Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2

by Susan Sleeman

  Grayson had a decision to make. He could follow the rules and keep searching for more substantial evidence to link Ethan to the crimes, or he could search the property himself, perhaps finding the kids, but knowing that anything he found couldn’t be used in a court of law.

  For the first time in his life, Grayson was thinking about breaking the law.

  There had to be a way around this. There must be a way to rescue the kids and still bring Ethan to justice.

  Ethan, who’d recommended Grayson for the case in the first place, then used his relationship with Grayson to monitor the progress the bureau was making and plan his next move. Grayson tamped down his fury. Rage wasn’t going to help him figure things out. It wasn’t going to make things easier. He needed to stay calm and cool-headed if he was going to beat Ethan at his own game.

  And that must be what this was to his mentor—a money-making game that he had been playing and winning for far too long.

  What was worse, logic dictated that this wasn’t Ethan’s first venture into organized crime. Grayson wondered when Ethan had turned. Had Rick’s death sent him over the edge? Or worse, could he have had something to do with Rick’s death? And Andrea’s?

  The thought turned his blood cold. Grayson had always wondered how Ethan had wrapped up the case of Rick’s murder so quickly, so cleanly. The perpetrators had died trying to keep from being taken into custody, and there’d been no one to interrogate. There was no telling how deep Ethan’s betrayal ran, but Grayson wanted the chance to ask him.

  His cell phone vibrated. Kent’s name and number scrolled across the dashboard display. He grabbed the phone, his hand shaking with the force of his anger. “DeMarco here.”

  “Laney’s gone. She took one of the topo maps and Jax with her.”

  “What? How? There are four armed law enforcement officers at the house, and her Jeep is still in the impound lot!”

  “She snuck out through her bedroom window while the FBI agents were in the kitchen with your sister and Rose. They were going through the case files, and she said she needed to lie down—”

  “That should have been their first clue that she was up to something!” he snapped.

  “Don’t shoot the messenger, DeMarco,” Andrews bit out. They were both tense, both disappointed with the judge’s decision regarding the search warrant.

  “The good news is,” Grayson said, trying to calm himself down, “she couldn’t have gone far without a vehicle.”

  “You’re assuming she doesn’t have one.”

  “Where would she get…” Grayson paused, realizing just how easy he and everyone else had made Laney’s escape. “Rose.”

  “Rose admits to handing over the keys to her ’74 Hornet hatchback, then distracting my officers with a plate full of whoopie pies and milk. Both of my guys are now complaining of stomach pains. I swear she’s a menace with the baked goods.”

  Grayson’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m not sure I care about your officers’ stomach problems. How long ago did Laney leave?”

  “She’s been gone about ninety minutes.”

  “She’s had more than enough time to get to the Camp Cone area, then. Has anyone heard from her since?”

  “No. I tried to call her work cell. No answer.”

  Grayson banged the steering wheel, his frustration making him reckless. “What was she thinking?”

  “According to Rose, Laney went to get us our probable cause.”

  That wasn’t what Grayson wanted to hear. It wasn’t what he wanted to think about. Laney and Jax searching Ethan’s property couldn’t lead to anything good.

  “I just left the judge’s house,” he growled. “I can be at Ethan’s property in less than fifteen minutes. I’m turning around now.”

  “I’m on my way with two patrol cars. We’ll be there in thirty minutes, tops.”

  Disconnecting the call, Grayson tried Laney’s work phone. Straight to voice mail.

  He drove faster than he should have, faster than was prudent, speeding toward Camp Cone. Dozens of memories flashed through his head. All the times Ethan had seemed interested, concerned, helpful, he’d been playing Grayson for a fool.

  He managed to make it to Camp Cone Road in thirteen minutes. It wove through an older, established neighborhood and dead-ended at the park entrance, where visitors could gain free public access during park hours. Grayson was betting that Laney would pick that as her entry point.

