A Bridge Unbroken (A Miller's Creek Novel) (35 page)

Adrenaline surged through him and pushed him to his feet, followed immediately by intense pain and nausea. He brought a hand to the left side of his face and the familiar scars then checked his now-sticky fingers. Blood. Gains had hit hard enough in one blow to bring blood and render him unconscious. But where had he taken Dakota?

Chance moved out to the porch. Already the sun drooped near the horizon. Not much daylight left for a search. But where did he start?

Directly ahead of him, something bright fluttered in the breeze at the edge of the pasture's tall grass. Dakota's hair ribbon. Had she left it as a clue of where to find her? He descended the front steps as quickly as his head would allow and dialed the police at the same time. Carter answered.

"Carter, you're not gonna believe this, but there was someone else besides Kane after Dakota. Jeremy Gains."

"As in the new hospital administrator?"

"Yeah. And this guy's worse. He knocked me out with the butt of a shotgun and took off with her. I'm outside now. Just found her hair ribbon." From the barn, Daisy's frantic whimper and whine sounded. Good. Her nose would hopefully lead him right to Gains. He headed that direction.

"You're kidding."

"Wish I were."

"Stay put 'til Ernie and I get there."

"Normally, I'd refuse, but the way my head's feeling, I don't have much choice. But hurry."

Carter and Ernie pulled up ten minutes later, just as Chance stepped from the barn with the frantic Daisy. She tugged against her leash in the direction of the creek.

Carter eyed the swollen left side of his face. "Man, he got you good. You sure you're up to this?"

"Yep." Well, not really, but there was no way he would stay here with Dakota's life in danger. "Ready for me to let Daisy go?"

Both men nodded and readied themselves to run behind the German Shepherd. Chance knelt in front of her and scratched her ears. "Go find her, girl." He unsnapped the leash's clasp.

Daisy kept her nose to the ground, which slowed her down considerably. Keeping up with her turned out to be much easier than he'd anticipated, in spite of his pounding headache. They reached the bridge and crossed just as the new neighbor stepped out from the brush.

"I think you guys had better follow me." He pulled a wallet from the camouflage pants he wore and flashed a badge. "Jack Hanson, FBI. We've been after this guy a long time, and we finally have him surrounded."

"And Dakota?"

The guy's face was grim. "He still has her, which makes this whole scenario more serious. They're holed up underground."

Within a few minutes, they all stood behind an unmarked dark truck, parked not far from a densely-wooded area. The only thing that looked out of place was a ventilation pipe that stuck out of the ground, painted to blend into the surroundings.

Jack Hanson pointed toward the pipe. "The entire area is surrounded. If he tries to escape with or without her, we'll have him."

"What exactly is he wanted for?"

"Fraud and forgery to name just a couple. This guy's a technological wizard."

"Dakota's bank account and credit card." The words popped from Chance's mouth without permission.

"Yeah, and she's one of many. Slippery little devil, too. We've nicknamed him the chameleon for his ability to blend into his surroundings."

"Let me guess. He doesn't have hospital administration experience."

"Nope."

Chance scratched the top of his head. Well, that explained a few things. "How long have you been watching Dakota?"

"We found out he had a thing for her a couple of years ago when we stumbled onto his headquarters. He had pictures of her hanging all over the place."

A shudder tingled down Chance's spine.

"Unfortunately, he found out we were there and disappeared again. I don't mean to sound callous, but we had no choice but to tail Dakota. She was the only bait we had to catch this guy. We had a feeling he'd make a move for her at some point and time."

Chance swallowed. That was all well and good if Dakota weren't in danger. "Is she safe?"

The grim face returned. "We don't think he'll hurt her if that's what you mean, but you never really know. Guys like him are unpredictable."

Chance's pulse ratcheted up a notch, his mind spinning with all the info it had gathered about Gains over the past couple of months. Yeah. Just one problem. Unpredictable wasn't a strong enough word.

"You guys might as well make yourselves comfortable. This could take a while. I'll be back later." Hanson moved off into the woods.

Minutes passed. And then hours. More than once either Carter or Ernie offered to take him to the hospital to have the side of his face looked after. More than once he turned them down. He was here to the very end, no matter the outcome.

Chance wrapped his jacket tighter around him, looked up at the cloudy sky, and prayed once more for Dakota's safety.

* * *

Dakota slept fitfully, unable to fully relax, though Gains--if that was his real name--had given her a private room. It wasn't so much that she expected him to barge in on her or try anything. It was just an uneasiness over all she'd seen in her few short hours underground.

Upon entering his hideaway, the first thing she'd noticed were the pictures. Scattered all around the room were snapshots of her, some from the internet, others candid, as though he'd dogged her every step for the past few years.

Next were the knives, displayed in a case like some would display stamps or spoons. One empty spot especially caught her attention. The perfect spot to display the knife left in her front door.

After that, he'd shown her around the bunker, including the stash of food that would last months if necessary. In the same room sat several tall file cabinets, the contents of which remained a secret.

The main room was a giant circle of a room, housed with enough electronics to put Ft. Knox to shame. Proudly he'd boasted of all he had--multiple computers, night-vision surveillance cameras, the best and most expensive the digital age had to offer. He'd even set up a writing station for her, complete with a dictionary, thesaurus, and library of writing books.

How long did he intend to keep her here? And what was it about the space that seemed vaguely familiar? A sound outside her bedroom door caught her attention. Quietly she stood and tiptoed in her bare feet to the door. She cracked it open and peered out.

Jeremy Gains sat behind a span of small monitors, casually observing the activity from all directions. He turned as though sensing her presence. "You're up early."

