The men arrived at the old resort just after four in the afternoon. Jake, knowing the lay of the land, chose to park the car well away from the building, so no one watching could possibly see the vehicle or the cloud of dust it kicked up on the dry, gravelly road.
“On foot from here?” Quinn asked.
“Yeah,” Jake responded, squinting in the light. “Follow me. I’ve been here before.” They began to move through the trees, Bruiser moving swiftly beside his owner. Soon they reached the edge of the forest, the last place they could stand unseen from the building.
He’d trained his whole life for this kind of thing. The irony of the thought was not lost on Jake as he contemplated the large, dilapidated wooden structure nestled at the base of the mountain. The hotel was a big, rambling one, five or six stories tall. Faux-western style, designed to remind visitors of a camp lodge.
The mountain dominated the landscape at this distance, the hotel just a small outpost of civilization in this wilderness. Pine trees swept up the rocky surface until they gave way to shrubby plants, and then to mere grasses at the summit. In winter, the mountain was covered in perfect white snowdrifts, pristine and wild. No wonder someone wanted to bring the skiers here.
The swathes that had been cleared for skiing were still visible, though the hotel had been shut down years ago, and the trees had begun to grow back. Jake knew the property as well as anyone in the county.
“There aren’t any cars,” Quinn noted, after looking around the scene.
“There are fresh tire tracks on the road though,” said Jake. “Their cars are either in a hotel garage, or they drove them somewhere close but out of sight.”
“I bet garage,” Ty said. “They’d want the cars nearby. And twenty bucks says they wouldn’t step outside on a Montana night. They’re probably afraid of the dark. Why does it matter? You think we should puncture their tires?”
Jake considered the idea. “If you see the cars and it’s not going to slow you down, sure. But the main thing is to find Callie as quickly as possible.”
“Got it,” Ty said.
“Okay.” Jake nodded, looking at the building again. “Kyle is directing the boys to circle the property. They’ll let me know if they see anything.” He pulled out the two-way radio he’d taken from his car. “I hope it doesn’t take too long.”
They waited in near silence, watching the apparently empty building. Then the radio buzzed. “Yes?” Jake held it up to speak.
“Okay, we’re all in position,” Kyle’s voice came over the radio. “Elliot says he saw something odd out one of the windows on the north side. Said it was like a long strip of paper or something, dangling out of the window. It’s the only one like that, and the window’s not broken.”
“Paper?” Jake asked, puzzled.
“Yeah, long and whitish,” Kyle paused, speaking to someone near him. “He says about six or seven feet long, like a thin strip.”
“A bandage,” Ty said suddenly. He was grinning. “Smart girl.”
Jake got it at once. “What floor?”
“Uh, top floor,” Kyle replied. “Right about the middle of the building.”
“Okay, thanks. Hold tight for a second. Out.” Jake flipped the radio off.
“What’s going on?” Quinn asked.
“Callie’s leg was wrapped up in medical gauze. She must have got it off and stuck it out the window. She’s definitely here.” Jake felt his heartbeat quicken. She was close, and she was alive. And she’d been smart enough to let them know she was there. Jake had to keep from smiling. His Callie. When he got her back, he was never going to let her go.
Ty grunted slightly as he got up from where he’d been kneeling, but he caught Jake’s look before he had the chance to suggest that Ty might not be strong enough to join them. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”
“And what do I tell Serena at the funeral?”
“Who’s Serena?” Quinn asked.
“My daughter,” said Ty. “And there won’t be a funeral, so never mind about it. What’s the plan?” Ty asked, double-checking the ammunition for the guns Jake had brought.
“We can circle around to the east side of the building. It will be in shadow by now, and it’s the opposite side from the road. If there aren’t that many of them, they won’t be watching every corner.” But the ground, once a wide meadow-like lawn, lay between the men and the hotel. It was all open, and Jake knew it was risky.
“We’re going to wait until closer to dark,” Quinn said. “They have the advantage now. You can see the whole mountainside from those windows. Anyone with one eye and half a brain could pick us off. But at dusk, we’ll have cover.”
Jake chafed at the delay, but he had to admit Quinn was probably right. “Sun will set in about two and a half hours.” His shoulders bunched up. “Callie could be dead by then.”
“She could be dead already,” Quinn noted coolly, as he pulled out his gun and checked the mechanism. Finding it satisfactory, he slid a full clip in.
“Don’t say that,” Jake hissed.
“Hey, I don’t like the idea either,” he said, sliding the gun back into the holster. “If she knows as much as you say, I want her alive. But we have to face facts. And the fact is Malcolm Foster has her, and we don’t.”
“We’ll get her back,” Ty said confidently. Jake hoped he was right.
“I’m still not sure it was a good idea to bring the dog.” Quinn frowned at Bruiser, as if disturbed by the idea of a creature that was not subject to FBI regulations.
