Chapter Fifteen

With his pulse racing and adrenaline firing on all cylinders, Ruston could hear the sounds around him. Footsteps, coughing, gasps for breath. He was doing plenty of coughing and gasping of his own, and he was on his knees. He couldn’t see anything but the ghost-white tear gas.

He couldn’t see the person who’d set off the canister.

Ruston figured the guy was there, though, and had done this so he could kill Gracelyn and him. The tear gas would make that easier for him to do that since he was wearing a mask, but first he’d have to get to them, and Ruston needed to do something to prevent that from happening.

Hard to do anything when his throat and lungs were on fire, and the coughing was making it impossible to do much of anything. He tried to call out to Gracelyn, to tell her to stay right next to him. However, he failed. Everything inside him was yelling for him to get away, to breathe in some fresh air. But he also needed to protect Gracelyn, and at the moment, he clearly couldn’t do that.

Ruston wasn’t even sure where she was.

He tried to move. Tried to listen. And he could hear more of the shuffling of footsteps mixed in with the other sounds. What he couldn’t hear was Gracelyn or Duncan.

Along with essentially blinding him and sending him into a coughing fit, Ruston was disoriented and couldn’t tell exactly where he was. He kept his gun gripped in his right hand and reached out with his left. He felt what he thought was the hall wall and not the archway opening of the waiting room. If so, that meant Gracelyn was probably behind him.

He staggered in what he hoped was the right direction to find her, and he’d made it a few steps when he heard a door open. That was followed by a rush of light and the fresh air that his lungs were screaming for. It cleared out some of the gas mist, but his vision was still plenty blurry.

But not his mind.

The thoughts were racing through him. One bad thought in particular. If someone had opened a door to the outside, then it could mean the tear-gas thug was escaping. Not alone, though. He could have Gracelyn with him.

“Gracelyn?” he tried to call out and managed it despite the coughing.

No answer.

He wanted to believe that was because her throat didn’t allow her to respond, but his gut told him it was something much worse.

Ruston gathered up every bit of his strength and got to his feet so he could get to that open door. He made it there one staggering step at a time, and he hoped Duncan was doing the same. Someone was moving in his direction, anyway. If it was the killer, then he’d no doubt have a clean shot.

But no gunshots came.

“Where’s Gracelyn?” he heard Duncan ask through the strangling coughs.

That gave Ruston another jolt of adrenaline that fueled him to move even faster to the door. He stepped out, the fresh night air engulfing him, and he nearly tripped over something. No, not something.

Someone.

For a horrifying moment, he thought the person on the ground was Gracelyn, but it wasn’t. It was Nelda Martin, one of the deputies guarding the doors. She was in a crumpled heap, and there was blood on her head.

Cursing, Ruston stooped down to check for a pulse while he frantically scanned the parking lot that was just on the other side of a grassy area. There were some vehicles, including a Saddle Ridge cruiser that Nelda had likely used to come to the hospital, but there was no sign of Gracelyn.

“Hell,” Duncan snarled when he stepped outside. “Is Nelda alive?”

Ruston nodded. “She’s got a pulse.” He kept looking. Kept listening. And he finally heard something. The sound of an engine being revved. A few seconds later, he saw the black SUV speeding out of the parking lot. He caught a glimpse of the driver.

Someone in a gas mask.

And he saw Gracelyn. Just for a second.

His heart dropped.

Because, like Nelda, she was unconscious and there was blood on her head.

“Gracelyn!” he called out, running into the parking lot.

“She’s in that SUV?” Duncan asked.

“Yeah,” Ruston managed, and he tried to tamp down the panic that was crawling through him.

“Use the cruiser,” Duncan insisted. He rummaged through Nelda’s pocket, came up with the keys and tossed them to Ruston. “Go. I’ll be right behind you as soon as I get her some help. I can use one of the other cruisers to track you.”

Ruston caught the keys and didn’t waste a second. He ran straight to the cruiser, jumped in and started driving. Fast. As if Gracelyn’s life depended on it.

Which it did.

He practically flew out of the parking lot, and some of the tightness in his chest eased up just a little when he spotted the SUV. Again, it was just a glimpse before it disappeared around a curve. But at least Ruston knew what direction it was going.

Out of town.

