Worth Dying For (A Slaughter Creek Novel) (24 page)

“Bunch of freaks,” the warden said. “Roper’s been tough on the inmates, but that goes with the job.”

“I need to talk to him.”

The warden punched his intercom and requested that his receptionist page Roper.

“While we wait on him,” Jake said, “check and see if a man named Brian Castor visited the Commander.” He might have come to find out about Jeremy.

“As I’ve said before, the only visitors he had were you and your brother, the prison shrink, and the cops and feds on the list.”

Jake stewed over that. “All right. Can you check and see if Castor visited anyone else? Maybe he communicated with the Commander through another inmate.”

“I suppose that’s possible.” The warden clicked a few keys on his computer, then pulled at his chin. “Says here that he saw an inmate named Harvey Yates.”

“I want to question him.”

The warden released an exasperated breath. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“Why not?”

“He’s dead. Was stabbed during the prison breakout.”

Jake silently cursed. “My father, cleaning up after himself.”

A knock sounded on the door, and the warden yelled, “Come in.”

Roper entered, his brows furrowing when he saw Jake. “Blackwood?”

“Hello, Chet,” Jake said.

Roper looked back and forth between the warden and Jake, but showed no reaction. “What’s going on?”

“Sit down,” the warden said. “Sheriff Blackwood needs to ask you some questions.”

Roper folded his big arms. “What about?”

“Do you know Brian Castor?”

“No—should I?”

“I think he might have communicated with Blackwood through another prisoner.”

“That’d be news to me.”

“What happened the day of the prison break?”

“I’ve already been through this a dozen times,” Roper said. “It was chaos. Commander Blackwood stabbed Yates and then got away.”

The warden shoved the file Jake had given him toward Roper. “Sheriff Blackwood found posts you made to a group called SFTF.”

“What I do on my own time is my business,” Roper said, his tone clipped.

“Not if you’re selling guns, or if you helped Arthur Blackwood escape.”

Roper’s eyes flared with distress. “That website simply promotes free speech. That’s not against the law.”

“Fostering paranoia and pushing conspiracy theories is dangerous,” Jake said.

“And teaching young boys to shoot and think like guerilla soldiers is wrong.”

“What’s wrong is our country coddling kids while other countries prepare them to defend themselves and their fellow citizens from attack.”

Jake hated the mindset of people like Roper. But he couldn’t arrest the man without evidence he’d committed a crime.

His phone buzzed, signaling a text from Rafe.

Trace on Nick’s phone came through. The GPS coordinates are for the SFTF compound
.

If Nick was there, and not answering his phone, he had to be in trouble.

“My brother, Nick, went to talk to your group,” Jake said. “He hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”

Tension vibrated in the room as Roper’s hands tightened around the edge of his chair.

“Come on, Roper.” Jake stood and gripped Roper’s arm. “You’re going to help me get my brother back.”

Rafe was still contemplating why Castor would help the Commander escape as he and Liz ate an early dinner. They hadn’t bothered with lunch, waiting until they got back to Slaughter Creek to eat.

Tech had also called in the trace on Mazie’s phone. They’d located it, but when the deputy went to check it out, he found the phone had been left in a Dumpster at a gas station.

“There’s no way Castor would have helped the Commander escape,” Liz said.

“Not unless he helped him escape so he could kill him.”

“That could be true,” Liz said. “But he probably just wanted to know whether his brother was in the experiment.”

Rafe’s phone buzzed, and he tossed some cash on the table to pay the bill as he answered it. “Hood.”

Liz excused herself to go to the restroom while Jake explained that he was at the prison.

“If Nick went to the compound to snoop around, they may have taken him hostage.”

“Any luck at the prison?”

“Just that Chet Roper, an ex-soldier who works as a prison guard, may have helped the Commander, but I have no proof. I’m bringing him with me to the compound.”

“I’ll meet you for backup.”

