Last Light (31 page)

“Where’s the boy?” he demanded, knocking the pistol against David’s skull to emphasize that he held the upper hand.

Lucy studied him as she crept closer. She couldn’t shoot him, not with the fire moving in and the helo their only way out of here. He was taller, larger than her, so a regulation takedown was out—and would probably get David killed.

“What will you give me for him?” TK said, stalling for time.

TK’s gaze brushed past the spot Lucy had abandoned, confusion flitting across her face until she spotted Lucy once more. Lucy spun her hand in the universal “keep talking” gesture. She was asking a lot of TK—basically to play a human target.

TK embraced her role, adding a hint of girlish whine to her voice. “Please, Caleb. I don’t have any part of this. I’m no cop. Let me go and I’ll tell you where the kid is.”

The ground was hard-packed, muffling Lucy’s movements but she had to keep looking down to make sure she wasn’t about to trip over the scattered debris with her dragging bad foot. She just needed to get a little closer, and she needed David’s help—hopefully the reporter had good survival instincts.

“Don’t do it, TK,” David yelled. “He’s just going to kill us all.”

Blackwell laughed. “Idiots. You keep chatting like a bunch of girls and the fire will do that anyway.” He gestured with his gun to the flames that filled the sky behind the barn.

And with that motion, Lucy saw her chance.

“Down!” she shouted.

David dropped to the ground as she pushed off with her good leg, grabbing Blackwell’s gun hand. She forced it away from David with one hand while jamming Blackwell’s chin up with her other.

While Blackwell strained to regain control of his weapon, Lucy concentrated on controlling his head. She stepped between his legs, using her momentum to leverage his chin back, flipping him backward and to the ground.

Because as anyone who understood gravity knew, the body followed where the head led. Gravity always won.

Lucy shifted position, ignoring the lightning strike of pain coming from her bad leg as she torqued it. She wrapped her fingers around Blackwell’s wrist and twisted viciously. He yelped in pain, dropping the gun. She finished the compliance technique, bringing his wrist up behind his shoulder blade, now in complete control of his movements.

TK shoved past David, who was crab-crawling backward because of his handcuffed hands, and stepped on Blackwell’s other hand. She pinned it to the ground while she held her pistol to his head. “Now who’s the idiot?”

TK HELD HER
weapon on Caleb while Lucy efficiently searched him for weapons and retrieved his handcuff keys. Lucy went to release Ruiz from his restraints. TK was practically bouncing out of her boots, she felt so jazzed. She hadn’t felt this way in a long, long time. Not just triumphant, alive.

“Thought the plan was you were going to shoot him?” she quipped as Lucy worked. Caleb was proned out on the dirt, his body sagging with defeat.

“I was going to try for his feet but David was in the way and I realized that helicopter pilots—”

“Use their feet. Right. Good call.”

Lucy tossed the handcuffs she’d taken off Ruiz over to TK. TK grabbed them mid-air, that’s how focused she was, as if every molecule around her was electrified. She knelt to restrain Caleb while Lucy took over standing guard.

“Could have shot him in the balls,” she continued as she ratcheted the handcuff shut on one wrist and reached for the other. “Doesn’t need those to fly.”

“Hey,” Ruiz protested. “What if she’d hit me? I would like to keep that particular piece of my anatomy intact, if you don’t mind.”

TK grinned over her shoulder at him. “Right. Women around the world would have wept and mourned if anything happened to your precious family jewels.”

“You’d better believe it.”

“Move it,” Lucy put in. “That fire’s closing in.”

She was right. Not only was the place heating up, but the air was getting choked with smoke. Nice thing, though, was the fire gave off enough light that there was no way Caleb could make a move unseen.

“What was that takedown?” TK asked, securing the second bracelet on Caleb’s wrist. “Krav Maga?”

“Brazilian jujitsu,” Lucy answered. “My daughter is a black belt in Kempo and is studying for her purple belt in jujitsu.”

“You have a daughter? How old?”

“Fourteen.”

TK exchanged a grimace with Ruiz. “Wow, you really are old.”

In answer, Lucy simply jerked her head toward the Tahoe. “You and David move Saylor to the helo, then get Alan on board. I’ll follow with Blackwell.”

