Matt (22 page)

L
uke parked his Harley on a flat plateau and walked to the edge, to stare at the surrounding hillsides below. All around him the land lay in darkness.

He slipped his cell phone from his pocket and touched the number that connected him with the others.

“I'm on Glacier Plateau. All's quiet here.”

Reed's voice answered immediately. “Eagle's Ridge here. Nothing moving.”

Their uncle's words were hushed. “Burke and I are at North Ridge, and we haven't seen anything out of the ordinary. Matt? You there?”

Matt's voice was low, though whether in pain or anger, the others couldn't tell. “I'm at the mouth of Glacier Creek. Plenty of caves and cliffs around here big enough to hide a vehicle or people, but no trace of any, so far. It's still too dark to see what's out here.”

“You should head to town, Matt.” Colin chose his words carefully, knowing his nephew didn't want to hear what he had to say. “Check into the clinic and have that bullet removed before the wound becomes infected.”

Burke added, “Colin's right, son. The doctor could pump you full of painkillers and antibiotics before you pick up the trail again in a couple of hours.”

“I can't leave. No time.” Matt's words were clipped. “I have to—”

At the sudden silence, the others held off the questions they were burning to ask.

For what seemed an eternity, they waited.

Finally Matt's voice came back over the line. “I think I saw something.”

“What?” Luke demanded.

“I'm not sure. It looked like a small flicker of light in the darkness. Just a quick little flash, and then gone. If I would have blinked, I'd have missed it.”

“A cigarette?” It was Reed's voice.

“Maybe. Maybe a lighter or match.” He breathed in the cold air. “So far I don't smell smoke, but it's too soon for the odor of cigarette smoke to drift this far.”

“What direction did the light come from, son?” Burke's voice had gone soft as a whisper.

“North of here. Maybe a thousand yards. A quarter of a mile or so. I know it's a long shot, but I have to check it out. Since it didn't seem natural, it had to be man-made. I'll go on foot. If it's our kidnappers, they'd hear my truck's engine.”

The sheriff, plugged into their line, swore. “Matt, you need to wait—”

Before anyone could say more, the line went dead.

Matt tucked away his cell phone and snatched up his rifle before starting out in the direction he'd seen the light.

Had it been a light? He was already beginning to question himself. His eyes and his mind could be playing tricks on him, because he wanted it so desperately. If DePietro's thugs were nearby, they would naturally take every precaution to slip away undetected. Still, as eager as they would be to get back to their own comfort zone in the city, the thought that they were alone in this vast tract of wilderness may have caused them to become careless. He sincerely hoped so. He could feel his strength flagging with every hour that passed. In order to overpower two armed men, he would need both the element of surprise and an almost superhuman strength to take them both down without causing harm to Vanessa.

Dear God. Vanessa.

Just the thought of her at the mercy of those animals had his heart rate speeding up.

Fear was an alien feeling for Matt. In his entire life, he'd always been fearless. But now there was a knot of it in the pit of his stomach. Not for himself. His life didn't matter at this point. The fear was that he wouldn't find Nessa in time. A terrible dread that he would fail her when she needed him most.

As soon as Matt disconnected, the others held a hasty phone conference, deciding on the best course of action.

Luke voiced his concern. “If Matt's right, we need to be there as backup. I'm worried about how long he can hang on before he collapses.”

“Exactly.” Reed said what the others were thinking. “There are two armed thugs, and only one wounded man standing between them and their goal to harm Vanessa.”

“If they haven't already killed her and disposed of the body,” Colin muttered.

“They might need her alive for now,” Luke reminded them. “I'm thinking that if DePietro is found guilty, his ultimate revenge against the DA will be another video showing her pleading for her life before being killed.”

“And what if Matt's wrong?” Old Burke's voice had them paying attention. “Right now we're spread out across some miles, and there's a good chance that one of us might spot them trying to get away, if not now, then as soon as it grows light.” He paused before adding, “If we miscalculate, boys, we could all be backing up Matt on a false alarm, while the bad guys make a clean getaway.”

Eugene Graystoke's gruff voice cut in. “Burke's exactly right, boys. You need to stay where you are. I've just heard from the Chicago PD. Miss Kettering's phone was engaged for a minute. They're tracking the location now.”

