Trial by Fire (22 page)

T
he arsenal of guns that Cruz and the group were bringing in clued Jake that they were planning something even worse than the church burnings. As he and Benton sat in a corner of the moldy warehouse while Cruz plotted in another room, he began to wonder if there was something he could do. “Somebody needs to turn these idiots in,” Jake told Benton. “How many more people are gonna die?”

“At least two, if we try to turn them in,” Benton said.

“Well, maybe we're both just cowards.”

“Maybe we are.”

He watched Benton devour a bologna sandwich as if he hadn't eaten in a week. “How's your leg, man?”

“Sore,” Benton said. “Really sore. But I'm not feeling so weak anymore. Antibiotics…good stuff.”

Jake tried to see through the glass door to the room where Cruz and the group sat. “All those cameras they had, and the Polaroids they brought back…what are they taking pictures of?”

“Who knows?”

He looked at his friend again. “Benton, you know we gotta do something, don't you? We can't let them kill any more people. Not if we ever plan to look ourselves in the mirror again.”

Benton dropped the last bite of his sandwich, as if the words had stolen his appetite. “Hey, I can't look myself in the mirror now, after what I did.”

“Then undo some of the damage by helping me figure out what they're up to, so we can stop them.”

The door to the office room came open, and Cruz, Jennifer, and the others came out. Benton got to his feet. “I'll see what I can find out.”

 

I
ssie followed the car at as much distance as she could, trying not to be seen as they rounded curves and turned corners, heading into the warehouse district of Newpointe. They led her to one old warehouse set back from the street, with garbage filling a ditch out front, and about six cars and pickups in front of it.

Was this where Jake was?

She watched them all go in, then left her truck some distance down the street and got out to walk the rest of the way. She went to the window of the building and peered in and saw the pile of guns in the middle of the floor, and Jake's dangerous friends encircled around them. But she didn't see Jake.

He was in there somewhere, and something told her he was in trouble. Maybe he was in a back room, hurt. Maybe he needed her.

She went to another window and looked in, trying to determine if there was some way to get in and look for him. There was an open window on the side, and it opened into a dark room that was separate from the room where they seemed to congregate. She managed to lift herself into it, and dropped down into the room.

She looked around. There was a table, and it was covered with papers and snapshots. She went closer to study them. They were pictures of this morning's worship service, she realized, pictures of the congregation sitting in Aunt Aggie's yard. They looked as if they had been taken from the street down—into the bowl-shaped yard. Had there been more of them there, hidden on the hills surrounding Aunt Aggie's property, standing back in the trees where no one could see them?

She wondered why anyone would have taken pictures like this, then she realized that it had to have been the two boys she had spotted and followed. Was that why they had come?

She looked through the small window in the door, and saw them still huddled around a pile of firearms. They were planning something, and it involved Nick's church…and lots of guns.

She went back to the table and picked up one of the papers under the snapshots. It was a diagram of the grounds at Aunt Aggie's, the house and trees surrounding where they had placed the chairs, and on the hills surrounding the worship area, she saw stick figures with guns pointed threateningly at the crowd.

Her heart jolted. Quickly, she folded up the paper and stuck it into her purse. She had to get out of here. She had to take this to the police and warn them. She slipped back up to the windowsill, but as she did, her foot caught on a hubcap leaned against the wall, and it toppled and fell with a clatter.

She dove out the window and bolted toward her truck, praying that no one had heard. But behind her she heard someone yell, “It's that woman again!”

She saw Cruz explode out of the warehouse, and she ran with all her might to reach her truck.

J
ake shot out behind Cruz, trying to stop him long enough for Issie to get away. But Cruz was gaining on her like a linebacker foiling the winning touchdown. He caught Issie and knocked her down.

“Let her go, Cruz!” Jake shouted. “Let her go!” He threw himself on top of Cruz, but three others descended on him and wrestled him off.

He tried to knock them loose, flailing his arms and kicking at them, but Cruz clamped his arms around Issie, and she kicked and bucked and tried to shake him free. “Jake, help me!”

Cruz wrestled her to a rusty blue Subaru. “Open the trunk!” he shouted, and Jennifer popped it open.