Well, maybe. A sickening thought occurred to him, that maybe there was more than one SUV, that the one he saw was meant to lead him in the wrong direction. That was possible, but since he didn’t have a lot of options, he went after it. He had to get to Gracelyn and stop her from being killed.

The image of the blood on her head flashed in his mind, but he had to shove that aside. That would only tear apart his focus, and right now, he needed all the focus he could get. He had to catch up with that SUV.

The plates on the SUV were almost certainly bogus, so Ruston knew he wouldn’t be able to rely on that even if he got the license numbers. He had to keep the vehicle in sight and follow it to wherever they were taking Gracelyn.

And that gave him another flood of thoughts.

Gracelyn must have been alive if the driver had taken her. If he’d already killed her, he would have just left her in the hospital. So, this was a kidnapping.

Why?

Again, that brought some bad thoughts. Maybe to use Gracelyn to lure him out? But why not just take him along with her?

Ruston thought back to what had gone on in the hall of the hospital. He’d only seen one person, so it was possible the kidnapper couldn’t get both of them out. Even if he’d managed to hold both Gracelyn and him at gunpoint, it would have been difficult to get them out of the hospital and into the SUV. Gracelyn and he would have fought back.

The image of the blood flashed again.

She likely had fought back. And the thug who had her had hurt her. Had probably knocked her unconscious. Or drugged her. Either way, when she came to, she’d try to escape. The kidnapper wouldn’t just let that happen, which meant Gracelyn could end up being killed in the fight. That was why Ruston had to keep the SUV in sight. It was the only way he had now of getting to Gracelyn.

The SUV sped out of town, and the driver must have had the accelerator floored, because Ruston wasn’t gaining on him. Thankfully, he wasn’t losing either. The SUV stayed ahead, tearing across the rural road, and so far there were no other vehicles around. But the road wasn’t straight either. There were plenty of curves just ahead. Since the driver might not be familiar with that, Ruston hoped he didn’t lose control and crash.

Ruston had to hit his brakes when he got to the first of that series of curves, but once he was through it, he immediately sped up again. Keeping the SUV in sight.

He cursed when his phone rang because it took some effort to get it out of his pocket while keeping the cruiser from going off the road. Duncan’s name was on the screen.

“I’m in a cruiser and am tracking your location,” Duncan said the moment Ruston answered it on speaker. “You’re heading toward the interstate.”

“Yeah,” Ruston verified. And that wasn’t good. It’d be much harder to follow the SUV once it was in traffic.

Ruston didn’t add more to that because he had to fight to keep control through another of those curves. Then he cursed when he was through it and saw the SUV. Not on the road but rather turning off onto what appeared to be a ranch trail. That could mean Gracelyn had regained consciousness and was now fighting her captor. Or this could have been the plan all along, for the captor to meet up with someone else.

Ruston followed.

“Keep tracking me,” Ruston told Duncan, and he ended the call so he could focus on his driving.

The cruiser bounced over the uneven rock-and-dirt surface. Ahead of him, the SUV did, too. Then it stopped, and Ruston saw the driver bolt from the SUV and break into a run through the woods.

Ruston braked, bolted from the cruiser and began to run, too. Not toward the driver but to check on Gracelyn. Once he was sure she was all right, then he could go in pursuit.

He hurried to the passenger’s-side door.

And his heart went straight to the ground.

Because she wasn’t there. No one was. The SUV was empty.

He didn’t see any blood, and he certainly hadn’t seen her with the escaping driver, but he fired glances all around in case the thug had tossed her out of the vehicle.

Still, nothing.

Ruston tried to tamp down his fear and kept searching. His heartbeat was drumming in his ears now. He was breathing way too fast. But he still heard a ringing sound. Not his phone. He followed the sound to the driver’s seat of the SUV, where a cheap-looking cell was ringing. A burner, no doubt.

He didn’t have any evidence gloves on him, and it was a risk to touch the phone and contaminate any possible evidence. Still, he knew this call had to do with Gracelyn, so he went ahead and answered it.

“You can save her,” the mechanical voice immediately said. “No other cops. Just you, Ruston. If you want to save her, you’ll come alone.”

He had to get his throat unclamped before he could speak. “Where? Where are you taking her?”

“To the baby farm. Get there fast,” the voice warned him before the call ended.