“Is there room for all of us?” TK asked Ruiz as they ran to the SUV.

“There are two single seats in the back and a bench seat, so yes.”

They reached the Tahoe. TK opened the rear door. Saylor was unconscious, his color paler than moonlight, blood smeared over his shirt.

“Damn,” Ruiz breathed.

“He’s in shock. We’ve got to get him to a hospital.” Together they hauled Saylor out of the SUV and onto the Bell. He barely fluttered his eyes and didn’t make any sound. “Ruiz, look around for any first-aid supplies while I get Alan.”

TK jogged through the maze of farm equipment to the baler where she’d left Alan. It was on the side of the property closest to the fire and she had to pull her shirt collar up over her mouth and nose to breathe. Sweat dripped from her forehead and her eyes watered with smoke. She ducked her head into the baler’s compartment. “Alan, you okay?”

He was huddled exactly where she’d left him, crying silent tears, his body shaking with fear.

“Hey there, told you I’d be back. Sorry it took so long,” she said, coaxing him out. “It’s kind of scary out here. There’s a fire and your dad is sick, but we’re going to help him. Ever see a helicopter?”

He stumbled and coughed in the smoke, but she wrapped her arm around his waist and he let her lead him to the Bell.

Poor kid about bolted when he saw his dad lying there so still and pale, but then he seemed to gather himself, climbing on board without TK’s help and kneeling beside his father, patting Saylor’s forehead and hair.

Lucy followed with Caleb, helping him to climb up into the pilot’s seat before she removed the restraints.

“You try anything and we all die,” she reminded him. “TK, do you have tactical medical training or do you need me in back to take care of Saylor?”

Of course Lucy had medic training. Was there anything the FBI agent couldn’t do? TK thought with a roll of her eyes. But she had to admit, that despite Lucy’s age and physical disability, she’d come through when it counted. “No, I’m good.”

“David, in back, take care of Alan,” Lucy ordered. She moved to take the copilot seat, her pistol trained on Caleb.

The flames were so close they reflected through the windshields, coloring the cockpit red and orange. Caleb sat staring, not reaching for the controls.

TK watched from her position beside Saylor. Ruiz had found oxygen and a trauma kit, so she was setting up an IV. “Come on,” she called to Lucy. “We need to get going.”

“You heard her,” Lucy told Caleb. “Let’s go.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. “What’s in it for me?”

“You want to live?” TK shouted, her patience with the man exhausted.

“Not in prison,” he replied. “I get you guys to the hospital and you let me go. Deal?”

“No way,” Ruiz protested. “You two have no idea—”

“Deal,” Lucy said firmly, twisting in her seat to glare at Ruiz. TK met her gaze and nodded. Ruiz opened his mouth, anger and confusion battling on his face, but then looked hard at Lucy and clamped it shut. So much for Mr. Human Lie Detector.

An explosion rocked the helo, sparks and flames shooting through the air. The fire had hit something combustible and there would be more to come, given the farm equipment littered around the yard.

“You have my word,” Lucy shouted, panic in her voice. “Let’s go!”

She was a better actor than TK expected. Caleb grinned, thinking he held the upper hand, and hit the controls.

TK shook her head and turned back to Saylor. Poor Caleb, he was so going down. Hard.

They took off, the winds from the fire trying to push them one way and the other, but then they were finally above the fire. TK craned her head out the window and gave a low whistle. “Caleb, you started this fire?”

He was wrestling with the controls, his gaze fixated on the dials and forward view, answering only with a grunt and a nod.

TK didn’t have the heart to say anything, but watched in silence as Blackwell Manor burst into flames. She couldn’t help but wonder if Carole Blackwell had escaped or if she stayed behind, ensconced in the house she’d killed for.

<><><>

LUCY KEPT CLOSE
watch on Blackwell’s movements after she removed his handcuffs so he could pilot the helicopter. She didn’t trust the man not to try to kill them all. Unfortunately, the fire was giving him plenty of chances to do that without even trying very hard.

The helicopter finally rose high enough above the flames that the fire-generated updrafts and winds calmed a bit. Blackwell glanced around, fingers gripping the controls, orienting himself. His jaw tightened and brow creased, wrinkles appearing below his eyes, which were wide.

