Chapter 28
28
CHANDLER
M y boots were not made for running at a rapid, lung-hemorrhaging pace. The painful blisters that formed miles back along the soles of my feet were now a raw mess. Even still I continued to sprint toward town, reminding myself over and over again what was at risk if I failed.
The flat, desolate landscape allowed the town to show on the horizon, making it look closer than actuality. Chin to my chest, I pushed through the pain radiating from my feet and tight leg muscles, adding another burst of speed. Every second counted.
Hope ignited at the sight of a dust cloud billowing to the east, a long brown cloud trailing behind a pickup truck cruising down the main highway. It was too far to chase down, but I wouldn’t be deterred, not when Ellie’s life was on the line.
Phone in hand, hoping the screen would reflect the few rays of sun that escaped the building clouds, I waved both hands high above my head like a crazy-ass fool. My shout for attention came out more like an angry, frustrated bellow than a plea for the truck to stop.
Even with my aches and pains, relief sent a renewed wave of energy when the older model blue truck slowed. I swallowed down the emotions clogging my raw throat. Digging deep, I kicked up my speed another notch and raced toward the now idling truck.
My nostrils flared with each wheezing breath as I approached the vehicle. A man I didn’t recognize from around town leaned across the seat and manually rolled down the window. Index finger to the brim of his cowboy hat, he tipped up the front and leveled a steely eyed glare my way.
“You lost, son?” he asked, his accent thick with a Texas drawl.
“I need,” I said before sucking in another lungful of air, “to get to town.” I reached for my back pocket, the rancher tracking each movement no doubt ready to draw a weapon if needed. Extracting my FBI identification, I held it as steady as I could into the cab. His eyes widened after surveying my badge and papers. “A woman is in danger, and I need to get back to town. Now.”
“Hell, son, why didn’t you say that first?” he said, his tone chastising. “Get in.” Two fingers tucked under the metal pin, he raised the door lock and gestured for me to hop inside. The door wasn’t fully closed before he whipped the truck around, the cab jolting as he tore through a field to make the U-turn, and floored it toward town.
“Thank you. Head to the police station.” I rolled up the window with one hand and checked the bars on my phone in the other. Still nothing. “Damnit,” I cursed. Not wanting to seem ungrateful for the lift, I indiscreetly leaned toward the driver side to eye the speedometer.
“I’m going as fast as I can.” He spit a chunk of dark liquid into an old Dr. Pepper bottle.
“I know you are, and I’m grateful for the ride. It’s not just any girl,” I admitted.
“It’s your girl.”
“Yes.” The sharp ding of an incoming text had my hands flying to the device. Fucking finally, I was somewhere with coverage, even if it was only one bar. I scrolled through text messages from my boss, our analyst, and a few others when one name made me pause.
I pressed the message several times before the screen shifted, showing the many texts I missed from Ellie. But that was nearly an hour ago. Pressing the Call icon, I lifted the phone to my ear. The line connected with a loud ring, then another, and another and another. A generic voice mail message picked up, suggesting I leave a message.
Ending the call, I tried again.
And again.
And again.
Each time receiving the same damn message.
Damnit. Flicking to Alec’s contact listing, I pressed the Call button, but the line didn’t connect. He was still out of service area, then. I held on to the door handle as we flew through two four-way stops and swerved to miss a stray dog lying in the middle of the road. Without slowing, the driver whipped into the station’s parking lot.
A distinct click of the slide of a gun engaging caught my ear seconds after he shifted the truck into Park. Slowly I rotated toward the driver side, unsure what I’d find.
“You need backup?” he asked, all business, holding a massive .40-caliber handgun on his lap. “I’m locked and loaded.”
A wave of gratitude flooded through me. “No, but thank you.” I hopped out, ready to shut the door when he spoke again, making me pause.
“I’ll wait out here until you give the all clear, son. If I hear any shots, I’m coming in after you. I know it’s your girl and you want to play the hero, but everyone needs backup every now and then.”
Nodding in acknowledgment, I slid my own gun from the holster and flicked the safety off.
Muscles tight and inflexible, they ached and pulled as I climbed the two steps to the cement landing, careful to keep each footstep silent. At the glass doors, I paused, my hand suspended over the wide grooved metal handle.
The door opened silently, and I said a mental thank-you to any deity for that small gift. The unmoving body of Officer Jake lay in the middle of the lobby, the tacky puddle of crimson beneath him clearly his own. I held a breath, tuning all my senses into listening for movement, sharp breaths, or whispers, anything that would indicate I wasn’t alone.
Nothing.
Through the side door, I tracked an inconsistent path of blood droplets down the hall. Gun leading, I pushed through the door into the officers’ work area. In a fluid sweeping motion, I cleared the room. Gun still raised, I tracked the now more constant trail of blood.
At the next door, I snarled at the nameplate.
Repeating the sweeping motion that was ingrained from the Marines and FBI training, I cleared Swann’s office. Empty. Slowly lowering the gun, the barrel pointed at the ground but held steady between both hands, I surveyed the room.
