Defending the Witness, page 16
“Have you given this battle over to God?” Riker asked.
“What?”
“You’re clenching it too tightly. Like handing God a toy and asking Him to fix it, then yanking it away again and saying, ‘I’ll do it myself.’”
“I haven’t had time to think about all that.” But he had. And Riker was right. He’d blamed God for not taking care of anything, but he never really trusted Him to handle it, either. He stopped, leaning against a split rail fence, and bowed his head. Lord, I’m sorry. I know this isn’t on You. But I need You to rescue her, even if I can’t be a part of it. The prayer was heartfelt and more honest than Chance had ever been in his life.
“He knows your heart.”
“Riker, I’d do anything to bring Ayla home safely. I’d exchange my life for hers.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Walsh’s voice roared over their headsets, interrupting their conversation. “Fire is out. We can approach,” Walsh announced. “Firefighters have cleared the premises for us to work.”
The handlers released their K-9s, leashing them and preparing for a search with the scent article. Firefighters loaded their hoses and equipment.
Again, working in a grid pattern, the team spread out, flashlights in hand and dogs taking the lead.
Through the overgrown fields, the dilapidated barn came into view. The building appeared to be on its last legs, leaning precariously to the side, though whether it had looked that way prior to the fire, Chance wasn’t sure. Destiny jerked the leash, nearly ripping it from his hand. If she moved with that kind of speed, she’d found something.
Destiny tried to move into the barn that smelled of smoke, rotting grain and other things he’d rather not think about.
They approached with caution. The vehicle sat, blackened by the fire, and dripping from the fire hoses.
Chance swallowed hard. Please don’t let Ayla be here.
They surrounded the SUV, glancing warily at the structure overhead.
“The kidnapper must’ve realized we could trace the call,” Tiandra said, sweeping her beam over the burned car.
“Yeah, but why ditch the vehicle?” Skyler asked.
Walsh moved around the SUV. “Plates are gone.” He reached for the door handle. “It’s locked.”
They had probable cause since the SUV matched the description of the kidnapper’s vehicle. Walsh lifted his flashlight and shattered the passenger window, then unlocked the door. He tugged it wide and reached into the glove box. No documents of ownership. They scoured the vehicle for the engraved vehicle identification numbers, only to find them scratched out.
The kidnapper had ensured they wouldn’t be able to trace the vehicle easily. Chance moved to the rear door and tugged it open, holding his breath.
He exhaled at the empty interior. Destiny moved beside him, again sitting and barking twice to indicate she’d tracked Ayla’s scent.
Skyler’s phone rang, and she quickly answered, holding up a finger to the group to let them know she’d need a minute.
They continued surveying the vehicle for any clues while Skyler exited the barn, speaking in a low tone.
“Nada.” Riker walked to Chance.
“Same here. Between the fire damage and the effort in concealing the owner, I’ve got nothing.”
The team stepped outside. Chance surveyed the barn in the center of an abandoned pasture. The kidnapper had chosen this place intending to desert the vehicle. He’d deviated from his original plan, which meant Ayla had thrown him off his game. And he’d burned it hoping to hide evidence, maybe only the scent of Ayla, but he’d feared they’d trace the car. That meant something. And the divergence from this plan had bought the team time to find her.
“Let’s head back and regroup,” Walsh said.
“Skyler and I will work on finding the owner of the SUV,” Riker said, tossing Chance his keys. “We’ll meet you guys at the Rock.”
The group dispersed, and Chance loaded Destiny into the truck.
Chance’s radio came to life.
“My friend at the FBI cleaned up the footage from your ranch, Commander,” Skyler announced. “He got an ID on the kidnapper’s vehicle. Octavia Warden is the registered owner.”
Chance processed the information. He joined the conversation. “But the kidnapper was male.”
“Is she the victim or working with Sutler?” Walsh asked.
“Or she’s the CI who worked with Ezra,” Riker inserted.
