Chapter Sixteen
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Ryker’s hands clenched tighter around his phone as he stared at the drone feed, the faint flicker of the two kneeling women, Dr. Colvin and Janette, still visible through the shifting lens. But his thoughts churned with something else entirely.
Where the hell were Veronica and Marta?
He hadn’t said it out loud yet, hadn’t wanted to push that possibility into the open air, but the blood at the house… the sheer amount of it. If it belonged to Veronica and her housekeeper, if Ethan had already made good on part of his threat.
Ryker’s gut twisted.
Ethan had taken enough. Lives. Peace. Trust. And now he was orchestrating this final spiral like a conductor with a score soaked in chaos. It burned in Ryker’s chest to think he might’ve claimed two more victims while they chased the wrong leads.
He shifted his focus to the drone footage but pulled out his phone again, thumbing through to the number Hallie had given them for the county sheriff’s office. It rang twice before a dispatcher transferred him to one of the deputies still at the estate.
“Deputy Colburn,” a voice answered, breathless and strained.
“Ryker Caldwell, Outlaw Ridge PD,” he said. “We need a status update. Have you located the homeowner or the housekeeper?”
There was a beat of static, then the deputy spoke quickly. “Yeah, we found them. Veronica Harper and Marta, they’re both alive.”
Ryker’s eyes snapped to Emma, relief flickering across his features.
“They’re in bad shape,” the deputy continued. “But conscious. Ambulance is already en route.”
Ryker’s shoulders loosened, just a fraction. “Thank God.” He paused. “When you can, contact Veronica’s daughter, Celeste Harper,” he added. “Let her know her mother’s alive. She deserves that.”
“Will do,” the deputy said, and the line clicked off.
Ryker lowered the phone, jaw still tight but no longer clenched with dread. “They’re alive,” he told Emma.
She nodded, her eyes still locked on the drone feed where two different lives now hung in the balance.
One win. Now they had to survive the next battle.
Ryker’s phone buzzed again, and he answered it right away.
“Talk to me,” he said, keeping one eye on the drone feed as it hovered in a slow circle over the clearing.
“It’s Hallie,” came the sheriff’s voice. “Hayes and Jesse are on-site, just up the road from you. Staying hidden, just like you asked.”
Ryker scanned the tree line, the snow now clinging in soft sheets along the brush. He couldn’t see them. That was good. If he couldn’t, then neither could Ethan.
“Perfect,” Ryker muttered. “Tell them to stay low. No movement unless we call it.”
“I just saw the drone feed,” Hallie informed them. “That’s Ethan behind the tree?”
“Yeah,” Ryker said. “He’s armed. Watching. Waiting.”
“And the hostages?” Hallie pressed.
“Janette and Dr. Colvin.”
There was a pause on the other end, then Hallie exhaled sharply. “Not who we thought.”
“No,” Ryker muttered. “He flipped the script again.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Not head-on,” Ryker said. “We’ll circle around, come in from the side. Keep watch for cameras, sensors, possible secondary shooters. And explosives.”
Hallie was quiet for a long moment. Then, her voice came softer, grim. “If you can’t neutralize him before time’s up… you’ll have to pick one.”
Ryker looked at the feed again, at the women tied and kneeling in the snow. His jaw locked.
“I’m not letting it come to that.”
“Understood.”
He hesitated, then asked, “Any word on Charlotte?”
“Nothing. She’s not answering her phone, and she hasn’t shown up at the station.”
Ryker rubbed a hand down his face, tension coiling tighter in his chest. “She could be dead.”
“Or out there in those woods,” Hallie said, “ready to help her asshole brother.”
He didn’t say it, but the same worry was clawing at his gut.
Beside him, Emma shifted. “How are things at the station?”
In the background, Ryker could hear it, dozens of phones ringing nonstop.
“Flood of calls,” Hallie said. “Most are in support of you and Emma. Some are threats. Others are just trolls. Either way, we have to answer all of them. One could be real.”
“Ethan wanted chaos,” Emma muttered. “He got it.”
