He skirted the edge of the perimeter, eyeing each open “window” up along the tower. No signs of anyone present, at least not from this vantage point, but he needed to get closer.
He approached the building, keeping his back flush with the concrete. Except for the low hum of insects, silence surrounded him.
Debris littered the grounds—no doubt part of the snowboarding course when snow-packed.
Clicking on his flashlight, he entered the tower and cleared the first floor before moving on to the second, third, fourth, and finally the fifth and final level.
“What’s your problem, dude?” A teen shielded his eyes from Jake’s flashlight. A girl, no more than sixteen, sat beside him on a cruddy blanket.
“Are you the only ones here?”
“Yeah, that I know of. What’s your problem?”
“My problem”—Jake flashed his badge—“is that you’re trespassing. Now, I’m going to count to ten, and I want you out of here before I finish. One, two, three . . .”
The kid scrambled, grabbing the blanket and darting down the steps, leaving the girl to follow.
“And take her straight home—you hear?”
The boy was too busy running to respond.
Jake shook his head. Three bunkers, and still no Kayden.
He swung his flashlight across the windowsill and paused at the military action figurine glued to it, a wilted cypress flower tucked under its bent arm.
He leaned out the window, shining his flashlight at the kid darting across the grounds, the girl a dozen feet behind.
“Hey, kid. Freeze!”
Both kids stopped in their tracks. Illuminated by a dim circle of light, the boy turned, hands lifted.
“Is this action figure on the sill yours?”
“What am I, four?”
“So that’s a no?”
“Uh. Yeah.”
“Was it there when you arrived?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you seen it before?”
“It showed up a couple days ago.”
“Did you see who brought it?”
“Nah. Just saw it last time Jasmine and I were up there.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I go now?”
“Yeah. Go on. And I’m serious—take her home.”
The kid nodded and the two disappeared into the woods. Their vehicle was no doubt parked farther on down the pass.
Jake inspected the toy. It was army.
He pulled out the sat phone and dialed Marshall.
Reef settled into his sleeping bag, feeling awful for letting go of the search while his sister was out there, but Kirra was right. It was the smart thing to do, the best way to make sure they properly covered their grid, but he didn’t have to like it.
He shifted, his shotgun within hand’s reach.
Kirra had been adorable when the bear showed up—always putting on the brave, self-reliant front, it was nice to see a gentler side of her. He hoped she felt safe and protected knowing he was right next door.
He shook his head. Who would have thought he and Kirra Jacobs would be camping together under any circumstances and, even more surprisingly, that he’d have such a strong desire to protect her.
He could hear Rex’s rhythmic breathing through the tent walls. With the light on in the other tent, he could see the husky’s shadow against the yellow fabric—and Kirra’s too.
She lay in her bag but wasn’t sleeping. It looked like she was reading.
He rolled over, resting his head on his hand, studying her silhouette, watching her flip pages.
Maybe all these years he had pegged her wrong.
Images of her ratting him out over and over again during his school years flashed through his mind. Okay, so maybe he’d pegged her a little wrong, about some things.
Kayden worked to slip her wrists from the handcuffs. They were tight, but her left wrist felt looser. Maybe if she crumpled her hand enough . . .
Angela shifted, and Kayden stilled. She waited until Angela settled down and tried again. If she could just get one hand free, maybe she could reach one of the metal scraps on the floor and work the other cuff open. She was suddenly very thankful that, much to Gage and Landon’s chagrin, Darcy had taught her how to pick locks.
She pressed her hand as small as she could make it and, positioning her back to the wall for leverage, pulled.
Pain burned through her as the metal grated along her chafed skin.
She bit back her cry, determined not to wake Angela.
If she could just grasp a piece of metal debris, one of the many nails lying just out of reach on the floor . . .
It came to her as she sat struggling. She’d seen it done on a crime show. She grimaced. Dislocating her thumb was the only way to break free.
Positioning her right thumb atop her left thumb’s ball-and-socket joint, she placed her right fingers into her palm and pressed as hard as she could with her right thumb. The socket popped and slid out of place, and her hand was free. She bit back the cry of pain threatening to rip loose. Fighting the dizziness swirling over her, she reached for one of the nails lying in the debris pile to her left, now able to reach them without the left cuff pinning her to the chain.
Grasping with her fingers—her thumb utterly useless and throbbing—she clasped hold of one and shuffled back to a sitting position. As she worked to free her other hand, she quickly realized it would be nearly impossible without a working thumb. So using the same method in reverse, she set it back in place, again swallowing the holler of pain. Her thumb was swollen and in excruciating pain, but at least now she had a modicum of function with it.
Working as quietly as possible, she popped the other cuff open.
Angela rolled over with a groggy mumble, and Kayden waited stock-still until she heard Angela’s rhythmic snoring resume. Then she rolled onto all fours and, careful not to put pressure on her thumb, crawled in the opposite direction of Angela, until she reached the pitch-dark doorway she’d seen her go through time and again.
