Cold Case Tracker, page 5
A light flickered on and off in the forest so quickly that she couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Amy?” Jackson’s whisper was faint in the darkness.
“Jackson?” she whispered back. “I shouted for you.”
“I heard. I didn’t want to tip anyone off that I was here.”
Well, she’d have liked the heads-up he was coming to her rescue.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Here.”
“Where?”
“On the roof.”
“You’re what?” His voice rose slightly. “Never mind. Hang on and don’t move. I’m coming.”
She could hear the intruder moving through her room behind her. What if he had a weapon? Or got to her before Jackson did? Should she just wait there for Jackson to rescue her? Or keep climbing down?
Suddenly the decision was out of her hands as she felt the tiles rip loose beneath her fingers. She scrambled in vain for another handhold, but it was too late. The gutter broke free. Amy screamed as suddenly she tumbled forward, off the steep roof and into the darkness below.
FOUR
Lord, please protect my child! The desperate prayer filled her heart as—for what felt like an excruciating and terrifying moment—Amy felt herself falling through the air. Then she landed against a sturdy chest. Strong arms tightened gently around her and she realized he must’ve run for her.
“It’s okay,” Jackson’s voice soothed in her ear. “I’m here. I’ve got you. What were you even doing up there?”
“The intruder...was in...my room.” Her breaths were coming out so sharp and shallow, she could barely speak. “He’s looking... He’s looking for something.”
Quickly, Jackson stepped under the cover of the porch and out of the view of anyone looking out the window. His arms tightened around her. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine. He didn’t see me.” She tried to pull in a deeper breath. “It’s no big deal. Gemma’s brother used to jump off the roof all the time when we were kids.”
“You’re not him,” Jackson said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
No, she wasn’t. But her heart was racing in her chest and she had to slow it down, for Skye’s sake.
“I need to lie down,” she admitted, “and slow my heart rate.”
“We need to get you out of here in case he comes looking for you,” Jacskon said. “I’ll take you to the camper. Hudson will guard you while I go see if I can catch the intruder.”
“But Hudson is just a dog.”
“Trust me.” Jackson’s voice was firm and unrelenting. “He’s also an RCMP officer and he’ll protect you.”
He turned and started carrying her swiftly through the trees toward the camper. Hudson ran alongside them.
“I know you and Hudson didn’t get off to the best start,” he added. “But I promise he’ll keep you safe. If anyone comes within a mile of you, he’ll bark his head off. His hearing is far better than ours.” He blew out a breath. “And if anyone tries to step foot near the camper, it will not go well for them.”
When they reached the trailer, he opened the door and gently set her down just inside the doorway. A faint orange light flickered on above a bunk to her right. She crawled onto the bed, lay down and pressed her hands flat against the mattress, willing her racing heart to slow its rapid pace. Skye was kicking so frantically, Amy almost doubled over.
“The light will flicker off when I close the door,” Jackson said. “But there’s a flashlight with a dimmer in the side pocket. There’s a folding knife in there too, not that Hudson will let anyone get within striking distance of you.”
He turned to Hudson and directed the German shepherd to jump inside and sit in front of Amy, facing the door.
“Guard Amy,” Jackson said, firmly. “Keep her safe.”
Hudson woofed softly.
Jackson turned to Amy. “What am I walking into?”
“Same guy as before,” she said.
“Did you see him?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Really well. He’s tall and masked. He was clearly searching the cabin for something.”
“Did he have a weapon?” he asked.
“Not that I saw.”
Jackson nodded. “Okay.”
Still, Jackson hesitated in the doorway, as if uncertain whether to leave her or not. She didn’t want him to go.
Lord, I feel safe with him here. And now he’s walking into danger. Please protect him and keep him safe. Keep us both safe.
“You should go,” Amy said. “Catch whoever is behind this before he finds whatever he’s after and gets away with it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jackson said. She could hear his smile in the darkness.
He turned the lock on the handle and then closed the door. The orange light flickered out. She lay there for a moment listening for the sound of Jackson moving away through the woods.
Hudson glanced toward her and woofed softly as if trying to reassure her. She reached down and ran her hand along his back, feeling the warmth of his soft fur beneath her fingers. Hudson licked her fingers in response. Then he turned his attention back to the door. The dog’s ears perked, listening for any sound in the darkness.
She closed her eyes and forced her breathing to slow.
God, I feel as if the world is shifting beneath my feet.
She’d liked living a spontaneous life. It had been fun, like she’d been on a raft exploring one fast-paced river after the next. But now, it was as if her tiny raft had been swept out onto the huge and wild ocean. She was beaten down by torrential rains. And every time she thought for a moment she’d begun to find her footing, another wave would come and knock her down.
I want my best friend Gemma back, Lord. I can’t imagine her being dead, and I want so very much for the police to find her alive. I want Jackson to catch whoever is stalking me and for the nightmare I’m living in to stop. Above all, I want a break from the chaos.
I need peace. Please, bring Your strong and lasting peace into my life.
