Against the Wild (33 page)

Nick started nodding, telling her to agree. She moistened her lips, which felt cold and numb. “Talking sounds good. Where are you? How will I find you?”

“Are you sure you won't call the cops?”

“I won't call them. I don't want Emily getting hurt.”

“I don't want that, either. But you have to come alone. I'll be watching, making sure no one follows you. I'll know if you're trying to trick me.”

“I won't trick you. Dylan wants his daughter safely returned. He'll let me come by myself.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. He was trying to decide whether or not to believe her. She closed her eyes, whispered a little prayer.

“There's a cabin,” he finally said. “It's at the end of a dirt lane south of Yeil. The turnoff's overgrown, nearly impossible to spot. It's exactly three-point-one miles north of the lodge. Watch your speedometer. Make the turn, then drive to the end of the road. It's another two miles.”

“Okay, I've got it.”

“I'll see you soon, sweetheart.” Kyle hung up the phone. Lane's knees were shaking badly. Dylan eased her over to the table and back down on the bench.

She took a shuddering breath. “You both heard him. I've got to go by myself.”

“Bullshit,” Dylan said.

“There's no way around it, Dylan,” Nick said. “Lane's got to go. You know it and so do I.”

Dylan's jaw was so tight it looked painful. He started to speak, but Nick's words cut him off.

“She's got to go, but she won't be alone. We'll be with her. All three of us.”

“Count me in,” Paddy said. “I'd love to give that bastard a little payback.”

Lane almost smiled.

“You aren't up to it yet,” Dylan said. “Besides, I need you to stay here with Winnie. If the son of a bitch comes back, this time you'll be ready for him.” It was a kindness, but it worked.

“All right,” Paddy reluctantly agreed.

Lane looked at her watch. “He's expecting me. I need to get going.”

“All right,” Nick said. “Here's what we're going to do.”

Dylan didn't like it. Not one bit. He didn't want to put Lane in danger. But Nick was right. Lane was the key to bringing Emily out safely.

Rifle slung across his back, he moved through the forest at a good, fast clip. The first few miles, he, Nick, and Caleb had ridden beneath a tarp in the bed of his pickup while Lane drove toward the turnoff. They climbed out a mile before they reached the cabin, split up, and headed at a jog to the rendezvous point.

Ironically, he figured that as close as the cabin was to the lodge, they might have spotted it from the plane. Instead, the engine failure had brought them down at Moose Lake. If he hadn't just moved into the area a few months back, he might have known the cabin was there.

He checked his watch, but didn't slow. He knew his way around a forest, knew how to make the best time. It wasn't much farther. The plan was to take up positions around the house, Nick covering the back, he and Caleb on both sides of the road near the front, where they could watch the front door.

Each of them carried one of the handheld Motorola radios he used on hunting and fishing trips. Their range was only a couple of miles, but once they reached the cabin, they'd be close enough to stay in contact.

He was very close now. Dylan had located the cabin on the Internet and checked it out on Google Earth. He slowed, carefully placed each footstep as quietly as he could. Through the woods, he could hear the pickup rolling slowly down the road, knew Whitaker would be positioned somewhere he could watch Lane's approach. He would want to make sure she'd come alone.

Dylan pushed the
TALK
button on the radio. “I can see the cabin. Truck's almost there. I'm moving into position. Over.”

“Roger that,” Caleb said, “I'm almost there.”

“I'm in position on the hill at the back,” Nick said. “Got the back door in my sights.” The radio fell silent.

Dylan moved closer, staying low and deep in the foliage around the cabin. It was made of logs, was heavily overgrown, and had obviously not been in use for the past few years. That wasn't uncommon up here.

As he settled into a spot where he could see the front door beneath the porch roof, he unslung his rifle, belly-crawled up behind a boulder, and settled in to wait.

Using his binoculars, he scanned the area around the house, spotted Lane behind the wheel of his truck, bouncing along the rutted road the last few yards to the house. As planned, she honked her horn a couple of times, and a movement in the window caught his eye.

“There you are,” he said, catching a glimpse of Whitaker inside the house. Eager to see Lane, Whitaker hadn't noticed the men taking up positions around the cabin.

The distraction, the first part of the plan, had worked. Dylan settled his rifle in a notch at the top of a granite boulder. He was ready as the truck braked to a stop in front of the house.

Lane rolled down the window and turned off the engine. “I'm here, Kyle! Are you in there?”

