Stolen Omnibus – Small Town Abduction (12 page)

The entrance to the small utility room where the washer, dryer, and water heater were kept was flimsy, and both she and Mark had been meaning to replace it for the past year but never got around to it. Lena saw the knob shake and the door buckle inward from the weight of a body behind it. Lena raised the shotgun to her shoulder, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

The spread of the shot from the metal balls tore through the old piece of wood with ease, leaving tiny holes in its path. Lena’s pulse raced, and she felt herself choking for air, out of breath from the run. But just when she thought she’d killed whoever it was behind the door, the frame splintered, and a man burst inside. He crashed to the floor with a thud, and Lena saw his bloodied arm try and lift the rifle at his side.

Lena aimed the shotgun at the man and squeezed the trigger, but the harsh recoil of the blast was replaced by the empty click of the firing pin, and she glanced back at the box of shells she’d left in the living room. She raised the butt of the rifle and swung down hard toward the man’s face, but he lifted his head in time to see the strike coming and rolled to his side, barking from either anger, pain, or both.

He grabbed hold of Lena’s shotgun and pulled her down to the floor with him. The two grappled across the tile, smacking into the wall, then banged the side of the washer. Twice Lena felt a harsh jab into her stomach. Another quick strike stung her cheek, but with the flurry of fists, elbows, and knees the adrenaline of the moment blocked the pain.

The man shoved her off of him and then reached for his rifle on the floor. Lena saw and lunged a half second later. “Let go, bitch!” He snarled through foaming teeth and swung his arms every which way to get her to drop the weapon, but Lena didn’t relent.

The muscles along her arms and shoulders burned with every yank. She felt her grip loosen, and the man gave one last vicious jerk and ripped it from her hands. The force of the momentum sent him rolling to his side, and Lena seized the opportunity and jumped on his back, wrapping her hands around his throat. Her fingers slipped over the sweaty flesh of his neck, and she felt the stubble from his beard as she squeezed.

The man thrashed back and forth then backpedaled and slammed Lena into the wall to try and shake her. The wind was knocked from her lungs, and a nasty pop reverberated through her back, but she held on. The man flung his head back, and a blinding-hot pain seared through her forehead. The crack of their two skulls dropped Lena to the floor. Her vision doubled as she looked up and saw two barrels aimed at her face, as well as two of the same man that attacked her.

“You get what you deserve, bitch.”

The gunshot sounded, and Lena shut her eyes. She waited for the pain to sink in, but when she still only felt the ache in her forehead she thought maybe she was in shock. It wasn’t until she felt hands on her that she finally opened her eyes.

Mark’s sweaty face examined hers, and he put his left hand against her cheek where she felt the cool metal of his wedding ring. “Are you all right?”

Lena looked down to the man he’d shot and watched the red blotch in his chest grow against the cloth of his shirt. At first she thought she’d lost her hearing, but when she turned around to the hallway and saw the flashing red and blue lights splash into the front of the house she realized the gunfire had stopped.

“Don’t move!”

Both Lena and Mark thrust their hands in the air as three soldiers in full combat gear flooded through the back door. Two shoved both Lena and Mark to their knees while the other checked the pulse of the man Mark had shot.

“We have one fatality in the rear of the house. Requesting medical team.”

They stayed on their knees until Jake sprinted through the house and ordered the soldiers to let them go. She knew Jake was trying to tell her something, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the dead body.

With Jake’s help Lena pushed herself to her feet and hobbled down the hallway, where one of the soldiers had already pulled Gwen from the closet. She wrapped her daughter tight in her arms, and Mark wasn’t far behind as he embraced the two of them as well. In that moment Lena realized that whatever they would face, they’d do it together. No matter what happened, they were a family.

***

Ken waited until he watched Scott get in his car, who was again on the phone without saying a word, before he climbed out of his own vehicle. His body felt heavy as he pushed himself out of the seat and up the short flight of steps into the portable unit that was his office.

Once inside he collapsed into his chair, which squeaked from the sudden weight that was thrust upon it. Ken sat there in the dark for a moment, and his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. When he examined his hands he saw they were shaking. He reached for the light on his desk and flicked it on, illuminating the stacks of papers that had been the source of his stress for the past year.