Lucy had seen that look before. Usually right before people died.

She followed Blackwell’s gaze: a large house perched on a hill overlooking the river, fire blazing from every window. They were headed right for it.

“No,” TK yelled from the rear compartment. “That’s his home. He’s going to crash us!”

“Don’t try it,” Lucy told Blackwell. He ignored her and moved the controls, hurtling them back toward the ground.

“I have to save her,” he muttered, despite the pistol she dug in his side. “My mother’s in there.”

“She’s gone, Caleb.” TK tried to reason with him. “She’d want you to save yourself.”

“No,” he screamed. The noise shattered Alan’s calm, and he began to shriek, a wailing that battled with the roar of the fire and the helo’s engines.

Lucy pinned Blackwell back in his seat, her pistol jammed up under his ribcage, the pain distracting him momentarily. Good, if he could be distracted, he could also be persuaded.

“Want a chance to save her?” she yelled into his ear. The helo bounced so violently she had to clutch at his restraints with her free hand to keep her position. “Put us down and I’ll let you go. You’re her only chance, Caleb. You kill yourself, take us all down, and she dies. And it will all be your fault.”

They were low enough that the flames from the house reflected in his eyes. Suddenly, his posture relaxed and he nodded—not at Lucy but rather at the house they were racing toward. His hands and feet worked the controls and the helo’s engines protested but obeyed.

They slowed but the ground was still coming up much too quickly. “Hang on,” Lucy called to the people behind her.

An updraft caught them, slowing them enough that when they hit the ground, it was with a hard thud, ashes and sparks spraying up all around them. Lucy was jerked away from Blackwell, thrown backward then sideways as the helo lurched and skidded, threatening to topple to one side.

Then finally, they were stopped. The rotors were still spinning, holding the flames at bay. The house was about a hundred feet in front of them, fully engulfed.

To her horror, a figure appeared where the front door would have been. But instead of running free, escaping the flames, it stopped and made a beckoning motion. Then vanished back inside.

She blinked, sweat running from her forehead as the air heated. Surely she’d imagined it?

Before she could stop him, Blackwell undid his restraints and bolted. “Mother!”

“You guys okay?” Lucy looked over her shoulder, torn between wanting to go after Blackwell and needing to take care of her team. Not that anything she did would be able to save them—piloting a helicopter was one thing the FBI had never trained her to do.

The rear door slid open, a rush of superheated air flooding the helo. To her surprise, it wasn’t TK who sprinted from the helo to chase after Blackwell, but Alan. David followed but was no match for Alan’s speed.

TK was sprawled on the floor against the other side of the compartment, one hand pressed against a gash on her forehead. “I’m fine,” she said as Lucy freed herself from her restraints and crawled into the rear. “Check Saylor.”

Lucy handed TK a gauze pack from the med kit. She’d done a good job with Saylor: two IVs running wide open and a makeshift splint on his leg. His pulse beat fast but steady. “He’s still with us.”

She grabbed the shotgun David had left behind, and crawled out the open door, her bad leg protesting. Blackwell was almost to the house, racing down a narrow corridor where the fire had already burned a path, devouring all the fuel available before moving on. Alan caught up with him, tackling him to the ground.

Not even the wildfire could drown out the boy’s screams of fury as he punched Blackwell, hitting him over and over, arms flailing blindly. David reached him, pulling him off Blackwell.

Blackwell rolled over, struggling to his feet. The heat was so intense that Lucy found herself holding her breath. Not good. She pulled her shirt up over her nose and mouth, forced herself to take slow, steady breaths. The air was filled with ashes and she stumbled over the uneven, burnt ground.

David released Alan and went after Blackwell, hauling him back as the second-story windows shattered and burst, flames shooting up, filling the sky. Blackwell struggled, intent on getting into the house.

Lucy came up behind him, nodded to David who tightened his grip. Then she hit Blackwell in the kidney with the butt of her shotgun. He dropped to his knees, stunned. She twisted his arms around to his back and replaced the handcuffs once more.

“Get him back to the helo,” she shouted at David, her voice shredded by the wind and the heat. She reached for Alan, who stood sobbing, hands still fisted, and wrapped her arm around him. He didn’t protest as she led him back to the helicopter.