Deliver Us from Evil (29 page)

“Can handle the flight.” She picked her way across the ice to the courthouse's doors. “Come on, we need to get someone to take us back to the helicopter.”

Wednesday, 7:10 p.m.

US Marshals Office, Howard Baker Federal Courthouse

Knoxville, Tennessee

BRANNON WANTED A RIDE to get back to the helicopter?

Roark reread the note the agent had slipped him. Why would she want to go to the helicopter now? Did she need something from it?

The room was silent, save for the breathing. Jefferson sat at the table, unaware the agents had accessed his mother's safety deposit box. The agents hadn't yet arrived with the books. Roark nodded to Demott, then slipped out.

Brannon paced the hallway. “Good, you're here.”

“What's going on?”

“I need you to take us to the helicopter. We've got a call.”

“I don't understand.”

She sighed. “Steve called. There have been reports of smoke in the park. I need to check it out.”

“But you can't fly yet.”

“Are you done with Jefferson?”

“No. We have to wait until the books arrive.”

“Then I can fly.”

“But your ankle—”

She held up her hand. “I can fly. This is my job, Roark. Smoke right after a blizzard usually means someone's stranded out there. While the snow's stopped, it's still below freezing. I have to go.”

“Okay. I'll take you. Let's hurry. I want to be back to see the books the agents bring.”

Together the three headed into the blistering cold and to his car. Brannon buzzed with excitement. Her face flushed and her eyes glistened. Very attractive.

Roark shifted his attention back to driving the short distance to the building where the helicopter waited. His headlights split the darkness. Could she fly in the dark? He couldn't explain his sudden concern for her, but he felt it nonetheless. What was going on with him?

He turned into the parking lot, then started to get out of the car. Brannon's hand on his forearm stopped him. “You don't have to go to the roof with us. We know the way.”

“But—”

She smiled, pushing his heart into twists. “I know you want to get back to look at those books. I understand.” Brannon leaned over and her lips whispered against his five o'clock shadow. “We'll be praying this is the break you need. Let me know if you can.”

Wanting nothing more than to pull her to him but knowing he couldn't, Roark clenched his teeth and nodded.

With another soft smile, she was out of the car, head down, rushing toward the building.

“Thanks,” Lincoln mumbled before he exited the car and followed her.

Roark watched them duck inside but didn't put the car in reverse. Something felt wrong, really wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on what. Maybe it was Brannon leaving. The woman did strange things to his emotions. He needed to pursue these feelings for her.

But he had a case to solve first.

Shoving the car into reverse, Roark backed out of the parking space. He put the car into drive and eased back to the road. Overhead, the steady beat of rotors thrummed.

Fear for Brannon tightened in his gut. Roark paused, letting the mental image of her smile, her concern for others fill his mind. Her strong faith that seemed to call into his very soul. For the first time in years, his breath caught as he prayed.

God, it's me. I know I haven't exactly been talking to You, and I'm sorry about that. But I really need You to watch over Brannon. Something's going on—I can feel it. And help us get a break in this case. We're trying to do the right thing down here. We sure could use Your help.

TWENTY-SIX

Wednesday, 7:35 p.m.

Northwest of Little River Road

Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Tennessee

THE GROWLING SOUNDED AGAIN. Closer.

Evening cloaked the woods of the mountain in darkness. Even the moon sat muted in the sky. Wind rustled through the icy tree branches. Strange noises echoed against the silence.

Mai gripped the end of the stick tighter. Her heart caught in her chest. Kanya scooted closer. “I am scared.”

Mai was, too, but she could not tell Kanya. The girl would panic, and then where would they be? “The fire is keeping it away. We are safe.” She forced confidence into her voice. A confidence she didn't feel.

“But Poppy Fred can see the smoke and know where we are.”

Stupid. She had been plain
khlao.
Of course, Kanya was right. It was probably him out in the woods growling. Toying with them. Scaring them. So close. Ready to jump out and grab them.

No. If Fred knew where they were, he would already have them. It was an animal in the woods, not Fred. Still, she needed to put out the fire so Fred could not find them.