“What advantage would Octavia have not to go into WitSec if she wanted to be a CI?” Tiandra asked.
“Tiandra’s right,” Chance said. “The little interaction I had with Octavia didn’t leave me with the impression of a bold, fierce spy and confidential informant. Besides, she was going to stay with her family on the East Coast.” Why was he arguing the point?
“And we escorted her to the airport,” Riker said.
“I’ll make some calls to verify she made the flight,” Tiandra replied.
Chance tapped the steering wheel. “I think we should return to where Destiny found the phone.”
“Negative,” Walsh replied.
“There’s a flight from Des Moines to South Carolina with Octavia’s name,” Tiandra inserted. “But she’s not listed on the manifest.”
“She never made the flight,” Skyler said.
“Octavia is in danger!” Chance replied. “Ayla worried that would happen.”
“Sutler could’ve abducted Octavia. He’d pit them against each other,” Riker said.
“We’ll keep the discussion going at the Rock,” Walsh replied.
“I’m on my way, but I need a few to regroup,” Chance said.
“Don’t take too long,” Walsh replied.
Chance held back, allowing the team to proceed ahead of him, ensuring they wouldn’t see him returning to the phone’s pinged location. His mind raced, and before he realized it, he shifted into Park beneath a canopy of tree cover. Again, he debated notifying the team. No. Walsh would order him to stand down if Chance confessed his plans. Most likely they’d fire him once the case was over anyway.
Chance knew how to track fugitives, and his instincts said to dig deeper here.
He couldn’t take his phone. They’d trace his location. He turned it off, then placed it in the console.
He parked and released Destiny. “All right, let’s try this again.”
Chance and Destiny continued working the area. The dog sniffed the air, then shifted, increasing her pace. Chance jogged to keep up with her.
They descended into a valley and creek separated by a thick tree line. He stumbled into the tepid water and lost his balance, catching himself on a log. In the dark, he struggled to see the ground, but he didn’t want to hinder Destiny’s search.
Chance’s flashlight swept across the ground, unable to keep up with the dog’s fierce trailing.
They crested the hill into a pasture, and headlights beamed on the road ahead. The vehicle faded from sight.
Destiny lunged forward, determined in her search. He should call for backup, but the shepherd strained at the end of her leash. They jogged through the pasture, and Chance spotted the structure ahead. An old farmhouse.
He reached for his cell phone, remembering he’d left it behind and instantly regretting the decision. At least he still had his Glock.
They approached the house, reaching a wire mesh fence where Destiny paused, sniffing furiously before launching over it. Chance’s climb wasn’t as graceful, but they continued moving. He withdrew his Glock. A soft glow illuminated from behind the window. If the vehicle he’d seen had been here, was anyone still inside?
Chance drew Destiny close and gave her the hand gestures for a silent approach.
Destiny licked his hand, then took off, rounding the house.
Where was she going?
The shepherd aimed for the back side of the house and moved to the hatch doors of a cellar. Chance knelt in front of the door, inspecting the padlock that secured the latch. He needed something to break it off.
Chance flicked a glance at the house, contemplating where to look first. If someone was inside, he’d be an open target in the cellar. He had to check for the assailant first. He tugged Destiny back, and they approached the door.
Chance and Destiny climbed the steps to the rotting porch, leaning unsteadily. Chance reached for the doorknob, surprised it was unlocked. He gave it a cautious push, and the door swung open, releasing a musty aroma that mingled with damp carpet and mildew.
They stepped inside, Chance’s boots crunching on the floor. An old, yellowed couch sat beneath the window covered in foil and draped by floral curtains that hung askew. Pizza boxes and fast-food wrappers cluttered the space, and the steel coffee table held cardboard cups and ashtrays filled to overflowing.
