya tried to memorize the way, each turn, each new smell and indentation in the long labyrinth of corridors in case she escaped, so she could retrace her steps and find her daughter. She remembered Brack saying the tunnels went beneath the city, that there were openings to the ground above. Maybe if she got back to Katie…

  Despair filled her. Who was she kidding? He was going to kill her. And no one would ever find Katie.

  She dug her feet in, halted and forced her body rigid.

  His talons ripped into her arm. “Keep moving,” he ordered.

  “Not until you let me call someone to rescue Katie.”

  He slapped her so hard that she dropped to the ground. She tasted blood where his talon had sliced her cheek, smelled his sweat on her skin, his anger.

  “Either let me call help for Katie, or kill me right now,” Sonya shouted.

  He made a snarling sound, but tossed her a cell phone. She only prayed it worked in the tunnel. Her hands shook as she punched Brack’s number. The phone rang once, then Brack’s deep voice echoed over the line.

  “Brack Falcon.”

  “Brack, it’s Sonya.”

  “God, Sonya, where are you are? Are you all right?”

  “You have to save Katie. She’s in a mine shaft at Vulture’s Point.”

  “Are you—”

  Her attacker snatched the phone and ended the call before she could respond. Tears choked her throat, and she cried out as he forced her to her feet. She tried to memorize Brack’s voice, sure it was the last time she’d hear it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Brack disconnected his phone with a curse. Heaven help him, he couldn’t lose Sonya. But the sound of her voice…she’d sounded so far away. So terrified.

  But determined to save her daughter.

  So like Sonya.

  Love for her swelled inside him, along with fear, forcing a knot in his throat.

  “Brack?”

  He swallowed hard to gather his control. “That was Sonya. Katie’s in a mine shaft at Vulture’s Point. We have to go.”

  Cohen gestured toward Elmsworth’s desk. “I’ll search his computer for references to a cabin or house, somewhere he might have taken her.”

  “Good. Question Priestly, too. Maybe Elmsworth mentioned something to him.”

  Brack gestured to Deke, who was already at the door. “We’ll find Katie, then check the mine shaft tunnels. He may be following the tunnels underground to a hiding spot.”

  Deke took the keys and they raced toward Vulture’s Point at full speed. “Rex called,” Deke said on the drive. “Hailey’s gone into labor and they’re at the hospital.”

  Brack’s chest squeezed. “You can meet them if you want.”

  Deke shook his head. “No, not until we find Sonya and her daughter. Then we’ll go together.”

  Brack shot his brother a look of grati
tude, gritting his teeth. He just hoped to hell they found Sonya in time.

  The SUV barreled over the roads, tires grinding away at the ice, snow dotting the windshield as he careened to a stop. He and Deke both hit the ground running. Dirt and snow-crusted branches snapped below his feet as Brack skidded down the embankment. He’d spotted the mine shaft before when he’d been hiking. Deke shined a flashlight into the entrance as they slipped inside.

  “Katie?” Brack called. “Honey, can you hear me?”

  Water trickled down the rocks in the distance. The mine shaft smelled dank, of dirt and cold and a dead animal. Brack forced unwanted images of the Talon Terror’s victims from his mind and moved slowly, scanning left and right, searching the shadows in case Elmsworth had set a trap.

  Then he spotted a small bundle in the corner. He moved forward cautiously while Deke surveyed the cavelike room, covering for him. Brack stooped down to check on Katie.

  “Sweetie, can you hear me?”

  She was bundled in several blankets. “Mommy?”

  His heart clenched. “Katie, it’s Brack. Are you all right?”

  She slowly opened her terror-stricken eyes. “Mommy?”

  He lifted her in his arms tucking the blankets around her. “I’m going to find Mommy now.” He carried her over to Deke.

  “Sweetheart, this is my brother, Deke. He’s going to carry you out of here.” He brushed her hair back from her cheek with his thumb. “Do you know where the man took your mommy?”