The front door opened a crack. “Come inside, Lane.”

“I'm not coming in till you let Emily come out. She can wait in the truck while we talk.”

“You come in. The girl comes out when you get inside the cabin.”

Dylan's muscles tensed. He had warned her—under absolutely no circumstances was she to go into the house.

“I'm not doing that, Kyle. I need to be sure Emily is safe. Then we can talk.”

Silence fell. A few minutes later, the door swung open, and Kyle walked out with Emily in front of him, using her as a human shield. A powerful arm wrapped around her neck, and Dylan fought down an image of Holly Kaplan, strangled and lying dead in the grass outside Mad Jack's Saloon.

“You need to come in, Lane. I don't want to hurt her, but you know I can. All I want to do is talk.”

Dylan swore as the pickup door swung open and Lane climbed down from the driver's side of the truck. “I'll come to you, Kyle. But you have to let Emily go. She can wait for me in the truck, okay?”

Whitaker seemed uncertain. He turned his head one way and then another. His mouth was moving. He seemed to be talking to someone other than Lane, but there was no one there.

“Okay,” he finally said, returning his attention to Lane. “You come inside and the kid can wait in the truck.”

Dylan's pulse pounded as he watched Lane slowly approach the porch.

“Let her go, Kyle,” she said softly. “Then I'll come inside.”

Lying flat on the ground, the barrel of his Weatherby steadied on top of the boulder, Dylan watched through his scope as Lane approached the porch. She was directly in his line of fire. On the other side of the road, Caleb wouldn't have a clear shot, either. Dylan swore a silent oath.

Lane moved slowly. “She's scared, Kyle. Please let her go.” She turned to Emily. “Go get in the truck, honey. Kyle and I need to talk. I'll drive you back home when we're finished, okay?”

“N-n-n-no. D-d-d-don't. G-g-g-go.”

Shock rolled through Dylan at the sound of his daughter's voice. Lane grabbed the child, pulled her out of Kyle's arms. “Get in the truck, Emily!” She shoved the girl in that direction even as Kyle was trying to haul Lane into the house. Instead of running away, Emily turned and ran after them, pushing at Kyle, trying to keep him from dragging Lane inside.

Dylan's finger tightened on the trigger. His heart was racing, trying to beat through his chest. No way he could fire without a clear shot.

“Get in the truck!” Lane shouted, but it was too late. Kyle hauled them both inside and slammed the door.

Dylan's chest clamped down in rage and fear. Emily and Lane were in there, at the mercy of a killer. He wanted to go down and tear the goddamned door off its hinges, shoot Whitaker where he stood.

He took a deep breath, forced himself under control. His mind shot back to his daughter. The first words Emily had said in three years had been forced out of her mouth by fear for Lane.

Renewed anger rolled through him. Through the rifle scope, he sighted through the cabin window. He could see Lane and Emily on the sofa. Kyle was somewhere out of view. At least they were okay for the moment.

Dylan brought up his radio, pressed the
TALK
button. “Plan A's a bust,” he said to Nick. “They're both inside.”

Nick's deep voice crackled through the speaker. “I can't see anyone moving in the windows at the back of the house. Time for plan B.”

Dylan had known his brother would have one. It was what a Ranger did when plan A went south and turned into a goat fuck.

Dylan pushed the
TALK
button. “He still doesn't know we're here. Over.”

“We need to move in,” Nick replied, “find out what's going on in there. Caleb, you there?”

“I'm here.”

“Keep your rifle on the door. If you get a clear shot, take him out, but don't risk hitting Lane or Emily.”

“Copy that. Over.”

“Dylan, you move around, come in on the side where he can't see you. Try to find out what's going on in there. I need two minutes to reach the back door. The first chance we get, we go in.”

“On my way.” Moving toward the side of the house where he would be out of sight, Dylan headed for the cabin.

 

 

Lane sat on the sofa, an arm around Emily's small shoulders. She could feel the child shaking. “Everything's going to be okay,” she said softly.

“H-h-he . . . h-h-h-hurt . . . W-W-W-Winnie.”

“Winnie and Paddy are okay,” Lane said, not wanting to make a big deal out of the fact the little girl was talking, afraid if she did, Emily would stop. “They're waiting for us back at the lodge.”

“Shut that kid up. I brought you here so we could talk.”

Lane looked up at him. “Why don't I take her outside, put her in the truck? Then we can talk.”

