“I’m grateful for your help.” He was even more grateful he was with her when she’d received the call from Nikki.
“So you didn’t feel stronger when we were together? Is that what you’re saying?”
“You believe that. Not me.”
“And you never will.”
A cold chill spread over his skin. “I guess not.”
She nodded slowly, staring into his eyes as if searching for a sliver of hesitation, a shred of a chance that she could change his mind.
She wouldn’t find what she was looking for.
“I have nothing to offer you, Risa. And no matter how much both of us wish things were different, we can’t change the way things are.”
Risa opened the car door, climbed out into the steady rain, and closed the door behind her. Turning back for a moment, she peered at him through the rivulets of rain running down the window. The light still burned in her eyes, as strong and pure as ever before. But he could no longer feel its warmth, no longer bask in its brilliance.
He swallowed into an aching throat and watched her walk into the police station.
By the time he was back on the road, Cassidy and Mylinski had narrowed down Nikki’s location to an old house perched on the edge of a bluff overlooking Lake Loyal. The place was the home of a couple named Werner; a retired plumber and teacher whose children had long since grown.
Trent hated to think of what the poor couple had suffered. Or what Dryden had done to Nikki after her phone battery had run out. All he could focus on was trying to save the girl and bring down Dryden.
Those were the only things that mattered.
Trent reached the house at about the same time as SWAT, rain falling steadily now. As part of the Behavioral Sciences Unit, he didn’t take part in too many building breaches, although he trained regularly. Even now, he wouldn’t be the first to flow into the isolated farm house. The county SWAT team owned that honor. But he’d be right behind.
This case was different. This case was personal. And Trent wasn’t about to sit on the sidelines and watch.
Rain dripped off Trent’s hair and trickled down the back of his neck, under his body armor. The dribble of cool felt welcome, like a refreshing slap. The strong tang of cow manure from a dairy farm in the valley sharpened his senses. Or maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through his bloodstream.
He stifled a shiver, training his eyes on the non-descript, two-story house barely visible through the new sprouts of leaves on the bushes he crouched behind. No sound came from the house or surrounding yard or trees. Nothing but the patter of cold rain on leaves.
Damn fine day for a hostage situation.
Damn fine day, period.
But if there was any chance of getting Nikki out alive, at least he could keep it from getting worse.
Sheriff’s deputies decked out in SWAT gear silently moved into place, one team stacked at the back door, one at the front.
Trent moved into position near the front door. He quieted his mind, walled off his emotions. Training would guide him now, breaching drills and muscle memory, not fears about what he’d find. Not worries about breaking the news to Risa and snuffing the hope from her eyes.
Drawing his Glock from his shoulder holster, Trent fitted it into his hand. The grip felt comfortable, secure.
Subera fell in behind him, a radio in his hand.
A deputy positioned the battering ram, those behind him armed with assault rifles. At Subera’s signal, the crash of breaking glass came from the rear of the house.
Bam!
Trent tensed at the explosion, an incendiary device used to divert Dryden’s attention from the front door. The deputy drew back the battering ram. With a single heave, he drove it home. Wood cracked. The door flew open. Armed men flowed in behind him, Trent and Subera following on their heels.
Trent’s heart thundered in his ears, pumping adrenaline. He squinted, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the house. He walked deliberately, his weight centered over bent knees, his gun up and ready. Taking turns advancing while the others provided cover, he, Subera, and the SWAT officers moved down the hall.
Kitchen. Clear.
Living room. Clear.
Bathroom. Clear.
They climbed the stairs, the most dangerous area of the house, then headed down the hall. Trent was the first to round the corner into what appeared to be the master bedroom. A prone form lay spread-eagle on the wide bed, wrists and ankles secured to the headboard and footboard by speaker wire. Naked skin. The shocking red of blood.
No, no, no…
“We have the hostage,” he shouted and moved into the room, checking the corners, refusing to let himself feel.
Subera flowed into the room behind him, leading with his weapon. He checked the closet and peered under the bed. “The room is clear.”
Lowering his weapon, Trent rushed to the bed, panic pressing at the back of his eyes. “Nikki.”
Her skin was deathly pale and pocked with bruises. Blood covered the side of her face, sticking her hair to her neck and shoulder. Her lower lip was swollen and red. She stared up at Trent with glassy eyes.
Was she alive?
She blinked.
She was alive.
“Nikki!”
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, honey. It’s okay. You’re alive. Thank God, you’re alive.” He grabbed a knitted blanket draped on a nearby chair and covered her. Then he started on the wrist closest to him, adrenaline making his fingers shake as he struggled to untangle the bloody wire. Her dead cell phone lay on the bed.
Nikki let out a sob, and when he finally managed to free her hand, she cupped it to the bloody side of her head.
“My ear… Eddie… he bit my ear.”
Dryden had done it before, to the young woman he’d killed before his wife. Trent shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t be repulsed, but the idea that the bastard had done it to Nikki...
He finished untying her other wrist and helped her into a sitting position while Subera worked on freeing her ankles. Nikki was thinner than Trent had ever seen her. Frail. And she clung to him like a frightened kitten. Subera threw him a robe from the closet, and Trent helped her into it, draping the blanket over her as well to help ward off shock.
Shouts of all clear echoed through the house. All clear. Nikki, but no Dryden.
“You got this?” Subera asked.
“Yeah. Go.”
“You’re going to be okay, Nikki. You’re going home.” Carefully, he coaxed her hand away from her ear. A crescent-shaped bite was missing from the lobe.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“No. Not bad.” Not a lie. She could be dead. “You’re going to be okay, Nikki. You’re going to be just fine.”
“Oh, Trent. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” A fresh torrent streamed from her eyes and dampened the shoulder of his Kevlar vest.
He smoothed his hand over her tangled hair. She looked so much like Rees now that her hair was dark again. He’d never realized how much the sisters looked alike. “You’re safe. I have you. Risa is going to be so happy.”
“Where is she?”
“I took her to the police station like I told you on the phone. She’s safe. You’re both safe.”
Nikki nodded, gasping for breath between sobs.
Subera strode into the room, his gaze zeroing in on Trent. “Dryden’s gone. And there are no cars in the garage.”
The way he paused, Trent sensed there was something else. “What is it?”
“The owners of the home.”
“Dead?”
Subera nodded. “Found them in the basement.”
“Damn.”
“Eddie… He…” Nikki sobbed.