Chapter Thirty

Paramedics loaded Chip into the ambulance. The pilot was still groggy but more pissed off than anything else. Join the club . With Chip attended to, now Evan could focus on hauling ass to the camp and tracking down whoever had shot them down.

Speaking of tracking, he needed Blue.

"Brett," he said into his phone, hustling to meet Sgt. Browning from the Cheyenne PD at his patrol car, "where are you guys?"

"Coming up on Cheyenne Airport."

"Take the airport exit. I need you to swing by and get Blue. I'm parked in the small lot up against the main terminal. I left a window partly open, probably enough for you to reach in. If not, break the window."

"You got it."

He'd already briefed Browning, and the second the back doors of the ambulance closed, he got into the sergeant's patrol car. Two state police cars and another Cheyenne PD car had also rolled on scene and would remain with the wreckage.

Browning hitched his chin to the smoking chopper. "You were lucky."

"Tell me about it." The chopper was a lost cause. He'd ordered an FBI evidence team from Denver to scour the debris for slugs he could match to the rifle that shot them down. Now he just had to get the rifle. "Punch it, will ya?" He wished he had a long gun. Bringing a handgun to a rifle fight was never a good idea.

Browning swung the car in a one-eighty and shot down the road. "When I heard over the radio what location the shots came from, I figured you might be involved. I sent more units to that address and mobilized a SWAT unit. They should be there by the time we arrive." He gunned the car onto the highway and hit the lights and siren. "There's something else you should know. A woman called the Cheyenne PD about a missing boy. She spoke with one of our officers but couldn't give him an exact location."

"What was the name of the boy?" Please not—

"Noah."

Shit . With everything happening, he still hadn't gotten around to listening to Marlie's voicemail. He pulled up the message. More than two hours had passed since she'd first called, and she'd called again twenty minutes ago but hadn't left another message.

Her voice was deceptively calm but with an underlying note of urgency and fear. "Evan, Noah took a bus to Cheyenne. He's going after Caleb."

He slammed his fist against the window.

"Something I should know?" Browning hit the air horn to clear the left lane.

"That boy, Noah…" He shook his head, both proud of the kid's guts and infuriated by it. "He's at that farm."

He redialed Marlie's number. After four rings, it went to voicemail. "Marlie, I'm on my way to the camp. Whatever you do, do not go in there alone."

The speedometer hit triple digits, and it still wasn't fast enough. If Noah really had made his way to the camp, Marlie wouldn't sit around twiddling her thumbs waiting for him to call her back.

She'd go in after him.

Browning took the exit for Ridley Road, then hung a hard right.

For the hundredth time since he'd looked at the Red Notice files, Evan kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. Better late than never and, literally, in his own backyard.

The patrol car rocked and rolled as they turned onto Painted Sky Road. Red-and-blue lights flashed in the sideview mirror. Two SUVs took up the rear—Brett and Deck with their dogs and, hopefully, Blue.

Half a dozen other patrol cars had parked on either side of the road, one unit blocking the gate. A pickup truck with wood sideboards sat on the other side of the gate. Before Browning had the car in park, Evan was out the door.

A sharp bark sliced the air. Blue bounded over, then stood on his hind legs to rest his front paws on Evan's chest. "Good to see you, boy." Better than good . He was surrounded by ten other cops, but going into this without his partner would have been like going in unarmed and completely unprepared.

He nodded to Brett, who'd leashed up his big Chesapeake Bay retriever, Blaze. "Thanks, man."

"No problem." Brett handed him a radio that he clipped to his belt.

Deck held his Belgian Malinois, Thor's, leash in one hand, an M4 carbine rifle in the other. He handed Evan the rifle. "Thought you might want this."

"You know it." He slung the rifle over his shoulder.

They met Browning and another Cheyenne PD officer at the hood of Browning's car. Several other cops gathered around, waiting for instructions. The SWAT unit hadn't arrived yet.

"They're not letting us in voluntarily." One of the cops nodded to the truck on the other side of the gate. A man who looked like the guy he'd chased down at the farmers market stood next to the truck. A woman sat in the passenger seat. Not Marlie. Her old pickup wasn't there, either. Didn't mean she wasn't.

"I've seen this guy once or twice in town," the cop said. "Said his name's John and that he works here. He won't open the gate without a warrant. SWAT team is on the way. ETA in five."

"There's an active shooter in there who just shot down an FBI helicopter. We don't need a warrant." Evan racked a round into his rifle. "Anyone have a problem with that?"

Browning, the senior officer on site, shook his head. "Not a one."

With Blue beside him, Evan charged to the gate. Keeping one eye on John, he rammed his boot into the security camera. The lens shattered, and the camera cracked in pieces, falling to the ground.

