Sabotaged (21 page)

Officer Bohart rushed in with support covering his back.

Kirra exhaled, tears beading in her gorgeous eyes. “You got our location.”

Officer Bohart smiled.

Kirra sat in the Kodiak police station clutching a Styrofoam cup of tea. Henry Watts and his men were being booked for documentation fraud, assault, and attempted murder. Watts was headed back where he belonged, but she was no closer to finding Meg, and the despair biting at her was nearly overwhelming. Where did they go from here?

O
UTSIDE
OF
U
NALAKLEET
, A
LASKA
M
ARCH
15, 3:30
P
.
M
.

Jake approached the Kaltag pump station after a fifty-five-mile trek on the snowmobile. Kayden had offered to fly him in, but it was tough terrain for landing a plane close to the station, and after a little discussion they all decided a snowmobile would not be as high profile—in case they were still being watched.

He'd stopped at Old Woman cabin, hoping to find Frank or some sign of him. It was clear musher teams had passed, and at least one had bunked out in the cabin, and another off in the woods behind the cabin. If Frank had stopped at that site, Jake bet he had camped up in the woods, out of sight.

There was also a set of snowmobile tracks, fresher than those of the sleds. It appeared Frank was still being followed.

Frank had picked up more of his dogs' rations from Kaltag sometime during the night, but again, no one had seen him. Jake had tracked the boot prints back to where he'd left his team harnessed and waiting.

He moved on to the pump station, which appeared quiet. A wire fence enclosed the one-story concrete building, two large circular containment tanks, and what Jake assumed was a smaller cylinder-shaped overflow tank. He approached the gate and pulled his snowmobile to a stop beside another one. So the engineer from NorthStar had already arrived—at least he hoped that's who had ridden in on the other snowmobile.

He climbed off and looked around. A crisp wind blew in from the east, snow preparing to fall again. A large animal—he was betting caribou—was lumbering in the woods just to his north. He turned back to the pump station. Someone was approaching the gate from the inside.

A man in navy coveralls and a bright-orange down jacket lifted his goatee-covered chin in Jake's direction. “You Detective Cavanaugh?”

“Yep.”

“You got some ID? Boss is all squirrely now that there's the possibility of equipment tampering.”

“Sure.” He pulled out his badge, thankful he'd brought it with him. It was habit. Badge and gun at all times. “You got ID?” he asked in return.

The man pulled his ID badge off his pocket clip and handed it to Jake through the gate slot.

Jake scanned the info—Andrew Ross, maintenance engineer. It appeared legit and matched the name and position NorthStar had provided of the man he'd be meeting. Jake handed it back. “Thanks for coming all the way out here.”

Andrew opened the gate. “I do whatever they tell me, as long as I'm getting paid.” He shut the gate behind them.

“You typically work on this pump?” Jake asked.

“Nah. I helped Frank install them, but this is his responsi
bility. He's the designing engineer, and until the entire pipeline is running smoothly for the agreed-to amount of time, these are his babies.”

“Have there been any problems with any of the pumps?”

“Not that I'm aware of, but I haven't been out here since we installed it.”

“Were you at the Anchorage pump during the protests?”

Andrew unlocked the building door. “Unfortunately.”

“That's got to be frustrating,” Jake said, trying to build a rapport with the man.

“Annoying is more like it. But it's the vandalism that gets under my skin. You want to protest, make your voice heard, fine. I don't think it ever results in any change, but it's not my breath wasted. But destroying property—that's crossing a line.”

Jake agreed. He had no problem with people voicing their concerns—he shared some of them. He loved his adopted state and wanted to see the wilderness and the creatures residing in it protected.

People had every right to voice their opinion, and he had seen great change come from it over the years, regardless of what Andrew said, but he
did
agree that breaking the law was not to be condoned, no matter the cause.

Andrew led him down a flight of concrete steps, the metal railing cold beneath Jake's hand.

“Pumps are over here.” Andrew directed, handing Jake a flashlight. “What are we looking for exactly?”

“Any kind of tampering, or an incendiary device.”

“Great.” He shook his head with an exasperated and slightly nervous sigh.

They spent the two hours searching every inch of the pump
and machines surrounding it, and found nothing. Jake wished he felt relief, but all he felt was a sense they were missing something.