“Thanks. We’ll connect at my office and go from there.”

Rafe hung up just as Liz returned. “That was Jake. We traced Nick’s phone to the militia compound in the mountains. Jake thinks Nick’s in trouble, and I’m going to provide backup.”

Liz tossed her purse over her shoulder. “Then let’s go.”

Rafe caught her arm as they stepped outside. “Jake and I are going to handle this.”

Liz’s pulse quickened. “But you need me, Rafe. If Nick’s in trouble, I can help.”

A muscle ticked in Rafe’s jaw as they walked to his SUV. “No way. It’s too dangerous.”

Steam emanated from Liz’s glare. “I’m not a rookie, Rafe. I’m a seasoned agent. Your partner.”

“I know that, but this militia group is made up of men. Angry, belligerent, violent men.”

Liz’s face fell. “Rafe, you can’t keep treating me like I’m not a professional.”

The thought of one of those men putting his hands on Liz made Rafe’s stomach knot. He knew he was being selfish. Sexist. But Liz had been beaten and nearly murdered by one crazy man. He couldn’t take the chance of her being caught by a group of them.

Liz slammed the door to her house, furious at Rafe. As soon as they solved this case, she would request a new partner.

She’d thought she could earn Rafe’s respect again, but obviously it was futile. Rafe would never see her as anything but a weak female who’d screwed up the last case.

He didn’t trust her to back him up. And partners had to have trust, above anything else.

She flipped on the news to listen to while she studied her notes, not surprised to find Brenda Banks giving an update.

“Senator Stowe’s death is now under investigation. Police are also looking for this woman, Mazie Paulsen”—the camera cut to a photo of the middle-aged nurse—“who worked at Slaughter Creek Sanitarium. At this point Ms. Paulsen is missing. Blood was found in her abandoned car as well as at her residence, leading police to suspect foul play. If you have any information regarding her disappearance, please contact the police.”

Liz’s cell phone buzzed. An unknown number. She pressed
ANSWER
. “Agent Liz Lucas.”

“I have information about your case.”

Liz tensed. The voice sounded disguised. “Who is this?”

“Meet me at Smoky’s on Union Road.”

“Tell me your name—” But the caller hung up before Liz could finish the sentence.

For a brief second she considered phoning Rafe for backup, but he’d made it clear how he felt about her going with him and Jake to find Nick.

She’d check this lead out on her own.

She grabbed her purse and weapon, then hurried outside, surveying the driveway as she climbed in, just in case someone was watching her. Everything seemed quiet tonight.

Maybe too quiet.

She slid into her car and drove toward Union Road, well aware that the barbeque pit was off the beaten path and that she might be walking into a trap. Judging from the vehicles in the parking lot, it was a popular truck stop and biker joint.

She tugged her jacket around her, one hand jammed in her pocket, fingers wrapped around her gun as she entered. A group of bikers were playing pool in the back, while several truckers chowed down on barbeque plates. The place reeked of beer, sweat, mesquite, and smoke, but she knew some of the dives had the best food in the mountains.

Not knowing who to look for, she assumed the caller would find her, so she took a barstool at the counter. The waitress narrowed her eyes as Liz sat down, then slid a folded scrap of paper in front of Liz.

Liz opened it and read the scrawled writing. “Back booth in the corner.”

She stuffed the note into her pocket, then wove through the throng of bikers, ignoring the leers and whistles. By the time she reached the back booth, she was sweating. Her nerves intensified when she noticed that the booth was near a back entrance.

A good place to sneak out—or abduct someone.

Fingers gripping the gun inside her pocket, she moved closer, then claimed the booth and waited.

Chapter Twenty-Five

L
iz clenched her teeth as a woman eased into the seat across from her.

She wore dark glasses, a blond wig, western clothes, and big hoop earrings. A Dolly Parton look-alike.

“Thank you for coming,” the woman said in a whisper.

“Who are you?”

