SVU Surveillance

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  Adrenaline and panic made her clumsy. She dropped the battery twice before getting it into place. And she powered up the device, praying for a signal.

  That was when she heard the first gunshot.

  * * *

  THE BARK ON the tree beside Lucas’s head burst into shreds, sending him skidding onto his knees behind it. His ears rang and his heart raced. He wasn’t sure if that had been a warning shot, or if Phillip had missed. Neither seemed possible.

  “Winchester?” The voice of the strike team captain sounded in his ear.

  Lucas touched the communications device with one fingertip. “I’m okay,” he said. “I wasn’t hit.”

  “Did you see where the shot came from?” he asked.

  “East,” he huffed, trying desperately to slow his sprinting heart. “That’s all I’ve got.”

  And it wasn’t good news. At this time of day, a position in the east put Phillip between the lawmen and the sun. Phillip would have a clear view of them as day broke, and they would have a blinding view of the rising sun.

  Still, a slow smile spread over Lucas’s face as he pressed his back to the tree. The gunshot meant they’d found Phillip. And if they’d found Phillip, they’d also found Gwen.

  * * *

  GWEN WATCHED PHILLIP through the cabin window, nearly invisible in the trees. Her heart pounded harder than her head at the sound of the gunshot. “He’s shooting,” she told the emergency dispatcher on the other end of the line. “I think he just shot at someone.” She hated herself for hoping it wasn’t Lucas. Or Blaze. She knew neither of those lawmen would stay away from a rescue mission meant to save her. And she was sure Derek and Isaac would be there, too, if they could. Gwen’s parents might live in Florida, but she had plenty of family, she realized, right here in Kentucky, and she loved them all.

  So, she wouldn’t let this psychopath sit out there and pick them off one by one.

  “Can you communicate with whoever’s here for me?” she asked the dispatcher. “Tell them I’m here in the cabin, and I’m okay. Tell them Phillip’s in his ghillie suit and that he took a rifle with him. He’s using a tree as cover and a gun rest. I can see him from here. Maybe twenty-five yards from the cabin. I’d run, but I don’t think I can, and I’m sure he’ll see me open the door.”

  “What if we can give you some cover?” a male voice asked in her ear.

  “What?” she gasped, unsure what had happened to the female dispatcher’s calming voice, or who she was hearing now.

  “Ms. Kind,” the dispatcher said. “I’ve got Jerry Horton, on the line. He’s our strike team captain, and he’s got men in place to bring you home.”

  Tears welled and fell from Gwen’s eyes. Her chest heaved with a grateful sob, and the knot in her chest constricted impossibly tighter. She wasn’t sure she could actually run, but she would make a break from the cabin if this man told her to. “I’ll try,” she croaked, “but I’ve been drugged.”

  There was a long beat of silence before Jerry spoke again. “Hold the line,” he said finally.

  Panic swept through her at the silence. What did that mean? Had he changed his mind? Had something bad happened outside? Why hadn’t she asked about the gunshot?

  “Ms. Kind?” the dispatcher said once more. “I won’t leave you. Hang in there while he makes arrangements. Can you still see the shooter?”

  Gwen jerked her gaze back through the window, terrified he’d moved while she’d been distracted. “I don’t know.” She stared hard into the woods, willing Phillip to move, if he was there. Just enough for her to confirm. “The shot,” she said, her voice shaky with fear. “Did he hurt anyone?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  A fresh punch of tears blurred Gwen’s vision, and she blinked them away. “Good.”

  A moment later, wind rustled through the forest fluttering the material of Phillip’s suit, and she nearly collapsed with relief. “I see him,” she said. “He hasn’t moved.”

  “Excellent work,” the dispatcher praised. “Now, we’ll stand by and wait for orders. You doing okay?”

  “No,” she whispered, her limbs beginning to shake severely. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Ms. Kind,” the woman on the other end of the line responded, patiently. “I’m sure you feel that way right now, but from what I hear, you can do anything. I’ve been told you’re a fighter, a survivor and the reason those men are out there. Reports coming through our office this morning say you called someone when you suspected an intruder, and you gave Phillip Cranston’s name to the police before he took you. You’ve been stabbed, choked and probably concussed. You’re currently drugged, yet you found a way to call me. And it’s because of you we now know the gunman’s position. So, whatever Jerry wants you to do, I am certain enough for the both of us that you can and will get it done.”

  Gwen’s knees buckled, and she cried. She didn’t hold back. Didn’t have the strength left to fight the tidal wave of emotions. And more than anything, she just wanted to lie down and close her eyes. Just for a minute.

  “Ms. Kind?” Jerry’s voice boomed again in her ear. “We’re ready for you. I’m going to count to three, then instruct my men to open fire in the direction of the shooter. Twenty-five yards to the east of the cabin. Right?”

  She pulled her eyelids open, unsure when they’d shut. “Yes,” she whispered, her limbs going slowly numb from the drugs.