Luke was the first to respond. “I hear what you're saying, Sheriff. But I trust Matt's instincts. I'm not waiting for word from Chicago. I'm heading that way now.”

Reed could be heard climbing aboard his ATV. “I agree with Luke. I'm on it.”

Colin slapped Burke on the arm. “I agree with everything you said. But my gut tells me to go with Matt.”

The old man gave a grim smile. “All right then. We're all in. We win, or we lose everything.”

They climbed into the ranch truck and turned toward the hills at the mouth of Glacier Creek.

Before dawn the phone rang in the kitchen of the ranch house. Nelson, who had fallen asleep in his favorite chair, barely stirred. But Yancy, who had paced the floor between cups of coffee, snatched up the phone before it had a chance to ring again.

“Yes?” His single word sounded like a growl in the silence of the room. He listened, then replaced the receiver.

Nelson lifted his head. “Who called?”

Frank and Grace, already dressed after a few hours of restless sleep, hurried into the kitchen in time to hear Yancy say, “Captain McBride in Chicago. There was a report of Nessa's cell phone being engaged, but only for a minute. They waited for her to speak, but it went silent again.”

Grace shared a look with her husband. “Is this good news or bad?”

Frank shrugged. “It could mean she tried to make a call and couldn't finish before her abductors stopped her. Or it could be nothing more than someone stepping or sitting on her phone for a moment before they realized what they'd done and moved it.”

Grace touched a hand to Frank's shoulder. “I'm going to hope it means that Nessa was reaching out to let her father and all of us know that she's still alive.”

“Hold on to that thought, Gracie Girl.” Frank turned to Yancy. “Load us up with some food and coffee, Yancy. By the time we finish eating, it will be light enough for us to get back in the air.”

Streaks of dawn light painted the hills with pink and mauve ribbons. The air was still, and scented with the earthy fragrance of tiny shoots spearing up through the spring soil.

Matt moved cautiously through clusters of trees, around boulders, his eye on the spot where he thought he'd seen that tiny spark of light. Had he simply imagined it, wanting so desperately to see something, anything, that might give him hope?

It was too late to second-guess himself. Now that he was committed, he would move forward and check out the area.

As he rounded a huge outcropping of rock, he stopped dead in his tracks.

He spotted a cave that was almost completely hidden by a wild tangle of brush. If he'd been driving, he would have gone past it without even seeing it.

Yet here it was. Big enough, from what he could judge, to park a vehicle inside. Tall enough for a man to stand in. Secluded enough for stashing a body that might never be found.

He paused to listen. A sound. Low, rumbling, rhythmic. At first he struggled to identify the kind of machine that would make such a sound. But then, as he pressed closer to the opening of the cave, it dawned on him.

Snoring.

He moved tentatively, one small step at a time, squinting to peer into the darkness of the cave.

It was easy to spot the hulking shadows of the two men, chests rising and falling with each nasal sound.

It took an agony of seconds before he spotted a smaller figure some distance from them.

It had to be Vanessa.

It took all Matt's discipline to keep from rushing to her side. He ached to free her. To save her from her tormentors.

He ached to hold her. Just to hold her.

Instead he circled around the outside of the rock formation, careful to make no sound, until he was on the side of the entrance nearest Vanessa. With his ear pressed to the rock he heard the slight shuffling that told him she was alive.

Alive.

He looked around the entrance and saw her working on her restraints. Blood streamed from her wrists and ankles, where the plastic had cut through her flesh. The rope tied from her feet and wrapped around her neck had her neatly hog-tied, and probably blind with pain, yet here she was, still fighting.

He dug out his knife and stepped inside the entrance, intent on freeing her.

Her head came up and her eyes went wide before flooding with silent tears.

He knelt in front of her, pressing a finger to her lips to keep her from crying out.

In the hazy light of the cave he cut through her restraints and gathered her close.

In that same instant he felt the muzzle of a gun pressed to the back of his head, freezing his hand in midmotion, as a voice broke through the silence.

“Move a muscle, cowboy, and you're dead.”

Y
ou're alive.” The words were wrenched from Vanessa's heart as she reached for him.

There was no time to respond. To reassure her.

Matt turned, keeping himself between the beefy gunman and Vanessa.

In one smooth motion his hand swept out, knocking the gun from the man's hand. Matt was on him in the blink of an eye, wrestling him to the floor of the cave and pounding his fist into the man's face.

