The car took a sharp turn at speed, causing Maddie to bang her head on the rear panel as she was tossed about. The vehicle slowed, but the new road didn’t seem to be paved and was rutted with sizable potholes if the jerky motions of the car were any indication. She tried to brace herself in place with a hand pressed to the hood above her, one hand on the driver’s side panel, and her feet braced against the passenger side panel, but she was no match for a bumpy road and a speeding driver.
Where was he taking her, and why?
Had Josh even realized she was missing?
Josh. She’d turned him away when he apologized. She’d assumed they’d have time to work things out. Regret pummeled her along with the bumpy ride.
She tamped down those thoughts. She needed to focus on what she could do, not actions that were out of her hands.
She’d been in the trunk for at least an hour and thanked her decision to wear her grandmother’s watch for having any concept of time. Once she’d kicked out the taillight, allowing light to seep in, she’d contorted herself to put the antique wristwatch in the faint shine and read the tiny Roman numerals.
Her struggle to read the time had made her wonder where her glasses had gone. She’d worn them in the archives. Her vision was adequate without glasses—she had progressive lenses that she wore for driving and work situations like archives and creepy crypts—so she wasn’t crippled without them, but wondered if the archivist had taken them hoping to disable her with lack of vision.
And really, what was the purpose of all this? What did he hope to gain? Did he think no one would notice she was gone?
She’d been doxed after being photographed with Josh and Cliff. The article had mentioned her brother was Congressman Alan Tisdale. Could this have to do with Alan and his Senate run? Or was this about her work, or to stop Josh from doing his? If she was still missing on Sunday, would Josh and his team from Bond Ironworks be at the rally?
If it was to stop Josh, she hoped they failed. She didn’t want Josh to cave because of her. If he did, then Ava would be next. They’d go after everyone who mattered to him. Hell, they’d probably expand to Raptor as a whole, and Trina would be in danger too.
Well, that was a hornet’s nest they’d be sorry they stirred. Raptor was basically a private army of special forces operators, and from what Trina had told her, they protected their own.
She held on to that thought as the car bounced along the rutted road. Even if Josh didn’t claim her, Trina did. She was one of Raptor’s own by association. A close friend of the CEO’s wife.
She would survive this. She grabbed that hope and held on to it, envisioning it like a ball of blue fire she could hold in her hands, beautiful and light and warm.
If she was going to get through these next hours, she needed hope more than anything, because otherwise, she’d fall into panic.
The car came to an abrupt halt, and the hope slid from her grasp, no longer light and fire, but a slippery hand-caught fish determined to be free.
Had they arrived wherever it was they were going? What would happen to her now?
A car door opened and slammed. Footsteps sounded alongside the car.
As panic threatened to suffuse her, she remembered the plan she’d formed after she lost the tire iron, and found the trunk release. She might not have a weapon, but if she timed this right, she could still have the upper hand.
She had to act fast, before he realized what the broken taillight meant. As the footsteps reached the rear of the car, she pulled the cord and shoved the hood up, then launched herself as best she could from her position on her back, thankful for the lessons she’d gotten on Sunday.
She cleared the trunk, and her body hit the archivist, causing him to fall back, but she couldn’t get her feet beneath her in time and stumbled to the ground.
He landed on his ass a few feet from her, glared at her, then seemed to remember the gun in his hand. He raised it, pointing the short barrel at her head.
The car was a dark gray Ford Taurus. Late model. In his first glimpse—miles before it turned off the highway and onto a rutted private road—even from a distance, he could see the right taillight was flapping in the wind, hanging by the thick connecting cable.
A quick call to Gretchen confirmed that the taillight had been intact in the garage video. They didn’t have footage of the vehicle leaving the parking garage because, not surprisingly, the camera monitoring the employee section had been shut off at the source. Karl had probably disabled it when he did his rounds in the garage about twenty minutes before his brother arrived.
It appeared the Hoffman brothers expected to get away with this crime and had covered their tracks accordingly. They’d probably planned to plant Maddie’s phone in her hotel room and make it look like she’d disappeared from there. No one had expected Josh to discover her missing so soon—nor had they expected her to have Josh’s phone—which begged the question, did they somehow know that Maddie and Josh had been estranged this week, or did they just assume Josh would focus on his job of going over all the building systems and not pay attention to Maddie’s presence in the building?
