A Deeper Darkness (29 page)

Chapter Fifty-Six

Savage River
Dr. Samantha Owens

Xander moved faster than Sam thought was possible, knocking her back on the ground out of harm’s way, his weapon rising as he used his foot to flip it into his hands, spinning, graceful as a ballerina, toward the threat.

God, he was like something out of
The Matrix,
she thought, squeezing her eyes shut, not wanting to see Xander killed in front of her, realizing if he didn’t stop Maggie, she would be next. She started to pray and blinked her eyes open once, just in time to see Xander swing the weapon toward the trees.

Away from Maggie.

Gunshots rang through the clear mountain air. Her ears echoed with their fury.

Deafened, Sam risked another glance and realized Maggie and Xander were standing hip to hip, arms up, firing into the forest. Their only communication was under their breath. Sam caught “forty degrees to your left” and “reloading” but her ears were ringing, she couldn’t make out anything else.

Xander stopped shooting long enough to grab Sam’s arm and fling her to her feet, shouted, “Cabin!”

Sam didn’t waste any time, she took off running, Maggie on her heels, a hand on her shoulder, holding her bent over. They reached the porch door and Maggie shoved Sam down on the hard wood. She could hear Thor barking frantically. He was stuck in his pen, unable to come to his master’s aide.

“Goddamn it, the light. He’s going to see us go in.” She shouted, “Cover me!” and Xander lit up the night with a barrage of bullets. Maggie pushed Sam through the door and slammed it behind them, knocking the light switch off as she did.

Sam could hear Xander’s weapon, the sharp, staccato bangs moving now, circling the house, then there was silence. Even the dog stopped barking. Sam prayed he wasn’t hit.

“What the hell just happened?” Sam whispered.

“Shh.”

Maggie had her back to the wall. She reloaded the pistol with sureness. Sam realized Maggie could probably rebuild the weapon blindfolded, in ten seconds or less, or something else equally impressive. She was again reminded of Taylor.

She wished she had that kind of fearless courage.

Then Maggie leaned over and pushed the gun into Sam’s shaking hands.

“Here. Anything comes through that door, shoot it.”

“Wait. No…” But Maggie slipped away, creeping across the floor on her belly. Sam heard the distinct noises of the lock on the gun cabinet being freed. More weapons. Damn it, Sam hated guns.

Then Maggie was back, a thick black assault rifle in her hand. Sam could still hear intermittent gunfire.

“Goddamn it, tell me what’s going on,” Sam whispered, this time with enough force that Maggie complied with an answer.

“Culpepper. He was in the trees over your shoulder. Listening. I couldn’t sleep, I was coming to join you. I saw him in the flash of light from the door. I was trying to be subtle. I can’t believe Thor didn’t let us know he was out there.”

“You’re about as subtle as a heart attack. Is Xander okay?”

“He’ll be fine. He knows this mountain like the back of his hand. He was ready for this, as well. He’ll be leading Culpepper away from the house. I have to go help. You need to stay here and guard the kids. Noah has a rifle, he knows how to use it. I told him not to shoot you.”

“No. No, you can’t leave me here. I—”

“Sam.” Maggie put her face right into Sam’s. “Focus. Listen. You have to. Protect my babies for me, Sam. If that door opens, shoot. Don’t hesitate. Hesitate and you could get all of us killed. Do you understand?”

And then she was gone.

* * *

Xander had somehow kicked out the fire. Sam didn’t think she’d ever seen a darkness so incredibly black before. It scared her, made her feel like she was blind. She desperately wanted to light a match, flick a lighter, anything to break its all-consuming cover, but she didn’t dare.

She couldn’t hear properly, and the cloying blackness made her claustrophobic. She began to count mechanically, running her mantra through her head, breathing slowly so she wouldn’t hyperventilate and pass out.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi
.

A short burst of gunfire pulled her up short. She smashed her body against the wall. Damn, that was close. She tightened her grip on the weapon.

At least she finally understood what had happened, the why behind all these senseless deaths. Maggie hadn’t gotten pregnant with King’s child. She’d gotten pregnant with Culpepper’s. Jen was the product of her mother’s rape.

And now her father was out hunting down her mother, trying to silence the one person who could undo him, his career, his reputation, after all these years.

What an idiot he was. Maggie obviously didn’t have any desire for anyone to know the true story behind Jen’s parentage.

But pushed by Karen Fisher, Culpepper thought the truth was coming out. And he did everything in his power to stop it.

Sam’s hand was cramping. She loosened her grip on the gun. She couldn’t hear the children, but didn’t want to call out, to draw attention to them all.

She was so tired. Getting drawn into Culpepper’s game, nearly dying herself, now squatting breathless in a darkened cabin with a gun in her hand…it was all too much. She needed to go away someplace quiet and have a nice little breakdown.

