Behind the Lies (A Montgomery Justice Novel) (34 page)

He forced his mind to calm and replayed the scene in his head, frame by frame, using every observation skill he’d ever learned—as an actor and an operative. “The walls were void of anything personal. The room was small, abandoned. I only saw the one chair.”

Luke pressed a button and leaned in.

The video played on his computer.

“You recorded it?” Zach bit, wanting to look away, but unable to stop staring. He pushed Jenna’s beautiful, pained eyes away and studied the surroundings. “Loop it. Turn the sound up.”

Luke complied. For several minutes they stared at the screen. It wasn’t long before Jazz and Gabe joined them.

She went directly to Zach and hugged him tight. “I’m so sorry.”

“Tell me what you see,” he said to the woman whose sniper eyes took in more details than Zach could fathom.

The video played again.

“I recognize the sound in the background,” Jazz said. “Train. I grew up not far from a set of tracks in New Mexico.”

Luke pulled up a Denver map on the laptop, clicking an icon to reveal the railroad lines crisscrossing the area.

“We need to narrow it down more. We can never cover that many square miles of territory,” Gabe said.

“Small house. Boarded up, abandoned,” Seth commented. “Wood. On the inside anyway.”

“Not enough to go on.” Zach’s gut ached. He rubbed his temples. This couldn’t be happening.
Not again.
Was he about to lose someone else he…loved?

Yes, damn it, he loved Jenna. And Sam.

And now, his life—his own actions—had come back to destroy everything.

First his father, now Jenna.

Zach straightened and thrust his hands through his hair. No. Not this time.

“We have to find them,” he said to his family. “We have to find a way.”

Seth placed a hand on his shoulder. “We will.” Gabe, Luke, and Jazz nodded in agreement. “We’ll get them back for you,” they vowed.

Zach clung to the long shot. He refused to accept he’d found Jenna and Sam only to lose them now.

The small room closed in on Jenna, and she couldn’t stop the chill invading her body.

Her captor closed the phone. “The fool will come. You are his weakness.”

The man was going to kill Zach. Of that Jenna had no doubt. Unless she got away.

“Why are you doing this?”

Her kidnapper didn’t respond. He left the house and returned with a squirming Sam in his arms. “Be quiet or I’ll stuff the rag back in her mouth,” their captor warned. He turned to Jenna. “You love your son?”

Jenna’s heart stuttered. “Of course.”

“You would do anything for him? Even kill?”

Jenna swallowed.

“Well, so would I.”

Sam whimpered.

The man’s phone rang. He stared at the screen, his mouth screwing in disgust. “Yes.”

He listened, then laughed. “I will not give you Khalid’s location, not until I return to my home…and my son.” He glanced at Jenna. “I will have completed my part of our bargain very soon.”

Oh God.
She had to warn Zach. She worked her wrists against the handcuffs, but they were too tight and cut into her flesh.

“Wait!” Dread laced the man’s voice. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Jenna froze.

Something had gone wrong.

He began pacing the room, back and forth, his movements jerky.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice low.

He dropped the phone to the floor and fell to his knees.

“Noooo!”

The tortured scream ricocheted through the room. Jenna shrank away from his crazed motions.

“It cannot be true. My son, my Hamed!” The man howled in torment, banging his head against the floor.

Sam sobbed, his little body rocking against the restraints that bound him to his chair. Jenna strained against the handcuffs, but it was no use. She couldn’t help her son.

“Shut up, you sniveling American brat!” he screeched. He threw the phone at Sam’s head.

He ducked. The device smashed against the wall.

Jenna’s entire body stilled in dread. Until now, her captor had been calm, businesslike. Now, his eyes were wild with pain. He shook, muttering and pacing the floor like a caged animal.

“My son can’t be dead. He can’t be. Have to call. Learn if it’s true.”

Wailing he picked up the pieces of the shattered phone, cradling them next to his face. “Hamed? Setara, what do I do?”

Their captor circled through the room, prowling. He slammed his fist into the wall, digging a hole into the flimsy wood. Finally he rounded on Jenna.

“Zane Morgan did this!”

Hatred flared in the man’s eyes. “The American must pay. He will feel my pain.”

The man gripped the stick at his side and pointed it at Jenna.

“You. He loves
you
. You must die as my sister did. As my son did.”

He crossed toward her and lifted the wood.

She shrank back as far as she could into her seat.

“Don’t hurt my Mommy!” Sam yelled.

The man whirled on her son. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

“Sam, be quiet. It will be OK,” Jenna whispered, praying she spoke the truth.

“That’s what I told Hamed. I lied,” her captor said. “Hamed
will
be avenged. Zane Morgan
will
know my pain.”

Her captor raised the stick. Jenna stared up at him. Frantic, she twisted her wrists in the handcuffs. The wood slammed down on her arm and she cried out.

He raised the wood again. “The liar will know my pain!”

Anna’s tears refused to dry. Even when she couldn’t cry more of them, they burned behind her eyes. John Garrison lay pale and still in the bed next to her chair.