G RACELYN FOUGHT HER way out of the dream. A nightmare. With images of blood and the sound of gunfire. The crushing sensation in her chest of not being able to breathe.

She forced her eyes open, slowly. She had no choice about that. Her head was throbbing, the pain pulsing through her, and she didn’t want to make any sudden moves. So, she just sat there, glanced around and listened.

She was in a vehicle, belted into the front seat, and her hands were cuffed together at the wrists. That sent a jolt of panic through her, but she tried not to cry out. She didn’t want to make a sound until she had figured out where she was and who had taken her.

The images and memories were all tangled up in her head. Everything swirling. And the pain. Mercy, the pain was still there, too. So, that was why it took long moments for her to latch on to anything. Then it all came together.

And she suddenly remembered what had happened.

The tear gas at the hospital. Being dragged out by a man wearing a mask. Once they were outside, she’d seen the injured deputy on the ground, and she’d managed to break away from her attacker. She ran. For only a second or two, though, before he’d grabbed her by the hair and then slammed her onto the ground.

She’d felt the sharp stab of pain in nearly every part of her body. Then she had fallen and hit her head. After that, everything went dark. Until now. Until she’d woken up in this vehicle. But where was she?

That question quickly faded when another, more important one flashed in her mind.

Where was Ruston?

Was he hurt? Or worse? And what about Duncan? Gracelyn was almost certain they’d still been in the hospital when she had been taken.

She moved her wrists a little, testing out the restraints. Flex-cuffs. It was what cops used to restrain perps. But it was also what Devin had used on Allie.

Allie.

Her thoughts went there for a moment. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since she’d been dragged away from the hospital, but Allie had still been in surgery then. Had been critical. Would the killer send someone after her, too?

Maybe.

But Gracelyn had to hope that the medical staff and the deputies would be able to stop that. Even if they couldn’t, she couldn’t help Allie herself. Not from here. She’d have to escape to do that.

“You awake?” the driver said.

It was a man. She didn’t know who he was, but she thought it was the same person who’d barked out that order for her to move at the hospital.

“Who are you?” she asked, and she tried to make that sound like a demand. It didn’t.

Her throat was still burning from the effects of the tear gas, and her vision wasn’t 100 percent either. Everything was swimming in and out of focus, but she could see that the man was still wearing a gas mask that concealed all of his face. That blurred vision wasn’t helping any with her figuring out where they were either. A country road...somewhere.

“My name’s not important,” he said, his voice a low, rasping growl. “Just consider me a lackey. A well-paid one,” he added with a chuckle. The laughter turned her stomach.

“A lackey,” she repeated. So, not the killer. Well, maybe not. She didn’t think it was either Devin or Tony, anyway, but the killer could turn out to be someone who wasn’t even on their radar. “Where are you taking me? And where’s Ruston?”

“Ruston’s on a wild-goose chase.” He chuckled again.

Oh, that didn’t help the panic building inside her. If he was telling the truth, Ruston wasn’t coming for her. That could be good, she supposed, since she was probably going to become bait. That was the only reason she could think of as to why she was still alive.

“Why didn’t you just take Ruston when you took me?” she asked.

“Too risky to have you both together. My orders were to get you, and once I drop you off, then I can wait around for your boyfriend to show up.”

Her bait theory was right. She didn’t ask why the lackey was so certain Ruston would come for her. No need. Because Ruston would come, and she knew there was nothing she could do or say to stop him. That meant she had to try to end this before Ruston walked into a trap.

But what exactly was this?

Gracelyn sat up in the seat and stared out the windshield at the scenery. Oh, God. She knew where he was taking her. Back to a nightmare.

Back to the baby farm.

“Now, don’t go hyperventilating on me,” the man said as if it was part of his continuing joke. “Before I drop you off, I’m to give you a message. My boss knows the medical examiner found the username and password for an online storage site that Zimmer set up. If you give it to him, he won’t gun down Ruston.”

So, that was what the killer wanted. Zimmer had hidden away something that could ID the killer.

“I don’t know that information,” she said.

“Then you’ll get it.” He pressed the phone function on his dash screen, and she saw Ruston’s name and number pop up. “Tell Ruston what you need and ask him to bring it to you.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond or even gather her breath. He just pressed the number, and Ruston immediately answered.