Jake fought to get away, but someone pulled him into a choke hold, immobilizing him. The harder he fought, the tighter the arm clamped against his throat. He drove his fingernails into the arm squeezing the life out of him, but couldn't break free.

He heard Issie scream, and Cruz lifted her and stuffed her into the trunk. She kicked and fought to get out, but Cruz hit her across the face, and it knocked her back into the depths of the trunk. Before she could fight her way back up, he had slammed the trunk shut.

Jake could hear her fighting inside, banging and screaming, but Cruz backed away, and turned, red-faced, to Jake. Jake kicked behind him, his heel tearing into the knee of the person holding him, and his captor cursed and let him go. Jake ducked out of his grasp.

He had to get help. He had to get out of here and somehow get to a phone. He started running, and heard feet behind him on the gravel. Cruz yelled, and he heard Benton telling Jake to run.

Jake headed for the woods and leaped over a log, tore through a cluster of bushes, and slid down a hill covered with dead leaves.

He heard a gunshot, and someone just behind him yelped and fell. He looked back and saw Decareaux in a heap at the top of the hill he'd slid down, and Benton standing with a shotgun in his hand. “Go, Jake! Keep running!”

Jake crossed a stream, then ran up the other bank, clambering to get out of sight. Another shot rang out, and he swung around and saw Benton standing hand to chest, a look of shock on his face. He stood there for a moment. His eyes met Jake's, and he mouthed the word, “Run.” Then his friend dropped and slid limply down the hill. Jake turned and ran.

Somehow, Benton had thrown them off, and he heard them running in another part of the woods, footsteps and cursing and gunshots shooting without aim. He kept running in the opposite direction, pounding the dirt and the dead leaves and leaping over logs and branches.

When he thought he was far enough away, he hoisted himself into a tree and rested on a branch, waiting to make sure he was clear before he tried to help Issie.

 

T
he car began to move, and Issie lay trapped in the black compartment. She banged on the trunk door and screamed until her throat was raw. They drove for several minutes on the road, and then she felt them pulling off. She heard gravel beneath the tires and was jerked from side to side as Cruz drove the car into a place where she knew no one could find her. Would he kill her when he got her there? Was this how it would all end?

She screamed and banged against the trunk, using all the strength she had to make noise. Someone along the way might hear, maybe at a stoplight, and call the police. But all her efforts seemed futile.

Finally, she heard the engine cut off, heard the door close, heard other car doors slamming, then an engine driving away.

Silence. They were leaving her here, trapped in the trunk of a car in a place where no one would ever look.

Then she heard a car door again, voices, and the Subaru engine starting. She felt the car moving. She screamed and kicked again, to no avail.

They drove for twenty minutes or so, when finally she felt them crunching back through gravel, heard the scraping and scratching of trees. Then the car stopped, and she heard them getting out, heard another car behind them…doors closing. The other car left.

The silence screamed out her hopelessness.

Meanwhile, Jake's friends were planning to ambush Nick Foster's church the next time they met together. People would be killed. Perhaps even Nick.

She wailed again and screamed, banging with her shoulder and elbow and trying to get out, but there was little hope.

 

J
ake waited for over an hour before he dropped out of the tree. They weren't after him anymore, he felt sure, but panic still raged in his heart. What had they done with Issie? And was Benton dead?

He had to go back. He had to see if the blue Subaru was still there, or if Benton had been taken care of.

He tried to retrace his steps back through the woods, careful not to be heard. He had done a lot of hunting with his father and knew how to remember landmarks. He passed the log he'd almost tripped over earlier, the dead oak, the wasp's nest…

Then he came to the spring and ran along it, looking for the place where Benton had fallen. He went carefully, stopping and listening every few feet, waiting to see if it was a trick. But there were no sounds except those of the mockingbirds in the trees, the woodpeckers drilling out their holes, the crickets and frogs and wind.

Then he saw his friend still lying at the bottom of the embankment, as twisted and broken as when he'd first fallen. Jake's throat constricted as he raced toward him and fell at his side. “Benton!” he whispered. “Benton!”

There was no response, so he shook him hard. He saw the bullet hole through his back, and as terror rose up in his throat, he turned him over. The exit wound had taken most of Benton's chest.

“Benton, come on, man. Come on, get up!” He reached for his arm and tried to find a pulse, but there was none.

