Chapter 15
15
T he temptation to step aside and charge the door was almost too much to restrain. Archer reminded himself that his action might put his brother and Becca in more danger. If the suspect decided to hold hostages to negotiate a getaway, more damage could be done.
At least Annalee was safe. He was still pondering the message from her mother. Had Becca seen them? Other questions joined that he would process later, like, how did she still have the cell? Or was she putting her life in even more danger by trying to protect Annalee?
“On my count, we head to the door,” Travis said. “Stay behind me.”
“No.”
“I have a vest,” Travis said. “You don’t. Stay behind me or risk taking a bullet.”
When the sheriff put it like that, Archer decided he would listen. When the time was right, he would take a calculated risk, but he couldn’t help Owen or Becca if he got shot before entering the barn.
“Okay.”
“One. Two. Three.”
With that, they were on the move. Travis walked at a brisk pace, weapon in front, leading the way. Archer followed suit, his weapon aimed at the door opening. He held the weapon in front of Travis by positioning himself just to his left and extending his arms.
With the barrels of two guns aimed directly at the door, they inched forward. Moving away from the tree trunk exposed them. Travis might be wearing a vest but it wouldn’t matter with armor-piercing bullets. Archer had no idea what they were facing and had no law enforcement experience. In fact, he had done his level best not to interact with the law at all before gaining a sheriff for a brother-in-law.
At the door, Travis shouted, “My deputy and I are coming inside. Put your hands up. Now!”
The demand was met with more silence.
He had no idea what they were about to walk into, but assumed the worst. The only scenario that he couldn’t consider was that he was too late. They were so close to the building that Archer could reach out and touch it if he wanted to.
Travis stepped aside and motioned for Archer to follow suit. He did.
The sheriff opened the door, staying to one side. The wooden barn wouldn’t offer a ton of protection if a shot was fired. Better some than none.
Before Travis could make his move, Hudson stood on the edge of the trees waving his hands in the air to get their attention.
“Keep an eye on your brother, okay?”
“Will do,” Archer said, wondering what the hell was up with Hudson.
Once again, Travis shouted into the door, identifying himself and demanding anyone inside come out with their hands up.
No response came.
A grunt sounded from inside. Owen?
Archer started to move but was stopped by Travis’s arm. The lawman was shaking his head vigorously.
It took everything inside Archer to stand still.
“Might be a trap,” Travis said before swinging around and shining his flashlight inside the dark building.
More grunts came, louder this time.
It sure as hell sounded like someone was inside with their mouth gagged. His mind snapped to Owen. Had to be. The noises were male, primal.
Travis cursed.
Hudson came bolting across the yard.
“Stay here,” was all Travis said before going inside.
“Like hell,” Archer said. Travis had picked up a shadow whether he liked it or not.
“Stay back.” This wasn’t a request based on Travis’s tone. His demand fell on deaf ears.
Archer saw someone in the corner of the room, arms and legs bound. “We’re here, Owen.”
He bolted toward his brother while Travis swung his flashlight slowly around the room, lighting up dark corners.
Archer dropped to his knees in front of his brother. They made eye contact. In that moment, he realized Owen was going to be okay.
“This is going to hurt,” he said before ripping the tape off his brother’s mouth.
Owen issued a sharp grunt. “Bastard jumped me.”
“Where’s Becca?”
“I don’t know,” Owen said.
Archer pulled out a key and immediately began using the makeshift tool to rip the tape binding his brother’s wrists together. Owen shook them like he was trying to get blood circulating again. Next, Archer freed his brother’s ankles.
“Where did it happen?” Archer asked as he heard Travis yell, “Clear.”
Hudson came bolting in before Owen could answer. “Annalee is gone.”
“What the hell?” Disbelief punched Archer.
“I left her with Beau while I went to investigate a noise,” Hudson said, heaving for air. “Bastard led me away before circling back and smacking Beau on the head with a rock the size of a raccoon. At least, that’s what I pieced together. Beau is unconscious. I should get back to him before someone comes back or an animal gets to him. But I had to come tell you that Annalee disappeared.”
Archer released a string of curses under his breath. There was no sign of Annalee’s mother in the barn. Beau had been knocked out. Annalee must have been taken. It was the only thing that made sense. She wouldn’t purposely hurt Beau by surprising him with a small boulder to the head.
“Any idea which way they took her?”
Hudson shook his head as he backed up a couple of steps. “I gotta get back.”
“Yes, of course, go.”
“Go with him,” Owen said, rubbing his wrists and stretching out his legs now that they were free. “I’m good.”
Travis motioned toward Owen. “I got him. I’ll make certain he gets out of here in one piece.”
Leaving was one of the hardest things Archer could do. Owen was fine. He had Travis. Still. It was like cutting off an appendage.
“How many are there?” Archer asked his brother as he got to his feet.
“Two, based on voices,” he said. “I got jumped, and then they put something over my head for most of the time. They stayed out of view once we got here.”
That meant Owen wouldn’t be able to pick his assailants out of a lineup.
“Did they take Becca with them?”
Owen’s face twisted in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Archer wondered how hard his brother had been hit over the head. “The two of you were held captive here.”
“No.” Owen shook his head and then winced. “She was in on it. I said there were two people, some guy I’ve never heard before…and Becca.”
Travis’s eyes narrowed while Archer’s thoughts scrambled.
