Stranded (32 page)

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

“Otis could not have done this on his own,” Gwen insisted. “I am not defending him, I’m just saying, how would that be possible?”

“He could have managed to get one of the trooper’s service revolvers,” Kunze said as he paced the conference room.

“But he hasn’t ever hurt anyone before. He’s gone to great lengths to
not
hurt people every time he’s set a fire.”

“His juvenile records are sealed,” Alonzo told them without looking up from his laptop. His fingers continued to tap. “There was a reason he was sent to Boys Town, I just can’t access it.”

“He certainly didn’t kill the tattooed biker in the barn,” Racine said. “Or the woman they found in the black garbage bag. He couldn’t have killed Gloria Dobson and Zach Lester either. He was already in prison.”

“Those had to be his friend Jack,” Keith Ganza agreed. “Jack was there today. He planned this ambush.”

“But who the hell is Jack?” Kunze yelled and the entire room went silent. Even Alonzo’s fingers quieted.

Gwen finally breached the tension. “Agent Alonzo, you said this couple took care of other troubled boys.”

“That’s right. Boys and a few girls. Dozens of them over the course of three decades.”

“Is there any way to get those names? Or are they classified?”

Alonzo saw where she was going. “I’ll find out.” And his fingers got back to work.

Kunze had stopped his pacing and now he stood at the end of the table, his eyes on her.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Patterson.” He looked genuinely remorseful. “I should have never allowed you to be on this task force when two people you care about are involved.”

“You don’t owe me an apology. I had a choice. Besides, if I recall,
you
didn’t have a choice. Senator Delanor-Ramos twisted your arm.”

“Damn politicians,” Kunze said under his breath, and he started pacing again.

“I think I may have found something,” Alonzo said.

The rest of them scrambled from their chairs to stand around behind the agent.

“A couple of days ago when I accessed the Iowa farm’s land survey to find out property boundaries there was a list of contact names. The executor of the estate was included: John Howard Elliott.”

“What about him?”

“He’s also on the list I found of troubled teenagers Helen and William Paxton took in. And it looks like John Howard and Otis were at the farm at the same time.”

“Holy crap!” Ganza said.

“That’s it.” Gwen knew that was the connection. “John Howard
is
Jack.”

“Alonzo, get back to those Florida properties on that frickin’ river,” Kunze told him as he grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair. “Let me know what you find out.”

“Where are you going?” Racine asked.

“I’ve got two agents I just sent into a shithole. I’m going down there to pull them out even if I have to do it myself.”

SUNDAY, MARCH 24

CHAPTER 66

BLACKWATER RIVER STATE FOREST

Tully was asleep, his head on Maggie’s shoulder. She leaned her cheek against him. His hair was damp and sweaty, his forehead was feverish, but he slept peacefully. No groans or fitful jerks. Maybe the whiskey. Maybe the antibiotics. Either way, she was glad he could rest. At least for now.

As for herself? She didn’t dare close her eyes but it grew harder and harder to keep them open. The cabin filled with warmth from the crackling wood fire. The storms were dying away to occasional flickers of lightning. The crashes of thunder reduced to a distant rumble. As quickly as they arrived, they exited.

Her stomach growled and she remembered Tully joking that she would regret not having the best waffles in the world. He had ordered the Waffle House’s All-Star Special with scrambled eggs, sausage, grits, a waffle the size of a dinner plate, and coffee. Her mouth watered just thinking about it now. She had settled for wheat toast and orange juice. Even the waitress had warned that she would regret her choice. “Oh honey, that’s hardly nothing.”

The idea that she was thinking about food made her smile. It was something she’d obviously acquired from working so closely
with Tully these past several weeks. He seemed to eat out of stress and boredom and anxiety.

She hadn’t used all of the bottled water to clean Tully’s wound. Now she drank what was left. A few seconds later her stomach was still growling.

“You should have had breakfast,” Tully mumbled into her shoulder without moving his head away.

“I don’t suppose you have any of those prepackaged honey buns in one of your pockets?”

“I thought you said you’d have to be starving before you’d eat one of those.”

“Point.”

She felt his “humph” more than heard it.

“Do you hear that?” Jack suddenly said from across the room, startling them.

Maggie thought he meant their conversation, but he walked the length of the cabin with his head tilted to listen and his arms out, palms up, like a preacher getting ready to proclaim a miracle.

