“When the prison authority told me Linc was dead, I thought—I don’t know. But not this.”
Jo squeezed her hands. “I know it’s hard. We’ll get through this. Trust Tyler. He knows what he’s doing. And there are four other cops here. They’ll find the two creeps and we’ll finally feel safe again.”
Trixie shook her head. “Safe? I haven’t felt safe in years.”
NINETEEN
Jason told Deputy Duncan that he couldn’t sleep and was going to get something to eat.
He’d heard every word Jo and her sister said.
He left the suite of rooms and walked to the main lodge kitchen. He’d hated Montana when they first moved here. There was nothing to do. His Internet connection kept getting kicked off, television was on satellites that half the time didn’t work because of the mountains, and there was no movie theater in Dillon. They had to drive an hour just to see a stupid movie. In Dallas, even though they were in the suburbs, there was a ten-screened theater ten minutes in one direction, fifteen in the other.
But there was something about this place that he had grown to like. Like he was home.
Stupid thought, he knew. He’d never been here before, and when his dad told him they were moving to Montana he pitched a fit. He hadn’t wanted to come. He didn’t want to do
anything,
really, because life had gotten so complicated after his mother divorced his dad and moved him to San Diego.
Then she got sick and brought him back. Died while Jason sat there holding her hand. She’d been so beautiful once, but the cancer ate her from the inside out and she was nothing but a hollow shell of the mother he knew. She hadn’t been perfect, but she’d loved him. And Jason would always remember that.
Moving to Montana seemed like running away from memories of his mom, and he didn’t want to do it. But he didn’t like Dallas and had no one to turn to, no one but a dad he barely knew. He liked the beaches in San Diego, but he didn’t like the kids who teased him about his Texas twang so cruelly that he’d worked hard to lose it.
He’d hated his dad for a long time. Why hadn’t he visited more often? Why hadn’t he let Jason come home?
He knew the truth now, though his dad didn’t think he knew anything. His dad thought Jason didn’t pay attention, that when he was into his video games his ears suddenly stopped working.
Not ever.
He wanted to make his father happy, and he didn’t know how. But he knew he couldn’t make him worry, not like he did after his mom died and his dad thought he was depressed.
“You, um, want to talk to someone?” Dad had asked one night after Jason got up at three a.m. Apparently neither of them had slept well in the months after Sharon McBride died.
“No,” he said.
“Well, let me know. You can talk to me, or,” he said quickly, “anyone you want.”
Jason hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone but his mom, to find out answers to questions only she knew, but she was dead.
Jason opened the refrigerator, looked around. He really wasn’t that hungry. He closed it and jumped at a voice.
“Hi, Jason.”
There was a small light next to the stove. Jo Sutton walked into the kitchen and asked, “Can I get you anything?”
“Naw. I just couldn’t sleep.” He felt sheepish.
“I saw you sneak out of Grandpa’s wing.”
“I wasn’t sneaking.”
“Okay, not sneaking.”
“Where were you? I didn’t see you.”
“Sitting in the great room next to the fireplace. I couldn’t sleep, either.”
“Where’s Dad?”
“In the den with Wyatt. He fell asleep in the chair. He needs a couple hours shut-eye. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
“I heard.”
Jo walked over to the refrigerator and took out a gallon of milk. “Milk helps me sleep.” She poured two tall glasses and handed one to Jason. “Sit.”
He did, looking at the milk. He sipped, then guzzled half of the glass. “Nothing better than cold milk,” he said.
“I agree.” She sat across from him. “You doing okay?”
He shrugged.
“You acted bravely today, Jason. You are definitely your father’s son.”
“You think so?”
“I think so.”
“I want to be a detective someday. Maybe.”
“That’s a good goal.”
They didn’t say anything for a long time. Then Jo said, “You have something on your mind.”
“Something Dad said earlier.”
She didn’t push him, and Jason was glad about that. He wanted to talk to her. She just might be the only person who really understood his feelings.
“Dad said you won’t marry him right now because you still miss your husband and son.”