“He has Callie’s scent,” Jake explained patiently. “Once we get inside, there are a dozen places they could have hidden her. We’d have to search each room. Bruiser can lead us right to her.” Jake reached down to pat the dog’s head. “He’s not going to get out of control,” he assured Quinn. No, if anyone was going to lose control, it would be him. The thought of Callie being so close by and still in danger drove him mad. Quinn was a hard-nosed jerk, but he was level-headed, and Jake had to admit it was a good thing he was there. If he had been alone, he’d be inside already, and there would be bodies on the floor by the time he was done. And if Callie died… Jake took a deep breath, blotting out the thought.
“Stay calm,” Ty said in a low voice, too low for Quinn to overhear. “There’s always time to go crazy later,” he muttered, repeating the words of one of their old sergeants.
“I hope it doesn’t get to that.”
Jake radioed the deputies to let them know to stay in place. He gave Kyle the rough timeline, and explained the plan. “Whatever happens, don’t freak out. I’ll radio you if something changes.”
They waited. Bruiser lay down in the long grass, closing his eyes for a nap. Ty also relaxed, no doubt focusing on not aggravating his side. He’d been right before, when he called it barely more than a nick. Jake just hoped nothing worse happened.
He tried to keep still. Too many thoughts were flooding his head, from stupid, nearly suicidal ideas to speed Callie’s rescue to worrying how Callie was handling herself. He found it difficult to not jump up and pace around. Time dragged, and he felt like a caged tiger.
Then he noticed Quinn again. The man hadn’t moved since he last spoke. Though he should have looked ridiculous lurking in a forest in a suit and tie, the agent somehow settled in to the surroundings, so still he might have been carved from stone. Jake wondered what Quinn’s training had been. Not military, so far as he could tell. But the guy clearly didn’t just work behind a desk.
After an hour, the radio buzzed. Jake snapped it up. “What’s happening?”
Kyle’s voice crackled, “SUV coming down the road to the hotel. You guys might need to hurry it up. Over.”
The three men watched intently as the big car cruised up the road, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.
“He’s here.” It was Ty who said it, but they all knew it. The timeline had just gotten shorter.
* * * *
While Callie waited in her prison, she thought about Jake. He would have developed some intricate plan to get free, she was sure. No, Callie amended, he never would have gotten into this position in the first place. He was too smart to get caught. Without warning, Callie found tears welling up. It was so stupid to miss someone she had only known for a few days, but she missed Jake. And she missed him because she had fallen in love with him.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Callie muttered to herself. How had she let things get so bad? If she had trusted Jake right away, she would have told him the truth, and Malcolm never would have gotten to her. Instead, she’d been stupid and suspicious of him, unwilling to trust her own heart, and now she would probably never see him again.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, but at the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door, her head snapped up. Someone was coming. She stood up quickly, holding the scrap of wood like a knife.
The lock popped, and the door swung toward her. The shadow of a man blew past her. “Callie!” It was Skinner. “Time to go.”
He had just stepped into the main room. Callie shoved him with both hands, one still gripping the wood, and he lost his balance, falling. “What the…”
She swung around and dashed through the door. She didn’t know where she was, but she headed toward what looked like the end of the hall, where there’d be stairs. Skinner, already recovered and up again, yelled behind her. Callie couldn’t move fast enough, and she felt Skinner gaining on her. “You little bitch,” he breathed. Callie snapped around, plunging the pointed end of her stake toward his face. He flung up his hand, but she connected, and Skinner shrieked in pain, stumbling backwards. Callie tried to turn and run, but he lashed out furiously at her, catching her jaw with his fist. Callie saw stars.
“I’ll kill you for that, you stupid…”
Callie blinked, and saw her strike had left a nasty mark across his face, a deep scrape now oozing red. Skinner, half blind, pulled out his gun.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The voice came from the end of the hall. Callie froze, her heart thudding to a stop. “You don’t touch her,” Malcolm roared, storming up to Skinner. “Callie is mine.”
Without another word, Malcolm hit Skinner so hard, he toppled to the ground. He rose slowly to his knees, holding his bleeding nose.
Malcolm turned to Callie, who hadn’t moved a muscle. He looked at her pale face, where Skinner’s hit had left its mark, and then to her leg. “Hello, precious,” he said quietly. “Rough day?”
Callie quailed, but struggled not to show it. “I’ve had better,” she whispered.
He smiled at her. “I’ll bet. Come on, sweetheart. This is no place to talk things over.”
Malcolm hustled a stunned and unresisting Callie down the hallway, to a large room that had been the hotel restaurant in former days. The windows looked onto the mountain, the deep slope already casting the hotel into shadow. There were two more men there, ones she’d never seen before. Skinner walked in slowly behind them, and soon the man who had driven the car to the hotel came in.
“Good,” Malcolm nodded, seeing everyone assembled. “You two, each get to a corner room where you can see the road. If anyone happens by, kill them.”
Callie blinked, both at Malcolm’s coldness and his audacity. But did he really think Jake would just drive up the road? But then, Malcolm didn’t know anything about Jake. Only she did. Callie kept her mouth shut.
“So. Fox, did Callie here give you and Skinner any trouble this morning?” Malcolm asked the other man.
“Nah. There was a guy with her, but we took care of him.”
“Was it the cop who had her in custody?”
“Doubt it. A black sheriff?” He laughed.