But then what would keep the animal in the woods away?

“Mai?” Kanya's voice trembled with fear.

“Let me think for a minute.” Mai swallowed, going over her options again. They did not have many. What could she do? Face Fred or a wild animal?

What should she do?

Another growl echoed from the woods.

Definitely should not put out the fire. Not yet, with the animal so close. Mai glanced up. The tree branches, bare of leaves but heavy with ice, made a thick canopy, so dense she could not see the sky clearly. Only the moon peekabooed through the limbs.

Which meant Fred probably could not see the smoke. Or, if he could, he would not be able to tell their location. Not as fast anyway.

She let out a sigh. “The trees are blocking the smoke, Kanya. Fred will not find us. We are going to make it. We will rest and then find a way out of here. Help will come, I promise.” Mai hoped she would be able to keep that promise.

“But the animal out there. The growls . . .”

“It will get tired of waiting and leave. Then we will start moving again.”

“In the dark? With wild animals?” Kanya voiced Mai's own fears. “What if it follows us? Attacks us?”

“We do not have a choice,” Mai whispered. How she wished she had thought this plan through a little better. They were hungry, cold, and scared. Animals threatened them, and Fred had to be close behind them.

Kanya sobbed into her hands. “We are going to die. All this running, and by morning, we will be
dap.
”

“Stop it, Kanya. Do not be silly—we will not be dead. We are not going to die. Stop crying. We need to think and be smart.” But Mai did not know what to do either. If only she could reach help.

The growl came again, throaty and close.

Kanya's sobs intensified. Mai wanted to cry, too. What if they did die out here? What if the fire went out and a bear or big cat came and got them? She had not only gotten herself into a dangerous mess, but she led Kanya in right along with her. Mai fought against tears.

A thumping sound beat overhead.

Mai jumped, looking through the trees. A beam of light pierced the canopy.

“What is it?” Kanya leapt to her feet.

“I think it is an aircraft.” Mai still gripped the end of the stick. Could help have arrived?

“Like the plane that brought us here?”

“No, something else.” Mai shielded her eyes from the beam of light. She could not make out what it was.

“What do we do? Run?” Kanya hugged her arms.

Mai stared at the light. They could not be too careful. Not with all they had already been through. “Grab our stuff. It might be Fred.”

Wednesday, 7:40 p.m.

Northwest of Little River Road

Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Tennessee

“CAN YOU SEE ANY movement?” Brannon flexed her fingers around the cyclic, piloting the helicopter two degrees to the left. “The smoke's coming from right down there.”

Lincoln pressed the night-vision binoculars to his eyes. “I'm looking, I'm looking.”

She adjusted the collective, dropping the helicopter lower. The skids hovered mere inches over the tips of the trees.

“Movement. I see something.”

“We're going in.” Brannon glanced over the area. Up ahead, about a klick to the north, a space large enough for the aircraft waited. She aimed for the small clearing, hovering the helicopter just long enough for steadiness, then landed.

Lincoln had his headset off and his feet on the ground before the rotors stopped turning. Brannon radioed Steve, then reached for her box. And came up short. Her SIG was back at the station, and this helicopter had no weapons box. She followed Lincoln into the darkness, unarmed.

Ice and snow crunched under their feet. She picked her way, mindful of her ankle even though it only felt a little sore.

“Hello? Where are you?” he hollered.

Brannon went in the opposite direction of her partner, making a wide arc. Sometimes survivors who got lost became disoriented and ran from their rescuers. “We're National Park Service rangers, here to help you.” The wind stole her words.

Eyes to her right peered out from the darkness.

Not wanting to alarm anyone, Brannon spoke in an even tone. “Hello, we're here to rescue you.” She crouched lower, ducking under ice-heavy branches.

Lincoln closed the arc. The eyes recessed farther into the woods. Brannon held up her hand to halt him. Could this be a lost child? How come no one had reported them missing?

She crouched on the ground and added a soothing tone to her voice. “I'm a ranger, here to take you out of here. Come out. Are you hurt?”