His sat phone rang.
Reef
. He looked to Andrew. “I need a minute.”

“Take your time.” Andrew took a seat on a thick metal tube and pulled out his phone. “Angry Birds.” He smiled. “Darn kids got me hooked.”

Jake lifted his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Jake, it's Reef. We're finished here.”

“And?”

“Watts isn't involved.” Reef went on to explain all that had happened and everything they'd learned—including the dead end they'd hit.

“Looks like it has nothing to do with Frank's past and everything to do with Meg's present.”

“Such as?” Reef seemed tired and frustrated. But Jake knew he was game for the next step.

“Her connection to ROW, and whatever they are involved in. You and Kirra need to pay Sam Matthews a visit—find out what he has to say about his role in the pipeline vandalism. I can have Landon call Officer Hoffman and have him accompany you, if you think it might make Sam more cooperative.”

“No. I think it would have the opposite effect.”

“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“Will do. How's it going on your end?”

“Not seeing any tampering or incendiary devices at this station.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Not disappointed. Concerned we're missing something.”

“Think outside the box. Sometimes it helps.”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. Reef was right. He was looking at this straight on. Maybe it was time to flip things sideways.

“Andrew.”

The man half glanced up from his phone, his fingers still gliding over the screen.

“How else could the pumps be compromised?”

He shrugged. “Internally, I suppose.”

“Meaning sabotaged from the inside?”

Andrew slipped his phone back in his pocket and stood. “I suppose.”

“How would that work? For instance, if you wanted to sabotage a pump, what would you do?”

“I don't know . . . I guess I'd misadjust the settings.”

“How?”

“The pumps run according to the settings we enter into the controls via the computer. Those settings are programmed to vary on a daily, even hourly basis, depending on expected conditions.”

“Can you pull up the settings that are in place, not just for today but for the next week? See if anything is set to change.”

Twenty-five minutes later, Andrew looked up at Jake, his face ashen.

“I'm guessing you found something?”

He nodded. “Looks like new flow rates have been entered and are set to be remotely triggered.”

“What do you mean
remotely triggered
?”

“I mean Frank recoded the system, and it looks like its being controlled remotely.”

“How do you know it's Frank?”

“Because he's the only one with the access necessary to make a change like that.”

“Okay, so what happens when the new flow rates are triggered?”

“The pump will overheat rapidly.”

“Meaning?”

“It will explode.”

“Can't you just reset the codes, the flow rates?”

Andrew swiped his perspiring brow. “I tried, but I'm blocked out.”

“Isn't there an override function?”

“One only Frank now has access to.”

“What about securing the power?”

“That was my first thought too, but Frank's way ahead of us. He rigged it to blow if we attempt to cut power.”

Jake swallowed. “How many pump stations are there between Anchorage and Nome?”

“Ten.”

“Get on the phone. Call out whomever you need to. Each and every pump station needs to be checked ASAP. We need to know what level of disaster we're facing.”

Reef held Kirra's hand as they crossed the tarmac to board their puddle-jumper flight from Kodiak back to Seward. Fortunately they'd been able to arrange a flight out within an hour of Jake's call.

He took the first of the metal steps up to the plane as his phone rang. Kirra glanced back.

“Jake,” he said to Kirra. “Hope he hasn't changed his mind about us going to Seward.” They'd pulled a lot of strings and called in a lot of McKenna-family favors to arrange this last-minute flight. “Yeah, Jake?” he said. “We're about to board our flight. What's going on?”

“It's not good, Reef. At least this pump station is set to blow.”

His heart sank. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. And we don't know how widespread the problem is. The oil company's calling people in, but it's going to take time to get enough qualified people out to cover each of the stations. Andrew, the engineer with me, is estimating at least a day just to get them to all the stations. Frank has set up a remote trigger that only he has control of. If we can't
find him, the company's engineers need to figure out a way to rewrite or override the codes Frank's changed.”

“We've only got two days before Frank reaches Nome.”

“I know. That's why it's critical you get whatever information you can out of Sam.”

“Do you think he's part of Meg's kidnapping? It is quite a jump from vandalism to kidnapping.”