He sat there on his knees and tried to muffle the sob screaming out his throat. He had brought Benton into the group. He had led him into this trouble, and Benton had died trying to keep Jake from being caught.

“I'll kill them myself,” he said through his teeth. “Don't worry, Benton, I won't let them get away with this.” He left his friend on the dirt, then climbed up the embankment, intent on making someone pay. He slowed as he got to the top and looked carefully toward the warehouse. All of the cars were gone.

They had bugged out, just like a military unit whose security had been compromised. The blue Subaru was gone, and Issie was in trouble.

They were taking her away, locked in a trunk, and he didn't know where he could send anyone to help her. Still, he had to get help. He would have to forge ahead in the woods, hoping to come out somewhere on the other side, or find a hunter or someone else who could help him, and rescue Issie.

He got up and stumbled into the brush as fast as he could, knowing that death could catch up to him at any moment.

N
ick was worried about Issie. He didn't know why she'd taken off the way she had, but an hour later, she still hadn't returned. He was getting nervous.

When Steve Winder, Issie's partner, called around three, he had even more reason to worry. Issie hadn't shown up for work.

“I was wondering if you'd seen her,” Steve said. “I know you two have been together a lot lately.”

He decided not to comment on that. “Well, no, I haven't seen her, not since our picnic this afternoon. She left in a big hurry. She hasn't come back.”

“Well, she was supposed to be on duty at three,” Steve said. “She didn't show up. It's not like her.”

Nick frowned. “She didn't call or anything?”

“No,” Steve said, “and I've been trying to call her apartment and nobody's home. I even called over at her brother's and he said he hasn't seen her.”

“Has this ever happened before?” Nick asked.

“No way,” Steve said. “I've been her partner for a couple of years now. She's never even been late.”

Nick felt sick. Something had happened to her. “Look, I'll see if I can catch up with her. I'll get back to you.”

“Thanks.”

Nick hung up the phone and sat staring at the wall for a moment, trying to separate panic from concern. Where would she have gone so quickly? Who might she have seen? He grabbed his cell phone off the counter and rushed outside. He got into his car and set out to find her before it was too late.

 

J
ake managed to keep running through the woods, desperate to get help. He was lost and it was getting dark and he didn't know how far he had to go to get out on the other side. All he knew was that he couldn't give up now. He had to get to someone who could help Issie before she wound up like Benton.

He reached the bayou and stood for a moment, panting and sweating and trying to figure out which way he needed to go to get out of the woods.

He took off running along the bank, hoping that he was right in determining that it would come out next to the place where the new post office sat. Then he could get to a phone and call the police. Maybe it wasn't too late to save Issie.

He'd never been so thankful in his life as when he heard cars up ahead and knew he was getting near civilization. He ran faster, harder, thickets and thornbushes tearing at his pants legs and his arms.

He crossed the street and went to the drugstore where a pay phone sat at the corner of the parking lot. He dug through his pants pockets, got out the money for the phone, then stood there a moment, trying to decide whom to call first.

He put the change in and started to dial his parents but realized that might be a mistake. They would want to come get him, but home was the first place Cruz would look for him, and he couldn't risk having them find him there.

No, he thought. He needed to call the police. They were the only ones who could help Issie. He didn't know the number so he dialed 911 and waited for the dispatcher to answer.

“Nine-one-one, may I help you?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “Uh, I'm calling to report a crime.” His voice was shaking and hoarse. He could hardly get it out.

“What crime?” the dispatcher asked.

“Uh, kidnapping, sort of. Issie Mattreaux. You may know her. The paramedic.”

“Yeah, I know Issie,” the dispatcher said.

“Well, she's sort of been kidnapped. A guy named Cruz has her. I saw him put her into the trunk of a car, and he drove away with her. I don't know where they are, but you might still catch them in the blue Subaru.”

“Can I have your name please?” she asked.

His mind started reeling, and he thought she wouldn't send help until he gave her what she wanted. “Keith,” he lied, “Keith Jones.” That seemed to satisfy her, and she got off the subject.

“Keith, can you tell us where they were headed?”

“No,” he said, “I have no idea.”

“Was there some kind of fight, some kind of argument?”