The woman lifted the dark glasses enough for Liz to see her face.

It was Mazie.

She was alive.

“Were you followed?”

“No,” Liz said. “What’s going on? The police have been looking for you. We thought you were dead.”

“I know. I had to do that, make everyone think I was gone, to save myself.” Mazie angled her body to hide her face from the patrons in the bar.

Liz leaned closer. “Someone’s after you?”

Mazie nodded, but stayed silent until the waitress had stopped to ask for their orders.

Liz ordered a beer to keep from standing out in the crowd. “Who?” she asked when the waitress had left.

Mazie fiddled with the salt shaker. “I’m not sure—probably people working for Commander Blackwood.”

“You worked with him on the experiments?”

“No,” Mazie said emphatically. “When Amelia Nettleton was accused of killing her grandfather, I put it all together.” She looked miserable. “Then the senator was murdered right there in the hospital, and I was terrified I’d be next.”

“What is it you know that would get you killed?”

Mazie rubbed her forehead. “When I was feeding the senator one day, he was talking out of his head. I figured it was the medication, but he rambled on about there being more subjects than the police thought.”

“You mean more than seven?”

Mazie nodded.

“Who are they?” Liz asked.

Mazie shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s been so long ago. They were just children then. I don’t know if I’d even recognize them as adults.”

“Did you ask the senator?”

“Yes, but he became agitated and incoherent after that.”

Liz stewed over that information. “Loggins gave us a file with a list of the subjects. We suspect that the sixth subject, the only one unaccounted for, is the Dissector.”

Mazie adjusted her glasses as a chunky man in jeans and a flannel shirt walked by and stared at them. “That’s possible.”

“Do you know how many more?” Liz asked.

Mazie shook her head again.

Liz swallowed hard. That meant there wasn’t just one subject missing. More were unaccounted for. How many more?

Mazie worried her bottom lip with her teeth, then clutched Liz’s hand. “Now I’ve told you all I know, can you help me?”

Rafe and Jake checked their weapons as they parked beside Nick’s car near the compound.

“This proves Nick came here,” Jake said.

But he hadn’t left. Not a good sign.

Nick glanced inside the car, but everything seemed normal.

Roper growled his protests at being forced to accompany them, but Rafe had given him a choice of cooperating or being arrested for aiding and abetting the prison escape. Rafe had relieved him of his gun and his phone, so he couldn’t warn the group they were coming.

Still, Jake handcuffed Roper to keep him from trying to run ahead.

Night had fallen. The ground was frozen under the earlier hail and snow, and wind lashed through the trees, making the branches sway. Rafe and Jake used flashlights to pick out a trail. The silence was broken only by their footsteps and the occasional rustle of animals scurrying through the forest.

They came to a place where the path split in two. Rafe poked Roper in the back with his gun. “Which way?”

Roper gestured to the right, and Jake led the way, Rafe bringing up the rear, with Roper between them. They reached a barbed wire fence, finding a section that had been cut.

“Must have been where Nick snuck through,” Jake said.

After they’d trudged on another two miles, Jake pointed up a hill to a clearing. Rafe spotted some buildings and campsites, but the place appeared to be deserted.

No trucks or jeeps were parked anywhere in the camp, either.

“Damn,” Jake said. “It looks like they packed up and left.”

Rafe nudged Roper with the barrel of his gun again. “You warned them, didn’t you?”

“I told ’em not to kill the agent. That would only bring heat.”

“So you knew he had my brother?” Jake confronted Roper, his face menacing.

“He trespassed,” Roper said. “He shoulda left us alone.”

Jake jerked Roper by the collar and pressed his gun to his temple. “Did they kill my brother?”

Outside, the wind howled and tree limbs swayed as Liz hurried toward her car. She had promised Mazie she’d talk to her superiors about getting her into WITSEC. Brenda could run the story about Mazie’s murder as a cover.