Ryker ended the call, slid the phone back in his vest pocket, and stared again at the trees. Ethan had built his storm.
Now they had to find a way through it.
Ryker had barely ended the call with Hallie when Emma’s phone buzzed beside him.
They both glanced down at the screen. Unknown Number and a one-word text.
Showtime.
Ryker didn’t say anything. Just tapped his own phone and silenced it. Emma did the same. And then Ryker attached his phone to his vest so they would still be able to see the drone feed if needed. Hayes and Jesse would also be monitoring the feed and would let them know if there were any changes.
He checked his weapon. Extra clip. Backup holster. Kevlar snug.
Emma opened the cruiser door, the cold slamming into them like a wall. They both ducked out fast and low, their boots crunching into the shallow layer of snow.
Ryker scanned the trees as they moved, adrenaline cutting a path through the chill. He motioned to the first wide trunk just a few yards ahead, and they slipped behind it, crouched and still.
He risked a glance at the drone feed on his phone. Ethan was still crouched behind that thick oak, weapon held steady like he was waiting for a target to present itself. But Ryker didn’t believe Ethan had the angle to shoot them from here.
No, not unless Ethan had someone else.
Another player. Someone with a scope and a clear line of fire. And if that someone was Charlotte…
Ryker didn’t finish the thought. Just shifted slightly so his body shielded more of Emma’s. He kept low, eyes sweeping the snow-covered ground as the freezing wind needled through his gear.
He crouched close to Emma, his voice a whisper against the hush of the trees. “Watch your step. Check for tripwires, ground triggers, anything that smells wrong.”
Emma gave a small nod, her eyes already scanning as they moved.
They veered right, angling into the denser cover of cedar and scrub oak. Ryker moved ahead just slightly, taking the lead as they crept in a tight line, their boots barely disturbing the snow.
The drone feed showed Ethan still behind that same tree. Still motionless. Still waiting.
Ryker narrowed his eyes. Ethan was too calculating to think they’d just march up front and play his game.
He’d expect them to flank, to try to come around behind him and get the drop.
Which meant Ethan had either planned on this or was counting on them to second-guess themselves and come at him head-on.
They had to be ready for both options and anything else Ethan threw at them.
With Emma right next to him, they kept moving, but every step forward made it harder to breathe. Not from the cold. From the knowledge that one misstep, one twitch of a wire, one breath too loud, could be the end of them all.
They moved in silence, the crunch of snow beneath their boots muffled by the thick trees and steady wind. Ryker signaled for Emma to halt when they reached the cover of a wide cedar. Through the tangled branches to their left, they caught a glimpse of the hostages.
Janette was still kneeling, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed against her gag. Dr. Colvin leaned toward her, murmuring through hers, soft sounds of comfort.
Good.
Let them keep making noise. Let their voices carry. Any sounds from them might cover Emma and him moving in.
Ryker shifted his weight and leaned just enough to scan the tree line beyond the hostages. His breath hitched as he saw him.
Ethan.
Still crouched behind a tree. Not as relaxed now. He was watching the clearing with sharp intent, the barrel of his rifle resting steady on a branch as if he were waiting for the signal. For the moment he’d decided was theirs to die.
Ryker silently cursed.
The man was a ghost from another life. A brother-in-arms once. Now just a sniper with blood on his hands and revenge in his eyes.
Ryker narrowed his gaze, shifting just enough to study Ethan more closely.
The rifle was steady, but Ethan wasn’t. He was leaning against the tree, not with the precision of a trained shooter, but with sagging posture of a man holding himself upright because he didn’t have a choice.
His buckskin coat was darker at the chest, stained a deep, sticky red. Blood.
From Emma’s bullet.
Ryker’s pulse kicked harder. Ethan was pale beneath the wool cap, face tight with pain, his jaw clenched like he was holding something in, or barely holding himself together.
No way in hell had Ethan dragged two hostages into these woods alone. Not in this condition.
Which meant he wasn’t working alone.
Ryker turned slightly toward Emma, his mouth opening to whisper what he’d just realized.
But the silence was shattered by the blast of a gunshot.
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