Whatever their thoughts had been, they’d been careful, but fools to think Josh wouldn’t check on Maddie.
Once he’d seen the dangling taillight, he’d dropped back, trying to figure out what to do. He could hardly ram the car with Maddie in the trunk, and any maneuver designed to run Hoffman off the road could injure her. She might still be bound, but she had enough movement to kick out the taillight.
His Maddie was brave and smart. She had to be utterly terrified, but she’d been able to take action anyway.
Now that the car had left the highway, he had to wonder if Hoffman had spotted Josh on his tail, or if his destination was at the end of the road. The map offered little information, but the team at Raptor were diving into their databases and digging up what they could.
Josh turned onto the road and tucked his vehicle into the trees while he waited for intel. Chasing Hoffman down the road blindly could get Maddie killed.
Police were scrambling to join this hunt, but they wouldn’t come sirens blaring. No one wanted to tip off Hoffman unnecessarily. That could turn into a standoff. Better to catch the asshole unaware and extract Maddie, then arrest Peyton Hoffman.
Maddie came first. The hostage always came first.
“Okay, Warner,” a tech at Raptor HQ said, “it appears the road connects up with an old logging road that may or may not be passable. If it is, it in turn connects to a road on the other side of the foothill and meets up with a highway that offers a straight shot to the coast or north to the Columbia.”
“Logging road,” Josh said, repeating the word that had stuck out in his mind. “When was it logged?”
“Decades ago, as far as we can tell. It was replanted but never harvested again because the logging company went bankrupt.”
“Who owns the land now?”
“The state, I think, but only parts. It was checkerboarded.”
Josh knew about checkerboarding from growing up near a reservation in eastern Oregon. The government kept some parcels, and either the tribe or railroad or logging companies got the rest.
“How much you wanna bet the logging company was a subsidiary of Kocher Lumber Mills?” Josh said.
“I don’t have that information,” the tech said, “but I wouldn’t bet against you.”
If Kocher’s family once owned this land, Troy would have old maps and data. He might even know of old abandoned—or not abandoned—buildings that were perfect for White Patriot meetings.
Had Peyton Hoffman led them right to the heart of the White Patriot group?
Why bring Maddie here?
Josh stared at the red dot on the satellite map in the middle of a sea of evergreens, no hint of road visible from space. “The car has stopped,” he noted aloud.
“Yeah. Thirty seconds in the same spot. Could be a big pothole he can’t get around.”
“Or they’ve arrived at their destination.” His gut churned. He had a feeling this stop wasn’t good for Maddie.
On the screen, the red dot disappeared.
Shit. What happened to the signal?
“I’m going in,” he said.
“The police ordered you to wait and let them handle it.”
“Duly noted.” It was the tech’s job to remind him of legalities. Covering Raptor’s ass. Right now, Josh only cared about one thing: Maddie.
He hit the gas. The Taurus was a mile and a half down the rutted road. It would take several minutes to drive that distance in these conditions. He shouldn’t have played by the rules and waited for so long to follow.
Maddie was in trouble. He knew it just like he knew Earth was round. Like he knew he was falling in love with her. The feeling went all the way to his bones.
And he might have hesitated too long. With his heart and with her life.
“Get up and start walking, bitch.” The archivist’s eyes were hard and angry, and Maddie had no doubt he wanted to pull the trigger.
What had she done to make him so angry? Aside from knocking him to the ground, of course. But he’d drugged and abducted her, so he really didn’t have room to complain about that.
She rose to her feet slowly. Resisting his commands would only hurt her. She’d bide her time, look for an opportunity. Maybe she could get her hands on a branch or a rock and bash him in the head.
He gestured with the gun toward a path that disappeared into the forest. “Walk.”
“Where are we going?”
“The fuck away from here. Your Jew boy managed to track us. You weren’t supposed to have a fucking phone.”
