Vengeance: An Action-Adventure Novel (A Jon Steadman Thriller Book 3)

by Nellie Neeman

  The kid had finished her class and went straight for the ski lift. She was alone, seemingly intent on trying it by herself. It made things much easier. Her parents were currently on the way up the gondola to a black diamond. He knew this because he’d had his eye on the Davis kid for several hours, keeping watch for her parents. They would be busy for at least another thirty minutes.

  Gerard gauged the girl’s speed, and pushed off, keeping his distance. As the kid approached the narrowest section of the run, he came up from behind. For the benefit of any nearby skiers, he said, “Sweetheart, you’re doing great.” He knew the kid wouldn’t turn around.

  In a swift, smooth motion, he brought his pole down hard behind the kid’s legs. The girl cried out, tumbling, skis twisting, one dislodging from her boot. She let out a lungful of air, stunned.

  A woman skiing by saw them, came to a stop twenty feet ahead. “She okay?”

  “She’ll be fine. I got her.”

  The woman went past.

  “You all right?” Gerard asked Lizzy.

  The girl’s left leg was twisted, its ski lying beside her, the ski on her right leg awkwardly pointing skyward. “Someone hit me,” she whimpered.

  “Looked like you tripped over your skis.”

  She appeared confused. He extended a hand. The kid took it, crying in pain. “My leg hurts.”

  “It might be broken. I’ll take you back to the lodge. We can get someone to look at it there.”

  “I-I don’t know. I’ll call my parents.” Lizzy struggled to maneuver her body, reaching for her jacket pocket.

  “You won’t get a signal out here,” he lied. As she pulled the phone from her pocket, Gerard bent down toward her. “Let me help.”

  Swiftly, he pulled a kerchief from his pocket, placing it over her mouth and nose. It was a myth that Chloroform, the go-to knock-out drug of his favorite 70’s movies, actually worked. The better, quick-acting drug was Ketamine. In sufficient amounts, it served a dual purpose. Rendering one’s prey unconscious and numbing the pain of bodily damage.

  The girl was out in seconds. Gerard took the phone from her pocket and powered it off. He would need to move her quickly before they drew any more attention. His uniform would only help so much.

  Gerard removed the girl’s remaining ski and the poles dangling from her wrists, leaving them temporarily in the snow. He then lifted the unconscious child into his arms. She was lighter than expected. Carrying her, he skied twenty feet to the tree line where he’d left a red Polaris snowmobile emblazoned with a white cross partially hidden from view. He placed the girl on the attached rescue toboggan, then retrieved the remaining equipment, and using a bungee-like cord, strapped down everything alongside the girl. He removed his own skis, clicking them into the rack at the side of the vehicle and waved at several rubberneckers curious to see what was happening, but not interested enough to get involved. He’d learned long ago that human apathy worked in his favor.

  The entire episode took no more than five minutes. Gerard covered the unconscious child with a red and white blanket and sped away.

  ***

  “Where’s my daughter?” Theo asked the teenage ski instructor who was popping a piece of gum in her mouth. “She was waiting for you. Maybe she decided to try her skills on the slopes.”

  “You left her alone?” Theo felt his rising anger aware it deserved to be directed at Bernie Patton. The PI had actually convinced him that Franklin was behind the threats. But they never found him. Even when using me as bait. Because it wasn’t Franklin. They were after the wrong man. Theo silently kicked himself for buying into the absurd theory in the first place. Before hanging up on Bernie, Theo said he didn’t want to hear from him until he found the right guy. He came to Tahoe to be with his Nicole and Lizzy and that’s what he was going to do.

  “Excuse me . . . sir.” the teen instructor said, as if remembering the proper way to address her students’ parents. “When ski camp is over, it’s not my job to babysit the kids. You were told the pick-up time. You’re a half hour late.”

  Theo turned to Nic who was shivering, her arms crossed over her chest. The temperature had plummeted in the last few hours, not typical for Tahoe. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’s fine.”

  Nicole said, “We never should have tried to squeeze in another run.”

