Gone Away (15 page)

Riece put both hands on Mason’s face and drew a shaky breath. “You stopped. That’s all I care about. You should arrest the others now.”

Mason smiled and opened the truck door for Riece. “
We
should.”

RIECE SETTLED
into the backseat again and pressed his ear to the section dividing the cab from the cargo section. He was trying to listen for movement or voices that might indicate trouble from the prisoners.

“They won’t get loose,” Mason said as he settled in the passenger seat.

The radio mounted to the truck dashboard crackled to life. Tyler pulled the handpiece from its place and answered, “McCall here.”

“Mr. McCall, I’m Linden Bourne with the FBI. Are you safe? Can you tell me what the situation is?”

“Hang on.” Tyler grinned and held the speaker out to Mason. “It’s for you.” He turned around and said to Riece, “They can talk special agent to each other.”

Despite being more than a little jealous of Tyler, Riece had to admit he liked the man. Mason seemed to know a lot about him, and that made Riece curious about how close their friendship was.

“I’m Mason Arquette, park ranger. We have what I believe is your missing seventeen-year-old and another man detained in the back of this delivery truck. They and three other accomplices trapped myself and a forestry service photographer, then—” Mason stopped and pulled in a breath. “—hunted us for sport. I don’t believe it’s the first time they’ve done this.”

From the backseat Riece heard the man on the other end of the radio take a sudden, sharp breath. “
Christ
, when you think you’ve heard it all.”

“One of them is in Billings, or at least that’s what they told me. I wounded him with a crossbow bolt, right leg, probably a pretty nasty wound,” Mason said.

They could hear Bourne talking to someone else and telling them to contact hospitals looking for a man with a bolt or stab wound to his leg. “The boy’s name is J.P. Kemp, seventeen, five-eleven, hundred-fifty-five pounds, and according to schoolmates, he’s sort of an asshole. He’s got a sister about ten years older. Jessica. He might be with her.”

“That sounds like our boy,” Mason said. “I saw a woman with him a few times who could be the sister. Same general build and hair color. The only other name I got was Banjoff; however, he’s not the man we have. This guy is fortyish, about six one, two ten, with red hair, military cut. He carries a .45 caliber Glock and a crossbow, among other things. Also an asshole.” Mason chuckled grimly. “J.P. mentioned an uncle, but I don’t know which one of the others he is.”

Riece held up his camera and cleared his throat.

“And we have pictures of them,” Mason added. He reached back and squeezed Riece’s knee. “The other man, Banjoff, is fifty or sixty, also six one and around two hundred pounds. He and the woman are supposedly on their way to our position.”

“ETA?” Bourne asked.

“Don’t know. I’m not even sure I can trust the intel,” Mason said. “We’re sitting out here in the open and the door windows have already been shot out with a bolt. They know I have the kid. I’m not sure if they know about the other man—”

“Jason Mitchell,” Bourne offered. “He’s the uncle and has red hair. He’s a freelance bodyguard. Watch him.”

“I’ve got him tied up and disarmed, but I’ll keep a close eye on him,” Mason said.

“We located the wounded man. Fool went to a hospital for a
hunting injury
. He’ll be in custody very shortly,” Bourne said. “We’ll meet you. Give me a location.”

Mason snorted. “True enough, I guess. Give me a minute to check the map.” He released the speaker button. He sighed and shook his head. “We’re sitting ducks out here, but I don’t want to lead the other two to a more populated area.”

“Shouldn’t we decide quickly?” Riece asked. “If that guy back there was telling the truth, the other two are coming here in a pickup, and we don’t know how long that will take. What about your dad’s old place? Or was it sold?”

Mason turned to him. “Riece, that’s a great idea. It’s not too far from here. Secluded and accessible.” He took a few minutes and gave the FBI agent the coordinates and general directions to the cabin before ending the call. “I’ll move the tire shredder and put it back after you go by. Let’s make them wonder what happened.”

“I’ll help you,” Riece said and followed Mason to the road. It didn’t take them more than a few minutes to move the strip and let Tyler drive the truck down the road so they could replace it. Once they were in the truck, Tyler put it in gear and they were on their way.