  She shook her head, big tears trickling down her cheek. “He gonna hurts her?”

  Brack swallowed again, his throat thick. He didn’t want to lie to Katie. He had to give her hope. “No, honey, I’m going to bring her back to you, I promise.” He wiped away her tears. “Now, go with Deke, okay?”

  Deke’s gaze met his as he cradled Katie into his arms. “You’re sure you want to do this alone?”

  “I have to,” he said. “Take her to the hospital, have her checked out. I’ll…meet you later.”

  Deke nodded and headed toward the exit of the cave. Brack grabbed the flashlight and moved deeper into the dark cavern.

  TERROR AND DESPAIR threatened to overwhelm Sonya, but she had too much to live for not to fight. Katie.

  And Brack.

  Her kidnapper pushed her into a clearing, a room below ground, where it appeared someone might have been staying. An old mattress lay in one corner, a table crafted out of cardboard boxes sat beside it and a metal trash can that looked charred served as a fireplace.

  As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she searched the shadows for something to use as a weapon. A stick or rock, anything. He shoved her toward the mattress, and she shuddered as she realized his intention.

  She’d die before she’d give herself to him.

  Using every ounce of energy she possessed, she grabbed the trash can and flung it at him. The barrel slammed into his chest, and he bellowed in rage, jerked back and stumbled. She tried to crawl upright, but he grabbed her ankle. She fell forward, and her head slammed into the wall. She saw stars, but kicked out at him, and slammed her foot into his face. The crazy mask slid sideways, and he screeched that animal sound that she’d heard in the woods the first time he’d attacked her.

  He tore at her ankle with his talons and pain splintered her leg. She kicked at him with her other foot, but he slapped her so hard that her neck snapped backward and her head hit the stone wall. The world spun, dizzying, and she closed her eyes, fading into the darkness.

  A few minutes, an hour later, she wasn’t sure, she blinked to clear her vision and tried to move. Panic squeezed her lungs as she realized she couldn’t.

  She was tied to the filthy mattress.

  And she was naked.

  She shivered from the cold, then nausea rose to her throat as she opened her eyes and saw the masked man peering down at her. He tore off his mask, and shock bolted through her when she realized he was the vet’s assistant. Katie hadn’t liked him.

  Her daughter always had good instincts.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

  “Because you’re mine,” he said in a demented voice. “I knew it when you moved into my house.”

  “Your house?”

  “Yes, the farmhouse. That’s where I grew up. My old hunting ground. Where I first learned to hunt when I was little.” He paused, a sick smile twisting his lips. “My old man died in the woods behind the house. But inside those walls, he used to beat me.”

  Sonya wiggled her hands, trying to free them from the ropes.

  “Relax,” he said as he raked a talon down her neck, then over her breasts. “If you don’t fight me, I won’t hurt you.”

  BRACK HEARD a scream, and his lungs nearly exploded with fear. But relief also surged through him and sent him running toward the sound.

  Sonya was still alive.

  His breath came in short pants as he hurried through the tunnels. Another sound, a low cry, splintered the air. Brack paused and listened, thought he heard a voice. Muffled. Then a strangled sound. Sonya.

  What was the bastard doing to her?

  He inched forward around a corner and spotted a clearing ahead. Moving slowly, he peered around the turn, trying to remain hidden in the shadows of the wall. He needed to know if the guy was armed. Using every ounce of restraint he possessed, he forced himself to simply watch, assess the scene.

  He nearly choked when he saw Sonya naked, tied to the bed. Elmsworth was leaning over her wearing some sort of animal costume, raking his fake talons over her bare breasts.

  Fury unlike anything Brack had ever experienced fired his veins. He drew his gun but held back, still searching for signs of Elmsworth’s weapon. He spotted the shiny glint of metal, his gun, against the dirt beside the mattress.

  “First, I’ll taste your blood,” Elmsworth said in a crazed tone, “then I’ll mix it with mine, and we will forever be bound together.”

