Last Light (30 page)

“Exactly how am I going to do that?” David asked.

“You’re going to help me find where TK has taken Alan. Then we’ll trade your life for his.”

Right. “Why would I do that?”

Caleb’s shrug needed no interpretation. “You get to tell the world how my father was the real killer. You get to save your father—isn’t that why you started this to begin with?”

“And TK? How’s she fit into all this?”

“Let’s find them first, then we’ll see about that.” He shoved David forward. “Mother, there’s a wildfire at the Saylor place. It would be best if you evacuated into town. I’ll meet you at the sheriff station.”

“Nonsense. This is my home. I’m not leaving it.”

“Mother—”

“Caleb Blackwell.” David felt Caleb jerk to attention behind him. “I said no. I am not leaving my home. You will simply have to stop the fire before it reaches here.”

“But—”

“No buts about it. I need you to handle this, Caleb. Can I trust you to do that?”

“Yes, Mother.”

David glanced back over his shoulder in time to see Carole Blackwell beaming proudly at her son, the coldblooded killer.

THE NIGHT AIR
rushed in through the Tahoe’s shattered windows, bringing with it smoke and ashes. Lucy hoped TK had gotten the insurance on the vehicle. The incongruous thought made her want to laugh—adrenaline did that to her sometimes. She pushed the accelerator as far as she dared on the unfamiliar road, each curve eliciting a moan of pain from Saylor in the back.

“Is Abilene the nearest hospital?” she asked. She was pretty sure that was right, but if he had internal bleeding, then this detour to find TK and Alan might be condemning him to death.

“Yep. Once we have Alan safe, we can call for a medevac.” His voice was weaker and he was gasping between every word. “Always wanted to ride in a helicopter.”

The headlights caught the reflective flash of the large agriculture research center sign. Lucy hit the brakes and they spun onto the lane—the same lane that led to the Martin house and that ended at the rear boundary of Blackwell’s property.

The road was rutted out, tossing Saylor around mercilessly. His groans dwindled to mere whimpers. As a clearing with scattered equipment and a barn came into sight, they died out all together. “Saylor, you still with me?”

Silence. Lucy braked the car, leaving the lights on—if TK had brought Alan here, Lucy didn’t want to risk any friendly-fire incidents. Slowly, keeping her hands raised, she climbed out of the Tahoe and eased into the swath of light at the front bumper. “TK? It’s Lucy and Saylor.”

“Is it clear?” TK’s voice called through the darkness.

“For now. Saylor’s injured.”

A few moments later, a form separated itself from the shadows and approached Lucy. “Are you and Alan okay?”

“Yes. I stashed him in the baler.” She pointed in the direction of the machinery, but Lucy had no idea which piece she was referring to. “What happened? I heard gunfire.”

“Blackwell ran Saylor down with his Escalade, shot out the Tahoe, and shot at both of us. And when he learned David was at his house with his mom, he started the fire and took off.”

“I saw the fire. It’s spreading fast. Does Caleb think you’re dead?”

“As good as. But Saylor’s hurt bad. I don’t think he’ll make it if we don’t get him to the hospital in Abilene. Fast.”

TK nodded. “I’ll get Alan and we’ll hit the road.”

Lucy grabbed her arm. “It’s not that easy. Blackwell said he was going to get a helicopter to look for you and Alan.”

“The Bell—no way we can outrun it in the Tahoe.” She craned her neck, turning to stare in the direction of Blackwell’s property. A single bright light stabbed through the slice of the sky that was still black, untainted by the fire’s glow. The helicopter, heading their way. “That’s him now. What are we going to do? We can’t hide here forever and we can’t run.”

Lucy glanced around. In the dark, the farm equipment and abandoned vehicles took on an otherworldly aspect, only the faint lines of their silhouettes visible.

“We don’t have to outrun the helo,” she mused. “In fact, we don’t want to.”

TK’s expression was filled with the same skepticism she’d greeted Lucy with when they first met.

“Blackwell will be using FLIR—which can’t penetrate metal. If we leave Saylor and Alan hidden, and if Blackwell is searching for two thermal sources on the move, then we give him two thermal sources on the move.”