“Sort of,” he said. “She had kind of stumbled on some evidence and ratted on them. They want revenge.”

“What kind of evidence?”

“About the church burnings and the murders. Also, a guy got shot over by the old Mayflower Furniture warehouse. He's in the woods, down an embankment. I'm pretty sure he's dead.”

There was silence for a moment. He pictured her frantically trying to get a message to the cars she was dispatching. He started to realize that his call could be traced. At any moment now police cars could descend on him, and in moments he'd have handcuffs snapped on and be on his way to jail.

He hung up.

He started walking toward the edge of the woods, hoping to stay in the shadows enough that he could get away from this place in case they had traced the call. And as he walked along, he tried to rack his brain for a place to go. None of his friends could be trusted. He didn't want to put his own parents in jeopardy.

Nick Foster. The name came to him out of the blue, and he remembered hearing that Issie and Nick might be an item. He knew Nick would want to know that Cruz had it in for him, that the first fire and killing had to do with revenge against him.

Maybe Nick could help.

He knew that Nick lived across the street from the church that had burned down, so he headed that way, just a few blocks away, and hoped that Nick would be home.

It took him half an hour to reach Nick's trailer, and when he did, he realized there was no car there. He peered across the street to the place where the church had been and saw no sign of Nick. Where could he be?

Maybe he was at the fire station, he thought. What if he was there all night and Jake couldn't reach him without giving himself away? He stumbled onto the front porch, a weather-beaten structure that was in need of repair.

He walked up the rickety steps, wishing for the cover of darkness, though it was only five
P.M
. He sat down in a corner and leaned back against the rail. He didn't know how long it had been since he'd slept. Most of the people he'd been living with only fell asleep when daylight hit.

He closed his eyes and tried to relax, wishing that Nick would come home soon. If not, he supposed he'd have to sleep here all night, but he would have to leave before daylight. Maybe the police would take the information he gave them and find Issie by then, and then they could arrest Cruz and Jennifer and the rest of the gang before they did any more harm to churches or people, or Jake's own relatives or friends.

 

N
ick searched everywhere he thought Issie could be but didn't find her, and as he drove, he felt the growing sense of panic that something had happened to her. She was in trouble. He knew better than to think she had just been irresponsible by not showing up for work. He had contacted everyone he knew who was a friend of Issie's, but no one knew her whereabouts.

Almost to the point of despair, he decided to head back home, get on his knees, and pray for Issie as hard as he could. It was the only thing he knew to do.

He drove back to the street where the church had burned and pulled into his gravel driveway. His headlights lit up the front of his porch, and he saw the shape of something he hadn't expected on his porch. Had someone left something, he wondered, or was that a person hunched in the corner waiting for him?

Issie,
he thought suddenly. She was here, waiting for him to get home. He should have known. He stopped the car, lunged out, and raced up the steps.

“Issie?” But when he got to the front he was shocked to see that it wasn't Issie at all. Instead, a young man was hunched in the corner. Could this be Jake?

Startled out of sleep, the boy sat up straight. It took a second for him to orient himself, then as if he realized where and why he was here, he grabbed both of Nick's arms and pulled himself to his feet.

“Nick, Issie's in trouble!”

“Where is she?” he asked.

“I don't know,” Jake said. “She was snooping around the warehouse where we were. I think she followed somebody there, and she went in. They must have heard her, because she ran out, and then Cruz went wild. He put her in his trunk and drove her off somewhere. I don't know where they went.”

“In his trunk?” Panic almost stopped Nick's breath. Issie might not live through this. He pictured her somewhere locked in the trunk of a car. Was she dead or alive?

He unlocked his front doors and bolted inside, Jake on his heels. “We've got to call the police,” he said.

“I already did,” Jake told him. “I don't know if they believed me but I tried. I described the car, and I told them who was driving it. Maybe they can find her.”

Nick dialed the number of the police department and asked for Stan's desk. Stan wasn't in, so he talked to Sid Ford.

“Sid, Nick Foster. Have you heard anything about Issie?”

“We've got an APB out on that same blue Subaru right now,” Sid said, “but we ain't found nothin' yet.”

“Come on, Sid!” Nick yelled. “This is a small town. How many places are there to look?”