The medical bills for his son’s condition had nearly left him broke. Doctor visits, experimental treatments, home care, medicine—all of it had stacked higher than his assets. He’d turned his house upside down, cashed out his stocks, emptied his savings account, and his son was still sick. But he wasn’t going to let his boy die. Not when there was still a chance for him to live.

Ken reached for the picture of his family, holding it gingerly in his hands. He felt the first tear roll from the corner of his eye down the narrow crevice between his nose and cheek, over his lips, and off his chin, where it landed on his wife’s shirt. He didn’t feel the next several that fell. He wiped the liquid off the glass and returned the picture to its spot next to the lamp.

All those years in the business, Ken had always been able to hide the moral soapbox that his conscience would try and stand upon anytime he had to do something that felt wrong. But this was different. The ease with which he was able to look the other way had disappeared. And it was beginning to affect not just his mental health, but also his physical. He looked down to his waistband and plucked the slack from his stomach. He’d lost at least ten pounds since being out here, and he’d never felt more tired in his life, which counted all of those late nights at the hospital with his son.

Ken glanced back at the photograph of his family. He’d been able to stomach his actions so far by repeating the mantra that he was doing it for them, that he was doing it to save his boy, but after seeing what Scott did today—all of the blood, all of the fear, the screaming, the begging, the crying—he couldn’t help but think about the family members of the people he’d help hurt. Somewhere they had a son, or daughter, or wife, or husband, someone who cared about their well-being.

What if it had been his own family at one of those houses Scott had visited today? What if he’d seen a man try and beat his wife into a pulp and threaten his son? All for some piece of land that a company had no right in trying to claim in the first place. All for some deal with billionaires in some other country looking to add to the piles of cash already stacked in their vaults.

Ken opened his desk drawer and reached for the oxy that he kept stashed inside. The raging moral storm in his head needed to end, and with the day’s events still fresh in his mind he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep on his own. He popped three pills and washed them down with a swig from the fifth of whiskey he kept in the same drawer.

It wouldn’t take long for the pills to kick in, and Ken leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The effects of the drugs started slowly at first but gained momentum. He lazily opened his eyes and reached to turn off the lamp on his desk, when he noticed the blinking red dot on his desk phone, signaling a voice mail. He paused for a second, considering leaving it, but the fact that he never had messages on his desk phone piqued his interest.

He pressed the button, and the voice mail played. “Hello, Mr. Lang. This is Diana over in HR. I tried reaching out to you on your cell phone, but you must have had bad cell reception. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that Sheriff Cooley stopped by the office today and took a look at Reese Coleman’s records. I let him see them and cooperated just like you told me to, but I know you wanted me to give you a call if anyone decided to look at them. Oh, and he also looked at Scott Ambers’s file as well. If you have any questions, let me know. Have a good night, Mr. Lang.”

The messaged ended with a loud beep, and Ken stared at the phone for a second, his mind processing the information slowly. What did the sheriff know about Scott Ambers that he didn’t? Whatever it was couldn’t be good.

Ken reached for his cell and handled it clumsily. His limbs felt heavy and moved a half second slower than his brain would have liked. He shook his head, trying to curb the heavy coat of drugs that weakened his mind. He dialed Scott’s number. After two rings he got an answer. “Hey, we’ve got a problem.”

Chapter 11 – 24 Hours Left

Lena hadn’t let Gwen out of her arms since Jake brought the National Guard with him to the house. She kept hold of her daughter’s hand while the paramedic treated Lena’s wounds from the fight. A second paramedic examined Gwen, who had fallen into shock.

“Heart rate’s still a little elevated, and her pupils are dilated.” The paramedic removed the blood pressure cuff from Gwen’s arm and stuffed it into his equipment bag. “I’d like to take her to the hospital and run a CAT scan, make sure she doesn’t have a concussion.”

While Lena knew the irregular heartbeat and dilated pupils were from her daughter’s extracurricular activities, she didn’t feel the need to explain that to the medic. “I’d rather she stay close. If anything changes, I’ll bring her in myself.”