Otis wiped at his eyes and rubbed his jaw. The big man had been asleep and looked just as confused as Maggie and Tully about Jack’s excitement.

“Don’t you hear that?”

He lifted the hatch and opened the potbelly stove. He doused the fire, watering it down until there wasn’t a curl of smoke left.

Then he looked from Tully and Maggie to Otis, surprised that no one had even stirred. His eyes returned to Maggie’s when he said, “It’s quit storming. I’ve looked forward to this for a long time, Magpie. Don’t disappoint me.”

CHAPTER 67

Creed scrambled to put his gear back on as he watched the storm clouds move east. Veins of lightning streaked through the black mass that still roared, though the sound had diminished. Under the black mass Creed could see the first light of dawn.

He was harnessing Bolo when a call came in from Agent Alonzo.

“I found it,” the young agent yelled before Creed could say anything.

“Otis has a cabin?”

“Not Otis.” Alonzo explained what he’d learned about John Howard Elliott and the connection between the two men. “Our guy is John Howard Junior. The senior Elliott owns a piece of land right on Blackwater River. Just on the other side of the forest. Been in the family for years. But the taxes don’t list a dwelling.”

“It might not,” Creed said and the urgency kicked up his pulse. “Some of them are shacks. No electricity. No indoor plumbing. So they don’t qualify as a dwelling. Can you give a GPS coordinate?”

Alonzo gave him what he needed. He asked the agent to call the Coast Guard and give them the information they needed to put a helicopter up.

“Cell phone reception’s going to be spotty once I get on the river,” he told the agent. “So you might not hear from me.”

“Wait a minute. Why not wait for the Coast Guard? They should be able to spot the cabin. It’s almost daylight there, right?”

Creed grimaced but smiled. “Agent Alonzo, have you ever looked down from above on a forest?”

Silence.

“Tell them my dog will be wearing a bright yellow vest. I don’t want them thinking I’m one of the bad guys.”

“You got it.”

Then before he could end the call, he heard Alonzo say, “Good luck, Mr. Creed.”

CHAPTER 68

Jack had given them a head start, just as he’d promised.

It was impossible to run.

Maggie held Tully up. They stumbled and shuffled. She had his arm looped around her shoulder so he could lean on her. But again the handcuffs trapped her left arm against her body, which limited their movement even more.

She needed to get them out of sight from the cabin. Not such a difficult task—it was still dark inside the forest, though she could see the sky starting to lighten. A mist still hung over the river, thick enough to make you second-guess what you saw.

Already Maggie’s adrenaline came to her aid, shoving her exhausted mind into gear. Urgency trampled panic, kicking her into fight or flight overdrive. For now it had to be flight. At least until she could get Tully somewhere out of sight and halfway safe.

She pulled them behind the trunk of huge live oak and she gently yanked Tully down into a sitting position.

“What are we doing?” he whispered.

His eyes were focused even if his mind couldn’t make his body work as well as he wanted.

Maggie untangled his arm from around her. Then she ripped her hiking boot off her right foot without bothering to untie the
laces. She had to roll her sock down almost all the way off her foot to reach the item she had placed in the cuff of her sock. It had worked its way to the bottom of her foot. When she had rummaged through Trooper Campos’s gun belt and taken the handcuffs, she had taken the key as well.

Tully saw what she had in her fingers. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe it, but then he grinned.

Metal clicked against metal and in seconds they were free of each other. Maggie ignored the raw welt and caked blood on her wrist. She pulled down the sleeve of her shirt and hurried to put her boot back on.

“Okay, what’s the plan?” Tully continued to whisper and for the first time he sounded almost like himself.

With his right hand finally free, she saw him touch his shoulder, his fingers anxious to feel the damage. He winced and stopped. His hand hovered over the wound.

“Clean shot through?” he asked her.

“It looks like it.”

“Okay. I can do this.”

She had witnessed how weak and dizzy he had been on his feet even with her help. He’d only slow her down.

“We need to find a place where you can stay put and be safe.”

He didn’t respond. He just stared at her. She had expected an argument. Never had she expected this quiet, wounded look. Then it occurred to her. He thought she had taken him up on his earlier offer. He thought she was leaving him behind.

“I’m not leaving this forest without you.”

“Sure. I know.”

“I’m serious, Tully.”

She peeked around the tree trunk. Jack had promised he and Otis would give them a half hour. Experience had taught her that
killers don’t usually keep their promises. She figured she had fifteen to twenty minutes at best.