The only light source was the lantern next to Angela’s head, and trying to retrieve it wasn’t worth the risk of waking her. So now she was headed blind into an unknown maze.
Using the doorframe for support, Kayden pulled herself to her feet, moved her hands ahead of her for guidance, and began feeling her way down the passage.
She had no idea which way was out, only the direction Angela came and went. Kayden prayed it would lead her outside, but then what? If she didn’t put some serious distance between her and Angela before Angela woke, she’d never outrun her with a broken leg.
She stumbled blindly down the corridor, praying for God’s protection, for His guidance.
Father, I know the darkness is as light to you. Please guide me through this. I can’t do this on my own.
Feeling with her hands, her fingers brushed some cold metal. She scrambled to grasp a handle or knob, but found nothing other than solid wall. She hit one dead end after another.
She continued moving along the cold surface, feeling for a door, praying for a door. She bumped into something hard, and pain ricocheted up her legs, but she managed to remain standing. Too much leftover debris littered the building. If she moved too fast, the next collision might incapacitate her. But what choice did she have?
She prayed she wasn’t making too much noise, that Angela was far enough away that she couldn’t hear her clattering about.
The wall indented, and hope sprung in her chest as she quickly followed it down and found a handle. She lifted, but it remained stuck.
“Come on.” She tried again, using only her right hand, her left thumb swollen and throbbing.
She needed more leverage.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she clasped her left hand on the handle as well, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out as she hefted it up. A horrible squeak sounded, echoing through the room.
She stilled, listening for any sound of movement on Angela’s part.
Hearing nothing, she proceeded forward, nearly tripping over the raised doorframe. Water sloshed around her feet, a horrific musty smell assailing her nostrils.
Please lead me out.
If water was dripping in, it made sense it was coming from somewhere outside. If she could find the entrance point, maybe she could find her way out. She followed the sound of dripping, sloshing unceremoniously through the murky water.
She fought the tears stinging her eyes. She would get out of this. This wasn’t going to be her end. Not before she had the chance to tell those she loved how she really felt—her family and, God help her, Jake too.
He deserved to know she loved him, deserved to know what an amazing man she believed him to be.
She’d always thought protecting her feelings and guarding her heart was best, but now the thought of dying without ever saying the words, without truly expressing her deep and abiding love for them all, left her feeling helpless.
Her casted foot caught on something and sent her flailing forward. She landed on the ground, her hands breaking her fall, her thumb breaking in the process. A cry of pain escaped her lips, but the water covering her head swallowed it.
She pushed to her knees, spitting out the disgusting sedentary liquid and gulped in air. She needed to find another light source, or she could end up walking in circles and harming herself more in the process. Getting to her feet, she sloshed forward, shivering. Thankfulness soared through her as she found a second door. She lifted the handle, prying it open, and a light flashed on.
Angela? With a bat?
The wood flew at her face, and she heard a crack—
42
Marshall said there were only two army bunkers on Imnek—the others being a combination of navy and coast guard. Jake was roughly twenty miles away from the first one, and the second was on the other side of the island, across a mountain from Gage and Darcy’s search area. It was Angela’s way of making sure the search party was split.
Please, Father, let her be at the closer one. Let me find her now.
He couldn’t let a Markum rip another woman he loved away from him. Couldn’t let anything happen to Kayden. Though knowing Angela’s vindictive nature, he feared she may already have started inflicting pain.
She and Joel sure made a pair. Evidence had proved he liked to torture women. Jake only prayed his wife wasn’t following suit.
His throat constricted at the thought of Kayden being at the woman’s mercy, fearing Angela possessed none.
But this was Kayden. She was the strongest woman he’d ever met. If anyone could stand up to Angela, it’d be her . . . and that’s what worried him. Angela would want complete domination, and Kayden wouldn’t comply.
Climbing back in his truck, he punched the closer army bunker’s coordinates into his GPS and flew back down the rutted road.
Please, Father, let her be here. Let her be okay.
Fifty miles an hour wasn’t fast enough, but he couldn’t go any faster on the dirt roads leading toward the bunker. Truth be told, he should be going a lot slower, but he couldn’t. He had to reach Kayden before it was too late.
Kayden came to with a throbbing headache. Had the woman seriously hit her with a bat?
She looked up in dismay to find herself cuffed once again. This time her shackled hands were mounted on a hook on the wall over her head, and not far from her an empty pair of shackles hung on a second hook. Jake. She swallowed. How sick was this woman?
“I should have known you’d be trouble.” Angela sat in a chair with a gun leveled at Kayden’s head. “You’re nothing like the last one.”
Kayden frowned. “The last one?”
“Jake’s wife, Rebecca.”
Kayden blinked to clear her vision. “What about her?”
“She was very different from you. Docile, submissive. Just stood there frozen as I hit her.”
Shock roiled through Kayden. “You hit Becca?”
“Yes. I warned Jake to back off, but he wouldn’t listen, so I had to teach him a lesson.”
“I thought your husband . . .”
“Joel.” She laughed. “Please, he got physically sick when he realized he’d killed that girl. Called me in tears, the weakling.”