She didn’t say anything and Jason feared he’d said something wrong.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, it’s okay. He’s right.”
“I miss my mom, too,” he said quietly.
Jo reached out and touched his hand. “I know you do. It’ll never go away completely. But it gets easier.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “It’s okay to miss her.”
“My mom made mistakes.”
“We all make mistakes.”
“But I feel guilty when I think about them. Because she’s dead. And I want to make it up to her, but I can’t.”
“Try really hard to only remember the good things. No one is perfect, but your mother loved you.”
Jason’s voice caught as he said, “But she took me away from Dad. He didn’t fight for me.”
Jo’s heart went out to Jason. He had been holding so much back for so long. Tyler had told her early in their relationship about his ex-wife Sharon. She’d cheated on him and Tyler gave her a second chance. Then she cheated on him again, and filed for divorce.
Tyler might have won custody, but he didn’t want to put the then-six-year-old Jason in the middle of an ugly legal battle. Sharon had threatened to fight him tooth and nail.
But when she was dying of cancer, she came back and Tyler had taken her into his home, getting to know a son he’d only seen a couple times a year, before his ex-wife died. It had been hard on Tyler, but it was equally hard on Jason. Harder in many ways.
“You know why he didn’t fight for custody.”
Jason shook his head. “He never told me.”
“You should ask him.”
“Do you know?”
She nodded.
“Tell me.”
Jo didn’t want to get in the middle of it, but Jason was a boy and she did understand how sometimes boys couldn’t talk to their fathers about feelings. It made them think they were less manly. But with women—with mothers—it was easier.
“He didn’t want a big, nasty fight with your mom. And she didn’t want to share you. The love a mother has for a child is powerful.”
“She used me to hurt Dad.”
“No. She loved you.”
“I know. She loved me a lot, but—” Jason didn’t continue.
Jo squeezed his hand. “Remember the good times. Remember how it felt when your mom hugged you. Remember her laugh. What was her favorite flower?”
“Red roses, I think.”
“When you get home, plant a red rosebush.”
“I don’t think they’ll survive in the snow.”
“There’s some miniature roses you can grow indoors.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Then when you look at the roses, you’ll remember only the good stuff. And that’s all that’s worth remembering, Jason. All the other stuff—the mistakes—we can’t think about.”
“Does it work for you?”
Jo looked down. It hadn’t, not for a long time. She’d forgotten every mistake, every flaw to the extent that she had idealized her marriage, put her husband on a pedestal that no man could topple. No one could compete with her memories of Ken because he had become flawless in her mind. A saint.
“Yes. But for a long time, I missed my husband and son so much that I was living in the past. I didn’t want to forget them.”
“I don’t want to forget Mom.”
“You never will. And I’ll never forget Ken and Timmy.”
“Does that mean you won’t marry Dad?”
“No. It means that I have to put everyone in their place and then I’ll be ready. Do you understand?”
Jason nodded. She wasn’t sure he did, or if he was just humoring her. She wasn’t even sure she understood.
“You okay to go back to bed? It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
Jason nodded. He stood, walked around the table and spontaneously hugged her.
“Good night, Jo.”
Jo sat there for a long, long time.
I love that boy.
And for the first time she battled the guilt and won.
The silence woke Aaron.
For nine years he’d lived in a six-foot-by-nine-foot prison. He might as well have been in an open coffin. With all the solitude he had in prison, there had never been total silence.
Silence.
The wind had stopped. There was nothing but a quiet blanket over the valley. He glanced at his watch, one he’d stolen off the dead O’Brien. Three-ten. Still time before they put their plan in motion.
Doug couldn’t make a bomb to detonate as Aaron wanted, so they came up with another idea with the same premise.
Aaron could quote the entire article written about Joanna that he carried with him everywhere, so he didn’t need to pull it out of his pocket to remember a passage that rang ironically true now.
Jo says she plans out all her novels in detail. “I like a clear road map of where I’m going,” she said.