He caught the burly man by the front of his jacket and hauled him to his feet, before shoving his head as hard as he could against a boulder. With a moan of pain the man slumped to the ground and lay there, his breathing labored, his broken nose streaming blood.

Matt spun around, determined to get Vanessa away from here, but when he turned, the second, taller man had a choke hold on her, and was pressing a knife to her throat.

“On your knees, cowboy.”

Matt dropped to his knees and lifted his hands in a signal of surrender.

Vanessa tried to cry out, but the blade of the knife, sharp as a razor as it pierced her skin, made it impossible.

The man holding the knife to her throat shouted, “Get up, Homer. Hurry. I need your help.”

With a scream of fury the hefty kidnapper lumbered to his feet and knocked Matt to the floor of the cave, before kicking him viciously. Then he grabbed up Matt's rifle and used it to batter him about the head until Matt was unconscious.

When his rage was spent, Homer looked at his partner. “I thought we killed this cowboy back at that cabin.”

“Maybe he's like a cat, with nine lives.”

Jasper chuckled at his own joke, but Homer's eyes were fastened on Matt with a look of pure hatred. “I don't care how many lives he has, he's about to lose all of them.”

He swung the rifle one more time against Matt's head with all his strength, determined to beat him to death, but the sound of a text on his cell phone distracted him, and he dropped the rifle.

After reading the text he shot a look at his partner. “The verdict is in. Guilty.”

Jasper tightened the knife against Vanessa's throat. “So. Now do we get to kill her?”

Homer nodded. “But first, we send one more video, guaranteed to make her daddy understand the price he has to pay for what he did to Mr. D.”

Ignoring Matt's unconscious body, the two men dragged Vanessa roughly out of the cave.

She blinked furiously against the stab of morning light, her eyes gritty from all the tears she'd shed while she was forced to watch helplessly as Matt was being beaten.

Matt. She'd thought him already dead. But now, seeing him alive, and then being forced to watch that horrible attack, she absorbed a heart-wrenching sense of despair.

He'd come back from a gunshot and a fiery explosion, only to endure even more pain at the hands of these madmen. After that last attack, he'd stopped fighting. Had even stopped moving.

As the two thugs began choosing the spot for their final video, she resigned herself to her looming fate. Though it was small comfort, at least, she thought, she would die alongside the man she loved.

While Frank Malloy did a careful preflight check of the Cessna, Grace loaded their supplies. Rifles, ammunition, high-powered binoculars. A duffel was stuffed with medical supplies and blankets.

To fill her restless, sleepless hours she had come to a decision. Though she knew the odds of finding the proverbial needle in a haystack, she would remain optimistic and make plans to take both her grandson and Vanessa to the clinic in Glacier Ridge as soon as they were located. She would hold to that thought throughout their ordeal, no matter how long it took.

When her husband climbed up and settled himself in the pilot's seat, she fought back tears.

Seeing her struggle, he closed a hand over hers. “A lot of chatter on our frequency overnight. It seems an hour or so ago Matthew saw something that could have been a light near the mouth of Glacier Creek. The others are headed that way. We'll join them.”

He squeezed her hand before taking the controls. “All right, Gracie Girl. From the looks of that sky, the Lord is about to give us a bright, clear day. Let's put it to good use.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice. The lump in her throat threatened to choke her.

They rolled along the asphalt strip behind the barn before lifting into the air. As they climbed, Grace felt the familiar lurch in her stomach that she always experienced when the plane became airborne. Though she'd been flying for more than fifty years, it was still a bit of a mystery to her that a craft the weight of a truck could soar like a bird.

As they left the barns and outbuildings behind, she picked up her binoculars and trained them on the ground below.

Luke parked his motorcycle beside Matt's empty truck. Tossing aside his helmet he grabbed up his rifle and started walking north.

He looked up, enjoying the way the dawn crept across the sky, switching on pale lights here and there in the darkness. Everything here in the hills looked and smelled clean and fresh.

He knew it was possible for bad things to happen even on deceptively peaceful days, but his heart kept denying what his mind calmly accepted.

From somewhere behind him a truck door opened and closed, and he sensed that Colin and Burke were just arriving on the scene. The low hum of Reed's ATV went suddenly silent, signaling that he'd joined them.