“So you stepped in?”
“I had to. It’s not like Joel had the strength to take care of his own mess. He just wanted to ball up and cry.” She shook her head. “Pathetic.”
“So you helped him cover up the crime.”
“There was no way I was going to let some trampy co-ed ruin my life.”
“So you helped him bury her?”
“No. He helped me. Lots of help he was, though. Kept getting sick. Such a pansy.”
“And when Jake discovered the body?”
“Jake,” she snapped. “He couldn’t just let things rest. Had to keep hammering, keep digging until he discovered Joel’s connection to the girl.”
“And then?”
“And then Joel, coward that he was, was planning to confess, to turn himself in.”
“But I thought . . .”
“That he killed himself?” She laughed. “That was my plan. Racked by guilt, my husband takes his own life, leaving me alone—the poor, innocent, grieving widow.”
“You killed your own husband?”
“It wasn’t hard. He’d been drinking. I played on his insecurities, got him to hold the gun to his head, and . . .”
“You pulled the trigger.”
“Over his finger, of course.” She smiled. “The perfect crime.”
“Not so perfect. Jake figured out your role in the aftermath of Candace Banner’s murder. He knew you helped cover up evidence and helped hide the body.”
“That was unfortunate, yes. I thought taking his wife would distract him enough that he’d quit digging, but no, he just kept coming until he had me behind bars. He didn’t figure out the rest of it, though, did he?” She stared—cold and heartless. “He didn’t figure out enough to keep me there for longer than a few years.” She leaned forward, hatred welling in her dark eyes. “Do you have any idea what prison is like?” She glanced at Kayden’s shackles. “Well, you and Jake are about to learn.”
“Please . . .”
Angela checked her watch. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon. He’s very good at following clues.”
The woman was mad.
Please, Father, don’t let Jake walk into her trap. I know he’ll do it just to try to save me, but don’t let him sacrifice himself in the process.
Jake cut his engine a mile out from the bunker, not wanting to announce his arrival. Dawn approached, the last wisps of night air cold and crisp. He trekked in on foot, following the tire marks to Angela’s truck hidden behind an overgrowth of bushes.
He called the confirmed location in to Marshall, knowing he’d in turn alert the others, though it would take them the better part of the morning to arrive—spread out as they were in their search quadrants, and with Gage and Darcy headed to the other side of the island.
He walked the perimeter of the bunker, assessing the entrance and exit options, and only found two—the main entrance and a small door at the rear of the bunker.
Going in the front was no doubt a trap, but going in the rear could take too long to locate Kayden. As Marshall had explained and as he was quickly learning for himself, these bunkers were underground mazes. However he approached, she’d no doubt see him coming. Angela Markum was clearly crazy, but she was not a fool. She’d no doubt planned out every detail.
Unwilling to leave Kayden alone with Angela any longer, he entered through the front door. The bunker was dark and dank. Old barrels and spare mechanical parts littered the floor. It was the perfect place to hold Kayden with her broken leg and wounded shoulder. It would be a nightmare to try to escape in the dark.
There were only two ways he could get Kayden out safely—be lucky enough to kill Angela off the bat or convince Angela to take him in place of her. He was more than willing to do either. Whate
ver it took to keep Kayden safe.
43
Angela hurried along the side corridor, moving to intercept Jake with a good old-fashioned jolt. Soon she’d have her revenge, and it would be glorious. By her calculations she still had a good while before the others showed, spread out as they would be in an island-wide search. She’d left some surprises for the future guests, but she should be long gone by the time they arrived.
She slowed as she approached the spot, following Jake on the camera feed. The four years in prison had given her time to formulate an undefeatable plan—with contingencies for every deviation. Jake no doubt saw the Bering article she’d left for him on the board along with particularly timed surveillance photos, so he’d think that’s how she’d found him, but in truth the PI she’d hired—well, the third PI she’d hired—had located him nearly six months before her release.
She’d sat back and watched, learned their routines, seen the way Jake looked at Kayden, seen the sickening look of love in his eyes.
And now to begin the final phase of her plan. She stood ready, weapon in hand. Jake paused before reaching the door, his gun shifting in her direction, as if sensing where she stood.
Frustration seared inside. The man was good, but she was better. She pulled the trigger from her pocket and flipped the switch. A small explosive went off to Jake’s right. When he moved to shield himself from the blast, she reached out and tased him.
Within seconds, he was writhing on the floor at her feet and then went still.
Perfection.
Kayden waited, her heart in her throat. What had Angela done to Jake? What had caused the explosion? Surely Jake hadn’t come alone. Was one of her siblings hurt?
Angela reentered the room, pushing Jake strapped with bungee cords on a red metal dolly. She wondered if that was how Angela had moved her.
“I think we’re going to need a little more light for this,” she said, her voice sending a chill down Kayden’s spine.
She opened a trunk and pulled out a series of battery-operated lanterns, setting them up around the room. “I want to be certain Jake can see you clearly.”