Denali Dreams (38 page)

Deanna’s dark green ranger jacket now had spit-up on it. The mother apologized, but what a time to have a homeschool group from Wasilla show up. They needed her here at the station, and she wanted to be here, but nothing felt right. She’d been holding the pudgy little baby while she showed the rest of the children the bear paw casts. Each one of them wanted to see how big their own feet compared to the different-sized bear prints. Brown, black, grizzly, polar bear. Most of the kids could fit both their feet
and
their hands inside the paw prints. She really should just be thankful that she had a lot to keep her busy. It kept her mind off the junk going on in her life. If only they could catch the guy …

Missy was showing the kids the huge portraits on the walls taken of the mountains from the air.

Deanna really had no desire to smell like sour milk all day, so she headed to the bathroom to clean up her jacket. As she worked on the stain at the sink, she thought about how sweet the six-month-old had been and how warm and cuddly he’d felt in her arms.

She shook her head. Maybe one day she’d have kids of her own.

A flutter at the window caught her attention. What was it doing open? It must be fifteen degrees outside.

She reached over to close the window but a large cloth covered her nose and mouth. It smelled odd. Before she could struggle, the world around her went black.

Josh woke up with his hands and feet bound. His head spun. The smell of airplane fuel filled his nose. He yelled. The echo of his own voice bounced back to him. Sounded like he was in an empty hangar. But where?

And where was Deanna?

Darkness surrounded him. No lights. No sounds. No voices. Nothing.

He worked at the bonds on his hands but felt his flesh burning and tearing under the stress. No use. He was totally incapacitated.

Josh let his head fall back to the concrete floor with a thud.
Lord, only You can get me out of this. But before You worry about me, please save Deanna. Please.

The scent of cinnamon rolls woke Deanna up.

“Well, good morning, Little Girl. How are you feeling?” The gravelly voice sent shivers up her spine. She hated the term “little girl” because of him. Now she’d always hate the wonderful smell of cinnamon.

“Where am I?” She needed to stay strong, even though her greatest fear had just come to life. This man. This horrible man. He was the epitome of all her fears. For fifteen years, he’d haunted her. Now there was a voice attached to the nightmare.

“Safe. But not for long. I needed your little guardians to worry a bit longer.”

Her mouth was dry. Like cotton. “Who are you?” She forced her eyes to open wider. But there was nothing to see. Only the back side of the blindfold covering her eyes.

“My name is Graham. And I’m an assassin.”

“Are you the man who killed my sister?” Maybe if she let rage take over, her fear and shaking would subside.

“Indeed.”

Anger surged through her. She balled her fists but couldn’t feel anything. The burning helped her feel stronger. More in control. “Why?”

“Because I was hired to do so.”

The man had no conscience? No emotion? “I killed your parents, too. Although the accident/possible suicide angle was so much fun to read about in the papers.” His crusty laugh lasted only a second. “But they were still my kill. Added to my number. And everyone who mattered knew it.”

Deanna’s thoughts swam. So her father hadn’t driven off the cliff? This man, Graham, had killed them? “Why? Why were you hired to kill them?”

“I was hired to kill your whole family. And many others.” The voice moved away. Was he leaving?

“Why?” She needed to keep him talking. So she could formulate a plan.

“Because your father worked for the CIA.”

What was he talking about? “No, he didn’t. He worked for the United Nations.”

More laughter.

The drugs on that cloth must’ve done a number on her brain cells, because this wasn’t making any sense. Her dad had been a noble man. Always talked about world peace. Wanted to be an ambassador of the United States to other countries. At least, that’s what she remembered.

“Your father traveled a lot, did he not?” The voice came closer.

“Yes.” Where was this going?

“The UN job was a cover. Plain and simple, your father was a spy.”

The information washed over her. It didn’t matter. Her parents were gone. This madman just wanted to rile her up. “Who hired you?”

“A country who hates American spies.” He laughed.

“But I’m not a spy. My sister wasn’t a spy. Why did you kill her?”

“Because I wanted to.” She felt his sneer all the way to her toes. “She was a warning to your parents.” He paused, seeming to enjoy the moment. “I like to torture my subjects before I kill them. Besides, leaving family members only creates a mess. Look at what you’ve done. You’ve been a mess for me all these years.”

“But—”

“Shut up, Little Girl. I don’t ever lose. That’s why you have to die. And all the wonderful people of Talkeetna have to suffer as well.”

This man was a lunatic. Why hadn’t the FBI ever told her the truth? Assuming Graham told her the real story.

Her best bet was to cooperate. Maybe she’d have a chance to escape at some point.

“I’ll be back. I’ve left a few surprises for your friends. I like to go out with a bang.”

A
sharp stabbing to his ribs jolted Josh awake. Ropes dug into his flesh at his wrists and ankles. He was lifted by a wiry man to a chair. The man wasn’t much to look at, but he was obviously trained and strong.

“Hello there, Mr. Ranger. My name is Graham, and I want you to know that I will be killing your precious Deanna today.” He snickered.

How long had he been out? “Where is she?”