“You and me,” TK filled in the blanks. “Wait. Are you suggesting we hijack Caleb’s helo?”

“Fastest way to get Saylor to the hospital and regain control of the situation. What do you say? Up for some night maneuvers?”

“Roger that.”

<><><>

CALEB HERDED DAVID
around to the back of the house where a small hangar stood. A shiny blue and white helicopter waited for them. Caleb opened the front passenger door and shoved David up onto the seat, his hands still cuffed at the small of his back, then moved around to the pilot’s side and took his seat. He strapped in with an intricate set of restraints.

“Don’t I get a seatbelt?” David asked as Caleb began to flick switches and the engines came to life. He watched closely—this helicopter was different than the trainer he’d flown while researching his story on Navy pilots, but the controls seemed basically the same.

Caleb didn’t even spare him a glance. “You might not be riding long enough to need one.”

David shut up, trying to figure out how he could move enough in the cramped quarters to stop Caleb without the use of his hands. Then they were airborne and he had to also factor in the need to not crash.

As they rose past the house, an ocean of orange filled the horizon.

“I still don’t understand what you want from me.”

“Simple.” Caleb pointed to a screen below the flight instruments. “That’s the Forward Looking Infrared camera. It sees heat in shades of gray. You’re looking for two human-sized targets. Check for movement, that’s usually the easiest—although other than the fire and a few head of cattle, there won’t be many heat signatures.”

David stared at the screen. It was fairly monotone until they crossed over the county highway, which was still radiating heat from the blacktop and he saw the difference in color.

“You haven’t told me yet what you’re planning to do to TK and Alan.”

“And you’re stalling. No matter, look there.” Caleb pointed to two human-shaped blobs on the screen. One was moving rapidly, the other trailing behind. “They’re at the ag station. Perfect. There’s a good place to land not far. Wait.”

David squinted at the screen. There was another fainter blob, this one stationary. “What’s that?”

“Not moving. Probably a car engine. TK must have gotten one of those old wrecks started. We’ll just have to slow them down, won’t we?” He sent a sly grin David’s way and banked the helicopter, heading it back toward the fire.

“What are you going to do?”

“Ever see what a gust of wind does to a campfire?”

“Sends sparks everywhere.”

“Wait until you see what the rotor wash from this baby can do. I’m going to herd the wildfire right at them, block their path to the highway. They’ll be trapped. Right where I want them.”

“Won’t we be trapped as well?”

“Not as long as we don’t dawdle. We’re in, we’re out, take care of business and back home in time for dinner with Mother.”

“What do you mean, take care of business?” David knew, but he also still had his cell phone with its recording app running. Even if Caleb killed him, there was a chance that some day, someone might learn the truth. “The same way you killed Lily Martin and her family?”

“You don’t think it could have been Roscoe or my mother?”

“I think you were a spoiled kid jealous of the time his father spent with a woman not your mother and worried that he’d go start a real family with Lily and her baby. I think you had fun torturing them and Alan. And I think you killed your dad, I’m guessing, because he was going to turn you in.”

“You’re almost right. It was me. It was a helluva lot of fun. But I didn’t kill Roscoe. Mother took care of that. He wanted to lock me up in some mental hospital in Germany. No way was she ever going to let him take her son from her.”

David was glad he couldn’t hear the emotions coloring Caleb’s voice—the body language was sickening enough.

“And those missing women?”

“You know about those?” Caleb’s expression was a mix of surprise and pride.

“Lucy figured it out.”

“Hang on,” Caleb called as winds from the fire began to buffet them. “Oh, sorry, forgot, you can’t hang on.” He laughed and banked the helicopter again, hovering just above the flames, pushing them with the rotor wash.

The blaze responded with gusto, jumping across the road then racing down both sides toward the ag station. Satisfied that he’d cut off any escape for TK and Alan, Caleb increased their altitude and they sped in front of the wall of flames, heading to where a single heat signature still moved.

David frowned. He’d been hoping TK would somehow manage to get away, vanish into the night before the helicopter could make it back. No such luck.