When asked if she’d ever gone on a detour, she laughed. “Many, many times. But I’ve always discovered when I reached the end of the story that I had laid the foundation of the detour, even in my notes, often without realizing it.”
That’s exactly what Aaron and Doug were doing tomorrow. A detour that Aaron had unknowingly created yesterday morning.
When Joanna had left him at the top of the cellar stairs, Aaron decided to see what was down there. Not with a specific reason in mind, just a curiosity since he had thirty minutes before he had to meet his love.
He’d put the box Joanna handed him down, flicked on the light, and went down the narrow stairs. The cellar was dank, musty, and cold. Shelf after shelf of canned food lined the walls. Peaches, apples, prunes, sauces, jams, more than Aaron could count. He wondered if Stan Wood did all this, or maybe Joanna. She lovingly prepared all this food for them to share through the years, marking and dating each jar with her perfect script.
There were six windows in the basement, three on one wall, three on another. What did they need with windows down here? He crossed over to one. They were all locked from the inside, three feet wide and two feet tall.
Big enough for someone to slip in.
He unlocked one window on each side and pushed them open just a fraction against the snow.
Just enough to get fingers underneath from the outside and pull all the way open without too much sound.
At the time, he didn’t think about why he would need to break
in
to the lodge considering that he was a guest.
But now? Now, it was the only way he could get inside.
I’m coming, Joanna. Wait for me. Dream of me.
Forgive me.
(She’ll never forgive you.)
Aaron shook the errant voice from his mind. Of course she would forgive him. She loved him.
Last night they had made love. She’d come to his room wearing a pale blue gown. She wore nothing beneath and he saw her nipples hard, pushing against the filmy fabric.
“Joanna.”
“I’ve been waiting for you, Aaron.”
“You know who I am?”
“I knew the minute I saw you.” She took his hand. “I’ve dreamed of you forever.”
He touched her face with the back of his hand. “I love you.”
“I’ll never leave you, Aaron. I’ll be with you forever.”
And she took him to bed…
Aaron bolted upright. The light had changed. He’d fallen asleep.
“Must have had a nice fucking dream.” Doug laughed. He was standing in the kitchenette drinking coffee.
Aaron looked down and saw the wet stain spread across the blanket that had covered his naked body.
“We don’t have a lot of time, so clean your dick off and get dressed,” Doug said, eating food he’d stolen from the dead Trotsky’s cabin.
Aaron went to the bathroom, red with embarrassment. If he didn’t need Doug for this part of the plan, he should kill him now.
He looked in the mirror, his face still red and puffy from the bear spray Joanna had hit him with yesterday.
(Kill her.)
He shook his head violently back and forth, trying to rid himself of the tempting voice.
He didn’t want to kill Joanna. He loved her. He loved her dammit!
His fist slammed into the mirror. It shattered around him. Blood dripped onto the porcelain sink.
Aaron’s breath quickened as he watched the blood ooze in rivlets down the side of the sink.
Pounding on the door. “Stop jerking off, Doherty, and get your ass out here. We have to go or it’ll be too late.”
Aaron rinsed the blood off his hand and the dry sperm off his cock. He dressed and stepped through the doorway.
“I’m ready. Let’s go.”
TWENTY
The silence woke Jo.
She slid out of bed. Dawn hadn’t yet broke, the sky was still overcast, but the blizzard had passed. No snow fell; no wind wrapped fresh powder around the lodge like a cloak. Taking Wyatt and the kids to safety had become a whole lot easier.
Jo dressed quickly. If Chapman and Doherty were out there waiting for daybreak to attack, their job in the lodge was to get the kids off immediately.
Jo entered the lobby as Tyler spoke in low tones to his deputies, the FBI agents, the Manns, and Sam Nash.
“Everyone is going to the Worthingtons’. When you get there, if possible a Life Flight helicopter will come for Wyatt. If not, then Nash will take him over the pass into Idaho.