They entered the kitchen. The single counter held stacks of dishes caked in rotten food. To his right, a bathroom emitted the scent of urine. Based on the toilet lying on its side, the facilities weren’t functional. He searched for a phone line but found none. Not surprising, since the house didn’t appear to be inhabitable. More like a place for squatters.
He found nothing but a similar mess in the other rooms. They exited, and Destiny again dragged him to the cellar. Chance turned, spotting the small gardening shed, and rushed to it, locating an old iron shovel. He positioned the tool and tugged, breaking the lock free.
ELEVEN
Rapid scratching caught Ayla’s attention. “Shh!”
Octavia’s eyes widened at the rebuke, but to her credit, she quieted.
“Listen.”
Again, she heard movement from above, and a sliver of light appeared from between the door boards.
No voices. The darkness perpetuated Ayla’s fear and confusion.
Then a slam.
Octavia gasped a little too loudly, and Ayla glared at her. Though what difference would it make now? If Myles stood outside those doors, they were already dead.
The delay left her heart pounding through her throat.
Who was there?
Ayla prayed it was rescue coming, but the possibility that Myles Sutler or the kidnapper had returned sent a shiver up her spine.
“He’s coming back!” Octavia hissed.
Ayla moved in the direction of the shelf, steadying herself and grabbing jars of canned vegetables in each hand. She adjusted her pose, ready to pitch them at the intruder. Her grip tightened, and she flicked a glance at the ceiling. Running up the stairs with her injured leg wasn’t an option. She looked down at her food weapons.
What was she doing?
Buying time. Any distraction helped.
Resolved to fight her way out of the cellar, she watched the door for movement.
Several seconds passed without another sound.
The doors swung open, and a bright beam swept over the stairs. A flashlight.
Had help arrived?
Caught between crying out and remaining quiet, Ayla contemplated what to do. She gripped the jars tighter, struggling to keep her stance with her injured leg.
“Help!” Octavia screamed.
Ayla whipped her neck toward the woman. She flicked another glance at the steps. No response.
“Help us!” Octavia cried.
No turning back now. Ayla joined in the pleas. “Help! Down here!”
The scratching returned, then a familiar canine whimper.
“Destiny?” Ayla cried.
“Ayla?” Chance’s voice reached her like a lifeline.
The shepherd bounded down the stairs, greeting Ayla with wet kisses. She dropped the jars, and they landed with a thunk on the dirt floor.
Chance tromped down the steps and consumed the confining space with his muscular frame. He paused at the base where Octavia sat, then swung his flashlight to the corner where Ayla bent over, one hand clinging to the shelf, the other wrapped in Destiny’s furry coat.
“Hungry?” he teased, gesturing toward the jars.
Ayla glanced down and laughed. She rose and reached for him, wobbling a little. “Chance!”
He crossed the space in one stride, pulling her close. Ayla inhaled his comforting, musky scent.
“Shh. I don’t know when he’ll return. Keep your voices low,” Chance advised. “Let’s get out of here.”
Ayla leaned back. “I can’t walk that far. He shot my leg.”
Chance surveyed the injury with the flashlight. “There’s entrance and exit wounds, so I’m guessing it’s a through and through, but you’re bleeding pretty good. I’m surprised you didn’t pass out.”
“I did. Several times.”
“I have nothing to bandage you with here. I’ll carry you up and we’ll deal with it once we’re away from this place.”
“No arguments here.”
“Okay.” He cradled Ayla, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck.
“You came for me,” she whispered, melting against his chest, enveloped in his embrace.
“Of course I did. You’re my fugitive.” His breath was soft against her ear like a warm summer breeze.
“Hello? What about me?” Octavia whined, jerking them to the present.
Ayla tried not to roll her eyes.
“Do you have any injuries?” Chance asked.
“Well, he beat me up.” The woman’s voice was thick with neediness.
“Can you walk on your own?”
“Yes, I suppose,” she huffed.
“Great. Okay, stay close and follow me.” Chance turned. “Destiny, heel.” The dog immediately moved to his side.