  The access gate would have been locked at sunset, but Laney could easily have parked in the small lot and walked in. From there, she’d have to navigate about twenty acres of heavily wooded parkland to get to the boundary of Ethan’s property.

  Remembering how quickly and easily Laney and Jax had navigated the trees and brush during the morning’s search, he was confident that she was well within Ethan’s property line already. He was equally confident that he was ill-equipped to trail her through the woods.

  No, he’d need to take the direct approach. He’d enter the property through Ethan’s driveway and have a look around. At this point, he had no other choice.

  *

  The conditions were perfect. Temperature mild. A light, consistent breeze. Jax was definitely in scent. According to the compass and topographic map, they were less than fifty meters north of a man-made structure, possibly the hunting cabin that Grayson had mentioned. According to the map, it bordered the southern corner of Ethan Conrad’s property. Laney decided that direction was as good as any to start. After all, if Ethan was hiding three children on the property, he’d need a secure place to keep them—a building away from the main house would be the best bet.

  Laney didn’t use a flashlight and did not turn on the lights on Jax’s vest. Luckily, the night sky was clear, the almost full moon illuminating the woods. Jax’s head popped up, and he stopped, nose to the wind. Over the light wind rustling through the trees, Laney thought she heard voices.

  “Jax, come,” she whispered. For a second Laney thought he wouldn’t listen; she could see the reluctance as he looked at her, as if to say, “But the human is right there! Just a few more steps.”

  Laney touched her open hand to her chest, reinforcing her voice command with the hand recall command. This time Jax came.

  “Heel,” she said softly. They made their way slowly through the trees in the direction of the voices. The edge of the tree line was heavy with thick brush that made silence difficult. Jax moved through it easily, but Laney’s clothing and hair caught on branches that snapped as she pulled away. Hidden within the tree line, she could just make out the outline of a very small, old outbuilding. Perhaps a one-room hunting cabin or large shed. If there were windows, she couldn’t see them on the wall that faced her. No door, either, so she had to be looking at the back or side of the structure.

  She crouched at the very edge of the trees, Jax beside her, his body tense with excitement. She scanned the clearing beyond the trees and spotted the source of the noise. Two men stood to the right of the structure, talking quietly. From her vantage point she could make out that the shorter of the two had a bald head. The other, bigger man was partially concealed by the building.

  Headlights splashed light across a gravel drive choked with weeds. An uncomfortably familiar-looking dark panel van rolled toward the building, the driver guiding it into a position about a foot from the structure. He hopped out, then hurried to join the other men. Were they about to move the children? She would need to get closer if she hoped to learn anything. Both men disappeared around the corner of the structure.

  She reached down and hoisted Jax into her arms, then took one slow, deliberate step at a time toward the edge of the tree line. She made it to a spot that was catercorner to the sliding panel door of the van. Setting Jax back on the grass, she gave him the hand motions for “down-stay” and crept toward the front of the structure.

  She smelled cigarette smoke before she saw the third man. Seated in a folding camp chair, his back to her, he held the cigarette, it
s butt glowing orange in the darkness. Behind him, an open door revealed the black interior of the structure. Was someone in there?

  “Hey!” the man called out, and she jumped, sure she’d been seen. “Hurry it up with those kids! We don’t got all night to move them.”

  “They’re not cooperating, so how about you get yourself in here and do something to help?” a muffled voice called from inside the structure. One of the three men she’d already seen? Or a fourth person?

  “Do I gotta to do everything?” the man with the cigarette called back. He took a deep drag on the cigarette, tossed it onto the ground and crushed it under his foot. “You tell those brats I’m coming in. One more complaint from them and I’ll set this whole place on fire with them in it.”

  “You don’t do squat!” A man appeared in the doorway, and she recognized him immediately. The man who’d grabbed Olivia.

  Silently pressing herself to the shadows of the building, she held her breath, praying that she wouldn’t be seen.

  “I do plenty. But if I got to help you load the brats, I’ll help. Ship departs Baltimore at 6:00 a.m. We don’t got a lot of time,” the man said.