Caleb hovered over a flat area near the ag station’s barn. “I only see one now, the other must be sitting in the car. No matter. The one moving will be TK. I’ll take care of her first. Then the boy.”

WHEN LUCY HEARD
the helicopter returning, she scrambled into position. She shimmied beneath one of the larger pieces of machinery, its heavy-duty steel concealing her from Blackwell’s FLIR. Now all she needed was to wait for TK to lead Blackwell to her.

She adjusted the shotgun, making sure its sights were clear then set her pistol within easy reach. They’d only get one shot at this. TK would have preferred to play the role of marksman, but with Lucy’s limited mobility that was not an option.

The wind shifted, bringing with it the foul stench of burnt asphalt. She craned her neck out of her sniper hole just enough to see that the fire had shifted. So that’s where Blackwell had gone after the helo initially spotted them. Bastard had forced the fire toward their position, ensuring that any escape would be cut off.

Which meant whatever happened, they needed Blackwell alive and able to fly them all out of here. She exchanged the shotgun for her Beretta, which she’d retrieved from TK, swapping it for one of Saylor’s semi-automatics.

The sky around her roared and loose debris began to whip through the air as the helicopter circled overhead and then descended to a cleared patch on the other side of the barn. TK raced by, dancing over the elevated route she’d created. She waved to Lucy, her grin visible even in the darkness. She was having fun, outsmarting Blackwell who, with his 2D representation of their positions, would not be looking for TK to come at him from above.

Lucy raised her weapon. TK’s acrobatic stunts as she raced over the myriad of equipment were amazing—she hoped to see the younger woman perform them again someday in daylight. TK moved with the precision of a laser-guided missile, fully focused on her mission.

Mission. That’s what drove TK. She was a different woman compared to the one Lucy had to bail out of jail that morning. Reminded her a lot of herself—Lucy finally had a taste of what her supervisors at the FBI had faced, trying to wrangle her passion to pursue a case no matter where it led.

“TK!” Blackwell’s voice cut through the night. “I know you’re here. Come out.”

“Come and get me,” TK called back, drawing Blackwell into their trap. They’d done a good job of predicting where he’d land. They didn’t need him to move very far, just another dozen yards or so.

Lucy strained to see in the darkness, wishing for a pair of night-vision goggles. But this entire operation was low-tech—no fault of her team, simply circumstances beyond their control.

Blackwell stepped past the rusted-out pickup truck that sat at the outer boundary of their designated perimeter. Lucy froze. He held David Ruiz in front of him, a human shield.

How the hell was she supposed to wound Blackwell without killing him, leaving him able to fly, and not also put a bullet through David? She sighted the Beretta, hoping Blackwell would come close enough that she would have clear aim at one of his feet.

Not the ideal solution; helicopter pilots used both their feet at the controls, but it might be all she had. Except both David and Blackwell wore dark pants and dark shoes, and they blended into the shadows too well for her to distinguish them with any clarity.

Damn. She was going to have to come up with a Plan B on the fly—and without being able to communicate the change to TK. Time to see exactly how good the former Marine was.

Blackwell stopped in the center of the small clearing. “I’m losing my patience,” he shouted into the hulking shadows surrounding him. “Show yourself. Now!”

His back was to Lucy, giving her the chance to carefully sidle out from her concealment and move into a better position. TK distracted Blackwell by swinging up and over the top bar of one of the irrigation sprayers to land with a loud thump on the roof of an old pickup that had no wheels and was half-sunken into the ground.

“I’m right here,” she said, spreading her hands wide to show she was unarmed. Except for the handgun concealed in her boot, but the objective was to keep Blackwell from ever getting close enough to find it.

Blackwell shifted his posture, fully engaged. He held a pistol to David’s temple the way a movie gangster would. Again, he reminded Lucy of a boy with all the toys but no clue how to use them like a man, letting emotion overwhelm his training.

Which put him in the class of amateur, but also made him highly unpredictable. The worst kind of subject to deal with. At least career criminals knew how to cut their losses, making them often eager to negotiate. Not Blackwell. He was playing out some kind of psychodrama scripted solely inside his own twisted mind and subject to improvisation without notice.