Another set of eyes appeared beside the first. Brannon judged the height—no more than four feet, for either of them.
Two
lost children? She inched toward the edge of the woods, ignoring the twinge in her ankle. “I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to save you.”

She held out her hand, trying to make out their outlines in the dark. A figure stepped forward, slowly, holding a threadbare pillowcase. The other came on her heels, also with a similar pack. Their steps were hesitant, leery. They finally came into view.

Two Asian girls, approximately ten to twelve years old. Dirty, thin, without clothes appropriate for the weather.

Brannon swallowed her horror and pasted on a smile. “Hi. I'm Brannon, a park ranger. We saw your smoke and came to rescue you.”

The taller of the girls, probably the oldest, stepped forward. “My name is Mai.”

“Hello, Mai.” Brannon's smile widened and she glanced at the second girl.

“I am Kanya.”

“Hello, Kanya.” Brannon glanced over her shoulder at Lincoln. “That's my partner, my friend, Lincoln.” She warned him with her eyes to approach with caution. “Come say hello, Lincoln.”

He moved beside her. “Hello, Mai and Kanya.”

The girls' focus dropped to the ground.

Brannon pressed her lips together. They were scared of men. She motioned Lincoln back while taking Mai's hand. “Let's get out of here. I'll take you back to our station where it's warm. You can get something to eat.”

Kanya's head jerked up, her eyes widening.

“Okay?” Brannon slowly rose, not wanting to frighten the children. What had happened to them? Were their parents around? They didn't look like sisters, but they could be. “Are you out here by yourselves?”

Mai pulled her hand out of Brannon's grip. “Yes. We are alone.”

A lie, but Brannon would let it stand for now. “Okay. Well, let's go.” She turned and led the way to the small clearing. Lincoln doused the fire, then raced to reach the helicopter before them.

As they drew closer, both girls clung to one another, staring at the aircraft. They'd probably never seen one before. Especially not up close. She smiled at them. “This is my helicopter. I fly this every day to save people who need help in the mountains.”

Mai nodded and let Brannon and Lincoln help her into the backseat. Brannon reached for Kanya next.

Crack! Crack!

Gunshots . . . again? Brannon lifted a trembling Kanya and put her in Lincoln's hands, then hopped into the pilot's seat. Why hadn't she brought her gun? She secured the headphones over her ears and started up the helicopter.

God, not again. Don't let them hit us. Don't let them damage the helicopter. Not with these girls. Please, Father. Help us.

“We're good.” Lincoln crawled into the front seat. “They're secure.”

Brannon didn't have time to glance at the girls. More shots echoed in the woods. She engaged the helicopter and lifted them into the air. She didn't hover, just pulled on the cyclic and collective and steered them toward the station. Once she was far enough away that shots wouldn't make contact, she activated the headset comm. “Are they okay?”

Lincoln glanced over his shoulder, then back to Brannon. “Scared and shaken, but I think they're good.”

“Those people shooting at us . . . they were after these girls.”

“Parents, maybe?”

Brannon shot him a scathing look. “Right. Armed and shooting at their kids? I don't think so.”

“How'd they get out there? What were they doing by themselves? Runaways?”

“I don't know. I need to radio Steve.” She changed frequencies and hailed the ranger station.

Steve came back in a heartbeat. “You guys okay?”

“Fine. We found the source of the smoke. En route to the station with two children. Shots fired at us.”

“And those firing at you?”

“Unidentified. Stand by with first-aid supplies. ETA five minutes.”

Wednesday, 8:05 p.m.

Congressman McGovern's Home

Knoxville, Tennessee

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN they got away? They're only children.” Warren took another sip of his Scotch. The liquid seared his throat. His head pounded—a promise of the migraine to come.

Zimp's voice squeaked over the phone. “Rangers in a helicopter picked them up.”

Brannon Callahan! Everywhere Warren turned, the woman showed up to complicate his life. “Tell Fred, Betty, and Nancy to get to that ranger station. Those girls can't live to talk.”