"Hey, you can't do that!" John rushed over, then stopped as three rifle muzzles aimed at his chest.

"I just did." Officer safety , would be the official stated reason why he'd busted the camera. He didn't want a set of prying eyes watching them. In truth, he would have kicked out the camera anyway. "FBI. Open the gate."

In a wasted show of defiance, John narrowed his eyes. "You got a warrant?"

"Don't need one. Someone on this property took shots at an FBI helicopter. If you don't let us in, two things will happen. We're coming in anyway, and you'll be arrested for harboring and aiding and abetting an active shooter."

John took a few steps back, then reached for something in his back pocket.

"Blue!" Evan raised the muzzle of the rifle. If the guy whipped out a gun, he'd drill him center of mass.

Blue leaped over the gate with the ease of a gazelle and bit down on John's arm, growling and shaking his head. A phone fell from his hand.

"Get it off me! Get it off!" John squirmed, trying unsuccessfully to punch Blue in the side of his head.

As a unit, he vaulted the gate with Deck and Brett. Before John could reach for it, Deck kicked the phone away.

Evan raced to the truck. The woman had put a cell phone to her ear. He yanked open the door, hauling her out and shoving her against the side of the truck. He grabbed the phone and tucked it in his back pocket. "Stay there, and don't move," he ordered.

"Release!" he said over his shoulder to Blue. The damage had been done. Blood dripped from a nasty gash on John's wrist. "All you had to do was open the gate, asshole."

Cheyenne PD officers had also jumped the gate and raced in to assist. One of them flipped John onto his belly and cuffed him.

"Cuff her, too" he directed one of the cops. When the woman—Margaret, he assumed—had been searched, he tugged her phone from his pocket. The recent call log indicated a call made less than a minute ago. So much for a stealthy entry.

Evan read Margaret her rights. "A woman and a boy are here. Marlie and Noah. Where are they?"

She thrust her chin at him. "There's no one here by those names."

He unclipped his phone and dialed Marlie's number. The song "I Need A Hero" blared from a few feet away. He whipped his head around. Keeping the phone pressed to his ear, he took a few steps, following the sound. Tall grass lined the road. The music stopped when his call went to voicemail. He hit redial.

Again, music blared from somewhere nearby. If the situation weren't so dire, he would have laughed his ass off at the ringtone she'd assigned him. Using his foot, he pushed the grass aside until he found the phone.

He glared at Margaret. No problem . He'd be sure to tack on a false statement charge to the long list of crimes she'd be indicted on. "Get them out of here," he said to the nearest cop.

Two officers escorted John and Margaret to the patrol units.

A dark-gray BearCat armored tactical vehicle barreled toward them, braking to a stop. Five men and one woman exited, decked out with Kevlar body armor and helmets and M-16s.

"What have you got, and what do you need?" the SWAT lieutenant asked Sgt. Browning.

"Active shooter," Browning said.

"With hostages, including children," Evan added. Marlie and Noah, he now assumed. "We don't know how many people are in there. When we flew over the property today, there were around ten houses, a large church-like building, two warehouses, and tarp-covered fields I have reason to believe are illegal marijuana grows. There's at least one high-powered rifle, maybe more."

"Do we have time to launch a drone?" the lieutenant asked. "I'd feel better knowing how many bodies we're up against."

"You can launch one," Evan said, shaking his head, "but this guy just shot down a chopper. He won't think twice about shooting down a drone. Besides, time's not on our side, and I'm not waiting around. We have exigent circumstances working for us right now. The more time that passes, we stand more of a chance of losing that legal coverage." No way was he about to let that happen, and he wanted to get in there to find Marlie and Noah ASAP. "What I need is for all these cars blocking the gate to get out of the way. Then I need you to break down the gate."

"My pleasure." The lieutenant grinned, raising his hand in the air and making a circling motion with his finger. The rest of his team got back into the BearCat.

Browning pointed to the two marked units blocking the gate. "Move these cars out of the way!"

Officers hustled to back the vehicles out of the BearCat's path.

"We'll be right behind you," Deck said, then he and Brett ran back to their SUVs.

"Blue, with me!" Evan opened the driver's side of John and Margaret's truck. Blue jumped in and sat in the passenger seat. Evan got behind the wheel, then did a tight K-turn and drove the truck forward another fifty feet, well away from the BearCat's destructive path.

In the rearview, he watched the armored vehicle start rolling forward, picking up speed as the driver gunned it. The sound of the BearCat slamming into the gate was louder than a crack of thunder. The gate flew clear off its hinges, landing well to the side of the road.

The cavalry lined up behind him. "Let's do this."