"I...uh, needed a drink of water."

"I'll get it for you."

He reached into a mini-fridge beneath his desk, then stood and brought the bottle to her. "Here you go."

"Thanks." She removed the lid and swigged the cool liquid.

"Just so you know, we have visitors."

"Visitors?" She struggled to keep excitement from her voice and face.

"Come over here and I'll show you." He moved to the array of screens.

She followed. Each screen held a green tint, with human bodies as visible as though in noon-day sun. "Who is it?"

"My guess is people looking for you. But you don't have to worry. We're safe." A particularly wicked grin appeared on his face. "If they try to get in, they'll get a taste of what modern technology can do."

He pointed to one screen in the middle. "Recognize that guy?"

She leaned in closer. Chance sat beside a truck, his hands beneath his arms for warmth.

Her heart leapt in her chest.
Thank You, Lord.
Knowing he was alive brought relief and encouragement that she could endure this underground imprisonment. A soft sigh fell from her lips as her eyes honed in on him, afraid to even blink for fear of not seeing him again.

Jeremy wheeled around in his chair, his eyes intense. "He means a lot to you."

She nodded, suddenly aware of her vulnerability. No use in denying it. "Yes."

"Because you gave his baby girl up for adoption?"

Dakota quickly lowered her head to hide her surprise. He knew? But how? The answer came immediately. He knew about the baby just like he knew everything else about her--stalking. She lifted her gaze. "No. In spite of it. I'm going back to bed."

Gains didn't answer, but she sensed his eyes on her all the way.

Once back in the room with the door shut, Dakota sat on the edge of the bed and sipped her water. How could she get out of this place alive, especially if he had the place rigged with who knew what?

A sudden realization hit with alarming clarity. She sprung back to a sitting position, her spine rigid. The reason the bunker seemed so familiar was because it perfectly mimicked a setting in her very first book, appropriately titled
No Escape
. Though definitely in the creepy category, at least the new-found knowledge gave her a chance.

Noiselessly she tiptoed to her backpack and removed her laptop. Within a few seconds the PDF file of the book showed on her computer screen. She scanned the material, searching for spots in the storyline where the fictional bunker was described. The clock beside her bed read almost six a.m. by the time she finished her research and closed the laptop.

Dakota stowed the computer in her backpack and crawled back under the covers with a yawn. Now she could rest for a few hours, but at some point she had to find a way to locate the secret back door through which the heroine in her book had finally escaped.

Chapter Thirty-Three

C
hance gulped down the coffee, its warmth slowly spreading through his body. He looked up at Carter. "Thanks, man." To his right, the sky lightened on the eastern horizon.

"You're welcome. Want something to eat to go with that?"

He shook his head. There was no way he could eat with his stomach all tied in knots.

A fresh round of grief squeezed his heart. Why had he let his foolish pride and anger--his inability to forgive--keep him from her these past few weeks?

Lord, I'm so sorry.

He blinked back tears, brought on by exhaustion and worry. Not forgiving only locked everyone involved in prison, then robbed them of life's most precious commodity. Time.

Chance swigged another gulp of coffee. Not knowing what was happening to her was killing him. If only he had some indication of how she was, a way to communicate with her. A sudden memory flooded his brain. Her cell phone. She'd picked it up from the coffee table and stuffed it in her jacket right before Gains had tried to beat his brains out with the shotgun. Did she still have it, or had Gains confiscated it?

"What is it?"

Carter's words shook him from his thoughts. "Hmm?"

"Your wheels are turning. You have an idea, don't you?"

"Yeah, but I haven't thought it all the way through yet."

His friend's eyebrows raised. "Well, what is it?"

"She might have her cell phone. I could send her a text, but if Gains has confiscated  it, it could put her in danger."

"C'mon. Let's go talk to Jack."

Jack listened carefully to all they said, all the while scratching his chin in contemplation. "It's worth a shot."

Within a few minutes, all permissions were secured. With shaky fingers, Chance typed the burning question in his text to her. "You okay?"

A long minute passed, then his phone dinged.

"Y."

An excited grin blossomed on Chance's face. He glanced up at the others standing nearby. "She's okay. What should I ask next?"

"Make sure it's safe for her to talk."

Chance nodded and quickly thumbed in the next question. They waited again, but this time longer. His heart sank. Had Gains found the phone? The phone dinged again.

"Y. Came to BR to answer."

"BR?" Carter's face held questions.

"Bedroom." She'd used the same abbreviation in her plans for the farmhouse.

Another text came through. "Will look for back door as I can. JG says place is rigged. Be careful."

Back door? The place had a back door? He read off the text. Several FBI agents immediately scrambled for their gear and headed back into the dark woods to search for a back exit.

His phone screen lit up in the semi-darkness of the frigid morning. "No Escape book. No more texts for now."

He puzzled over the cryptic words. Was she trying to tell him there was no escape? But why would she include the word book? He moved back to the truck and poured another cup of coffee, his thoughts whirring. Book. What book?

Swifter and harder than even the butt of the shotgun that knocked him unconscious, the answer hit. Dakota's first book. He hurried back to where Carter stood. "I'm going to the farmhouse for a few minutes."

Carter frowned, but nodded. "Okay. Everything all right?"

"Yeah. Be back soon."

His head pounded more furiously with every step--partly from the blow he'd endured, partly from the lack of food and sleep. Chance raced back to the farmhouse. Within five minutes he arrived at the front door, breathless. He pushed through the fatigue and entered the house. A few minutes later he exited, book in hand, and made his way back to the underground bunker.