  “There was no way to know that stupid gondola would get stuck.”

  “I’m freezing. Let’s find her and get back to the condo.”

  Theo got out his phone and called his daughter’s cell. It immediately went to voicemail. “She didn’t answer. She’s skiing. She won’t hear the phone.” He didn’t say it seemed to be turned off.

  Nicole frowned. “I can’t believe she’d go off on her own like that.”

  “She’ll be ten soon. We can’t hover over her like we used to. I’m sure she’s fine.”

  Nicole bit her lip. “I suppose.” She asked the teen, “When did she leave?” The girl shrugged, popped her gum.

  Nicole faced Theo and rolled her eyes. “If she just left she could still be a while. Do you mind waiting here for her while I return my skis and warm up?”

  “Sure. We’ll catch up with you soon. Try to relax.” Theo watched his wife ski toward the lodge, then faced the mountain, and waited.

  ***

  The cabin was sufficient for Gerard’s needs. Secluded in the eastern edge of the Tahoe Forest, surrounded by towering Jeffrey pines, the closest cabins were nearly a half mile away. A tiny kitchen, twin beds, bath. He threw one of the mattresses on the floor, brought the kid in and placed her on it. She’d be out for a while. Quickly, he cleaned his gun, loaded it and headed back out to the slopes.

  Chapter 45

  Squaw Valley Ski Resort

  Neither Jon nor Bernie had been able to keep up with Theodore and Nicole, both of whom were skilled enough to ski the black diamond trails. Jon would kill himself if he’d tried and Bernie wasn’t sufficiently motivated, adamant that his only job was to find out who was behind the letters to his client. And to get his final payment. The retainer Theo had given him was nearly exhausted with all the necessary travel and background checks.

  Jon and Bernie lingered at the bottom of the slopes, the younger man bristling. “It’s like Theo’s going out of his way to thwart our efforts. He agreed to lure Franklin out in the open, but takes the hardest trails, knowing full well his son can’t follow him there. What gives?”

  “Obviously, he’s conflicted. When I told him we hadn’t found Franklin, he lost it. Said we were looking for the wrong guy. He’s not doing the bait thing anymore. Guy’s living in denial. No matter what his kid’s involved in, he’s still Theo’s kid.”

  “You have kids?”

  Jon shook his head. “Nah, I’ve got a while till then. But I’m real close to my friend’s son, Randy. He’s turning five soon.”

  “Like a big brother sorta thing?”

  “Hard to define,” Jon said, though it felt more like a surrogate father sort of thing.

  Bernie looked around. “At least we can keep an eye on Theo from here. Not sure it’ll help in any case. Franklin cleared out of his room, so maybe he got spooked and isn’t around anymore.”

  “We have to assume he’s on the mountain. We have no other leads.”

  Several skiers came racing down the slope. Dressed in yellow and white ski suits, with numbers on them. Slalom skiing. They skimmed the red-flagged gates, schussing down the mountain at breakneck speeds. The two men edged out of the way.

  “Know what’s going on?” Jon asked.

  Bernie pointed to two men hanging a banner announcing a championship beginning that day. “This is a finish line. Looks like there’s some sort of pre-competition practice.”

  Jon said, “If this guy’s smart, he’ll be dressed like all the other competitors. We’ll never find him like this.”

  “I don’t get it, I thought he wears fake legs.”

  “They’re called prostheses. They work just like our legs.�
��

  Bernie said, “That’s just great. Now what? We need a smarter way to smoke him out.”

  “He’s never been on skis before. That means if he’s out here he’ll be on the easiest slopes. He’ll want to blend in so he’ll avoid the bunny slopes. His best bet is to head for the green runs. They’re an extension of the black diamonds, so he’ll mix in with the competitors coming from the top.”

  “So, what’s the game plan?”

  “We check those runs and look for the one guy dressed like an athlete who looks unsteady.”

  “That could take all day.”

  “You have a better idea?”

  “We could wait at the lodge or the hotel. If he’s after Theo, that’s where he’ll go eventually. Be a helluva lot easier.”