Finally, she felt her breathing begin to slow, and Skye settled within her.
Thank You, God.
She reached inside the camper’s side storage flap, for the flashlight Jackson told her was stashed there. Instead, she felt something rectangular. It was soft around the edges. She pulled it out and ran her fingers along it.
It was a book and there was a piece of paper tucked between the pages.
Glad for the distraction, she dipped her hand back into the pocket again and felt around until she finally found the flashlight. Then she pulled a blanket over her head, just like when she and Gemma had been kids trying not to get caught reading after dark.
She flicked the light on. It was one of Ajay’s old adventure novels, about two brothers who explored incredible places solving crimes. She pulled out the piece of paper. It was ragged at the side like it had been ripped from a spiral notebook. Words were scrawled across the page in large bold letters, only to be dramatically scratched out as if someone had tried to erase any evidence that they’d ever been written.
Hi Amy,
I like you. Do you like me?
Yo Amy,
I think you’re amazing. Do you want to be my girlfriend? Yes or No.
Dear Amy,
Do you like pizza? Want to go get some in town maybe?
Her heart stopped in her chest. She’d discovered something she wasn’t supposed to see. Ajay had had a crush on her. But she’d had no idea, and he’d never sent her a letter like this. But he’d tried to write one...she guessed when they were about thirteen, judging by the handwriting. Had Gemma known? And if Ajay felt this way, why had he never told her?
* * *
Jackson pressed his body against the living room wall of his cottage and listened. He could hear the sound of the clock ticking and his own breath rising and falling. Trees rustled somewhere beyond the cottage walls. A cold breeze cut through the air. The door to the front porch had been left open.
Did that mean the intruder was already gone? Had he found what he was looking for and escaped while Jackson was taking care of Amy? Or was he still hiding somewhere in the darkness?
Jackson crept through the main room with his gun drawn. Every nerve in his body was on high alert with the knowledge that at any moment he could be ambushed by an unseen enemy. Slowly, his eyes began to adjust to the light filtering in through the large picture windows. Thankfully the open concept cottage didn’t provide too many spaces for someone to hide. He missed having his K-9 partner there beside him. If Hudson had been there, he’d know in an instant whether or not they were really alone.
He looked around the main floor. It was hard to even tell for sure that anyone had been in the cottage. But he was certain that drawers and cupboards had been opened and rummaged through. Books had been rearranged on the shelves. Twice now, Amy had told him that the intruder usually moved silently. Seemed like he also knew how to avoid leaving a trace.
Who was this man? What did he want?
Why was he after Amy?
Jackson was grateful he’d gotten to her in time. Suddenly, the memory of holding Amy in his arms as he ran to the camper filled his mind. She’d been shaking and obviously terrified. Yet, at the same time he was amazed by how incredibly brave and courageous she’d been. Climbing out the window, like he used to do when he was a kid, was a pretty gutsy move. It also might’ve saved her life.
Jackson shuddered to think what could’ve happened if she hadn’t woken up and escaped, and he silently thanked God for protecting her.
He’d always liked Amy. She’d been cute, smart, spontaneous and fun as a teen. But since reconnecting with her, he could see just how strong and caring she was too. The way Amy had taken on running Gemma’s store without missing a beat was incredible, especially considering her own circumstances. He needed to find out what had happened to Gemma. Not just because he loved his sister and had to know she was okay. But because he needed to give Amy closure too and try to bring her best friend home.
Jackson finished his sweep of the main floor. Slowly he crossed to the spiral staircase guided by the dim light, the feeling in his gut and the faith that God would watch over him. He planted a foot on the first step. It creaked underneath his weight.
Suddenly, a shadow moved across the balcony above him. Then, before Jackson could even blink, a figured leaped over the railing and hurtled down toward him.
Instinctively, Jackson raised his weapon to fire. But it was too late—the taller man landed on top of him, knocking Jackson to the floor in a full-body blow. Jackson’s head cracked against the hardwood. The gun flew from his hands.
The masked attacker’s weight pressed down against him. The intruder swung. Jackson blocked the punch with his left hand and leveled a hard blow with his right. He caught the man in his jaw. The intruder grunted and fell back.
He leapt to his feet. So did Jackson.
“RCMP!” Jackson shouted. “You’re under arrest for breaking and entering! Hands where I can see them! Now!”
The intruder didn’t even hesitate. He leapt over the couch, stepped across the table and ran for the open back door. The man dashed out into the night. Jackson scrambled for his gun, reholstered it and ran after him.
As he got outside, he caught a glimpse of the attacker disappearing through the trees, following the same path Jackson had found before. The criminal was moving so stealthily that Jackson couldn’t even hear him. But he knew where the man was going.
Jackson pushed himself faster, praying with every step. Then the trees parted. The dark waters lay ahead. The masked man was standing up in a small speedboat, using an oar to push far enough away from the shore that he could hit the engine without wrecking the propeller on the ground.
Jackson planted his feet in the earth and raised his weapon, silently praying to God that he wouldn’t have to take the shot.