Luke didn't slow his pace, knowing they'd catch up eventually. He was grateful for the alone time. Since he had no idea what he would find up ahead, he needed to formulate a plan.

The problem was, he couldn't think beyond the fact that Matt had been here ahead of anybody, and the area was as silent as a tomb. Not a good omen. There should have been gunshots. Shouts. A scuffle. Anything.

There was nothing. No sound. No birds overhead. Not even the buzz of insects. A very bad omen.

He paused in a cluster of trees, watching and listening, and decided he would wait here for the others. They would make a much more imposing threat to a couple of Chicago thugs if they marched in like the Marines.

“I want the morning light behind me.” Homer turned this way and that while holding his cell phone, trying for the clearest shot. He pointed to a flat stretch of earth. “Take her over there.”

Jasper grabbed Vanessa's arm and dragged her roughly across the clearing. “Here?”

Homer took aim and motioned. “That's good. Now I want her kneeling, with her hands in front of her, so I can film the blood.”

“Why not tie her up again? That'll look better in the video.”

After a moment's thought, Homer nodded. “Good idea.”

He waited while Jasper threw Vanessa down in the dirt, securing her wrists and ankles before tying the rope around her neck and feet, causing her to cry out in pain.

“That's good. I want that scream. Step out of the picture and we'll have her do that again.”

When Jasper stepped away, Vanessa worked furiously to blink back her tears. She thrust out her chin in a haughty pose, refusing to show pain or fear, despite the fact that the plastic restraints cut her already raw wrists to the bone.

“You want me to knock her around until she cries again?” Jasper seemed almost eager to inflict some pain.

“Never mind.” Homer took a video of Vanessa, showing a close-up of her bound wrists and ankles, and lingering on the blood streaming from her raw flesh. “Now cut her loose and we'll get her on her feet.”

Vanessa bit down hard on the cry that threatened to escape when Jasper cut through all the restraints and yanked her to her feet.

She staggered, unable to get her balance, and Homer chuckled while recording it. “That's it, honey. Look like a drunk for Daddy.”

Immediately aware of how this would look on the video, she struggled to remain as still as possible, knowing that these brief scenes would be the last images her father would have left to carry in his memory for a lifetime.

“Do another choke hold and put your knife to her throat. If you have to, cut her. I want a close-up of her face showing real pain and fear.”

Jasper was only too happy to do as he was told.

Matt was entombed in a deep, dark hole. He couldn't see through the darkness. Couldn't concentrate on why he was here. Couldn't rise above the pain that enveloped him in a web of agony.

He knew there was something he had to do. Some evil he had to overcome. But his mind and body refused to do his bidding.

He heard a cry. A woman's cry.

Nessa.

That single name pierced the fog, and he struggled to sit up.

He tried to see past the darkness, but it was punctuated with painful stabs of light that had him blinking rapidly.

He saw twin figures. Two huge shadows. Then two more, tall and muscular and menacing. And then two women, both of them Vanessa Kettering.

Nessa.

He could vaguely recall the beating he'd taken at the hands of the towering thug. Too many blows to his head, and now he was seeing double. But none of that mattered. What did matter was the fact that Nessa was still alive.

And right now, this minute, all the kidnappers' attention was focused on her.

If he hoped to rescue her, it had to be now.

On hands and knees he crawled slowly, painfully, toward his rifle, which was lying in the dirt a few feet away.

Using it as a crutch, he got to his feet and struggled to remain upright. Any slip now, and those two would be on him before he could fire off a shot.

At the entrance to the cave he heard the beefy thug say, “Mr. D. ordered us to film her dead body. And he wants it all to make the evening news. That'll show Mr. Big Shot DA just who has the real power in his town. If Mr. D. has to do time, he'll be greeted by the other prisoners like a freaking rock star.”

Laughing, Jasper said, “Why don't we film her would-be hero lying next to her, covered in blood? That ought to grab some headlines.”

“Good idea. Go get the body.”

As the tall man started toward the entrance to the cave, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Matt covered in blood and holding a rifle aimed at Jasper's chest.

“Take a look at this cowboy, trying to be a hero when he can barely stand up. Look at him, swaying like a drunken—”

Before he could finish, a single shot rang out, echoing and reechoing across the hills.