  At that moment, the third man came out of the outbuilding, spouting a string of obscenities. He was bald, older than the other two, and smaller, but somehow more threatening.

  “How about you two stop chatting and get back to work? In two hours, you can take your money and go your separate ways. For now, you’d better stick to the plan. Get in there and search the hold room for any evidence they may have left behind. We leave in ten. Either of you girls wants to slack off now, I can arrange for you not to leave at all.”

  The three entered the structure. The door slammed shut behind them.

  Rushing to the tree line where Jax patiently waited, Laney pulled her cell phone out and powered it up. She had less than ten minutes to figure out how to stall the men. If they left, she’d have no way to follow them. She’d parked Aunt Rose’s car a good twenty-minute trek back through the woods.

  She could call 911 or she could call Grayson. She made the decision quickly, dialing the number and waiting as the phone rang twice.

  “Laney! Where are you?” Grayson voice boomed through the phone.

  “I’m at Ethan Conrad’s property, and the kids are here.”

  “You’ve seen them?”

  “No, but I saw Olivia’s kidnapper and the van with the dented front end. The kidnappers are moving the kids to the Port of Baltimore. They’ll be shipped out from there.”

  “When?”

  “All I heard is that the ship leaves at six. I’m not sure what time they’ll be loading the kids, but they’re planning to leave here in ten minutes.”

  “I’m on my way. So is Andrews. I need you to get back to the woods and stay out of sight.”

  “Grayson, if I do that, the kids will be gone before you get here.”

  “And we’ll have people at the Port of Baltimore waiting for them.”

  “The Port of Baltimore is huge. You’ll never find them.”

  “Don’t argue, Laney!” he growled. “You’ve given me the probable cause I need. Now step aside and let us handle things.”

  “I’ll…stay safe,” she said. “I’ve got to go. They’ll be out with the kids any minute.”

  Laney disconnected and turned off the phone before shrugging out of her day pack.

  Reaching into the front pocket, she pulled out a plastic Ziploc bag containing her NASAR-required first-aid kit. It included three extra-large safety pins. Fishing them out, she returned the rest of kit to her day pack. If she could wedge a safety pin or two firmly into a tire’s valve stem, the air would be released slowly, possibly causing a flat tire before the men reached the port. She knew she had only minutes to make this work.

  Ducking behind the front passenger tire, she quickly unscrewed the tire’s valve cover. Then, using the tip of the safety pin to push down the valve core, she wedged in the pin to keep it from popping up. It held, but felt loose, so she shoved in the second pin. Better, but it would likely not hold when the tire began rotating at sixty-five miles an hour. Grabbing her last safety pin from her pocket, she opened it and forced it between the first two pins.

  Solid. Holding her finger over the air valve, she could feel the slight but steady rush of air pushing out. The question was, if it held, how long would it take before the van was inoperable?

  The door to the building was flung open. “I’ll be at the van. Get those kids ready to move,” someone called out.

  Laney was out in plain sight with no choice but to run.

  She darted away from the van, aiming for the tree line and Jax.

  She didn’t make it.

  He was on her in an instant, tackling her to the ground so hard, every bit of air was knocked from her lungs.

  He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head up so he could look at her face. “You!” he spat.

  “What’s going on?” The bald man stepped outside, two children beside him.

  “Nothing I can’t handle.” The kidnapper pulled out a gun, pressed it to her head.

  “Are you nuts? Put that thing away. We kill her here and there will be blood evidence everywhere. That happens and Conrad will put a mark on each of us. We’ll be dead by sunrise.”

  The kidnapper cursed but hauled Laney to her feet. “I guess you’ve got a better plan?”

  “Sure do. We sell her. Just like we’re doing with the kids. We needed five live bodies. Now we’ve at least got four.”

  “Right. Fine. Whatever.” The kidnapper shoved her toward the van with enough force to knock her off her feet.