When they arrived at the small cabin, there were already two dark vans sitting beside it. Riece saw a man leaning against the side and two more sitting in the front seat. There were no windows in the back, so it was impossible to tell how many more people there were. The man leaning against the van pushed away from it and walked toward the delivery truck as Tyler brought it to a stop.

The man wore an FBI jacket. Riece judged him to be an inch or so taller than he was, with dark, close-cropped hair, piercing brown eyes, and a complexion equally as dark. Mason put his badge on his belt and jumped down from the truck, waving for Riece and Tyler to follow him.

The FBI agent strode forward and extended his hand first to Mason, then Riece, and finally Tyler. “I’m Linden Bourne.” He nodded to the back of the delivery truck. “They’re in there?”

“Yes,” Mason said. “When I left them, they were tied up. I think I have an idea how to trap the other two.”

“Let’s deal with these two first,” Bourne said. He called several other agents over and they took positions at the back of the truck and on either side. They wore bulletproof vests and had weapons at the ready.

Mason shrugged on a vest Bourne handed him and held out one hand to Tyler, who dropped the keys in his palm. “Thanks,” Mason said. He gave Riece a soft, reassuring smile before moving forward and opening the door.

The kid, J.P., was still tied up and the man, Jason Mitchell, stood near the edge. It was clear he was ready to leap out and tackle the nearest person. He stopped short when he found half a dozen guns raised and trained on his chest. He growled, shook his head, and lifted his arms above his head. The FBI agents swarmed forward, and it took no more than a few minutes before Mitchell and J.P. were in handcuffs. They were loaded into one of the vans.

“What’s your idea?” Bourne asked.

“We have two of their radios,” Mason said. “We also don’t know for sure that Mitchell didn’t give the other two some clue he was in trouble. He said what I told him to, but that means nothing. It was obvious they were prepared to hunt humans. I think we should work off the premise that included coded messages.”

Bourne rubbed his chin and nodded. “Agreed. Go on.”

“They don’t have proof that man killed us,” Riece said. “And I was in the back of Tyler’s truck. If they were watching, there is a chance they never saw me.”

“If they were anywhere near us when I snagged J.P. or Mitchell, I don’t think we’d be standing here talking,” Mason finished.

“I’m smelling the formation of a trap,” Bourne said with a grin.

Mason pulled the radio from his belt. “We bring them here. They’re hunters, they’ll hunt. Let them finish the job they started.”

Bourne turned from Mason to Riece. “You don’t have to do this. It’s not your job.”

“I know. But Mason’s kept me safe so far, and we’re a team. I’m not quitting now.” Riece stopped and looked down. “They were hunting me too. I want to help catch them so they can’t hurt anyone else.”

Mason moved closer and gave Riece one quick rub on his back. “Let’s do this thing,” Mason said softly.

“First things first. Get them here,” Bourne said.

“Right.” Mason headed toward the van holding the two prisoners. He stopped near the back, Riece beside him. Tyler, Bourne, and two of his team followed along. Holding the radio close to his face, he activated it, but didn’t say anything. In less than a minute, they heard a woman’s voice.

“Steve, it’s Jason,” she said.

Next came a male voice. “What the hell? We’re here. Where are you?”

Mason pressed down the call button and said, “Jason can’t talk right now.”

“Where’s Jason and J.P.? So help me if you—”

“You want them, come and get them,” Mason countered.

“Proof of life,” Steve snapped.

Bourne motioned at the van, and one of the other agents unlocked the back. Mason took his finger off the call button and jumped into the van. He hooked the radio to his belt, stood silently, and glared at Mitchell for a few beats before he said, “You’re going to jail for a long time. You can make this easier on yourself and him”—he nodded to the kid—“if you tell me where your buddies are.”

Mitchell glared and clamped his lips shut.

Mason heaved a long-suffering sigh and rested his hand casually on the radio. “Fine.” He turned around and kicked the kid’s foot at the same time as he pressed the radio’s call button. “This kid is a nice, sweet piece of ass. My friend and I’ll enjoy his company.”

That set off a sting of obscenities from the kid. Mason shook his head and jumped out of the van. “Proof enough?” he pulled the radio from his belt and asked.

“Where?” Steve asked in a low voice.

Mason relayed coordinates and sniped, “I’m guessing you can read a map.” He ended the transmission before a response came. “Let’s get rigged up.”