Too bad that wasn’t an option. At least, not right now. There were three children twenty feet to her right, and she would be damned if any harm was going to come to them. She’d lost her own children because of her selfishness. Even if she had to step in front of a bullet, she wasn’t going to let anything happen to Maggie’s kids.

She heard something on the porch. A scraping, soft and gentle. Like a shoe fall.

Her heart leaped into her throat and started beating so hard she thought she might black out. She reminded herself to breathe, tried to bring air into her lungs silently. She focused on the handle to the door. She knew if it were Maggie or Xander, they’d call out to let her know.

It must be Culpepper.

She gripped the gun more securely and bit her lip.

Please no. Please
.

The doorknob began to twist. She could see the shadow under it as it moved. She swallowed hard and aimed the weapon at the door.

Could she do this? Could she shoot someone in cold blood? Even knowing he was about to come hurt her? That he might have already killed Xander and Maggie?

Yes, she could. For the children.

She steeled herself. The gun stopped shaking. A quiet calm came over her.

The door gently began to open. She used her left hand to cup her right so the gun would be steadier.

She smelled the night air, the breeze gusting through the door, setting some papers on the counter fluttering. Her finger grew tighter on the trigger.

A man’s silhouette now, oddly one-sided. She remembered her training. Squeeze your finger softly back toward your body, apply even pressure. Don’t jerk at it, it will raise the barrel and you’ll miss your shot.

The shadow grew larger. She was about to take the shot when a deep voice called from outside the cabin, a voice she recognized.

“Stop! Police! Put down your weapon and step away from the door.”

She nearly fainted in relief.

“Fletch,” she called out, voice cracking. “It’s me. It’s Sam. I’m inside the cabin.”

And the world exploded into fragments of light.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Savage River
Detective Darren Fletcher

The forest service kid had driven the Jeep off the trail about a quarter of a mile down the road, so they’d had to hoof it up the hill the last bit. Fletcher had approached the house slowly, cautiously. It was dark, and he thought no one was around. Disappointment and worry crowded into his thoughts—he’d missed her. Shit, maybe he’d chosen the wrong campsite. Then he heard the distinct crackling of campfire embers. A dog’s throaty bark covered the noise he made as he moved toward the house. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, saw the outline of a man opening the front door. Surreptitiously. Fletcher announced himself, heard Sam’s responding shout and then all hell broke loose.

Fletcher wasn’t ready for the shots. When Sam called out he’d started to lower his weapon, and that nearly cost him everything.

The man who’d been going into the doorway began to fire. Fletcher instinctively ducked, but quickly realized the man was firing into the house, not back out toward Fletch. So he called out again, screaming this time, running as fast as he could toward the door. His Maglite showed the outline of the man, and he had a clear shot through the open door. He squeezed the trigger once, and the firing inside the house stopped. Sam was shrieking. He didn’t know if she was hit or scared, but the simple fact that she could call out was good news. She wasn’t dead. Yet.

Two steps closer now, and he was at the base of the steps. A shot came from his right. Fletcher swung his weapon toward the new shooter. The two other tac team guys were bringing up the rear, they’d cleared the woods around the house as they came in. It was either them, or…

A voice called out, strong and true. “Thor,
steh!
” The dog whined but stopped barking. “
Braver hund.
Detective Fletcher, this is Alexander Whitfield. I have Colonel Culpepper in my sights. Permission to fire.”

“Where are you, Whitfield?”

“Eighty degrees to your east, sir. I have a clear shot in my scope. You hit him, but he’s not dead. I’d like to remedy that situation.”

The man’s voice had a cadence to it, a bit flat on the vowels. Not local.

“I’d like to keep him alive if we can, Sergeant. You down with that?”

“I suppose I don’t have a choice, do I, sir?”

“No, you don’t. Come on out. I’ve got him now.”

“I’m just gonna hurt him a little bit then. Make sure he doesn’t pull any punches. Firing.”

A single shot rang out, and Fletcher flinched. He didn’t like people shooting around him in the dark. Jesus. Fucking yahoo.

A screaming groan emanated from the cabin, and Fletcher took the opportunity to rush inside. He sprayed the beam of his Maglite across the room. Culpepper was on the living room floor, moaning in agony. Fletcher went to him immediately, kicked his weapon away, then looked for Sam. He couldn’t see her, and felt the panic slide in. But then, in the meager light, she stumbled toward him with three children in tow. Sam was trembling, shaking, and when he put his arms around her, he felt the slick stickiness of blood on her shirt.

He stepped back, holding both her arms. “Are you hit? Are you okay?”