“Even if he's not playing a direct role, he knows more than he's letting on. We need to know where they might be holding Meg and who else is involved. Joseph Keller can't be pulling this off on his own—you saw at least one other guy with him, and somebody appears to be herding Frank. But I have a feeling they're just players and someone else is calling the shots. We need to find out who.”

“Why? I mean, why do you think someone else is calling the shots?”

“I'll explain later. Andrew needs me, and you have a flight to catch.”

Reef nodded and pressed the disconnect button as Jake's line dropped. He glanced across the tarmac at a man standing by the metal terminal building.

He squinted.

It was
him
. The man who'd nearly drowned Kirra. The man who had been following them since the beginning of this nightmare was back on their trail. The hairs on the nape of Reef's neck bristled. He stepped for the tarmac, rage bubbling inside. He was going to end this
now
.

“Reef,” Kirra hollered above the
whoosh
of the propeller.

He turned. She was standing in the open doorway, her blond hair whipping about her face. “The pilot says we need to go.”

“I'll be right there.” He looked back at the man—at least at the spot where the man had been standing—but he was gone.

“Reef, come on,” Kirra called.

He scanned the tarmac, frantically searching the surrounding area, but there was no sign of the man. With a nervous twinge in his gut, he turned and boarded the plane to Seward.

“They're headed back to Seward.”

“Why?” His cousin's voice cut deep with displeasure.

“I'm guessing Sam.”

“Is he still there?”

“As far as I know. I tried reaching him, but he doesn't have his cell on him. I told him how stupid that was.” He watched as Reef and Kirra's plane flew over his rental car and flicked his cigarette in the snow.

“Get on a plane and make sure Sam keeps his mouth shut.”

Yay. Another flight
.
Why was he the one flying everywhere? “I'm on it.”

“You'd better be, or this entire plan could come tumbling down.”

“You mean
cause
.” It was starting to irritate him. He preferred to view their plan as a cause—though the true intent differed greatly from what the others believed.

“What?”

“You keep saying
plan
, but this is so much bigger than a plan. It's a chance to right a great wrong.”

“Why are you wasting time preaching to the choir? Now get on that plane before I'm forced to.”

Maybe it was time
he
got on a plane instead of playing babysitter to Meg. “How's the girl?”

“Surviving.
For now
.”

“What's wrong?” Kirra asked as Reef shifted restlessly in the seat beside her.

“I saw him.”

“Who?”

“The man who's been following us since the race.”

Anger raked through her. “Where was he?”

“By the hangar, but he was gone in the blink of an eye.”

“So he knows we're headed back to Seward.”

“Yes.” Reef nodded on a sigh. “Which means we need to get to Sam before he does.” He stood and moved the few feet to the cockpit.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting a call patched through to Jake.”

“Why?”

“I'm going to tell him to have Officer Hoffman pick up Matthews and hold him until we get there.”

“But if they're watching and see us bring the police in, they said they'd kill Meg.”

“I don't think we have a choice anymore. If whoever is in charge of all this reaches Sam Matthews before us, it could cost us our only chance at finding Meg. I'll make sure Hoffman pulls him in on suspected vandalism or something unrelated to Meg's kidnapping. Something that won't tip off whoever might be watching that we are, in fact, working with the police.”

Kirra closed her eyes in prayer, needing to release the fear crushing her heart.

Please protect Meg, Father. Only
you know where she is and what she's going
through. Only you can keep her safe. Please don't
let them hurt her. Please lead us to her. I
hate feeling so afraid. I've felt this way for
far too long.

Then she heard it, as if whispered in her ear—
It's time to let Me carry
you past your fears.

Reef sat back down beside her and she opened her eyes. Could she trust those words? He reached for her hand, his fingers caressing her skin. “It's going to be all right.”

“How can you sound so certain?”

“Because I trust God's Word that says He is at work in all things for those of us who are in Christ Jesus.”

She'd heard that before. But if God was at work in even the darkest parts of a Christian's life . . . what did that mean for the pain she'd experienced? Had God been with her during her rape? Had He allowed it? Would He ever bring the healing she so desperately desired? What about Meg? What if her abductors killed her? She wasn't a Christian. What then? The truth of it pierced a deep, stabbing pain in her soul.