Kyle just shook his head. She had forgotten how good-looking he was. Dark hair, hard jaw. His slightly Roman nose didn't detract from his long-lashed brown eyes or the fullness of his lips. A woman would have to be dead not to notice his powerful build.

But the attraction she'd felt had been purely physical. It hadn't taken her long to sense that something was off about him. The way he'd get confused. The way he would look up and say something. As if he were talking to someone who wasn't really there.

He was doing that now. Forming words, then shaking his head.

“Let me take her out to the truck,” Lane pressed.

“No!” He walked over to the couch and grabbed Emily's arm, started dragging her toward the tiny bedroom at the back of the cabin.

Lane came up off the sofa. “Kyle, don't! You'll hurt her! I'll never forgive you if you hurt Emily!”

He let go of the little girl's arm, and Emily raced back to her, her face sheet-white against the frame of her glossy dark hair. Lane bent and caught her in her arms.

“It's okay, honey. Kyle isn't going to hurt you.”

“Take her into the bedroom and close the door. Tell her to stay there until we're finished.”

At least she'd be out of harm's way as much as possible. “All right.” Lifting the child against her hip, Lane carried Emily into the bedroom. “Your daddy's outside,” she whispered against the child's ear as she walked through the bedroom door. “Stay quiet. Get out if you can.”

Emily faintly nodded.

“Hurry up!” Kyle said.

Lane set Emily on her feet, turned, and walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

She pasted on a smile. “That's better. Now we'll have a chance to talk. You came all the way up here to see me. What was it you wanted to say?”

Kyle looked relieved. Lane forced herself not to flinch when he took her hand and led her over to the sofa.

Nick was standing at the back door of the cabin when he saw the screen moving at the bedroom window. The screen fell off and Emily's head popped out as she climbed over the sill. Relief trickled through him.
One down, one to go.

The minute she spotted him, the little girl ran toward him. Lowering his weapon, Nick caught her against his side.

“U-U-Uncle N-N-Nick,” she whispered. “L-L-Lane's in-in—”

“I know, sweetie.” Keeping his voice soft and low, he tried not to show his surprise that she was speaking. “We're going to get her out.” He pressed the
TALK
button. “I've got Em.”

“Thank God.” There was a moment of relief in Dylan's voice; then the tension returned. “I'm moving beneath the front window.”

Nick turned to the child. “Go up the hill. Get behind a rock and don't come out until we come get you.”

She nodded, raced away. He watched till she disappeared behind a boulder. “Em's safe. I'm at the back door.”

“Give me a minute. I'll see if I can get a fix on where they are.”

 

 

Lane sat on the sofa next to Kyle. He had positioned himself on the other side of her, away from the window. No way anyone who might be out there could get a shot. The man was no fool.

“You remember when we were dating?” he asked, flashing her a smile, the one that had convinced her to go out with him. “How we always got along so well? Remember how you said we were a perfect match?”

“You said that, Kyle.”

He frowned. “Maybe. Maybe I did. But it's true, right? We were perfect together. If I hadn't got in that fight, we'd still be together, right?”

“I don't know, Kyle. That was a while back.”

He glanced toward the bedroom door. “You like kids, right? Maybe a few years down the road, we could have a couple. I mean, if that was what you wanted. Not right away, though. We need time to get to know each other.”

Lane wished she could look out the window, try to spot Dylan, but she would have to turn around to do it and she might give him away.

“. . . so what do you think?”

Oh, God, she'd lost track of the conversation. “About . . . about having kids?”

“No, dammit, about leaving together. I've got tickets for the ferry. It's due in Waterside tomorrow. We can drive in tonight, be there when it leaves in the morning.”

It wasn't logical. There was an abducted child in the bedroom and he had murdered a woman.

“I'd need to get my things,” she said, stalling for time. “I'd have to go back to the lodge and get them.”

Kyle shook his head. “No way I'm letting you go back to Brodie.” His features tightened until he didn't look handsome at all. “You fucked him, didn't you? You fucked him six ways to Sunday.”

Fear slipped through her. “I didn't know you cared that much, Kyle. I didn't know the way you felt.”

He relaxed a little, released a breath. “It's all right, I forgive you. I was mostly to blame. I shouldn't have got in that fight.”

Her mouth felt dry. She glanced across the room to the tiny kitchen. “Is that coffee I smell?”