He must’ve had her purse with him in the car and found it. That would explain his anger. “Your anti-Semitism is showing,” she said.
“Like I give a damn.”
“How long have you worked in Nielsen’s archives?”
He let out a bark of a laugh. “You still think I’m the dumbass archivist? Hell no, that twat is a fucking—” He used a slur no white person should ever say.
This man owned his racism in a chilling, outward way that triggered primal fear. He had no pretense to uphold, which made her think he didn’t plan for her to live through this. He probably expected to get away with the abduction altogether. But Josh had given her his phone, and Raptor had tracked them.
That meant help was coming.
But it also meant whoever this man was, he needed to get rid of her. And they were heading deep into an overgrown forest. She stumbled as her heels caught on a root.
“Take your shoes off.”
“No,” she said. The shoes were terrible for walking in, but bare feet would be worse.
He gripped her arm and swung her around to face him, then backhanded her. Her head snapped to the side as pain exploded across her cheek. “I said, take your fucking shoes off.”
She was dizzy, her head swimming, likely from the combination of blow to the face and whatever drug he’d put in the coffee. She needed to clear her head. Plan.
Josh was on his way. The closer she stayed to the car, the faster he’d find her. Her blurry gaze landed on her feet and the prints in the dirt. Her heels left distinct tracks in the woods. Plus they slowed her walking.
She remembered what the instructors had said about taking blows at the rally—that part of the lesson hadn’t been for her and Ava, but she’d listened just the same.
She pressed a hand to her throbbing face, then spit on him. “And I said no.”
He backhanded her again, and this time, she moved with the blow as she’d been trained, letting it knock her to her ass.
They were only a hundred feet from the car. Josh was coming. He would find her.
“Get up and walk.”
Maddie reached for a thick branch, at least five feet long, that lay on the ground just inches from her hand.
A kick to her ribs sent her face-first into the ground. “Leave it and get up.”
“I need it. It’s the perfect size for a walking stick. I’ll be able to walk faster in the heels with support. Barefoot or in heels, I can’t walk fast in this forest.”
He glared at her, but finally said, “Fine. No sudden moves.”
No worries there. Her goal was to move as slowly as possible. She’d move backward if she could get away with it.
She clutched her ribs as she got to her feet. In truth, they didn’t hurt much—he’d likely muted the blow because he feared disabling her. She might not be tall, but she was solid, with more pounds than her small frame needed. Even a man at peak strength like Josh would have trouble hauling her on the uneven terrain, and this man looked strong, but he wasn’t in Josh’s league.
With her right hand, she planted the stick in the ground, testing the feel of it. It was a little heavy and thick for a walking stick, but just right for a club. She broke off a few thin branches that jutted out, hoping they’d leave nice, sharp barbs on the shaft. Slowly, she walked, planting the stick, then moving her feet, as if she’d been injured by her fall and his kick, when really, it was her cheek that still stung from being backhanded. The rest of her was fine.
“Get moving!” her abductor said.
She picked up her pace a little. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“None of your fucking business.”
“Actually, I think it is, considering the situation.”
He just grunted.
“How did you know we were tracked?”
He was silent a moment, then he said, “Warner said he gave you his phone, and the other Raptor guy was able to track you with it.”
“How do you know this?” She wished she could see his face, but they walked single file, with her in front. She stumbled on purpose so she could look back at him. “Well?” she said, prompting him.
He shrugged and gave her a nasty grin. “We’ve got another partner in security, tipped us off to everything Warner knows, including the fact that he knows who I am now, so once you’ve served your purpose, you’re going to disappear.”
That sent another jolt of fear through her. The look in his eyes said he meant every word. So this man wanted her alive today, but tomorrow was anyone’s guess.
“You know, at first, the phone thing was a major fuckup, but then my boss said it was good. We can use the phone to hack into Raptor. They’ll think they’re using it to hack into us, but they have no idea what we’re capable of. I should thank you.”
He still had the phone on him? She couldn’t keep the spark of hope from her face. Josh could track them, even in these woods. Josh had told her he had a high-end hybrid smartphone that could switch to satellite when there wasn’t cell coverage.