The paramedic offered a polite nod, grabbed his bag, then disappeared. Lena wasn’t sure what to say, but with Gwen nearly passed out on her shoulder she didn’t think she needed to speak. She glanced over to Mark, who was being questioned by one of the deputies. Jake had told her that they would be able to get by on self-defense, but Lena’s experience in the courtroom told her that while there wasn’t a jury that would convict Mark of any wrongdoing, it was going to be a long, drawn-out affair.

Jake walked over and placed a gentle hand on Gwen’s cheek. “How are you doing, kid?”

“Okay.” Gwen’s words escaped in a whisper, like a child who had just gone through a nightmare and woken up, not realizing it was over.

Lena watched Mark get in the back of the squad car, free of handcuffs at least, and the two locked eyes just before he ducked his head into the backseat. “Is he going to have to stay at the station?”

“Yeah, at least for tonight.” Jake examined all of the bullet holes that had turned the front of their home into Swiss cheese. “Forensics will take some samples and put together the story of what happened from a scientific standpoint. It shouldn’t take long. We’ve already got testimony from most of Jim Foreman’s goons that it was his idea to come over and do this. They turned on him pretty quick once they learned what was going to happen to them if they didn’t point the finger. They’ll still do some jail time, though.”

Lena kissed Gwen on the forehead and slid out from under her daughter’s weight. “You stay right here, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.” She helped Gwen lie in the back of the truck and grabbed some spare sheets from a compartment so her daughter would have a pillow. She led Jake away from the crowds, out of earshot. “This is the second time people from the oil company have tried to kill me. We have a case against them now. I don’t need the bill to shut them down anymore—I can tie them in for conspiracy and extortion.”

“None of the guys mentioned anything about having received orders from anyone at the company,” Jake said, shaking his head. “And you’re in no position to go after them. From a press standpoint it’ll just look like you’re a grieving mother out for revenge.” The moment Jake spit the words out Lena knew he regretted it. “Lena, I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean to say that you think Kaley is dead? Is that it?” Lena distanced herself from the lights of the ambulances and submerged herself in the darkness of the open fields that surrounded her property. A light wind stung the open cuts on her cheek, and she closed her eyes, wondering where her youngest daughter was and how scared she must feel, and thinking of all the things she’d do to the person who’d taken her.

“That’s not what I meant.” Jake placed a hand on her shoulder and slowly but forcefully turned her around. “You know I think she’s still alive. We’re still well within the forty-eight-hour mark. I told you I’d get her back.”

When her brother wanted something, it was very rarely that he didn’t get it. It’d been that way since he was a kid. There was always an arrogance to his tone and the way he conducted himself. She’d learned to live with it and even found it amusing. Their parents were a different story. “It’s just this…” She gestured to the house, the camera crews at the end of their drive, the police cars. “When I started the civil suit against New Energy two years ago I knew it would be hard. Whenever big money is involved it’s always hard. I never thought it would cost me my family.”

“It won’t.” Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out a notepad. “I traced the bullets that killed my deputy who was on duty when Kaley was taken. There’s only one store in Bismarck that someone would buy those bullets from. And I’ve got some more information on Scott Ambers.”

“The rig manager?”

“He’d never worked in the oil business before. He’s a contract for hire. A thug who provides muscle for companies that need to push certain transactions in their favor. He worked for some crime boss just before New Energy hired him.” He waved the pad in the air. “We’ve got enough to cause the company trouble, and you’re right.” He looked back to the destructive scene of the house. “We combine that and all of the violence against you, and we’ve got leverage.”

Leverage.
She’d used that term in many of her court hearings and speaking with clients, but she never thought she’d be using it to save her family’s life. It could have been the shootout, it could have been the sight of her husband being taken to the station, or it could have been the fact that she nearly lost another daughter today, but an unimaginable desperation begged to be released. It was as if she were stranded at sea, and the storm around her had worsened in the night. She clung to the narrow piece of driftwood with what was left of the strength in her fingers, but fatigue was setting in, and that primal sense of survival had kicked in to help keep her afloat. “I need her back.”