  She went down hard, her palms skidding along gravel, bits of dirt digging into her flesh.

  A fast-approaching vehicle barreled down the access road, high beams blinding. Laney could only pray it was the cavalry.

  TWENTY

  Grayson assessed the situation as his car barreled toward the old hunting cabin, high beams on in an attempt to blind the suspects.

  Two men were loading kids into a van.

  Laney was on the ground. He could see her clearly, and for a moment, he thought the worst.

  Then she popped up and tried to run toward the trees.

  A man grabbed her around the waist and hauled her toward the van. Another man jumped into the driver’s seat.

  Hitting the brakes, Grayson flung open the driver’s door, pulled his service revolver and trained it on the guy who was manhandling Laney. “FBI. Throw your weapons down and put your hands in the air.”

  A third man ran out of the building and fired a shot at Grayson.

  Laney screamed. Out of the corner of his eye, Grayson saw a brown-and-white ball of fur in a bright orange vest running in. Jax took hold of the kidnapper’s pants leg while he struggled to push Laney into the van.

  “Do something about this mutt!”

  The bald guy turned, taking aim at Jax.

  “No!” Laney yelled. “Jax off. Away!”

  Jax immediately let go, backing away, the bullet missing him by mere inches as Laney was shoved in the van. The door closed behind her.

  The man in the doorway of the building fired another shot. Grayson aimed and pulled the trigger.

  The man went down, and the van took off, leaving the fallen kidnapper where he lay.

  Grayson couldn’t shoot at the van and risk a stray bullet hitting Laney or one of the children.

  The perpetrators weren’t as worried about that.

  One of them leaned out the passenger side window and fired another shot at Grayson as the van barreled past. Grayson dove for cover, but the bullet dug into his shoulder, before he hit the ground. Pulling himself to his feet, he called in his location and the direction the perps were heading.

  Blood oozed from the wound, but he didn’t feel any pain. Couldn’t feel anything but rage and fear.

  “Jax, come!” he called.

  The dog rushed to his side, looking up at him.

  Gra
yson scooped him into his arms and deposited him on the passenger seat of his car.

  His cell phone rang as he sped after the van. He took the call.

  “DeMarco. Go ahead.”

  “It’s Kent. I’ve got dozens of men heading to Conrad’s place. Do you have Laney?”

  “They’ve taken her and the kids to the Port of Baltimore,” Grayson answered. “I’m headed there now.”

  “All right. I’ll divert my guys there,” Andrews acknowledged. “Do you still need resources at Ethan’s property?”

  “Send a patrol car and an ambulance. We’ve got one perp down.” He didn’t mention his own wound. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was closing in on the van and getting Laney and the kids out of it safely.

  “Will do.”

  “Can you also send someone out to Conrad’s full-time residence? He’s in Silver Spring.” Grayson rattled off the address. It was as familiar as his own.

  “Consider it done,” Kent confirmed. “Do you have a visual on the van?”

  “Not yet, but I’m moving fast.”

  “Where do you want us to meet you?”

  “The Maryland Port Administration offices on Pratt Street. Someone’s going to tell me which ships are leaving Baltimore at 6:00 a.m., and from which docks.”

  *

  Grayson had been driving at a fast pace for about twenty minutes without seeing the van. That worried him. Had Ethan changed the plans? Had he caught wind of what was going on and decided to move the kids somewhere else? Taking Charles Street, Grayson exited to Pratt Street, where he would meet Andrews.

  And there it was.

  Abandoned on a side street, the panel van had one pancake-flat tire.

  Pulling up behind it, he got out and touched the hood of the vehicle. Still warm.

  He crouched near the tire. Safety pins had been jammed in the stem.

  Laney. She’d put herself in jeopardy to sabotage the van. A smart move, too, since the Port of Baltimore was one of the largest ports in North America. There was no way the perps could parade around the docks with four hostages in the middle of the night and not draw attention to themselves. They would need another vehicle to get the kids and Laney to the loading dock undetected.