“Craig, you and Sean are to stay with the kids at all times. I have no reason to believe that Doherty or Chapman have gone east toward the Worthington ranch, but be careful and fully alert. I spoke with Lance Worthington just a few minutes ago and he said everything was clear. He and Kyle have plenty of provisions.
“The Johnstons are going with you along with Marie Williams. Brian Bates is going to help us keep watch. Any questions?”
“Are we taking the kids down to the shed?” Nash asked.
“No. We’ll bring the snowmobiles here to the front door. I want to do it before the sun rises. We don’t have a lot of time. The storm has lifted and Agent Bianchi and I feel if Doherty and Chapman attack, it’ll be not long after daybreak.”
“Then we’d better get going,” Nash said. “We need to fuel up and—”
“Stan and Brian already left to fuel the snowmobiles.”
Jo said, “You’re going to need all the snowmobiles to get that many people to the Worthington ranch.”
“All but one,” Tyler said. “In case of an emergency. I’m hoping we’re not going to need it.”
Hans spoke up. “I talked to the Helena office this morning. They can’t fly yet—the storm moved north into their flight path—but they predict liftoff within two hours.”
“Three hours to get here,” Tyler said. “That means we only need to hold down the fort for five hours. Then we’ll have a SWAT team holding it down for us, with enough people to start a manhunt. If these bastards haven’t shown themselves by then, we’ll go out and find them.”
“Let’s get moving,” Mitch Bianchi said.
The bite of the predawn morning chilled Jo as soon as she stepped out, but she relished that the air was clear. Already she could tell the sky was lightening. They might see blue today.
The weather could turn so quickly here, from brilliant blue to a blizzard in hours. Sometimes the blue sky would last for weeks; other times, it would disappear between dawn and noon.
But she’d take every blue-sky minute she could find.
Tyler stopped her from going down the steps. “Go back inside. Get the kids lined up. They’re to bring nothing except the essentials Stan packed for them.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue with me, Jo. We don’t know where these two are. They could be watching us now.”
“You’re right.”
He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “It’s going to be over soon. Then we can focus on us.”
He didn’t wait for her response, but with rifle in hand he stood sentry on the deck as Nash and the others went to the garage to retrieve the snowmobiles.
Jo had been raised with guns, but she’d never seen so many out at once. She pictured a scene from the Wild West, with the menfolk protecting the ranch from bandits. She looked out the front window, then turned to make sure the kids were ready.
“Trixie, where’s Stan with the emergency provisions?”
“He went down to the root cellar about twenty minutes ago.”
“I’ll go help,” Jo said
She opened the root cellar door and flipped on the light, thinking it strange that Stan hadn’t turned it on. Maybe he’d already come up and Trixie hadn’t seen him.
Stan was sprawled at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh my God, Stan!” The stairs were very narrow. She’d always been afraid that her grandfather was going to fall and break his hip. Now Stan—
It wasn’t until Jo reached the bottom of the stairs that she realized they weren’t alone.
Aaron Doherty stepped from behind a high stack of boxes. The pepper spray had made his face swell, his eyes were still red. He held a gun on Stan.
“Don’t scream or I’ll kill him. I promise you, he’s not dead. Yet. He was kind to me, I didn’t want to hurt him. But if you betray me again, I will shoot and it will be your fault. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
He took three steps toward her. She unconsciously took a step back. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. With his gun hand aimed at Stan, he patted her down. “Making sure you have no gun or bear spray.” He backhanded her and she stumbled, tripping on the bottom step and sitting down hard. “That was for attacking me yesterday. But I forgive you. You didn’t understand. By the end of today, you will understand I will never leave you and we’ll be fine.”
She found herself nodding as her terror increased. How was she going to get out of this without anyone getting hurt? One look at Aaron’s face told Jo that he expected to kill someone today.
And that person may well be her.
Aaron pulled her up. “Let’s go.”
As the sky lightened, Tyler felt uneasy. Nothing specific, but something wasn’t right.
He got on his walkie-talkie. “McBride to Bianchi.”
“Here.”
“You at the garage?”
“We’re about to come up, just a minor problem here. Mechanical.”