  Sonya flinched as Elmsworth traced a line down her thigh and drew blood. Brack clenched his jaw, his body tense with anger. Shooting him would be too good. The man had to suffer.

  Releasing a pent-up breath, he exploded, ran forward and pounced on Elmsworth’s back. He pummeled him with his fists, threw him to the ground, then slammed his knee into the man’s face and stomped him in the gut.

  Elmsworth bellowed in pain and fought back, but fury roared through Brack. He hit him again and again, then gripped the man’s throat and squeezed hard, choking him.

  “Brack! Brack, stop it, please!”

  Sonya’s cry floated into his consciousness, and his hands stilled around Elmsworth’s throat. The man’s eyes bulged, and he jerked, coughing and sputtering. Self-loathing kicked in as Brack realized he was acting like the sick man who’d attacked her.

  “Brack, please untie me.”

  Sonya’s anguished plea tore at Brack’s heart. Elmsworth was unconscious, so he dragged himself off of him and crawled toward Sonya. Wiping sweat from his face with the back of his hand, he untied her hands and her feet, then shucked off his coat and wrapped it around her. Sonya trembled all over, her face pale, blood dotting her cheek, her chest and thigh.

  He felt sick inside.

  She sobbed against him. “Katie? Where’s Katie?”

  He stroked the side of her cheek, wiping away the blood. “She’s okay. Deke took her to the hospital.”

  She gripped his arms. “The hospital? Is she all right?”

  He cupped her face in between his hands. “Yes, she’s fine. I just wanted the doctors to warm her up and check her over. But she’s going to be okay, Sonya.”

  Suddenly the hair on the back of Brack’s neck bristled, and a low sound broke through the darkness. A movement to the right. Elmsworth.

  The gun. He was reaching for it.

  He pushed Sonya down, grabbed the pistol from his ankle holster and fired.

  Elmsworth fired at the same time. Brack threw himself in front of Sonya. She screamed and fell backward, and he dodged si
deways, but the bullet pierced his shoulder. His hit Elmsworth square between the eyes. The man choked, his mouth opening wide in shock. Eyes bulging, he sputtered a gurgling sound, then collapsed backward into the dirt.

  Sonya reached for him, and he dragged her against him and crushed her to his chest. “It’s over, Sonya, it’s finally over.”

  THE NEXT TWO HOURS passed in a foggy blur for Sonya. She tore the sheet from the mattress and crafted a makeshift sling for Brack’s arm. He phoned the police and paramedics.

  She and Brack were both taken to the ER, examined and treated. While they dug the bullet from Brack’s shoulder, she was finally reunited with Katie. Katie was sleepy but fine. Sonya’s mother raced in, almost hysterical, and the two of them embraced. Stan also arrived, looking shaken and concerned.

  He gave her an awkward look. “I was worried about you.”

  “I’m okay. Brack saved my life and Katie’s.”

  A pained look crossed his face, and she remembered that he’d wanted to talk.

  He touched the stitches on her cheek. “I’ll be glad to take care of that for you.”

  She winced. Some things never changed. Stan would always see her flaws. What about Brack? She sensed he cared for her, but he hadn’t mentioned love. And he still didn’t know that Katie had inherited her medical problems from her.

  Did she have the courage to tell him?

  “Mom, will you stay with Katie?” Sonya said. “I want to check on Brack. And I need to thank his brother for rescuing Katie.”

  “Sure, honey.” Her mother sat on the edge of the bed and stroked Katie’s hair. Katie curled up against her grandmother and sighed sleepily.

  Sonya found Brack standing in front of the nursery window. He grinned and tapped at the window, then waved her over. “That’s my nephew,” he said with a proud smile on his face. “Rex and Hailey’s little boy. They’re going to call him Wyatt.”

  Sonya’s heart clenched. She loved Brack so much. But even if he did love her and wanted a relationship, she couldn’t promise him a family. And from the look on his face, he would probably want a son to carry on the Falcon name.