They climbed from the cellar, and Ayla caught Octavia’s less than impressed glower as she trailed behind. Once they were aboveground, they crept to the shadows beside an old gardening shed. Chance gently set Ayla down. “There’s no one here, but I saw headlights driving away earlier.”
“Was it Myles and the guy who kidnapped me?” Ayla asked.
“Possibly.” Chance peered toward the road. “I didn’t get a good look from where I was.”
“Where are the police?” Octavia looked around, hands on her hips. “Where’s your vehicle?”
A frown crossed Chance’s face. “We’ll have to walk back to my truck.”
“Don’t you have a cell phone?” Octavia snapped.
“No. Long story.”
“How far away are you parked?” Ayla asked.
He winced. “Too far.” Chance helped Ayla to her feet, and she gripped his arm, teetering unsteadily. “I’ll slow you down. Go for help, or your truck, and come back for me.”
“Yes, let’s do that,” Octavia replied.
Chance shook his head. “No way. I’m not leaving you.”
“But I can’t walk through the fields like this.”
Something she couldn’t quite describe passed over Chance’s handsome face. He glanced at the house. “We can’t stick around here. I’ll just carry you.”
Headlights beamed from the road.
“They’re coming back!” Octavia cried. The woman had an indisputable way of stating the obvious, as though it helped the situation.
Destiny growled, standing guard in front of them. Chance snapped on her leash and silenced her with a whispered, “Shh.” Then he attached the leash to a D-ring on his belt and addressed Octavia. “We don’t have the luxury of light, so be careful where you step.”
She harrumphed, but to Chance’s credit, he didn’t acknowledge the attitude. “Let’s go!” He hefted Ayla into his arms, and they moved through the yard, keeping to the shadows. When they reached the wire mesh fence, Destiny leaped over, easily clearing the top. Chance set Ayla down on the other side before helping Octavia over. He crossed it in one swift move, but the process took too long for Ayla’s comfort.
The vehicle pulled up to the house and parked, nearly illuminating their location with the headlights.
Urgency sent Ayla’s pulse rushing through her veins.
Chance whipped her into his arms and bolted, Destiny and Octavia keeping in stride. Each jostling of her leg blasted pain through Ayla. She clenched her teeth to keep from crying out.
Chance carried her with ease, though Ayla knew her added weight hindered their pace. Octavia moved quickly, and Destiny led the way.
They paused in the pasture behind the enormous cylindrical bales. Octavia pressed a hand to her chest, heaving with exertion. “You’re lucky he’s carrying you.”
As if Ayla had chosen to be shot. She shook her head, unwilling to engage in the meaningless conversation.
Chance peered around the bale, then turned to face them. “They’re sweeping the house, so they’ve discovered you’ve escaped. We must keep moving.”
Again, the group barreled into the night, running as fast as the uneven ground and darkness allowed. Raised voices reached them, but the distance prevented Ayla from hearing the exact words spoken. Regardless, it was clear Myles and the kidnapper had returned to an unexpected situation, and they weren’t pleased.
Ayla refused to look back, pressed against Chance’s chest, his heavy breaths and heartbeat adding to her angst.
A gunshot exploded in the night, echoing on the wind.
Octavia screamed.
“There!” a male voice exclaimed in the distance.
No. No. This wasn’t happening. They were so close to freedom. God, help us!
Rustling behind them indicated the men were following.
“Destiny, heel,” Chance ordered, tugging her backward.
Ayla prayed the dog stayed beside them. The men wouldn’t hesitate to shoot her.
Gunshots pierced the air, and she ducked closer into Chance’s chest.
“They’re right behind us!” Octavia cried.
“Get to the next bale,” Chance ordered.
The rapid gunfire compounded the already extensive distance. At last, they rounded the large bale and ducked behind it for shelter. Chance set Ayla down on her feet, and she braced herself against the stiff hay.