“Stop!” Jackson shouted. “I’m—”
“I know who you are, Officer Locke!” the man shouted. His accent was thick and sounded Irish. “And if you fire that gun, you’ll never find out what happened to your sister!”
Gemma?
“Where is she?” Jackson shouted. “What happened to her?”
What looked like a long grenade glinted in the man’s hand. He yanked the pin.
Suddenly, a blinding light overwhelmed Jackson’s eyes and a deafening bang sounded in the air. Smoke filled Jackson’s senses. He heard the boat motor roar and when his eyesight cleared, the intruder was gone.
FIVE
Amy sat bolt upright as a boom echoed through the air.
Was it gunfire? An explosion?
Please, Lord, let Jackson be okay.
With one hand, Amy cradled Skye in her belly. With the other she reached down for Hudson’s comforting bulk. She could feel the rumble of the dog’s soft growl reverberating through her fingertips.
Somehow she’d actually managed to doze off in the bunk while praying. She’d felt strangely comfortable and at peace alone in the camper, for reasons she couldn’t begin to understand, only then to be jolted awake by what sounded like a hundred bullets being fired at once.
Her ears scanned the darkness. But silence had fallen outside again, leaving her with no clue about what had just happened. Had Jackson managed to stop the intruder? Or had the criminal gotten the better of him?
Then Hudson’s ears perked. The dog’s tail began to wag happily, banging like a drumbeat against the camper floor.
Moments later she heard a gentle knock.
“Amy?” Jackson whispered. “It’s me. Jackson. It’s okay. He’s gone.”
Thank You, Lord.
Amy slipped her feet over the edge of the cot, feeling the warmth of Hudson’s fur brush against her legs. Amy’s fingers fumbled as she unlocked the door and pushed it open. There stood Jackson, looking tired and breathing heavily. She guessed he’d run back through the woods.
“Sorry to take the extra second getting back to you,” he said, “but I stopped for these.”
He held up her running shoes.
“You stopped to get my shoes?” she asked.
“Well, yeah.” He grinned almost sheepishly. “I thought you’d want them. Right? I mean, unless you want me to keep carrying you around everywhere.”
A grateful sob slipped past her lips, as if her brain had finally caught up with her overwhelming sense of relief at seeing him standing there. Suddenly she found herself throwing her arms around him. He wrapped his free arm around her and brushed his hand along her back.
“Hey, hey,” Jackson said, softly. “I’m okay. He’s gone. You’re safe. I’m safe. It’s all good.”
Just as quickly as she’d grabbed onto him, she let go again. Why had she hugged him like that?
“Are you okay?” Jackson asked.
“Yeah,” she said. Amy stepped back, then took her shoes from his hand and dropped them on the floor. She wriggled her feet into them, oddly thankful for the distraction.
“Do you want a hand with that?” Jackson asked.
“No, I’ve had a lot of practice in recent weeks,” Amy said. He waited until she’d successfully gotten her shoes on, then reached for her hand to help her out of the camper. She took his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers on hers. Amy’s arms still seemed to tingle from the spontaneous hug they’d shared just moments ago. She pulled her hand out of his. “Thank you.”
Hudson jumped down from the camper. Jackson closed the door and they started walking back to the cottage.
“So, what happened?” she asked. “I heard a really loud bang. It sounded like something exploded.”
Jackson broke her gaze.
“Unfortunately, he got away,” Jackson said. “He was in the cabin, we tussled, he ran out through the woods and hopped in a boat. And I lost him. He had a flash bang.”
She looked up. “What’s that?”
They kept walking, with Hudson flanking Jackson on his other side. Jackson still wouldn’t meet her eye.
“It’s sometimes called either a stun grenade or flash grenade,” he said. “You pull the pin, there’s a big bang, a really bright flash of light and sometimes a bit of smoke. They’re used by the military and law enforcement for crowd control and to disorient hostiles.”
“You’re making him sound like a magician,” she said. “Big flash of light, puff of smoke and ta-da he’s gone.”
She was trying to lighten the mood, and Jackson almost smiled at that. But he seemed too frustrated with himself to be shaken by the joke.
“All we’ve got here is a canoe,” Amy said. “But the neighboring cottage has left us the keys to their motorboat. The keys are in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think I’m going to find any trace of him now,” Jackson said. There was an odd tone to his voice she’d never heard before. It was bitter and frustrated, maybe even embarrassed. “Whoever this guy is, I think we’re dealing with a professional. The question is, a professional what? You were not kidding when you said he moved silently. But his fighting skills were more opportunistic than calculated.”
“So, a professional thief?” she asked. “Or a professional hit man?”
“I can’t know for sure,” he said. “But I’d definitely say he’s skilled at breaking and entering.”
“Plus, he came prepared.” Instinctively, Amy ran her hand over her neck, remembering the cloth bag he’d yanked over her head just a few hours earlier.
Jackson shook his head. “He was running through the woods and I couldn’t even hear him. Plus, he was methodical. The cottage barely looked touched.”