“Hold on a minute.”
“Something wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
Tyler listened to the random plops of snow from the trees. He walked across the deck to where Deputy Billy Grossman was on the far side. “I’m going to walk the perimeter.”
“I’ll cover you.”
Tyler went down the steps, slowly circled the lodge. He was only a quarter way around the building when he saw it.
Footprints outside the root cellar window. The snow had been shoveled away and the window pried open.
Running too slow in the fresh powder, he got on his walkie-talkie. “Mitch! They’re in the lodge. Get up here ASAP.”
“McBride—all the snowmobiles have been sabotaged. None of them will start. We’re on our way on foot.”
Tyler took the stairs two at a time, slipped, caught himself on the railing. He flung the rifle over his back and had his service pistol in hand. He tried the door.
Locked.
He pounded on the door. “Jo!”
Gunfire popped inside the lodge.
Bang-bang-bang.
Tyler hit the deck, crawled out to the snow, found a relatively safe place crouching in the wet snow.
“Report!” Bianchi called over the radio.
“One of them is inside.” Tyler looked for Billy. Saw he had overturned a heavy wood table and was behind it, gun aimed on the door.
Shit shit shit!
They’d had the damn house secured, then they left. Thought the women and children were safer inside. Doherty and Chapman had to have been watching and saw who left the house. Still, they didn’t know how many men they had.
Then he realized Chapman could have been watching the lodge yesterday while Doherty was out with Jo and the scouts. If he counted heads, he’d have a damn good estimate. When had they gotten into the cellar? Sometime during the night? Right before dawn? Were both of them inside or just one?
Tyler needed to get inside, but he was too broad to crawl through the cellar window.
Which meant so was Chapman. He couldn’t have gone that way. Doherty had to be the only one inside.
How could Tyler use that to his advantage?
He heard a snowmobile in the distance.
The gunshots must have been a cue for Chapman to bring the sled. Aaron had a hostage.
The front door opened and Tyler trained his gun on the opening.
It was Jo. Just above her lip was a smear of blood. Doherty had hit her. Tyler’s jaw tensed.
“Jo—”
She shook her head. Right behind her Aaron Doherty had a gun at Trixie’s head.
Jo watched Tyler’s face from his position at the bottom of the steps. He barely moved, but his face turned grave.
“What happened?” he asked.
“He was in the root cellar. Stan is unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. Someone needs to help him.”
The snowmobile was approaching. There was no way they could fit four people on one snowmobile.
“Doherty!” Tyler called. “Let them go. If you end this now, no one will get hurt. I’ll tell the prison authorities you cooperated.”
Doherty laughed. “I’m already a dead man, cooperation or not. I’m not going back to Quentin. You’re just jealous about Joanna and me. Don’t think I didn’t read that love note you sent her.
Love, Tyler.
You bastard.”
Using Trixie as a shield, Aaron fired his gun at Tyler. It came close, damn close. Doherty was a good shot.
“Hold your fire!” Tyler called.
“Fuck you, Sheriff McBride.” Doherty fired again, but this one was far off. Tyler had moved from Aaron’s best angle.
“Don’t, Aaron. Please,” Jo begged.
“Do you love him?” Aaron demanded.
“No, Aaron. I only love you. You know that. Haven’t you read my books?”
Doherty’s face softened almost imperceptibly. Then his expression grew stern again as he looked at Tyler. “I need you to move away, or my friend won’t come closer. He’s waiting for my signal.”
“FBI SWAT is on their way,” Tyler said. “You can’t get out of the valley.”
“That’s what you think. Sit by the radio, Sheriff. I’ll be in contact.”
“I’m not letting you take them.”
“You don’t have a choice. There’s a bomb ticking in the lodge. And all those kids are going to die.”
Tyler’s eyes widened. He glanced at Jo.
“He’s telling the truth,” she said, her voice catching. “He has both gas stoves open and on, blew out the pilot light. A lit candle on a shelf. It’s only a matter of time—ten, fifteen minutes—before the gas rises and the candle ignites it.”
