Hit 'N' Run (Under Suspicion #1) (25 page)

Eyes fixed on Hank, with his ears trained on the approaching steps, Mitch pushed the transmitter at his throat. “Move in,” he hissed across the airways. “Move in NOW.”

The police four-by-four was minutes out of sight. A shuffle above his head indicated someone moving to the window. Indistinct voices tipped Mitch their time was up. It was now or never.

Rolling out from under the stoop in a ready crouch, pistol and badge poised for action as soon the door opened. A muscle-bound ape ran out, hand reaching for the balustrade as he peered towards the dirt road.

“Freeze! Police!” Mitch shouted above the noise of the wind and the clambering from within the cabin, keeping his gun and badge clearly visible.

As the big man raised his weapon, Hank stood from his position. “Don’t do it,” he warned.

Wheels spinning in mud announced the arrival of the other officers while the sound of glass shattering caused all three to turn in the direction of the back of the cabin. The big man made to run when Mitch leaped up on the veranda, grabbing the giant and toppling him to the ground. Hank was right there with the cuffs to hook the meaty wrists behind his back.

“The others,” Hank breathed. “I’ve got the big fella here.”

Mitch ran the two paces across the small porch to burst through the closed cabin door, gun raised in a protective position. “Freeze,” he yelled, halting Charles and another of his minions in their tracks.

With the speed of a cheetah, Charles whirled on him, releasing a knife mid-motion. The blade reflected the lamplight as he hurled it towards Mitch’s chest. Dropping to his knees, Mitch narrowly avoided impalement by the long blade. Still, its razor edge grazed his cheek before landing with a quivering thud in the wood panel of the wall behind him. Charles didn’t wait to see if his blade stopped Mitch. He spun towards the bedroom, slamming the door behind him, even blocking his own people from escape.

“Jesus Christ,” Mitch roared, firing one shot aimed at Charles’ shoulder, but it lodged in the heavy wooden door instead.

A blow to the kidney threw him sideways, announcing the presence of Charles’ squat bodyguard. Within a second of Mitch gaining his footing, the hulking man field tackled him, toppling them both backwards. Grunting as the wind left his body, he rolled, losing hold of his weapon. His left hand lashed out to land a hard blow against his opponent’s temple.

The man sneered, revealing a wide gap between his front teeth. Unfazed by the blow, he crashed his hammer-like fist into Mitch’s jaw, causing his head to snap back. Curling one hand in the bodyguard’s shirtfront, Mitch continued to crash the side of his fist against the other’s face, knowing he was losing valuable time for apprehending the others.

“Get the fuck off me,” Mitch panted, taking another blow to the kidney but unrelenting in his own attack, adrenaline pumping freely through his veins.

Quick, booted strides announced the arrival of backup. “That’s enough,” Avery’s menacing voice left no room for doubt on his intent as the Chief positioned the barrel of his piece at the back of the squat man’s head.

All motion ceased. Seeing the barrel of a gun, Mitch leaned his head back against the hardwood floor and sighed. “Thank Christ.”

As the gap-toothed man was hauled to his feet, Mitch leaped up, gathered his weapon, and picked up a tea towel off the counter to wipe his face as he stormed the bedroom where another officer stood leaning out the window. “There’s three more besides this one, and the one with Hank,” he yelled, running towards the door. “The two brothers are on the loose and a woman besides.”

“We nabbed a woman on the other side of this cabin trying to get through the window,” Avery grunted, cuffing the man on the kitchen floor. “So that leaves two at large. What about the woman you were after? Where is she?”

“She’s not here,” Mitch replied, pulling on a small section of his split lip tasting blood. “I overheard the brothers discussing how she got away and she’s in the woods somewhere. They’ve been looking for her.”

“And now we’re looking for them.” Avery holstered his gun, grabbing Mitch’s arm. “Don’t go running off half-cocked. This is our country up here. We have systematic ways of going about this.”