“Black?” Malcolm asked sharply. “Callie, who was the man with you?”
She stared sullenly at him, not opening her mouth.
“Callie,” Malcolm suddenly reached out and grabbed her neck, yanking her head back and twisting hard. “You’re already a bit bruised, and I don’t want to do anything to ruin your looks. Who was the man with you?”
“Ty?” she gasped, trying not to cry from the pain.
“Ty’s his name?” Malcolm released her neck. “Good girl. Who is he?”
Callie took a few gulping breaths, hoping to gain a second. Malcolm looked at her with a show of indulgence. “Come on, Callie.”
Callie was still aching, but she managed to look at Skinner when she spoke. “He’s a detective with the LAPD.”
“What?” Skinner yelped.
“I don’t believe you,” Malcolm growled. “That doesn’t make any sense. Don’t play games, little Callie.”
“Tyler Holt, Narcotics Division. Look it up. Call whoever the hell you got on your payroll. They’ll tell you. He knew all about you, Mal.”
Malcolm stared at her. “No shit.” He pulled out his phone as he continued to stare. “I think I’ll just make sure, Calliecat.”
He thought she was bluffing. Callie looked back at him, even managing to summon a little smile. Malcolm hit a number and waited until the person on the other end picked up.
“Hey, Ross. This is Foster. Run a name for me.” He paused, then spoke again. “Tyler Holt. H-O-L-T, I think. Is he one of yours?”
Everyone waited in silence. The minute stretched out interminably. Callie found herself shaking, despite her confidence in the truth.
“Okay. Thanks,” Malcolm said finally. He folded the phone. “Good thing I’ve never played poker with you, Callie. I thought you were putting me on.”
"I didn’t know he was a cop!” Skinner blurted, earning a hard stare from his boss.
"Exactly how did you take care of him, Skinner?”
“Shot him,” Skinner muttered, almost too low to be heard.
“You killed a cop?”
"It was a mistake. He might not be dead.”
“Oh? So you merely left a cop for dead in the godforsaken state of Montana. Is there a difference?”
“I didn’t know he was a cop!” he repeated desperately.
“This makes things awkward, Skinner,” Mal said quietly. “I can get the LAPD to look the other way most of the time, but now you’ve killed one of their own, and you didn’t even have the grace to do it in a way that could possibly be construed as accidental. What the hell am I going to do with you?”
Skinner looked so frightened Callie almost felt sympathy for him. But then she thought of Ty, dead or dying on the ground, and she hardened. Whatever happened, she had to stay smart if she wanted to get out of this alive. She closed her eyes, using an old stage trick. Think of a calm moment. Keep breathing. Recall the smells, the sounds. Callie breathed in, unexpectedly calling up the memory of sleeping on Jake’s deck and finding him sleeping next to her. Her heartbeat slowed a bit when she recalled how cool the night air had been, and how perfectly her head lay on his chest. She opened her eyes slowly, seeing that Malcolm was looking at her once more.
“Where have you been, Calista?” he asked, anger bubbling under the smooth voice. “Come back here, I’ve got some questions for you.” He was angry because she wasn’t scared.
“What do you want, Mal?” she asked calmly. “Why did you come all this way to talk to me?”
“Because I care about you. I put a lot of money into you, Calista. A lot of time too. I thought you were going to break out, I really did. I busted my ass to get you auditions. Your last movie role? That was me pulling strings for you.”
“I know.” Callie nodded serenely, almost glad to be able to get everything out in the open. “I never would have gotten the role if it wasn’t for you.”
“And you were great in it, beautiful. That’s why I want you back, Callie. Understand this. I’m the only future you’ve got.”
“Malcolm, do you remember when you shot me in the leg?” she asked, still calm.
“Precious, I was out of sorts. I wish I hadn’t done that. And I wish you hadn’t run away. I would have taken care of you.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Don’t say that, Callie. I’d never hurt you.” Oh, she almost believed it. Malcolm could do that, talk so sweetly and say what people wanted to hear. It was what had kept her near him for too long. His sweet side. The side that could vanish in a second.
“You already did hurt me.”
Mal put up a hand. “You’re forgetting. I also fed, clothed, and housed you. So, I made a mistake. I admit that. But you are very important to me, Callie. You know that. Please forgive me. Come back with me. We’ll get everything sorted out.”
“How can you possibly sort this out?” she asked, amazed she still almost wanted to agree with him. Mal was magic, sometimes. He could make people say yes to nearly anything.
“There is no problem that can’t be solved, sweetheart. I promise I will do whatever you want. You want a new pad? I’ll do that. You want a vacation, some time away? Sure. How about New York? You want stage work for a while? We can do that. I have invested in you, Callie. I’m not giving up.”
In a flash, Callie understood that Mal had actually convinced himself his words were true. At least for this moment, he saw himself as the white knight coming to save her, not the villain at all.
Then he spoke again. “But before you say yes, sweetheart, I’ve got just a few things to ask.” Callie went cold. She knew then, no matter what he said, Mal couldn’t keep her alive. She wasn’t an investment. She was a liability.