  “He’s too smart. He’s not going back there, Bernie. Like you said, something spooked him.”

  The PI blew a raspberry in exasperation. “Whatever, Theo’s paying me by the hour. Let’s just do this.”

  The two men waited in line for the ski lift. When it arrived they leaned back, poles in hand, and settled into their seats, their skis dangling below them. The safety bar slowly came down and soon they were climbing at a steady pace, their breath creating frosty clouds. Jon adjusted his fleece neck gaiter over his nose, his breath warming his face. The resort was picture perfect, the granite peaks surrounding the clear blue lake, the ski chalet at its banks. Snowflakes fluttered lazily downward as if someone had hit a slow speed button. It felt as if they were in a snow globe.

  Halfway up the trail, Jon felt something whiz by him. Instinctively, he ducked down in his seat. Panicked, he let go of his poles and they fell to the ground below.

  Bernie said, “Whoa! Stop shaking this thing.”

  “Someone’s shooting at us!”

  “Don’t be crazy. There’s no one—"

  Before Bernie could finish his sentence another bullet flew by. “What the–! We’re sitting ducks. Help!” The drop was at least thirty feet. There was nowhere to go.

  “Try to stay calm.”

  They were hovering over an off-trail stretch of narrow snow-laden paths snaking between the pines. Jon looked around. The chair lifts in front and behind them were unoccupied. He saw no one. Another shot rang out. Jon made himself as small a target as possible, shielding his bowed head with his arms.

  “We need to get off this thing,” Jon said, though he had no idea how. “The shooter must be using a sniper rifle, probably up in one of the surrounding trees.” Bundled as he was, he awkwardly turned to his seatmate, glad he was calmer. “Bernie?”

  Bernie eyes were closed, a dime-sized, blackened hole visible just above his belt clasp, the bib slowly turning red. His body slackened, listing to one side, then toppled forward, the weight of his skis, the only thing keeping him from falling over the safety bar to the rocky, white ground below. Jon did what he could to maneuver in the limited space. He pulled on Bernie’s jacket collar, leaning him backward against the seat, his head resting at an odd angle.

  Bernie moaned.

  “Bernie, Bernie, wake up!” Another shot. This one ricocheting off the steel cables above them.

  Bernie whispered. “I’m hit.”

  Jon forced calm into his voice. “You’re going to be okay, just stay with me. We’re almost at the top. We’ll get help.” Jon could see other skiers now congregating near the lift hut, praying the sniper wouldn’t dare shoot into the crowd.

  Bernie’s eyes fluttered. He mumbled something.

  Jon struggled to hear “What did you say?”

  “The kid . . .” Bernie’s eyes closed.

  “Come on, wake up!” Jon patted the PI’s face with his thick gloves.

  Bernie seemed to get a burst of energy. “Franklin. He’s not after his father. He’s after the kid.”

  Of course!

  How had he missed that? What better way for Oakley to punish his father than by harming his favored child? The one who got everything he never did—a two-parent family, a comfortable home. A loving father.

  The lift was moving at an infuriatingly slow pace. Bernie coughed softly, closing his eyes once again.

  ***

  Placer County Sheriff’s Office

  Sheriff Kyle Harding was an easygoing sort. Relaxed and amiable, many found him an unlikely choice to head a one-hundred-and-twenty-person department. After a couple of years exploring the world he’d entered the academy, deciding to follow in his father’s footsteps—a man who had made a career in law enforcement. His dad was a good provider, offering Kyle and his brother a stable childhood. Ample pay and terrific benefits outweighed the few close calls resulting from aggressive casino patrons mixing lifelong frustrations with copious amounts of alcohol. Kyle had come to love his job and the citizens of Tahoe, grateful to work in one of the most beautiful enclaves in the country.

  Harding was walking past the front desk when the radio squawked to life, the staccato sounds of a Squaw Mountain security reporting a shooting.

  “Anyone on the scene yet?” he asked the muscular female deputy manning the system.

  “We’ve got a car five minutes away, sir.”

  “Put out an APB. I want the roads in and out of the mountain shut down.”

