Megan tried to slow her racing heart, but she’d never been so terrified in her life. She didn’t want to die like this, when she had so much to live for.
Karin wanted to hurt her, and she would. Megan would fight the pain, find some way to survive. She tugged at her restraints; too tight to escape, too strong to break free. She would take the assault and agony as long as she could, hoping-praying-that Jack and Hans found her before Karin put a bullet in her head.
Karin returned with a bucket. She poured more icy water over Megan and the federal agent almost passed out.
“Better,” Karin said.
Megan couldn’t talk. Her lips chattered.
“I can improvise. We never used ice water, but Ethan told me about it.”
Karin pulled over a chair and sat in front of Megan. She stared at her on the table, grinning. But her eyes were as icy as the water she’d drenched Megan with.
“You stole everything I loved. My job and the respect I got from it. Was it so wrong to dispense a little frontier justice? I think not. They were criminals, Meggie. The bad guys. Or are you so worried about the damn rules and regulations that you’d rather have a guilty man walk free?”
“Y-yes,” she said.
“Right, but-”
Megan interrupted her, teeth chattering. “Y-you didn’t care who you k-killed, Karin. You j-just wanted to play God. You kill and hurt people b-b-because you like it. You feel good inside, don’t you? You’re nothing but a brutal, monstrous serial killer.”
Megan couldn’t bait her this time. Karin had calmed down. She smiled wider. Megan couldn’t quite see what Karin was doing near her feet. But-
Megan screamed. She didn’t even know where Karin had pricked her, but her entire left side felt like it burned from within.
“I learned some new tricks, Meggie, just for you.”
Megan’s screams were so loud her head hurt. Then there was nothing. No pain, no sound, no hope.
Jack paced back and forth in front of Scout’s Cessna Caravan.
It had been ten hours since Megan was kidnapped. Three a.m. and no word from her, no word from Karin Standler. Karin didn’t want to ransom Megan, she wanted to kill her.
Megan could already be dead. Suffering. Terrified. Jack closed his eyes and pictured a group of POWs he’d rescued ten years ago. The hollow eyes of men who had endured so much pain and suffering that they looked more dead than alive. Broken in every sense of the word. Hopeless.
“Don’t do this to yourself,” Padre said.
He’d flown out as soon as Jack hung up with him the night before. Padre stood with his friend on the airfield, trying to help.
“What are the damn FBI doing?” Jack said. “Taking a coffee break?”
“Jack, they found the truck Rosemont was driving when they killed the Hoffmans. They’re going over it with a fine-toothed comb, something will-”
“Have you called in favors? Is there anyone you know who can help with the search?”
“The FBI have the high-end toys in this case, Jack.”
“And they don’t know how to use them!”
A small plane landed on the lighted airstrip, and taxied over to the main area. Jack watched it, wishing he could take Megan away, right now. The two of them, no one else, on a beach, in a jungle, in the mountains. He didn’t care where he was, as long as Megan was with him.
Be strong, Blondie. You’re a survivor.
He was still watching the arriving plane when he heard a car squeal through the open gates of the small, private airstrip outside Santa Barbara. It slowed, headlights so bright Jack had to put up an arm. Out of instinct, he had his hand on his gun and stepped out of the direct light.
The doors opened and two tall men stepped out. Dressed in khakis and black T-shirts, they were armed.
“Kincaid?” the brown-haired man questioned.
Jack nodded. “Jack Kincaid.”
The brown-haired man extended his hand. “Matt Elliott.” He gestured toward the black-haired man. “And J. T Caruso. Meg’s my sister.”
Jack nodded. “Elliott. Caruso.”
“Where are we?” Matt asked.
Hans approached from where he’d been talking in the hangar. He obviously knew both men. “We’re looking for property that Karin Standler owns or has possession of. We believe she took Meg to hold her captive, not kill her.”
“Torture her, you mean,” Matt said. “Then kill her.”
“We have time.”
Matt’s jaw tightened. “J.T” was all he said.
J.T took out his phone. He pressed one button and said, “Jayne, you’re up. What have you found?”
“The program’s still running, J.T, I’m going as fast as I can.”
“I’ll wait.”
Out of the corner of Jack’s eye he saw a familiar figure walking from the runway. Turning, he saw his brother Dillon. He couldn’t have been more surprised.
Dillon approached the group and gave Jack a tight embrace and slap on the back. “I’m here to do whatever you need.”
“You didn’t have to come from Washington.”
Dillon raised his eyebrow. “You’re family. We don’t turn our backs on family.”
The emotions coursing through Jack were violent in their intensity. Family. Matt Elliott came for Megan, Dillon came for him. And Jack hadn’t asked either.
Family mattered.
“I got it,” Jayne said over the phone.
“Give it to me,” J.T. said.
“Four possibles. A house outside St. George, Utah, owned by Kenneth Russo, Sr. It’s vacant, on five acres and in probate. Has been for more than a year.
“A hundred-plus-acre ranch outside Amarillo, Texas, owned by Barry Rosemont’s brother-in-law, Bryce Tyson.”
“Is it occupied?” Dillon asked.
“Yes, but Tyson has a record and the ranch has been in the red for years. He’s facing foreclosure.”
“Next?” Jack said, impatient.
“A cabin in Lake Tahoe owned by Bernard and Millicent Rubin.”
“That’s it,” Hans said.
Matt asked, “Where in Lake Tahoe?”
“I’m looking on Google Earth right now. It’s on about one acre fronting the lake. They’ve owned it for more than forty years and a rental company manages it.”
Hans called in the information to his office for them to immediately contact the rental company.
“What’s the fourth?” Jack asked.
“A cabin in Flagstaff, Arizona, owned by Crystal Gardner.”
“Who’s that?” J.T asked. “That name wasn’t on the list I gave you.”
“I did some research. Gardner is the maiden name of Karin Standler’s mother.”
“That’s it,” Dillon said.
Jack opened the door of the Cessna. “I need an address. I’m taking off in two minutes, whoever wants to come.”
Hans said, “We need to send in the local sheriff. It’ll take at least an hour to fly there from here. By then, Meg could be dead!”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “You don’t need to tell me that, Vigo. I’m aware of the danger.”
Dillon said, “Have the sheriff’s men approach with caution. Do not expose themselves. If Standler thinks she’s cornered, she’ll kill Megan and run. She has an escape plan, probably multiple plans. They have to approach cautiously and devise a rescue plan. Ascertain where the hostage is and the layout.”
Jayne said over the phone, “I’ll get a layout and send it to you, J.T.”
“Thanks, Jayne. Send me the coordinates and the closest level area to land a Cessna Caravan.” He hung up. “Let’s go.”
Jack and the five men boarded the plane. Within minutes, Jack was airborne and pushing the capabilities of the Cessna, while Hans placed as many calls as he could to get Arizona law enforcement to locate the Flagstaff residence.
Dillon slid into the co-pilot seat. “We’re going to find her. Alive.”
Jack couldn’t speak. He focused on the plane’s controls. “Caruso,” he said, “where are we heading?”
J.T. rattled off numbers and Jack made adjustments. As soon as they were level, he pushed the plane as fast as it could go.