He hadn’t so much as shifted since she’d convinced Caleb to wheel her to the hospital room over an hour ago. She
squinted at the sketch of John’s attacker on her lap. She shaded in the man’s hair. He seemed so unremarkable, but he’d almost killed John.

She clenched the pencil in her hand. If she’d even been a moment later…

The door swished open. “Mom,” Caleb said, his voice soft. “You need your rest. Let me take you to your room. You won’t do him any good here.”

She straightened and glanced over at her son, the doctor. “You’re wrong. We’re both calmer when we’re together.” She made a last few adjustments to the sketch, then smiled. It was him. “Get Nick. I’ve finished the sketch.”

Caleb hesitated.

“Right now, I don’t need a doctor as much as I need law enforcement. Your time will come again soon enough.”

Caleb nodded, leaving, then when he reentered the room with his twin, she handed Nick the drawing. “This is the man who tried to kill John.”

Nick glanced at the sketch and let out a soft whistle. “I’d forgotten how good an artist you are. I’ll make sure the cops get this right away.”

“Send Zach a copy, too,” Anna said. “I have a feeling—”

Caleb groaned. “Those feelings always get you into trouble, Mom.”

“No. Most of the time, my feelings tell me when you boys are in trouble.”

“I’ll send it right now.” Nick hurried from the room.

Caleb knelt by her chair. “Please. You need to rest. We thought we lost you,” he said softly. He examined her face. “None of us could stand that.”

“I need to be here.” Anna glanced over at John. “Medicine has done all it can for him. So have you. Now, I wait for John and God’s decision to be made.” She pulled the rosary beads from her pocket and worried them in her hands. “Please understand. I can’t leave yet.”

Caleb kissed her hair. “I know that stubborn expression all too well. I’ll give you another half hour, then you have to sleep. Doctor’s orders. You were hurt, too.”

She smiled at her son. “Yes, Doctor Montgomery.”

“Nick and I won’t leave either one of you alone. You’re safe,” he said. “I promise.”

“I know—and thank you.”

The door softly clicked closed. Anna clutched John’s hand. His eyes were closed, but his face had lost that grayish tinge that had terrified her when Caleb had first brought her into the room after she’d regained consciousness.

The heart monitor beeped steadily, its regular sound soothing.

She laid her head against his chest, feeling the sturdy thud of his heartbeat. “I thought I’d lost you. I was so scared. Please don’t leave me. Not when we just found each other.”

Fingertips fluttered against hers, the slightest of movements.

She stilled, holding her breath.

Please God, let it be.

He sighed and his hand squeezed hers. “Anna.”

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. His open, beautiful hazel eyes.

“John?” Her voice was choked through the emotions welling inside her throat. “John!”

She hugged him tight. He grunted in pain and she pulled back. “Sorry.”

He licked his lips. “Water,” he croaked.

She reached over to a cup of ice chips and fed him a spoonful.

John swallowed, then reached his hand to her face. “I’m sorry, Anna. I asked too many questions. Patrick. Something strange about his death. Didn’t…protect you…”

His halting words nearly broke her heart. Closing her eyes, she leaned into John’s warm touch, a touch she’d been afraid she’d never feel again. She turned his hand and kissed his palm. “I almost lost you. Do you remember what happened?”

“Bomb.”

“You saved my life,” she said. “I won’t leave you again, John Garrison.” She pressed the call button. “We’re going to be all right now, and I’m going to wrap you up so tightly and care for you so much…” Her voice broke.

His eyes fluttered opened.

“Love you,” he whispered. “My Anna.”

He squeezed her hand and closed his eyes, his breathing slow and steady.

“Oh, John. I think I could love you, too.”

Icy water splashed against Jenna’s face. She sputtered and immediately groaned. Pain, agony seared through her body.
The crazy man…oh God…where was Sam?

She heard no crying, no whimpering. She forced her eyes open.

Her son stared at her, tears streaming down his face, utterly silent, his body frozen. She blinked at him, but he didn’t move.

Her captor chuckled. “The boy knows when to be quiet, like my Hamed. He doesn’t want to die.”

Jenna tried to smile at her son, to give him comfort from across the room. She had to get Sam out of here.

She struggled to think past the pain. Her captor had hit her and hit her and hit her, again and again and again. Each time he struck he invoked the name Setara, his murdered sister.

“Wake up!” he yelled, throwing more water in her face. “We are not finished.” He grabbed her hair and yanked it back. “You have no courage. Not like Setara. She went through the fires of hell on earth before they killed her. So shall you.”

Jenna swallowed and licked her cracked lips, swollen from his fists. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

“Yes. Beg. Like my sister begged. To no avail.”

The man leaned in and grabbed her chin. “Beg me,” he said. “Me, Farzam. Beg me for your life.”

He ran his palm across her face, then pulled his bloodstained hand away. He walked to Sam and smeared her blood across her son’s cheek. “Beg for your son’s life—as I couldn’t beg for mine.”

“Farzam, let my son live. Please. I’ll do anything you want.”

“Say it again. Louder.”