  “When you hear the first shots fired, you’re going to open that cabin door, and you’re going to run. One foot in front of the other. Northwest. That’s behind the cabin and away from the shooter. We’ll do the rest. Don’t stop running until you reach us. We’re moving into position for your recovery now.”

  The line went quiet.

  “Phillip Cranston.” The strike team captain’s voice echoed strong and loud through the world outside, possibly through a bullhorn. “This is the Jefferson County Sheriff’s department, and you’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Gwen Kind. Lay your weapon down, and come out where I can see you, or we’ll be forced to open fire.”

  Another shot rang out, and Gwen knew that was Phillip’s response. He wouldn’t give up or surrender, and someone was likely to die today.

  It couldn’t be her.

  She pushed onto her feet once more and reached for the cabin door.

  The forest exploded in a hail of gunfire.

  And she ran.

  Gwen’s feet pounded loud and awkward against the wooden planks outside the cabin, shaking the platform beneath her. She gripped the wall at the corner as she leapt into the forest and bumbled quickly away, leaving the cabin door agape behind her.

  Her legs were weak and noodle-y, her breaths coming loud and fast. And her head split with the continuous sound of gunfire.

  Still, she stumbled forward, gripping trees for support, then pushing off them for momentum. One foot in front of the other, she told herself. And then she saw him.

  A blurry silhouette in black raced confidently through the trees before her, his presence instantly familiar and more comforting than anything she’d ever known. Her guardian angel, her personal protector, the only man she’d ever love. Lucas Winchester.

  Epilogue

  Gwen hurried to answer the door at Lucas’s home for the fifth time in an hour. His brothers, parents and half the local police force were already gathered in the kitchen, laughing, chatting and generously splattered in paint. The party had been Lucas’s idea. The painting part was Gwen’s, though she’d yet to pick up a brush. “I’ve got it,” she called, padding back across the layered sheets of plastic protecting restored hardwood floors.

  It had been two months since her personal testimony, along with Lucas’s professional one, had helped put her abductor, rapist and stalker away for twenty-six years. When something went that right in life, she had to agree, it was cause for celebration. So, she’d ordered ei
ghty gallons of carefully selected custom paints, enough local takeout to feed an army and invited all their friends.

  As for Phillip’s testimony, it had been an unfortunate one. He was raised in a dark, twisted place by a dark, twisted man, and while Phillip had gotten some distance by moving out for college, the serious long-term damage had already been done. And it deeply tainted his every encounter with the women on campus. He wanted them to want him, but he also wanted to hurt them. And his frustrations became obsessions. Gwen had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time when she asked for help in the library. When she’d taken his advice and visited the computer lab the next day, he’d seen it as their first date.

  He’d testified that he regretted hurting her so badly back then. He didn’t, however, regret that he’d done it, because for six years afterward, things had gone well in his mind. She’d broken the engagement like he’d wanted, and she’d stopped seeing anyone but him.

  Gwen shook her head at the memory. Even on the stand, Phillip didn’t fully accept that his relationship with her was totally in his mind. Or that hurting people wasn’t the way to show them he cared.

  She smiled at the sounds of laughter echoing through her home, then pulled herself back to the moment and opened the door.

  “Surprise!” a chorus of female voices called.

  Her coworkers stood on the doorstep, each with flowers or a bottle of wine. “Housewarming gifts,” Marina said, passing a bottle of merlot from her hands to Gwen’s.

  Her boss, Victoria Noble, shot a knowing look at her, then handed over a bouquet of flowers. “I’m not here to paint, but you know I can’t miss an opportunity to tour a home like this one.”

  “Come in!” Gwen said, pulling them all inside. Victoria had told Gwen not to hurry back to work after her abduction, but Gwen had been back in her place as quickly as possible. Eager to get it over with. Answer all the uncomfortable questions, field the rampant gossip and adjust to the pitying looks. Instead, her coworkers had been impressively understanding. No gossip. No pity. Just lots of warm hugs and a “Welcome Back” cake. “I’m glad you could all come.”

  “We wouldn’t miss it,” Victoria said, admiring the history all around her. “This home is stunning.”

  “Thank you,” Gwen said, feeling immediately proud. She and Lucas had made a thousand plans for the home over late-night glasses of wine and old movies they barely watched. She wanted to pinch herself every time she thought of how lucky she was to be here with him now.

  Except, he wasn’t there now. She checked the grandfather clock in the corner and frowned. Lucas had gone to run an errand more than an hour ago, and logical or not, she was beginning to worry.

  Marina and Debbie hurried toward the kitchen, eager to join in on the chatter and laughter.

  Victoria followed more slowly, her eye for design and love of history giving her pause at every glorious detail. “The two of you talked about living in this home together some day, back when you were in college?”

  Gwen nodded, biting her lip and feeling impossibly blessed. “Yep. And even after all that had happened to me, to us,” she corrected, “he bought the place as planned and began the renovations himself.”

  “Now, here you are together, as planned,” she echoed Gwen’s words. “Romantic.” Victoria dragged a fingertip over the intricately detailed woodwork along the staircase. “And absolutely stunning.”