From one of the vans, Bourne produced a small mountain of equipment. When Mason had remarked about being rigged up, Riece had thought he meant that as some sort euphemism for being prepared. Riece was surprised to find out Mason had meant it literally.

One of Bourne’s men drove the van with J.P. and Mitchell out of sight. The route Mason had told them to take would lead them to a narrow section of the road where they could easily pull the van into the woods and conceal it. Bourne got the rest of his team organized setting up a perimeter and instructed them to let Banjoff and the woman, Jessica Kemp, through to the cabin while keeping out of sight.

“We’ll have people in the area,” Bourne said, “but there are only six of us, and two need to stay with the vans and our prisoners. It’ll take us a little bit of time to get to you if this goes south, so be careful.”

Bourne pointed at the second FBI transport. “You can ride with me,” he said to Tyler. “We’ll leave your truck where it is. I think they’ll be expecting to see some kind of vehicle. The FBI vans are too obvious.”

Tyler nodded. “Mason, don’t be a hero. Take care of yourselves, guys,” he said to Riece and Mason both. He winked. “And each other.”

“C’mere,” Mason told Riece. He dipped his head at a carved wooden bench outside the cabin. Riece sat and Mason laid several items next to him. “It’s important we have as much of this recorded as possible. If you interact with either of them, try to get them to admit to what they’ve been doing. We want information to use for prosecution and maybe even information on other victims.” Riece nodded, and Mason added, “Take your shirt off.”

Riece lifted his eyebrows. “Um?”

Mason rolled his eyes and chuckled. “You have a one track mind.”

“N-no, I don’t, but usually when you say something like that, it’s…,” He stopped talking when Mason held up a tiny clip and a bundle of small wires. “A wire?” The idea was a little more exciting than it should have been.

Mason nodded and waved at Riece in a
stand up
motion. After Riece shed his shirt, Mason carefully adjusted the wires on Riece’s body. “Okay, put this on, then your shirt, so I can finish.” Mason held up a dark vest and Riece shrugged into it. “It’s bulletproof. If you get shot, it’ll still hurt like hell and knock you for a loop, but you won’t die as long as they don’t shoot you in the head.”

Riece sucked in a breath and shivered. “Okay.”

“But—” Mason shrugged and smiled softly. “—since I don’t intend to let anyone hurt you, and if they so much as point another weapon in your direction I’ll feed it to them, the vest is just to make the FBI guys happy.”

Riece put his shirt back on, and Mason affixed the clip under Riece’s collar. “You know how to use all their stuff.” Riece gestured at his newly acquired gear. “I’m impressed.”

“A lot of the same equipment is used by different agencies.” Mason shrugged. “How this works is pretty standard.” He patted Riece’s shoulders. “I took a class.” It didn’t take him long to affix the same wires and clip to himself.

Bourne walked over to them. He held a radio up and nodded as he walked, obviously listening to someone talking. “Time to get into position.” After giving them a polite nod, he and Tyler walked to the remaining van. “We’ll stay as close as possible, but if they spot us, they’ll run. You two be careful and remember, it’ll take us a few minutes to get back here if you need help. As soon as there’s confirmation both of them are inside the cabin, we’ll move in.”

Riece followed Mason into the small cabin. It was a single room with a kitchen area on one side and sleeping quarters on the other. Riece estimated it was meant for four or five people at the most. There were doors on two of the opposite walls. Mason leaned against the sink and peered out the small window beside the door at the back of the cabin. Riece didn’t know what to do, so he settled in one of the chairs around a small table. In that position he could see the door and most of the cabin, but he was away from any windows.

It wasn’t long before they heard the sound of an engine. Mason gave the door handle a jiggle. The fact it was locked only slightly reassured Riece. He watched as Mason silently crossed to the other door. Standing to one side, he eased open the blinds that covered the small window next to the door. “That’s the same Jeep we saw before,” he said.

“What should I do?” Riece asked.

Mason turned and smiled at him. “Stay behind me and get them to admit to as much as possible.”

Riece heard the Jeep’s engine cut off. He stood up but didn’t otherwise move.

“Where’s my brother?” the woman’s voice called.

“Shit. She’s the only one I see,” Mason said over his shoulder.

“Hey!” Jessica shouted. “You wanted to meet here. I’m here. Now where is my brother?”