“Christ, man, they’re getting away.” Mitch yanked on his arm, knowing the brothers didn’t have much of a head start and he could likely catch them. What if they found Lorna before he did? “This is their place, how do you know they’re not in a boat right now heading up the river?”

“Because I’ve a man down there.” Avery didn’t relinquish his grip. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

Mitch pulled away from the superior and rushed through the front door. “You don’t even know which way they went.”

Avery was right on his heels. “You’re part of a team here, Morgan. Don’t even think about going off like some vigilante jockey. This isn’t a one-horse show. You play that game and I’ll take you down.”

“What’s that?” Hank asked, meeting Mitch and the commanding officer on the veranda.

“Lorna,” Mitch said simply. “She’s out there somewhere. As are the brothers. We have to find her before the Fongs. They’ll never let her live to testify.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Lorna woke with a start in pre-dawn darkness, cramped and wet.
What was that?
Her breath clogged in her throat. Listening, ears trained, she waited.

Snap.

A tree branch under a cautious foot?

She closed her eyes, concentrating.

A popping sound in the distance.
Definitely man-made.

It could be an animal, of course, but she doubted it.

Another series of snaps under rushing feet. Closer this time. The hair on the back of her neck spiked. Her eyes flew open, taking in what she could see of her surroundings.
I have to get out of here
, she thought, glancing to where the steep slope loomed, where higher ground might give her the ability to catch a signal and call for help. What had promised refuge when she was exhausted and could go no further, now made her feel like a sitting duck.

A fleet foot landed on the log, just above her head, stopping her heart. “We’ll follow the river for a while, then double back,” the familiar voice of Tim Fong hissed. “I can’t believe I’m out here traipsing around the woods like a common thug.”

“I can’t believe I’m in this mess because you couldn’t take care of your own dirty work,” his brother huffed back.

Tim jumped off the log, his booted heel touching down mere inches from her nose. Lorna didn’t dare to breathe. The log trembled above her ear, the sound resonating through the rotted wood, accepting the lighter weight of Charles Fong as he followed in his brother’s footsteps.

“You’re kidding, right?” Lorna heard Tim hiss loudly as she watched the dark shadow of his foot turn back towards the direction they had just come.
If he even glances down, I’m a goner,
thankful her striking white crop pants were completely covered in mud, camouflaging her from their view. “Really,
petit frère
? This is my mess? How typical of you to always try and pass the buck instead of taking responsibility for once in your godforsaken life.”

“Don’t call me that,” Charles whined petulantly. “You know I hate it.”

The leather-bound foot turned around and started forward again, following the river. Clearly, Tim was done with the conversation. Lorna could almost picture the man’s face as she had seen him grace his assistant June with similar treatments.

A new set of particularly small feet shadowed the older brother’s footprints as Charles took his time coming off the log. “Responsibility?” The man’s voice was rising out of a whisper. “I do nothing but take responsibility for
everything
while you sit in your ivory tower reaping the rewards of the sweat off my back.”

The pair was moving away from the log. Lorna prayed the gloom of the morning provided her with enough concealment to keep her hidden as Tim wheeled around to grab the younger brother by the scruff. “Your back hasn’t seen the sight of sweat in years, if ever,” Tim growled low in his throat, releasing his brother roughly, causing the smaller man to take a step back to retain his balance. “Keep your voice down and move faster.”

“You try to run with burnt legs,” was the last Lorna heard as the morning mist rolling up from the river swallowed them.

Raising trembling fingers to cover her eyes, she released her pent-up breath slowly through her nose.
Ohmigod
. Training her ears for any other sound which might indicate the goon squad was not far behind their leaders, she bit the cuff of her hand to stifle the moan threatening to escape. Only when the birds began to chirp their early morning pleasantries did she lower her hands, knowing from some obscure bit of reading birds never sang when they felt human presence or danger.

Creeping from her hiding spot on her knees, she poked her head over the top of the log, looking back down towards the river, listening. She backed up towards where Tim and Charles had gone.
Should I follow them? Keep a safe distance behind? That way I can keep an eye on them. Unless they double back. Then what?
That left only the river or climbing the steep incline similar to the one she sailed down just a couple of hours previously.