  Gwen’s smile eased as something else came to mind. “Have you heard from Collin?” She posed the question every day and usually received the same response. He was recovering nicely, but not feeling like visitors. She couldn’t help blaming herself for what he’d been through, and she knew firsthand what he might be feeling.

  “I did,” Victoria said, turning on her toes with a grin. “Collin called around dinner last night and caught me at the office. It seems he’s fallen head over heels for his physical therapist and has officially resigned from his position at my company.” She arched her brows. “He’s moving to the therapist’s town, about ninety minutes away, and he asked me for a letter of recommendation. I agreed, of course, but oh, to be young again,” she mused.

  Gwen laughed, and the doorbell rang. “I’ll be right back,” she said with a small sigh, eager to spend more than a few minutes with each guest and dying to actually paint something.

  The music quieted behind her as she opened the door once more, hoping it would be Lucas and knowing he wouldn’t have rung the bell.

  She froze at the sight of two people she hadn’t seen since the trial, then smiled immediately in response to their bright faces. “Mom? Dad?”

  They engulfed her in a hug, pulling her into the house with them and closing the door.

  “We missed you, sweet baby girl,” her mother cried.

  “I missed you, too.” Gwen squeezed them tighter before letting go. She wished she could keep them with her forever. “What are you guys doing here? Is everything okay in Florida?”

  Her dad stepped back with a huff. “Everything’s hot in Florida. Lucas picked us up from the airport.”

  Gwen smiled. “So, that was where he went.”

  “He’ll be right in,” her mom assured her. “We were thrilled to get his call and invitation.”

  “Lucas invited you to our painting party?”

  Her mom laughed and slid in close to her husband’s side. “Not exactly. Lucas wanted to talk to us in person.”

  “About what?” she asked, mystified.

  “About asking you to marry me,” Lucas said, his voice breaking the sudden silence all around her.

  Gwen spun to find him and all their previously chatty guests in a loose crowd behind her, silent and grinning from ear to ear.

  Lucas lowered onto one knee, and the air left her lungs.

  He started by telling her he loved her, and she picked up other words here and there. Teammates. Soulmates. Lovers. Friends. But louder than all his sentiments and promises was the look in his eye and the answering response of her heart.

  She accepted the ring he presented with a kiss and plenty of tears. Because it wasn’t just any ring. It was her ring. The one he’d given her six years ago. The one they’d found together at an estate sale. Probably as old, and definitely as beautiful, as their home. And she promised again that she would cherish it forever. The same way she cherished him, for all of the days of her life.

  * * *

  Look for the next book in Julie Anne Lindsey’s

  Heartland Heroes miniseries,

  Protecting His Witness,

  available next month wherever

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  Keep reading for an excerpt from Rescue Mission: Secret Child by Danica Winters.

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  Chapter One

  There was nothing that Mike hated more than a wedding. It didn’t matter whose it was, the season, or the amount of love the happy couple professed to each other. He would still have rather ridden bareback on an angry bull than sit in some kind of mushy gushy feel fest.

  Though, when push came to shove, it wasn’t the love part that he despised. Nah. He had just found there were two events in people’s lives that always brought out both the worst and the best from those around them—weddings and funerals.

  The last nuptials he had attended had been so filled with poorly masked rancor that by the time the open bar hit, things had turned to verbal tongue-lashings and two brawls. If he hadn’t interceded, he was sure a funeral would have soon followed. The last thing he had wanted was to attend two emoti
onally explosive events that close together.

  He definitely would have preferred taking on the bull.

  Thinking about bulls, a mechanical bull was exactly what this thing needed to kick it up a notch. He glanced in the direction of the reception hall, a ski lodge just beside the meadow that served as the bunny hill for new skiers in the winter months. Of course, the only thing he could spot through the windows of the A-framed building was a chocolate fountain and a tall, white wedding cake. Nothing gyrating, at least not until his cousin Savannah hit the bottle.

  The pastor was talking about the meaning of life or something, but Mike wasn’t really listening as he watched the crowd seated in front of him. Aunt Carlene had her signature beehive bun, now sprinkled with a few more gray hairs than when he had last seen her. She’d always been his favorite aunt, and as she and his uncle Bingo sat up at the front on the groom’s side in what was traditionally the parents’ seats, it made him miss his mom and dad.

  Their dad had talked about being at their weddings, a conversation that had always made tears well up in his mother’s eyes as she’d wistfully added how she hoped they would all find spouses who helped them be the best versions of themselves. At the time, Mike had teased her and accused her of clearly thinking they all had room for improvement. Of course, she had always waved him off and called him a stinker, but they’d both known what she’d really wanted for him and his five siblings was that they lived lives in which they were truly fulfilled and happy.

  When he had gotten engaged to Summer, his mother had been over the moon. Within a week of finding out his news, she had called Summer and they had already decided on the location, colors and bridal parties. He had still been trying to come to terms with the fact their lives were about to change.