A heavy four-drawer filing cabinet had shifted at some point, a few of the folders that looked to have been stacked on top now strewn about the floor with crimson drops on the white pages. Treading around the desk, careful to not disturb the evidence, I studied the large leather chair that was pressed against the wall and a blood splatter along the space where the chair should’ve been.
My knees protested as I squatted, needing to get closer to the evidence. My heart hammered against my chest with fear at the thought that the blood could be Ellie’s. Pursing my lips, I shoved the image of her hurt and scared to the back of my mind. I was no good to her if I couldn’t focus and do my damn job.
Leaning forward, I ducked under the desk and used the phone’s flashlight to cast away the shadows. Spatters of blood dripped down the sides, but there, in the back, was a void. A small space in the corner. Dipping back out, I glanced over the top of the desk as if I could see through the walls to the lobby.
Jake could’ve suspected Ryan or maybe just wouldn’t let him through to the back. The two argued, loud enough for Ellie to hear. Ryan shot or stabbed the officer, causing an even louder commotion, so probably shot, then. That would’ve been heard through the entire station, confirming to Ellie that something wasn’t right.
Based on the evidence, the clever girl hid. But she was found. She used the knife I gave her to fend off the attacker. Then….
I stood and scanned the rest of the office.
Guilt and worry warred in my mind, attempting to overtake every thought and divert my focus.
I startled when a sharp ring filled the small office, having forgotten to turn off the ringer due to my urgent need to find Ellie.
“She’s gone,” I said when I answered, my voice quivering. “Fucking gone.”
A heavy pause, Alec’s deep exhales vibrating through the earpiece. “I’m still in the middle of nowhere and barely have one bar. Get on the radio and call in reinforcements?—”
A thought snagged and built, evolving into a plan.
“What if we didn’t?” I mused. My calm tone hid the inner turmoil eating me alive.
“What?” Alec shouted. “Are you fucking crazy? We need help hunting this bastard down.”
“Give me a fucking second to think,” I snapped. Careful to step over the blood drops, I retraced my earlier steps and slipped into the vacant room where the victim timeline covered the wall.
I scrutinized the evidence with new eyes, knowing the who, thinking maybe I could figure out where he would take Ellie now that he had the one he wanted. The second to last victim stood out, the message on her skin like a beacon.
“Where is home?” I asked.
“Whose?”
“Ryan’s. Where is his home? I think that’s where he’ll take her. He’s spiraling. He didn’t plan for any of this. Brett disappearing because of me threw off his plan. Now he doesn’t have one. Home is where he wanted to take Ellie before, so that’s his comfort zone. That’s where he’ll go to work through what to do next.”
“They lived together,” Alec said. I pulled the phone from my ear and gaped at the screen.
“You didn’t think that was fucking important to mention?” I shouted.
“Now, yeah, I see it was a slight oversight on my part.” The guilt in his tone added to my own.
“It’s fine. Nothing we can do about it now. Send me the address, and I’ll get my analyst to send me an aerial view in case he’s moved her to where he took his other victims.”
“Help me out with why no backup.”
I massaged my brows, the short hairs sliding beneath my thumb and index finger. “He’s jumpy, scared,” I explained. “If we swarm him, he’s likely to take himself out and Ellie too.” Just saying it out loud made my stomach roll. Fucking think, Peters. How can I get Ellie out of this alive and unharmed? “What if I find him and make him believe we still consider Brett a suspect? Make up a story how we assumed Ryan messed with the trucks and left because Brett put him up to it. That would calm him down, make him think he has time to come up with a plan to get Ellie out of town.”
“Why do you think that plan would work? He’s a smart motherfucker. He’s gone this long without being caught.”
He was right. This was a stupid, outlandish plan. But it would work because of one tiny woman.
Ellie.
“Ellie’s good at seeing between the lines. She’ll realize she needs to keep him calm, placate him. Maybe by helping him make a plan and deflecting the blame to Brett, wherever he is, she’ll figure it out. She knows I’m coming for her.”
“That’s a big stretch. I love Ellie she’s a smart girl, but you’re putting a lot of faith in her figuring out your plan while under extreme stress, and hell, who knows, maybe even drugged.”
I held in my possessive rumble. “He’s the one who planted that evidence in Brett’s squad car. He’s also the one who said Brett came home spewing about tying up loose ends. He already laid that groundwork.”
“Makes me wonder if Brett is even alive.”
I grunted in agreement. Not that I was distraught about the idea. That was one death that wouldn’t add to the growing weight of guilt I carried.
“Take my truck,” Alec said, then cursed loud into the phone. “I have the keys.”
I smiled despite it all. “It’s fine. I have a ride, and it comes with backup.”
“Good. Now, go get your girl back, Chandler. And make that fucker wish he’d never been born.”
“On it. I’ll call you with any updates.” I inhaled deep, steadying my voice. “And Alec?”
“Yeah?”
“If I don’t make it, if I have to give myself to save her… tell her that for the first time in my life, I truly lived, because of her.”
His shouts were muffled as I lowered the phone and pushed the red End Call button.
Back outside the police station, I let out a sigh of relief when the old rancher was still there, truck idling, hawklike eyes on me.
First get the address, then get Ellie.
A surge of renewed energy pulsed through me.
Time to save my own life by saving hers.
No matter the cost.