“And what will you do?” The man approached. “You can’t touch me.”

Josh lunged for him and fell onto the floor on his face.

“
Tsk, tsk.
You need to pay better attention to your surroundings, young man.”

Who was this guy? He was obviously whacked.

“Now, we’re going to go for a little ride, but I wanted to introduce myself. I’d like to think that I at least have the decency to show good manners to my victims.”

What? What loony bin did this guy escape from?

Another blow to the head made stars appear. As much as he tried to stay awake, Josh surrendered to the blackness.

Rough hands tore the blindfold off her face. For the first time in fifteen years, Deanna stared into the dark eyes of her family’s killer. A chill ran down her spine. His hard face was weathered, worn. Without any life in his eyes, the man looked totally evil. He paced the floor in front of her. Waiting. Watching. What made a man like him turn into a monster?

The only idea she had was to keep him talking. Stall him. For as long as she could. Even if
she
died today, she needed to try to save as many lives as she could. There had to be a way to stop him. Somehow. “What made you choose this line of work?”

“That isn’t important. Besides, it found me. And I take it very seriously; it’s an art form.”

Her gut churned. Nausea swelled and rose.
Get a grip.
God was in control here. Not Graham. No matter what the madman did. “So I take it you are the best in your trade?”

That awful chuckle was back. “Of course.”

Change the subject. This was getting her nowhere and only fed his ego. “Have you ever been in love, Graham?”

He spit on the floor. “Love is for fools.”

“Have you ever been to church?”

“Religion is for fools as well.” He glared at her. “And weaklings.”

She tried another tactic. “Have you ever been happy?”

“Happiness is what you make. So yes, I’ve been very happy.”

“But how can you be? You’re alone, you chase people down and spill their blood, for what? Money?”

“I don’t expect a simpleminded fool like yourself to understand my genius.”

In that moment, the clear reminder of sin and its consequences overwhelmed her. The enemy loved it. This was what sin had done to the world. Sin perverted the truth for its own ends. Sin. In all its selfishness and pride.

“Stand up, Little Girl. It’s time.”

As Graham untied her bonds and led her through the darkness, she prayed. God knew. He’d conquered sin. Once and for all. He understood the pain and agony better than anyone. He understood her worry for her friends, for the people of Talkeetna. A new thought took root: He knew the guilt she’d lived with all these years. The blame she’d taken from Graham for the deaths of her family. God understood. And she wouldn’t shoulder the guilt anymore. Blood rushed to her limbs and she flexed her hands. There had to be some way to escape.

D
eanna climbed into the backseat of Deline’s Otter as Graham shoved the gun in her friend’s back. Josh lay slumped in the seat next to her. His arms and legs tied, the knot on his forehead an ugly purple. She looked to the cockpit. Tears streamed down Deline’s cheeks. Somehow Graham had gotten to her, too. Deline was as tough as they came. And he’d made her cry.

Anger burned inside Deanna. She had to stop him. No matter what happened. She had to stop him. This world wasn’t her home. Her home awaited in heaven. Her heavenly Father awaited. She’d endured a life of pain and fear because of this madman. No more.

Graham turned back to her. “Not a move, or I’ll kill your friends here.”

She nodded. Looked around. There was nothing to use as a weapon.

As the plane left the ground, Graham held his gun pointed at Deline. Deanna didn’t know his plan, but the outcome would not be good. Several minutes passed in silence.

Deline sniffed. Sobbed, actually. “Please don’t kill me. I … I don’t want to die…. Who will take care of my father?”

“Oh, I may have a use for you, beautiful.” He reached to touch her hair with his left hand.

Deline shrank into the pilot’s seat and whimpered.

He grinned, a gleam in his eyes that disgusted Deanna.

She looked at her friend cowering in the front of the plane. Then it hit her. Deline was putting in an Oscar-winning performance. Did she have a plan?

“Leave her alone, Graham. You came for me and you’ve got me. Why don’t you let them go?” Deanna played along.

“That’d be entirely too easy, now, wouldn’t it?” He sneered. “You’re just getting what you deserve after all this time. I never lose. Never.”

A moan next to her brought her attention to Josh. Blood dripped from his nose. He needed medical attention. What could she do to let Deline know she could help?

Graham shifted and pointed the gun at her. “Don’t even think about touching him, Little Girl.”

A shiver raced up her spine whenever he used that name. For over a decade, he’d tortured her with it. She shrank into her seat, following Deline’s lead. If her friend had a plan, she needed to be ready. She braced her feet against the bottom of Deline’s seat in the floor and tightened her seat belt.

She looked out the window. Nothing but the National Park below them. Minutes passed too slowly.

Graham reached for Deline again. She whimpered, then jerked and turned the yoke. The plane dropped into a sharp roll to the left. Then she slugged Graham so hard with her right fist that his head slammed into the windshield and he slumped to the floor. She righted the plane and sat up straight. “Grab the gun, Dee.” Then she lifted her right leg and shoved the unconscious Graham toward the other side. “You touch me one more time, and I’ll drop you without a parachute and then land this plane on top of your broken body.”