CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Impatient, Bree called out to Matt, “What did you find?”
But he wasn’t focused on her. He was calling into the silo, “It’s going to be all right. You’re safe now. We’re going to get you out of there. I’ll be right back. Just hold on.”
Had he found Grace?
Instead of senseless fretting, Bree worked the radio and a satellite map on her cell phone, checking on the BDU’s ETA and coordinating with state troopers patrolling the roads that surrounded the farm.
Matt came down twice as fast as he’d gone up and jogged back to her. “There’s a woman inside. Not Grace. The silo is outfitted like a prison cell.” He described a concrete cage worthy of a horror movie. “The solar panels are powering a portable heater.”
“But where’s Grace?” Bree asked.
“Maybe the woman inside knows.”
“We still need to find Grace.”
“But we can’t leave this woman here.” Matt pulled at his beard. “Pretty sure she’s in labor.”
Fuuuuuck.
“Then how are we going to get her out?” she asked.
“We can’t wait for the bomb squad.” Matt gestured toward the silo. “That’s no place to have a baby. Bree, she’s tied up and gagged. In labor.”
Bree had never been in labor, but she couldn’t imagine delivering under these circumstances.
Todd joined them. “The BDU isn’t going to want to move the dynamite. It’s too unstable. Last time they soaked it in diesel fuel and burned it on the spot.”
Bree studied the concrete wall of the silo. “Can we get one of these lower hatches open?”
“I don’t see why not.” Matt gestured to the edge of the lowest one. “Screws can be unscrewed, right?”
“I have a tool kit in my vehicle. I worked construction in college. I’ll figure it out.” Todd returned to the back of his patrol unit to grab the kit.
“Worst-case scenario, we haul her out of that hatch.” Matt pointed to the open hatch ten or twelve feet up the side of the silo.
Another feat Bree could not imagine. That would take some serious muscle.
“I’m going inside to untie her, get that gag off so she can breathe, and see what kind of condition she’s in.” Matt retrieved his backpack from the rear of Bree’s vehicle and slung the bag over one shoulder.
Bree brushed water off her forehead. Her hat and hair were saturated. Rain dripped into her eyes. She turned to Matt. “OK. You go in after her. I’ll leave Todd and three deputies with you.” She turned to her chief deputy. “Juarez and Collins are with me. We’re going after Grace.”
“I don’t—” Matt started to protest.
Bree raised a hand. “You are the strongest one here, and Todd knows his way around tools. If anyone can get that poor woman out of there, it’s the two of you.” The task would require patience, skill, and sheer strength. Despite her no PDA in uniform rule, she kissed Matt on the lips and repeated, “I love you.”
He returned the kiss and the sentiment. “Be careful.”
“No worries. We’re taking Greta with us.” Bree had come to appreciate and rely on the dog. Greta was the most useful of all of them. If Grace managed to get away from the Zoleks, Greta would track her. She could potentially sense a person hiding in the woods, lying in wait. There was no suspect who could outrun her.
“She’s a rock star.” Matt nodded. “I can’t count the number of times Brody saved my ass.”
Bree updated dispatch, called for an ambulance, and requested any additional backup she could get from anywhere: state police, local PDs, surrounding county sheriffs. At this point, she’d welcome a few hall monitors.
As she turned toward the tire tracks and the dark woods, she heard Matt calling out reassurances to the captive woman. Collins loaded Greta into the K-9 unit. Juarez rode with Bree.
“Why didn’t the dog alert on the explosive?” Juarez asked.
Bree steered her vehicle in a path parallel to the tire tracks. “K-9s are usually trained either to find explosives or drugs, because of the extreme risk when dealing with explosives. To find drugs, the dog has to get close to people and places. Explosives require a different, more cautious approach. Since we encounter more drugs than explosives, Greta was trained as a drug dog.”
“We need another dog,” Juarez said. “You could have been blown to bits.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Bree eased off the gas pedal and followed the tire tracks onto a game trail that bisected the woods. Between the darkness and the rain, she could barely see fifteen feet ahead. The path was maybe a foot wider than her vehicle. Her tires skidded, the rear end of the unit sliding sideways. She steered into the skid until the car lurched to a stop.
Juarez opened the door and looked back at the rear tires. “Hold on. Someone else skidded out here too.” He shined his flashlight on a deep tire rut perilously close to a fat tree. “I think they got stuck here. There are footprints. Someone got out and pushed.”
Bree crossed her fingers that getting mired had cost the Zoleks time. Ahead, water covered the path. Something red flashed.
Taillights? Were they that close to catching the Zoleks?
Juarez closed the door, and Bree pressed the gas pedal. The car swerved and slid. The rear of the vehicle dropped off the trail into a shallow gully. She looked in the rearview mirror, but all she could see behind them were the headlights from Collins’s K-9 unit. Juarez grabbed for the chicken strap. Bree’s breath locked down. The car stopped sliding.
She and Juarez exhaled in unison.
Bree shifted into reverse. The tires spun. She rocked the car forward and back until the tires gained traction, then let the vehicle ease back onto the trail. The car rolled forward. The trail climbed, then opened to a small clearing.
Collins pulled the K-9 unit alongside and lowered the window. “The trail is washed out ahead.”
Bree tapped her thumb on the steering wheel. Through the open window, she could hear the patter of rain on leaves and the rush of water over rocks. She used the dashboard computer to pull up a map of the area. A creek wound around the small, wooded hill they were currently parked on.
She didn’t want to give up. Their taillights hadn’t been far ahead. A crash reverberated through the darkness.
“Did you hear that?” Collins asked.
“Yes.”
“It sounded close,” said Juarez.
Bree shifted into park and called out the window to Collins, “Can we get through on foot?”
Collins nodded. “I think so.”
“Let’s do it.” Bree updated dispatch and stepped out of the unit. She went to the trunk and hefted her backpack.
Bree, Juarez, and Collins trudged through the woods in silence. The trail narrowed, where half of it had been washed downslope. The dog remained calm, raising her nose now and then to smell the air, but she clearly wasn’t picking up anything. Water had infiltrated Bree’s boots, and her backpack felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Her adrenaline spike had ebbed, leaving her bone-weary.
They rounded a bend in the trail. Greta pulled Collins to the side of the trail. The dog leaned into the harness, her nose up.
“She’s picked up a scent.”