Higher ground offered salvation. The promise of cell coverage. A signal. Something.

Even one bar and I can text. Please God, let me at least be able to send a text. Mitch said he was coming for me.

Pausing before committing to moving her still-trembling limbs, she spotted a doe viewing its surroundings as cautiously as Lorna. Feeling a kindred spirit, Lorna acknowledged the deer with a slight nod of her head before placing her feet as lightly and soundlessly as possible on the spongy ground, moving up. 

***

Two teams set off from the compound searching for the Fong brothers. Mitch cursed each and every second wasted. What if the menacing pair found Lorna before he could?
There are too many body bags connected to those two already
. While he had been wrestling with the squat thug in the kitchen, the brothers managed to escape through the bedroom window.

“It’d be easy to assume they went directly in the woods from there,” Avery reminded him. “But they know this territory. This is their place. Their playground, so to speak.”

Mitch had no stomach for acknowledging the good sense of the commander. Instead, he said tersely, “Seconds matter where I’m from.” He checked and rechecked his weapon, ensuring extra clips were in his pockets.

“They matter to us as well,” Avery responded, his voice an echo of Boulet’s. “And being organized will make the most of our resources. I’ll remind you, we’re a team. Used to working as a team. Being able to hunt these bastards down is distinctly different from wandering around the woods feeling useful because you’re in pursuit. The last thing we need is you worn out and no closer to the bad guys.”

Hank laid a hand on his shoulder, turning his back to Avery. “Give the man a chance,” he said under his breath so as not to be overheard by the other officers. “It’s not just you. We all want to put an end to this. We’ve been at this case a long time.”

Mitch huffed, holstered his weapon and waited the few minutes for Avery to issue instructions. Mitch tapped his boot toe impatiently, time slowing to an eternity.

“You two.” Avery pointed at a couple of young bucks as eager as Mitch to be off. “You’ll come with me, and we’ll leave from the back of the cabin to circle over the ridge looking for signs. Arnold, you’ve been in this territory many times. You know what to look for.”

“Sure do, boss.” The young man stepped forward.

“Mitch,” Avery addressed him directly. “You and Hank take Sinclair here. He traps over the winter and has a nose like a fox for picking up a trail. You three follow the river back towards the highway. It’s the mostly likely spot for them to go. Radio contact at all times.”

Mitch nodded, turned to Hank, and cast a weary glance at the older Sinclair. “Let’s go.”

Flashlights illuminating their way, they jogged down the well-worn path towards the river, stopping at the water’s edge to check the ground for tracks. "Sinclair,” Hank addressed the studious man as he bent to get a closer look at the fresh mud, “makes sense if you lead.”

“Sure.” The man whose sun-scarred face resembled an old boot turned his eyes downriver, taking out his compass to gather his bearings before setting off. Mitch and Hank kept a good pace close behind.

Following close on his heels, Mitch was of two minds. They were jogging through the thick terrain, and he was happy to be both moving and travelling fast; however, he was becoming doubtful Sinclair could actually see anything moving at their present speed. He changed his mind when the man stopped suddenly, almost causing he and Hank to tumble over his bent back.

Sinclair’s flashlight beam ran in a pointer line from the river up the slope. “There.” He pointed the beam of light at the base of the hill.

“What?”

“The hill gave way. Bit of a slide in last night’s storm.”

“Okay,” Mitch muttered, shining his own light over the mud. “So?”

Sinclair walked along the edge of the mud towards the slope, his light flickering here and there as he paused and muttered to himself. Mitch shared a shadowed glance with Hank, frustration surfacing quickly. About to say something, he was halted by Sinclair’s words. “The person who came down this slope was barefoot.”

“What?”

Hank walked the short distance to stand next to Sinclair. “Well, I’ll be goddamned.” His light joined Sinclair’s. “Come over here, Mitch. I’m no expert, but that looks like a woman’s footprint to me.”

