“ETA?” Matt Elliott asked.
“Fifty-five minutes.”
Hans said, “The county sheriff has been briefed and dispatched.”
“They’d better not fuck it up,” Jack said.
“They’re aware of the seriousness. The city of Flagstaff has a SWAT team and they’re sending it out as well. The cabin is off the major roads. They’re about thirty minutes out.”
“Good,” Dillon said. “We don’t want to spook her.”
“What will she do?” Jack asked.
Dillon looked uncomfortable. He glanced from Jack to Megan’s brother.
“I’m a big boy,” Matt said. “I want to know exactly what’s happening and what Karin Standler plans to do with my sister.”
“It’s only an educated guess,” Dillon said cautiously, “but if Standler feels threatened, she’ll kill Megan without hesitation.”
J.T. pulled out a laptop and brought up a map. “I have the specs of the cabin and the terrain. We don’t have a lot of time to plan this mission, and there is no room for error. Kincaid, I need you here. This is your specialty, right?”
Jack glanced at Dillon. “Can you handle the controls?”
Dillon nodded and took over flying the plane.
Jack crossed to the rear where J.T. had his laptop open. Jack forced himself to think of Megan as a hostage, not as the woman he was falling in love with. It was the only way he could focus on the mission, and not on his fear.
“We have one thing going for us: it’ll still be dark when we land. But not for long. We’ll have less than thirty minutes to get in position and execute the plan. There’s no room for error,” he repeated.
Dillon said, “We have one more thing going for us.”
“Besides darkness?” Jack asked.
“We have Father Francis,” answered Dillon.
“What does Padre have to do with this?”
“Karin Standler didn’t kill him.”
“I’ll break open the champagne,” Jack snapped.
“I did some research while flying out here, and I think I know why she spared him. Remember when I said I thought she had a religious background?”
“So?”
“Karin Standler went to Catholic school for elementary and high school, and then was a registered parishioner at St. Thomas More during college. The pastor, Father Michael O’Malley, was murdered in a confessional when Karin was a senior.”
“She killed him?” Jack said, glancing at Padre who had a poker face.
“No,” Dillon said, then frowned. “Maybe she did, but I don’t think so. The murder was thoroughly investigated and there were no suspects.”
“Then why is this important?”
“Because he was a religious figure who was important to her, for whatever reason. I don’t know when Karin Standler started killing, but Father O’Malley’s murder may have been the trigger that sent her down this path. And Father Francis may be able to temporarily replace him.”
Padre nodded. “I agree.”
“What?” Jack said. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“No. No. You’re not risking your life, Padre. We go in like a traditional rescue mission. We’ve done this hundreds of times.”
“This isn’t a traditional rescue mission,” Padre said. “The soldiers we face have orders and protocols and their goal is not to kill their hostages, but to barter with them.”
“I agree,” J.T said.
Dillon added, “If Standler feels threatened, she’ll kill Megan even if it means her own death. We need a distraction.”
“I’ll do it,” Padre said. He looked at Jack. “You know this is the only way.”
Jack didn’t want to risk Padre. He didn’t trust Karin Standler. And Dillon couldn’t give him good enough odds that Padre would come out uninjured. Or even alive.
“We’ll assess the layout when we get there,” Jack said. “If this is the only way, that’s how we’ll do it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Megan was jolted into consciousness by waves of pain radiating from her right foot. Her entire body spasmed, then she went limp like a rag doll. She had no energy. No strength. Both her feet throbbed as if they were buried in burning coals. It was all she could do to open her eyes.
“Much better!” Karin said. “I don’t like it when you get tired. It’s no fun. And if it’s not fun for me, I’ll just kill you.”
Megan worked her mouth, but no sound came out. She was so tired. She tried to look at the clock, but the red numbers were a blur. She squinted and still couldn’t see them. She thought it was still dark outside, but she didn’t know if an hour had passed or a full day.
“You know, I thought you had potential. I thought you understood. But you’re a people pleaser. Teacher’s pet. Hans liked you better because you fawned over him, you told him how smart he was, it was sick. I thought you had a thing for him, then I realized that you had replaced your father. No one could replace my father. Certainly not Hans. I was really sad when he had to die.”
Megan couldn’t have heard that right. Hans? Dead? No. “Wh-at?” she squeezed out of her raw throat.
“He read my diary. Asshole.”
She wasn’t talking about Hans. She was talking about her father.
“He wanted to send me to a shrink. I couldn’t- not then. I didn’t have the shields up. My mother always told me never to write anything down. I had them hidden, but he found them. I hated it when she was right.”
Karin had killed her father. It made sense, a very sick, logical sense. Yet-she’d been only twelve when he died. “H-how?” Megan asked.
“It was raining. I had the poor road conditions going for me. It was really stupid, but I was young. See this scar here?” She pulled down the collar of her T-shirt and pointed to a faded white scar-thin, about three inches long. “Piece of metal hit me in the neck. But I was young, I wasn’t thinking, I thought because I had my seat belt on and he didn’t … Well, it still worked and I was only in the hospital for a couple days. I think that was the first time my mom was actually proud of me. Maybe the only time.” Her voice trailed off.
Megan’s stomach rolled. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing about Karin’s sick family. Her mother knew that Karin was violent? That she’d killed her father? Condoned it?
“I’ve hated you for a long time, but never more than when you had me fired.”
“You tried to kill me!”
“See, that’s the thing. They didn’t even believe you! But they still fired me. I had to play this emotionally strung out depressed nervous wreck just to prove I didn’t shoot poor Meggie Elliott on purpose. I hate you for that. I hate you for being such a goody two-shoes, a premium saint. You know, there’s nothing wrong with executions, with or without a righteous judge. And I had hope for you, but you started investigating me. Looking into my life. My family. No. Not allowed! You crossed the line, and I had to take care of it.
“But,” she continued, “I do owe you one. A small one. I finally had the courage to take care of my mother. That fucking bitch was a thorn in my side for years, but when she-” Karin spun around and Megan couldn’t see her face. “She went too far,” Karin said, her voice low. “Just like Ethan.”
“The police.” Megan swallowed. “They thought it was suicide.”
“Yeah, well, it wasn’t too hard. A few pills to make her sleepy, a running car in a closed garage, a note on the computer … the only thing I regret is I couldn’t do this to her.”
Karin stuck in a needle and, although it hurt, it didn’t hit a nerve.
Karin frowned at the needle and threw it across the room. Took a deep breath, calmed herself, squeezed her hands open and shut. Megan watched the process, wanted to keep Karin talking because that seemed to distract her so she couldn’t concentrate. The reprieve gave Megan time to regather her strength and time for someone to find her.