But she had to talk to Rafe about the plan and tell him what she’d learned. Meanwhile, Mazie needed to lay low.

Still, Liz phoned Brenda and left a message, asking her to meet her. Her phone buzzed just as she ended the call, and she clicked to connect.

“Agent Lucas, this is Maddison. I ran that comparison on the blood found on Ester Banning and the sample from the Lintell murder, like you asked.”

“
And?”

“It was a match. Both had the same altered genetic makeup.”

That meant that whoever killed Rusty Lintell had also killed Ester. Only he hadn’t taken any organs from Lintell. For some reason, he’d added that to his MO later.

Liz thanked Maddison, then ended the call, eager to tell Rafe. Footsteps crunched behind her, and she fumbled with her keys, anxious to get into the safety of her car.

Suddenly someone grabbed her from behind. She tried to swing around to fight, but a crackling pop sounded, and something zapped her neck.

A stun gun.

Her body convulsed as wave after wave of voltage jolted through her.

Liz stirred from unconsciousness, her body throbbing. She opened her eyes, but wherever she was, it was so dark that she couldn’t see anything.

At least she was moving.

She struggled to sit up, but her legs and arms were bound, secured so tightly that the circulation in her hands and legs was being cut off. Or maybe she was still numb from the stun gun.

The stun gun—that was the Dissector’s MO.

God . . . he had her.

She had to find a way to escape.

The vehicle she was in bounced over ruts in the road, jarring her teeth. Gears ground, the car shaking, indicating that it was a five-speed and that the shocks were worn out.

She tried to scream, but duct tape covered her mouth.

Her mind raced. She had to stay cool. Figure out where he was taking her. How long she’d been in the car. How far they’d traveled.

She strained, listening for clues. Other cars? No . . . a train? Airplane?

Tears pushed at the backs of her eyelids, but she blinked them away. No time to cry. She had to think. . . .

No. He wouldn’t take her to the Smokies. The Dissector wanted attention. He had left all his previous victims in Slaughter Creek so the town would know he’d killed again.

Although she didn’t fit his normal victimology, he probably thought she was getting too close. He’d needed to stop her from exposing him.

The car bounced again, vibrating as he switched gears. Maybe they were crossing a railroad track.

Her ears popped, a sign that they were climbing. But there was no telling how long she’d been unconscious. He could have left Slaughter Creek and be deep into the Smokies by now.

Miles of forest and nothingness. No one would find her there.

Rafe handcuffed Roper to the fence and gestured to Jake. “Let’s check out all the buildings. Maybe Nick’s inside, or maybe we’ll find something to indicate where the camp moved.”

Jake’s dark look mirrored Rafe’s thoughts. If Nick was inside, he was probably dead. If the group was as smart as he expected, though, they might have buried him to cover their tracks.

Or taken him with them.

Although the place looked deserted, they both pulled their weapons, braced to fire in case a couple of the militants had been left behind to ambush them.

Jake went to check the two smaller buildings while Rafe inched up to the main building. He eased inside, noting the concrete floors, bare tables, and walls on which marks indicated that whatever had been hanging there had been hurriedly ripped off—probably bulletin boards and whiteboards holding information for training sessions.

He combed through the main room, searching cabinets and then moving to the other rooms off the hall. More meeting rooms, he guessed, or bedrooms, although the space had been literally stripped of everything.

Frustrated, he stepped back outside. Jake was coming out of the neighboring building, his face grim. Sensing that Jake had found something, Rafe went to join him.

“Nothing in the main building. Place has been cleaned out.”

“The outbuildings are empty. But I found blood in the last one.” Jake wiped sweat from his forehead. “There are also signs that they tortured Nick.”

“They probably took him with them.”

Jake rubbed his head again. “The last thing they’d want is to take a fed with them.”

Rafe considered his comment. “Then let’s keep looking. Most of these camps have built-in shelters and escape tunnels, in case they’re attacked.”