Please, Father
, don't let her die.

Why hadn't she shared Christ with Meg every chance she'd had? She squeezed her eyes shut. The slightest thought of her cousin spending eternity in hell was beyond horrific.

“Kirra, what are you thinking?”

“That just because He's at work doesn't guarantee a happy ending, at least not in this life.” And that terrified her. In this life parents got Alzheimer's, children died, couples divorced—a multitude of horrid things happened.

“No, and that's a part I still grapple with, but God is with us through it all. He tells us we're going to have trouble
because this world isn't paradise—because of our sin, we live in a fallen world.”

She knew that. “But how does that help with the loss and the pain?”

He looked at her, the subtle shift in his heartfelt expression saying he understood what she was really asking—he was speaking to the anguish she'd carried since William raped her.

She'd been trying to heal herself for so long. Trying to find wholeness in being a good vet, in taking care of her dogs, in volunteering. Trying to keep busy so the fear wouldn't sink in.

She was determined to be in control. To not let what William did control her.

Her frustration flared.

But that was exactly the problem. She was trying to control what she couldn't because she wasn't the one in control. God was. Maybe it was time she handed her hurts and fears fully over to Him.

Reef exhaled, his voice soft as he responded to her question after a moment of thought. “This life is the blink of an eye compared with the eternity we will spend with our loved ones—with all believers. I take hope and comfort in that—and in the knowledge that God is at work even in the painful things of life—and Christ himself can empathize with our hurt. Think of the pain, betrayal, loneliness, and sorrow He endured. He understands, Kirra.”

“I know you're right.” She did. “I know that God's Word tells us, but I still . . .”

“Hurt?” he asked, his voice choked.

She nodded, finally releasing the fear that had dwelt inside for so very long. Tears burned her eyes, streamed down her face, bouncing off their joined hands.

“Come here.” He didn't give her a chance to move, just engulfed her in his sturdy embrace, as she now realized Christ had done so many times throughout her sorrow. “I don't have a perfect answer, honey. I wish I did. But I do know that God's love is everlasting, and I truly believe He wept the day William raped you. He loves you, Kirra, and one day William will answer for what he's done.”

She breathed in his evergreen scent, taking comfort in the coziness of his plaid flannel shirt brushing her cheek, absorbing her tears.

He caressed her back. “For what it's worth. I love you too.”

She sniffed and pulled back in shock. “You . . .
love
me?”

He smiled that smile that had first garnered her attention all those years ago—the quintessential lopsided Reef McKenna grin that did funny things to her insides.

He brushed the hair matting to her tear-stained face behind her ear and dipped his head to look her straight in the eye—a deep and abiding love shining back at her. “Quite desperately, I'm afraid.” His smile widened, but there was nervousness there. Was Reef McKenna actually nervous? Over
her
?

“I . . .”

“You don't have to say anything. I didn't mean to just spring that on you, but I wanted you to know.”

“But how? When?”

“I think it started that day last summer when Rori got hurt because I'd let her off the leash while we were hiking.”

“But I totally laid into you that day.”

“I know.” His smile twitched. “But I deserved it.”

She smirked. “So . . . you're a glutton for punishment?”

He lifted her hand joined with his and pressed it to his
chest, reining her focus fully in. The gorgeous, intelligent, inspiring man sitting right beside her was
in love
with her.

“That day I saw your passion and love for animals, for your job and shelter, for my family. I saw your skill as a vet—which was quite impressive—and most importantly, you weren't afraid to put me in my place.” He smiled. “Not that you ever have been shy about putting me in my place. The point is, I saw what a strong, smart, vibrant, and passionate woman you are. Every moment with you since then has only confirmed what I felt first stirring then. I love you, Kirra Jacobs.”

She bit her bottom lip, terrified to take that plunge. A plethora of
what if
s danced through her mind, the fears singing loudly in an attempt to drown out her elation.

“I love you too,” she blurted out, breaking past her fears. She loved him. She'd loved him on some level since kindergarten, but it had deepened since that first kiss in the cave—her heart knowing way before her head. But wasn't that always the way?

Before she could voice, let alone fully articulate, her feelings, his warm, soft lips were pressed to hers. His kiss was slow, tender, and oh, so full of promise.