“Don’t get excited.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black rectangle, then gave her yet another awful grin. “I removed the battery. Need to keep it off until I get it to my boss’s tech guru.”
Shit.
This man wasn’t dumb. He wasn’t the boss, but he also wasn’t a fool.
He put the battery back in his pocket and pointed the gun at her face. “Get moving.”
She turned to the path ahead. The canopy grew thicker as the trees got taller, and the forest darkened. She’d always loved hiking in Pacific Northwest forests, yet never before had the moss-covered trees seemed so ominous. The smell of earth and pine now carried the scent of fear.
There were supposed to be sasquatch in these woods. The name sasquatch came from a British Columbia tribe, and in her work recording Traditional Cultural Properties, she’d interviewed tribal members in Oregon and Washington who’d seen the creatures.
She wasn’t a believer herself, but she had no doubt the men and women who’d shared their stories had seen something, and who was she to say they were wrong?
Today, she wanted to believe in sasquatch. She wanted a bigfoot to spring from the trees and save her from the real monster in these woods. Today, she’d look for hope wherever she could find it, be it Josh or Harry and the Hendersons.
She gripped her stick and planted it with her next step. It was a worthy club, even if a bit unwieldy. If she couldn’t find hope from without, she’d make her own. She’d find her moment and bash the bastard with the barbed tree branch.
Minutes passed as she trudged through the woods, looking for an opening. A branch snapped with a loud crack in the trees nearby, and she turned, expecting to see a deer or other critter, but there was nothing there.
Was that Josh?
But with his training, Josh wouldn’t make a sound like that unless he wanted to.
She kept walking, using her peripheral vision to scan the ground for tree roots, keeping her gaze straight ahead. She spotted a root and let it catch her heel before she’d planted the walking stick. She let out a loud scream as she pitched forward, the hard, damp earth racing toward her.
She rolled with her fall and swung the stick around, slamming it into her captor’s arm, just above the elbow, with all her strength.
He maintained his grip on the gun, but now it was pointed to the sky, so she pulled back and hit him again, this time catching his hand and hitting his head as the branch arced down.
He dropped the gun, his hands moving to cup his head. He’d been caught by a barb, and there was an open gash on his face.
She scrambled forward and grabbed the gun. She pointed it at him and said, “Now it’s your turn to get up and walk, asshole.” If Josh and/or sasquatch weren’t in these woods to help her, she’d march him back to the car and wait for the police. They had to be nearby.
Cold blue eyes glared at her. “Bitch. No fucking way I’m taking orders from you. You’ll have to shoot me.”
“You think I won’t? You drugged me and put me in a trunk! You hit me and held me at gunpoint.”
“And now you’ve hit me and are holding me at gunpoint. Let’s call it even.”
“You’re insane.”
“No. I’m walking away from here.” He rose to his feet, hands in the air. Blood dripped down the bloody gash on his face. He turned, presenting his back to her, and set off into the woods, leaving the trail. “Go ahead, shoot me in the back.”
Her hands shook wildly as she pointed the weapon at his retreating form. Could she shoot him? He wasn’t threatening her. He was leaving. She’d never even fired a gun before. Could she shoot a human being who wasn’t actively threatening her?
Could she pull the trigger at all?
Maybe the gun had no bullets and that was why he wasn’t afraid to walk away. Maybe he realized she’d figure that out and he could no longer scare her with the useless weapon. She raised the pistol, pointing it at the forest canopy, and wrapped both hands around the handle. She tried to squeeze the trigger but couldn’t do it. Was the safety on? She didn’t see one. She put her left index finger over her right one, both crossing the trigger. This had to be terrible shooting form, but with pressure from both fingers, she managed to squeeze the trigger.
The report of the bullet echoed through the forest. The recoil made her arms jolt upward, and she wobbled on her heels.
Her abductor was now thirty feet away. He glanced back, and the asshole laughed at her. “Your aim is a bit off.” And then he turned and kept walking, disappearing between the trees.
She backed up, pressing her spine against a large tree. Tears slid down her face, and her arms shook, still clutching the gun in a death grip pointed toward the patch of trees in which he’d disappeared.