them to lives of hard labor and imprisonment all over the United States. When Bryan uncovered a slave labor factory in Spokane, his investigation led him to Tyler Mason who owned a home and a business in Discovery. In an effort to take down Mason, he’d requested a transfer five months ago.
But then a key witness had disappeared, and the case had fallen apart. And now, the department didn’t want to expend any more time or manpower on what seemed like a battle they couldn’t win.
Gritting his teeth, he studied the landscape. A dust cloud on the road below indicated that a vehicle was headed toward Bridger Lake. Unusual to see people out here, considering how high the fire danger was. The metal of the car glinted in the late afternoon sun.
Bryan drew the binoculars back up to his face, watching as a man got out of the driver’s side and opened the back door. A moment later, a woman jumped out. Bryan’s back stiffened. The man grabbed the woman from behind, but she twisted away, running into the forest. The driver and a second man chased after her.
Bryan’s heart pounded as he scanned the area, trying to get a clear view of what was going on. At this distance, it was hard to tell, but nothing about the interaction seemed friendly.
Finally, he spotted all three of them in the clearing by the lake.
He watched the man push the woman forward. The binoculars shook as Bryan focused in on the action. He was too far away to see clearly and the angle was all wrong, but it looked like the woman’s hands were tied behind her back. He couldn’t be sure.
He adjusted the focus hoping to see more. No luck. The woman’s long brown hair hid her face as she trudged forward with her head down. Then just before the three of them disappeared into the trees, one of the men reached into the back of his waistband. Sunshine shone against the metal of the gun.
His breath hitched. They were going to shoot her.
Bryan dropped the binoculars as adrenaline surged through his body. The most direct route to the woman was straight down the nearly ninety-degree mountain, a hard five-to seven-minute run on rocky terrain to the lake where the armed men had parked. It was the only chance he had of getting there on time. Hiking out to his truck and then taking the circuitous route on logging roads would take an hour or more.
He regretted having turned in his police issue Glock, but the forest service provided a rifle in case of bear attacks. He grabbed it and bolted out the door and down the narrow metal stairs of the tower.
Holding the rifle with both hands, he scrambled down the mountainside. Rocks rolled in the wake of his hurried footsteps. No clear trail came into view. He’d grown up camping in these mountains and had developed pretty accurate radar for finding his way. He knew where the road connected to the lake, but would he get there in time?
As he ran, he listened for the crack of a gun being fired breaking through the thick August air. Silence surrounded him. Did that mean the woman was still alive?
He jumped over a boulder. The terrain became steeper, and he dug his heels in. His foot caught on a root and flung him forward. The rifle flew from his hands, clattering to a stop on a sheer cliff some twenty feet down. He could maneuver around the cliff, but there was no time to climb down and retrieve the rifle.
He forged ahead, praying that he’d be in time. He worked his way through the thick trees seeking an open path.
Bryan stopped, blood freezing in his veins when a gunshot shattered the serenity of the forest.
TWO
From the moment she’d pulled the mask off one of her abductors, Sarah had sensed that the hours of her life were numbered. Now as they dragged her deeper into the forest, she knew she was nearing the end. The men were not bothering with the masks anymore. Clear evidence that she wasn’t coming out of this forest alive.
One of the men—the muscular one with the deep voice—pushed hard on her back. “Where is he?”
They still hadn’t given up their line of questioning. Some sort of last-ditch effort to get the information they’d kidnapped her for in the first place. Their desperation and rage had escalated since her second escape attempt.
She spoke between gasps. “I...don’t...know...where my brother is.” Her wrists hurt from where the rope cut into her skin. This time they’d made sure her bindings were tight.
Deep Voice grabbed her hair, pulled her close and hissed in her ear. “You’re his sister.” He shoved her forward. “You should know.”
Sarah stumbled from the force of the push. “He doesn’t have a phone. He lives all over the place.” Though she and her brother had been raised in foster care together, their lives had gone in very different directions. The last time she’d seen Crew, he had not been in good shape. He was sober, but rail-thin and shaking, probably from withdrawal.
“He talks about you,” said the second kidnapper, a skinny man with acne scars whose eyes were still red from his dose of pepper spray. His words made Sarah frown. How well did Crew know these men? How had he gotten mixed up with people who were so clearly dangerous?
“I’m telling you, I haven’t seen him in a month, and I don’t know how to get in touch with him.”
“You’re lying.” Deep Voice grabbed her arm at the elbow and swung her around, which made the rope dig even deeper into her wrist. “Where have you hidden him?”
She lowered her head and angled away from the criminal. “I’m not hiding him. Why won’t you believe me?”
“You’ve got thirty seconds to tell me.” She heard the slide on a gun click back. Even under the threat of death, she couldn’t tell them. Why wouldn’t they believe her?
“Yeah, stop protecting him.” Acne Scars grabbed her shoulder and pushed her to the ground. She landed on her knees.
“Twenty seconds,” said Deep Voice.
The menacing tone in his voice told her that he would have no qualms about shooting her.
Sarah closed her eyes. Oh, God, please take me quickly.
“Ten seconds.”
Her whole body shook and she tasted bile. “I don’t know where he is.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m telling you the truth.”
Please, God, send help. I don’t want to die.
“Ten. Nine.”
“You got anything to say?” said Acne Scars.
She shook her head. A cry rose up in her throat. “No, I can’t tell you where he is because I don’t know.” Her stomach somersaulted. She couldn’t contain her anguish. “Please believe me.”
“Six. Five. Four.”
As she leaned forward, every muscle in her body tensed. Tears formed. “Please.”
“Three. Two. One.”
She lurched at the boom of the gunshot as her body went rigid. No pain came. She took in a ragged breath.
She heard Deep Voice’s harsh