“They coulda left town by now,” Sid said. “They could be anywhere between here and the south shore. There's woods all around, man.”

“Sid, he's got her in her trunk. He could kill her if he hasn't already!”

“I understand that,” Sid said, “and we're doin' the best we can. We've got dogs out, and a helicopter, and everybody's looking for her. But we can't do more than that. Not unless you've got some more information that would help us.”

“What do you need?” Nick asked. “You have the make and model of the car. You have the name of the person driving it.”

“We're workin' on it,” Sid said, “and when we find somethin' out, trust me, you'll be the first to know.” Sid hung up, and Nick sat staring at the receiver in his hand. He slammed it down, almost breaking the telephone, then he turned on Jake.

“They're your friends,” he said. “Now you tell me where they might have taken her!”

“I'm telling you, I don't know,” Jake said. “I'm on your side, okay? She's my aunt. I've known her all my life. I don't want anything to happen to her. That's why I came here. I've been out of the loop on everything for the past couple of days, and then they killed my friend Benton. Shot him through the back, and he didn't deserve it. He killed a kid for them, all just to throw the cops off of Cruz. And look how they reward him!”

Nick felt sick. “Do you know where Benton is?” he asked. “Are you sure he's dead?”

“Absolutely dead,” he said. “He's out by the warehouse, only everybody's gone.”

Nick's mind raced. “Jake, it would be a good idea to take the police to him. Come on and get in the car.”

“No!” Jake said. “They'll arrest me, man. Lock me up! Then who's gonna look for Issie?”

“I am,” Nick said. “The cops are.”

“But I
know
places,” he said. “I
know
some of their hangouts. There's Cruz's deer camp…Besides, I already told them where he is near the warehouse. They'll find him there.”

Nick tried to think, and he rubbed his temples with shaky hands. “So she was still conscious when he got her into the trunk?”

“Yes,” Jake said. “She was conscious all right. Banging and kicking and screaming. It's a wonder he'd ever keep her in that trunk.”

Nick hoped that was true. Maybe her rage and her emergency training and her strength would get her out of this. He was shaking, sweating, and his mind was having trouble following a logical train of thought. “Okay, Jake, we have to do something.” He sank down on to the porch step next to Jake, still rubbing his face. He let his fingers slide slowly down his cheeks. “Jake, how do I know this isn't some kind of trick? I don't know you. I don't know what you've been up to. For all I know, you may have killed Ben Ford.”

“No, I didn't,” Jake said. “I knew they killed him, but I wasn't there. Man, I was stupid. I bought into everything. Cruz thinks he's God or something, and we all thought he was too. He had the Bible memorized, and he had this plan for us to build a secure compound and live together and grow our own food. It felt good to believe in something and have a goal.”

“So you let them kill people and you sat by and didn't do anything about it?”

Jake looked down. “I know it's stupid. But I'm telling you the truth. By the time I got wise that he wasn't who he said he was, I knew they'd kill Benton and me both if either of us tried to get out. Plus Issie was getting involved where she shouldn't have, making a lot of people crazy, and I decided I'd better stay with them just to make sure they didn't get to her, 'cause you know they slashed her tires and they broke into her apartment and left a dead cat on her bed.
I
gave them the key and let them do it! I'm such a jerk!”

“Why didn't you call the police?” Nick asked.

“Because I was messed up,” he said. “And I was scared. And to tell you the truth, I was worried that I would be the one going to jail. I didn't know what would happen.”

“So your staying out of jail was more important than saving your aunt's life?” Nick asked. He could see the self-hatred on Jake's face.

“What can I say? I'm a coward. I admit it!”

Nick groaned and rubbed his eyes hard. He let out a heavy sigh. “At least you came now.”

“Well, it's not going to do her a lot of good if she's already dead,” Jake cried. He smeared his tears away. “How could I have trusted those guys? I knew they didn't care about anybody but themselves.”

“It wasn't a matter of trust,” Nick said. “It was a matter of you getting something out of it. You were having fun. You didn't have any restrictions on you. You had the freedom you thought you wanted. But just like all the freedoms we think we want, they wind up becoming a prison instead. You might have been trying to keep yourself out of jail, Jake, but you're in a cage as surely as if the police had put you there.”