“No. I’m okay. It’s his blood.” She gestured to her right. “He’s been hit a couple of times. But the kids are just fine.”

“Jesus, there were kids in here?”

Sam nodded. “Maggie’s.”

Fletcher resisted the urge to pull her into his arms.

“Thank God you’re all right. That all of you are all right.”

Sam smiled at him, then turned back to the kids.

“Come on, guys. We’re going to go outside and find your mom. Don’t look, okay?”

She guided them past Culpepper’s now-still form and herded them out onto the porch.

There were steps beside him, and Whitfield appeared on the porch, night-vision goggles around his neck. He looked utterly wrecked, hair sticking up, blood on one shoulder. He nodded tersely at Fletcher.

“Son of a bitch slipped past me. Sam, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Xander.”

“Thank Christ.”

Fletcher heard a note in Whitfield’s voice, one of genuine concern, genuine…something else. Anger flared up—she was his, damn it—though he shoved that right back down where it came from. She’d been pretty clear earlier she wasn’t interested. Why in the hell his feelings were somehow hurt by the possessiveness he heard in Whitfield’s voice… He was imagining things. That was it. He was simply overtired and hearing things.

Xander took three steps to Sam and checked her over, just to make sure, then checked the kids, too.

“Where’s Maggie?” Sam asked.

“I’m here. Don’t shoot.” A tall, fit woman stomped onto the porch. The kids crowded around her. The youngest finally started to cry. Maggie holstered her weapon and pulled her little girl into her arms.

“Thank you, Sam. Thank you for keeping them safe.”

Sam swallowed hard. “I didn’t do anything. It was all you.”

They heard movement. Culpepper had come to and was trying to prop himself up.

Three weapons pointed at him immediately.

“You have to listen to me,” Culpepper said, the pain in his voice making Sam wince. She should want to help him, to be a doctor, to follow her code. She didn’t move a foot.

Fletcher went to him instead. “Shut the fuck up, Culpepper. You’re lucky you aren’t dead.”

The colonel looked smaller when he was on the ground, bleeding. Xander had popped him in the thigh, high and right. An impressive shot. Fletcher had caught him in the shoulder of his gun hand, which effectively ended his ability to shoot. Not a bad shot, either.

“Detective, you don’t understand. I’m here to protect them. You’re all in danger.” Culpepper wheezed out his proclamation.

“Yeah. Danger from you. You stupid son of a bitch.” Maggie edged closer, her weapon trained on her rapist. “I wouldn’t have said anything. I took your money and kept my mouth shut all these years. Why did you think I’d disgrace myself, admitting I’d been tainted by you?”

She hauled off and kicked him in the side. Fletcher grabbed her and pulled her back.

Culpepper laughed, a high, tinny squeal.

“It wasn’t me. I swear it. I had no interest in seeing those boys dead.”

Xander had crossed his arms on his chest, across the top of his gun, was staring down at Culpepper with loathing. Fletcher was just waiting for him to draw a knife and stab it in the man’s chest. He stepped closer.

“No, you just snuck up here loaded for bear to tell us you had our backs, right?”

“I did. I wanted to make sure you were safe. Xander, I’ve lost so many of you. I didn’t want to lose you, too. This is all my fault, but no, I didn’t kill them.”

“And that’s why you left Susan Donovan tied up in your house? Is that why you shot and killed Gino Taranto, dumped his body in the river? Is that why you shot my partner, you piece of shit?” Fletcher demanded.

Culpepper didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry then,
Mr
. Culpepper, but I’m going to place you under arrest now.” Fletcher read him his rights, and Culpepper lay there quietly, pathetically bleeding on Xander’s kitchen floor.

When Fletcher finished, Culpepper simply said, “It wasn’t me. I’d like my lawyer now.”

Xander blew up. “Even now, you can’t tell the truth. Even now, you’re lying, covering things up. You killed King, you bastard. How could you do that? He was one of us.”

Fletcher saw Sam step forward and take Xander’s arm. Maggie signaled with her head toward the open door. Sam dragged Xander away, out the door, yelling all the while.

Well, that went well.

Fletcher waved to the forest service kid, motioned for him to come over.

“Yes, sir?”

“Call an ambulance. We need to get him to a hospital.”

“Can’t get an ambulance up here. We’ll have to Medevac him. I already radioed. The Search and Rescue guys are sending a chopper up.” He headed back down the drive to the Jeep.

People moved around slowly now that the threat was over. Fletcher felt strangely let down. He always did when a case was done. Honestly it was just beginning—there was so much that needed to be handled, so many loose ends that needed to be tied up. But for now, he could go to sleep tonight knowing he’d taken a killer off the streets.

But could his heart recover from the blow of seeing Sam and Xander standing together, talking together, so obviously connected? He didn’t know.