“Who is this?” he demanded. “Do you have Gracelyn?”

“I do indeed have your little darlin’,” the man verified, “and this is how you’ll get her back. Tell him, Gracelyn. Spell it out for him.”

“Ruston,” she managed to say. She wished she sounded stronger. Because she was. Despite the nightmare bubbling up inside her, she was a heck of a lot stronger than she sounded.

Think , she told herself. Ruston would be just as frantic as she was, so she had to be smart about what she said.

“I’m okay,” she told Ruston and hoped he believed that. If he thought she’d been injured, that might cloud his judgment. He might be willing to do anything to get to her.

“Where are you?” he asked, and yes, there was a sharp intensity in his voice.

“Apparently, on the way to the baby farm.”

Ruston cursed, and she heard the sound of a vehicle engine. He was coming for her.

“The lackey who took me didn’t tell me the name of his boss, but the killer wants the username and password of Zimmer’s accounts,” she explained. “The ones he tatted on the inside of his wrist.”

Gracelyn had purposely added that last bit of wrong information to confirm to Ruston something he no doubt already knew. That if he showed up at the baby farm, it’d be a trap to kill them both. Once the killer had the username and code, then he’d have no use for Ruston and her.

“Now, here’s the deal, Ruston,” the lackey said. “You gotta come alone and you gotta bring that username and password. Understand?”

“Yeah,” Ruston said, his voice flat and cold. “If you hurt Gracelyn, I’ll kill you. Understand?”

The lackey chuckled. “We’ll see about that when you get here. Hurry, and if you’re not alone, then Gracelyn dies on the spot.”

With that, he ended the call and turned onto a familiar road. She had memorized this road and the surrounding area before Ruston and she had gone in undercover. It hadn’t changed in a year. The trees that lined the narrow road seemed just as menacing. So did the building that sat just ahead. Not an actual house, but a compound that had once been owned by militia members. It was a mishmash of structures that had been cobbled together. Some parts freight containers, other parts prefab houses, all joined together by what she knew were mazelike halls.

There were no lights on that she could see. No obvious security either. The place looked deserted.

But she was betting it wasn’t.

No. There was likely at least one person inside, waiting for her. Waiting for Ruston, too. And she wondered if it was Devin, Charla or Tony.

This would be a way to tie up many loose ends if the killer managed to get access to Zimmer’s files and eliminate Ruston and her. But why was the killer so sure that Ruston and she had anything that would incriminate him?

One answer came to mind.

Because the killer knew they wouldn’t stop until they got to the truth. They would hunt until they had eliminated the threat to Abigail. Any one of their suspects would know that, too.

The gravel crunched between the tires of the SUV as the driver pulled to a stop. “Man, oh, man, this mask is hot. Sweatin’ up a storm underneath.”

“You can take it off,” she challenged.

He laughed again, that low chuckle that made her want to punch him. This wasn’t a joke. This was her life. Hers and Ruston’s, and this snake was playing a huge part in putting them in danger.

“Now, now,” he scolded. “You don’t want to see my face because then I would have to kill you. If you’re gonna die, it won’t be by my hands.”

“No, you’ll just turn me over to a killer and pretend the only thing you did wrong was take money to bring me here.” This time, she was pleased with her tone. Anger. So much anger. She was channeling every bit of what was churning inside her. “Is that what you plan on telling yourself to help you sleep at night?”

“I sleep just fine,” he snarled. He got out and began walking to the passenger’s-side door to open it.

Gracelyn got ready. Well, as ready as she could, considering her hands were cuffed. No way to get out of that, and even though she fumbled with the seat belt, she couldn’t unlatch it. So, she turned her body and tried to get into a position to do some damage.

The man opened the door, and he leaned in to unbuckle her seat belt. She smelled the sweat on him and could see that the moisture had built up behind the eye coverings of the gas mask. She hoped that meant he also had limited vision.

And that he wouldn’t see the attack coming.

The moment he stepped back to pull her out of the SUV, she swung her legs around and kicked him. She aimed for his throat. Missed. But managed to land a kicking blow into his chest.

Cursing, he staggered back, but before he could get out of the way, she kicked him again. This time in the stomach. The air wheezed out of him, and he dropped.

Gracelyn bolted out of the SUV, and she started running as if her life depended on it.

Because it did.