Hairs prickled over his neck. “Lorna?”

“Has to be,” Hank replied as Mitch came to stand next to him. “But barefoot?”

“Likely lost them in the slide,” Sinclair volunteered, casting his light back up the slope. “I’m sure the lady was running. Visibility was likely as black as the hinges of hell when she landed. She’d never be able to find them, ’cause sure as shit, she certainly came down from up there.”

“That’s quite the fall,” Hank commented, stepping towards the tracks that showed clearly the direction she was going. “She’s tough.”

“She is,” Mitch agreed, walking through the thickening mud, which swallowed his boots up to his ankles, to follow the tracks. The tracks ended at the river.

“Smart too,” Sinclair commented, standing beside them. “Seems like she walked in the eddies a bit to lose her trail. We can all assume she was being pursued when she fell.”

They walked along the edge, looking for signs of where she may have come out. “I think I’ll cross to the other side,” Mitch said, pointing over to the other bank. He estimated it was a mile across—with miserable rapids. “She may have crossed over if she was being pursued.”

“No,” Sinclair replied in his brisk, no-nonsense manner. “She didn’t cross. As you know, they didn’t catch her.”

“That’s only an assumption based on who was there at the time. What if there were more than we accounted for?”

Sinclair bent, scooping the water in the palms of his hands, washing. “No. She didn’t cross.”

“But how do you know?” Hank walked forward to stand alongside Sinclair. “We do have to cover all bases.”

The seasoned outdoorsman stood tall to face them, pointing across the angry water. “If she crossed, she’s likely dead. Between the rocks, the rapids, and the cold, I doubt a woman running in the middle of the night who couldn’t see the hazards would make it. And,” he drew the word out before pausing to swipe a cold hand across his neck, rolling his eyes heavenward, seeming to enjoy the cool it provided, “if she did, she’d be a ways downriver where we’d need more than us and one inbound chopper to assist. Like I said, this girl is smart. Too smart for such folly.”

Mitch and Hank nodded grudgingly, acknowledging Sinclair’s logic.

“No, we’ll find where she came out up ahead.” Like an old hound dog, the officer moved out of the water and pushed on through the thick growth that littered the side of the wild river. Head bowed, he cast his words over his shoulder. “Let’s not forget this lady had a hell of a day and is presently barefoot. Kidnapped? Held captive? We don’t know what was done to her while they had her.”

Mitch’s jaw tensed and his fists clenched at the reminder that he didn’t know. “But she got away,” he interjected.

“Busted through a window.” Sinclair paused his step to throw him a barely visible sardonic smile. “Man, I would have loved to see that.”

Feeling like his feet were made of lead, Mitch brought up the rear, his mind consumed with hatred and revenge.

Sinclair continued, unaware of Mitch’s discomposure. “So we can also conclude she’s likely hurt. She isn’t far now, I’ll bet.”

Hurt and endured God knows what with those bastards. As much as he wanted to find Lorna, he desperately wanted to find the Fong brothers and show them some retribution for even thinking of interfering with someone he loved.

***

With the first glow of morning showing on the eastern horizon, Lorna looked up the precipitous incline she so easily descended just hours previously.
Nothin’s easy
, she thought, making her way cautiously over and around the deadfalls and bushes that ensnarled her as though they had hands to grab for her as she moved past. Unsure of her ability to climb back up, she bent low, hunching her body over as she removed her phone to check for any signal.
Even one bar
? Flat. And the battery was getting low. 

Shadows and limited light made it difficult to guess where to begin her trek upwards without falling back down. Standing next to a tall pine, she turned and started to move upwards. She was eager to put as much distance between her and the Fong duo as possible. Thick air filled her lungs as she walked forward and slipped, falling to her knees. Gritting her teeth, she stood and gingerly placed a bare foot on a mossy rock, levering up to hold onto a branch as she stepped onto a deadfall, waving her free hand out for balance before treading down the side of the rotted log into the moist earth.