Time was running out for him to chase down the bastard who’d taken Annalee. Her mother had warned her to run. His brain was still trying to process the fact Becca had been in on it the whole time. There were too many unanswered questions, and he didn’t have the luxury of remaining here to get answers if he wanted a chance to find Annalee.
“You sure about me taking off?” he asked Owen one more time.
“Go,” he said, trying to get up. “Annalee is in danger. I’m good. I’ll be right behind you.”
Archer didn’t have time to debate whether that was a good idea or not. Another glance toward Travis, a nod of encouragement, and he was up and out of the barn in two seconds flat.
Sprinting across the field, more questions assaulted him. Had Becca been involved from the beginning? If so, why hand over the backpack in the first place? Was the gun evidence? Or a Trojan horse to distract Annalee from the real goal: ransom?
Would Becca pull something so horrific on her own daughter? A laugh tore from his throat. He’d grown up with Beaumont, which made him believe anything was possible, including a parent using their child for their own gain in any way possible.
Becca might not have been Mother of the Year, but he never would have guessed she was this far gone. She’d tried to be a halfway decent parent when he’d known her years ago.
People changed, and not always for the better.
Shame.
Pumping his arms, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him. The suspect wouldn’t have come toward the barn. There was no vehicle stashed nearby that Archer had come across earlier, which meant the trio would have to travel on foot. That would give Archer time to find them.
He stopped near Hudson. Which way would they go?
A piece of red cloth caught his eye. He sprinted toward the material and then picked it up. Cotton. This was a clue from Annalee. She’d torn a piece of her shirt so he could follow her.
Scanning the area up ahead, he saw another piece.
And then bolted toward it.
“Hurry the hell up,” the familiar male voice demanded. Annalee knew exactly who was behind all this now. Russ Broker. The bastard had lived off Becca for almost two years before walking away eight years ago, breaking her spirit along with her bank account.
Last Annalee had heard, the man was doing time for assault after sending a guy to the hospital after a bar fight.
She tore off another little piece of her cotton shirt and dropped it, praying Russ didn’t catch her. The gun wasn’t to Annalee’s head. It was to her mother’s.
Annalee had so many questions to ask. Becca’s eyes were rife with terror. Had she been caught trying to save her daughter’s life by telling her to run via text message?
“Where is Owen?” Annalee asked.
“Quiet, bitch,” Russ said in an angry hiss. “Or your mother gets shot.” Everything about Russ was angry: his voice, his expression, his heart. The man was mean. He was the epitome of darkness, and she’d never understood the attraction. He had skulls and snakes tattooed all over his arms and legs. Most of the time, tattoos meant something. They were personal, special. Other times, they were art or expression. Russ’s were scary images that were a mirror to the man’s soul if he had one.
Annalee glanced back at her mother. Mascara streaked her tear-stained cheeks. She looked both hopeless and scared, a look no one wanted to see on their mother. And yet, something wasn’t quite right. There was another emotion in the mix that looked a whole lot like guilt.
Guilt made sense under the circumstances. Guilt for dragging Annalee into this mess. Guilt for putting Annalee’s life on the line. Guilt for being responsible on some level for Owen’s kidnapping.
And yet, that didn’t feel like it hit the mark when Annalee had looked into her mother’s eyes. First off, Becca could scarcely make eye contact with Annalee. That was a telltale sign of fault. More than anything, Annalee wanted to sit her mother down and ask the woman what the hell was going on. With a gun pointed to the back of her head by an unpredictable ex, Annalee would proceed with caution and pray Archer could pick up on the pieces of red material she’d left as a trail.
Russ had jumped Beau, leaving him to die after tricking Hudson into investigating the noises he’d forced Becca to make—or so her mother said. Russ must have threatened to kill Annalee on sight in order to convince her mother to create the distraction in the first place.
Anger surged, forcing hot blood to rush through her veins. She scanned the area to see if there was anything to use as a weapon. With the barrel of the gun positioned at the back of her mother’s skull, Annalee wouldn’t take a chance. Russ was deranged enough to kill anyone who got in between him and keeping his freedom.
Still, wouldn’t his hand get tired at some point?
Since he forced her to walk first, followed by her mother, and then followed by him, Annalee would have to turn around to get a peek. Russ knew that would give him a heads-up if she tried anything. He also had to know that Annalee loved her mother and wouldn’t do anything to put her in harm’s way. Not intentionally.
“This has gone too far, Russ,” Becca finally spoke up, shocking the hell out of Annalee. “It’s not too late to stop.”
“Shut up, or I’ll squeeze this trigger so fast your daughter will be scraping your brains off tree trunks for days.” The anger in his voice sent an icy chill down Annalee’s spine. The hate in those words was palpable.
“I’m serious,” Becca started before saying, “Ouch. That hurt.”
Annalee turned in time to see the second blow to the back of her mother’s head. This time, with the butt of the handgun.
“Don’t hurt her,” Annalee said, hating to have to plead with this scumbag of a person. “Please.”
“He’s not going to hurt me,” Becca defended. “Not bad.”
“Tempt me again and you’ll see what happens, bitch.”
“I’m serious, Russ. This has got to stop. It wasn’t supposed to go this far. You promised nothing bad would happen.”
Blinding anger tore through Annalee.
What had her mother done?