  “Yessir.” The deputy got on the radio.

  Harding grabbed his hat and raced out the door.

  ***

  Squaw Valley Resort

  Nic and Theo were in the security office, an officer donning a black uniform was trying to take their statement. Nic was crying in stops and starts. Theo did the talking. “Why are we just standing around here?”

  The officer spoke firmly. “Sir, I know this is difficult. We’re trying to help you. We’ve sent out a search party to all the runs, along with a medic. As soon as they find your daughter they’ll call in.”

  Theo grabbed his coat. “Tell me where to go, I’ll look too.”

  “They’re professionals, Mr. Davis. You’ll only get in the way.” The man softened his tone. “Stay here with your wife. We’ll keep you posted.”

  Theo was ready to argue further when he felt Nic’s hand on his arm. He looked up, searched her swollen eyes.

  She said, “I know you want to help. I do also. But he’s right, Theo. Let them do their job.”

  Instantly, the fight was out of him. For now—if only temporarily—he knew his place. It was right beside his wife.

  By nightfall, it was clear their daughter was officially missing. Two more officers were now in the room, snow dripping from their boots. One of the officers stood in the corner speaking into a handheld radio. Lizzy’s phone was still transferring to voicemail. Either it was turned off or the battery was dead. Theo sat beside Nic, silently praying for Lizzy to walk through the door telling some crazy story they’d all laugh about one day, once the horror of the moment wore off.

  The officer said, “The sheriff stationed several officers along the main road.”

  Theo asked, “Why? What for?”

  The officer pursed his lips. “Well, how can I put this? We haven’t found your daughter’s . . .”

  Theo felt the blood drain from his face.

  “You understand, that’s a good thing. We’ve searched the lodge and combed the entire mountain. She’s not here. Means she left.”

  “How could she possibly leave? She’s nine! She doesn’t drive. No money to pay for an Uber. She left . . . that’s your theory?”

  “Under the current circumstances, there are only two viable explanations. He held out his thumb. “One, she was unhappy and decided to run away, or—”

  Theo stopped him in his tracks. “She’s a happy kid. No issues. She didn’t run away.”

  The officer continued, lifting his pointer finger. “Or, two.”

  When he didn’t immediately continue Theo closed his eyes. He didn’t want to face the other option. Though, for the past couple of hours he knew that it was the most likely one.

  He forced himself to say it aloud, though softly. “Someone took h
er.”

  Though Nic was sitting on the opposite side of the room, she’d somehow heard him. There was a second of silence before she let out a heart-wrenching wail.

  ***

  Jon ran toward the security office, the sound of a woman’s cries a familiar, terrifying clarion call. Stepping inside, he looked around the space, relieved to see no one was physically hurt. No one else, anyway.

  He’d escorted Bernie to the local hospital with a bullet lodged in his stomach. By the time Jon left the ER, the PI was being prepped for emergency surgery. Jon got back to the mountain as quickly as possible, calling Luanne from the road, telling her to stay put in the hotel room. When he saw the melee, he was glad he did so. Cops were everywhere, ushering people off the slopes. There was no mention of an active shooter, yet among the coaxed masses, fear and confusion surpassed irritation. Luanne would be safe in the room.

  The parents sat in the corner, appearing shellshocked. Their daughter wasn’t there. Bernie had been right. Nicole Davis had her eyes closed, leaning against her husband who was grasping a paper cup, a tea bag tag drooping off the rim. Jon had but one focus. He needed to find the Davis kid.

  In the office, stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with a sheriff’s medallion pinned on his chest pocket. A deputy blocked Jon’s path, his hand raised. “This is a private room, sir. You need to leave.”

  Jon took out his credentials, handed them over.

  “FBI?”

  The sheriff approached. “Sheriff Kyle Harding. What does the FBI have to do with this?”

  Jon gestured to the sheriff to follow him, the deputy stepping back. In the hallway, he said, “The kid missing?”

  The sheriff nodded.

  Jon explained what he could about his involvement. “The Davises are part of a larger investigation.”