Aaron laughed. “Everyone is locked in the root cellar right beneath the kitchen. I doubt they’ll survive the explosion.”
From Jo’s petrified expression, it looked like Aaron was telling the truth. “Please, Tyler,” she said. “I’ll be okay. Save the kids. Please.”
All his training, every instinct, told Tyler not to let Aaron Doherty leave with two hostages.
But there were seven kids, two old men, two women, and his injured brother inside that house. If there were an explosion, some or all of them would die.
“Time is running out,” Doherty said. “It’s going to take Doug at least five minutes to get here after I give the signal.”
Tyler listened. The snowmobile was idling somewhere, but where he couldn’t see. It could be a mile away or behind a tree, the way sound carried out here.
Mitch Bianchi rounded the corner, gun in hand, aimed at Doherty’s head. He was steady as a trained sharpshooter.
“Sheriff!” Bianchi called.
“There’s a bomb inside,” Tyler responded.
“And I’d be careful about opening that back door,” Doherty said. “A draft could stir the gas around and
boom
!”
Jo looked so lost standing in the middle of the deck. Trixie was white as a ghost, her entire body tense, a whimper coming out of her throat. But she was light, easy to carry, and not putting up a fight.
Seven kids are going to die if you hesitate another minute.
“It’s okay, Tyler. Please let us go.”
Shit.
He didn’t want to, he knew it was wrong, but Tyler was trapped. Even if he could take Doherty out, Jo and Trixie were in the line of fire. And the makeshift bomb inside…
“Go.” It was the hardest thing Tyler had ever done.
Aaron whistled. Within two minutes, Chapman drove up, towing another snowmobile behind. He stopped when he saw Tyler.
“You need to stand down, Sheriff. Move to the corner of the house.”
Tyler did as he was told, though he didn’t let go of his gun—hoping, wishing for an opportunity to kill Aaron Doherty.
Chapman brought the snowmobiles up to the porch stairs. He released the tow. Doherty said, “Go, Joanna.”
Jo walked down the stairs. Chapman grabbed her, held a knife at her throat.
“Don’t touch her,” Doherty warned. They traded Trixie and Jo. Now Doherty had a gun on Jo, and Chapman had a knife on Trixie. This time Trixie screamed, but it was short-lived. Chapman nicked her neck and said, “Next time I’ll slice your throat. Just like I did that babe in the cabin.”
They got on the snowmobiles and took off down the road. Tyler could have shot either man in the back, but there was no guarantee the bullet wouldn’t go through their body and into Jo or Trixie.
“Shit!” Mitch shouted. “Fuck!” He started toward the door.
“Careful!” Tyler exclaimed. “Jo confirmed the bomb.”
The two men slowly entered the lodge. Mitch said, “You get the kids, I’ll take care of the bomb.”
“Gas buildup in the kitchen. Watch it.”
Tyler turned to the root cellar door. He unlocked it and shouted. “Everyone up the stairs, single file, don’t push.”
Leah was first. “Stan’s down there, hurt. He’s moaning. I don’t know what’s wrong. Help him!”
“Go outside and follow Deputy Grossman.” Over his shoulder, he told Billy, “Get them as far away as you can.”
The kids, then the female guests. Karl was helping Stan Wood stand. “He has a head injury,” Karl said.
“I’ll get him upstairs. You go.”
Karl started up the stairs. Mitch called down, “All clear.”
Tyler helped a dazed Stan up the stairs, sitting him on a bench by the front door. The smell of gas filled the air.
“Mitch! We have to get out—the gas!”
“It’ll take a few minutes for the gas to dissipate, but I got the trigger—two lit candles—taken care of. The place would have blown in less than five minutes,” Mitch said, his voice calm as if he encountered bombs daily. “Good call on your part. I don’t know what the damage would have been, but with all the wood in this place, it would have been one helluva fire.”
“What do we do now?” Tyler said.
“We track those bastards.”
“Doherty said he would call. Maybe he wants to make a trade.”