No Going Back

19

‘You’d better not be dead, goddamnit! Now answer me, Sammy.’

I had made it back to the junk pile unhindered. Now, peering across at the ranch, I was tempted to take out the radio and reply to Carson Logan as he grew more frantic by the second. For the last few minutes he’d been calling out regularly, and his tone had gone from one of slight concern to one of anger. That was good, because he wouldn’t be thinking straight. His cousin’s silence was helping to both demoralise and confuse his own search.

I could hear the pick-up truck out there in the desert but couldn’t see it. There was too much dust in the air as the afternoon began to slip towards evening and the wind started to kick up again. The acoustics were still hit and miss and occasionally I couldn’t pinpoint the direction of the truck, but it was still behind me. Since he’d disappeared among the ravines I’d had no sign of Samuel. Part of me hoped a rattler had bitten him, or he’d fallen and smashed his skull on a rock, while another part looked forward to a rematch. My only worry was that he’d actually returned to the house and was now inside, preparing to move the girls as soon as the older cousin returned. I had to plan for two men at the house, which could cause me major problems if they each held one of the girls when I entered. Not to mention that both Samuel and Brent had assuredly armed themselves by now. Best-case scenario would be if Samuel was still out there trying to pick up my and Jay’s trail and Brent was still oblivious to the danger. I wouldn’t know how things would play out while crouching there listening to Carson’s rant over the radio, and the longer I waited, the greater their chances of returning before I got moving. I resisted the amateurish temptation to taunt him, knowing that would only bring him back here at speed.

Before moving on the ranch, I gave the gun a cursory inspection and found everything in order. Jay had test-fired it for me, so I knew that it was a reliable piece. I positioned fresh shells in my pockets for easy access. Then I advanced, moving in a crouch for the outbuildings. Even if Samuel had made it back, there was nothing like the present for a rapid assault on the ranch while even he would think that Jay and I were still running in the opposite direction.

Earlier, Carson had commanded his son to guard the others, waving him back inside off the porch, so it was a good bet that both girls were inside the house. The outbuildings didn’t require checking for hostages, but I still wanted to scope them out. The first was a barn that hadn’t seen livestock in a generation, but what I found was very troubling. A huge table that weighed more than I did — perhaps more than I would with my big friend Rink on my shoulders — dominated the centre of the space. Trailing from one leg was a length of rusty chain with a robust dog collar on the end. The food bowl, spoon and bucket left untouched beside it told me that the chain hadn’t held a mutt.

Moving on I checked out another shed, this one a three-sided structure, with a tin roof and a large board jammed at the front to act as a door. Through a gap between the planks I found what I was expecting, and that was even more troubling than the barn where women had been leashed. Frowning, I headed for the house, thinking now that just maybe there was more to this than I’d originally suspected. I hoped I was wrong, but it was imperative that I act and get Nicole and Ellie the hell away.

From across the wide basin I heard the pick-up return through the pass. At this distance I couldn’t see it, but Carson was talking on the radio again. ‘I’m going back to where I dropped you off, Sammy. If you can hear me, git your ass back there and I’ll pick you up. I think we’d better git a move on and prepare for some unwelcome company.’

The cowboy was beginning to think straight, but little did he know he’d just offered me a huge advantage. He’d no idea that Jay had escaped in a vehicle, and would be returning with the police, though not immediately. He thought the woman was on foot, and if she could make it across the desert safely it would still be many hours before she could raise help. He was going to waste valuable time waiting for Samuel to rendezvous with him, by which point I planned on being in and out again. If and when he came back to the house it would be with the intention of mounting some kind of damage limitation, more probably to plan a getaway, and he wouldn’t expect an armed man to be waiting for him. As long as he didn’t hook up with his cousin he’d remain ignorant of my presence until it was too late.

Ifs and whens: not something you could rely on.

I ran across the yard, heading for the back of the house where there was a door but no windows. Plan A was to crash through the door and shoot any man inside. Plan B was more sensible. I couldn’t count on the fact that Brent hadn’t prepared for such an assault and had placed the girls in front of him, so I had to check what to expect before going in. It didn’t rain here that often, and the caulking between the boards had been neglected for the last few years, so I found plenty of places to peer into the house. What I first looked upon was an untidy bedroom with two sets of bunks piled with dingy blankets and stained pillows. Soiled underwear lay piled in one corner, alongside dusty boots and a denim jacket on a peg. A crooked picture frame hung from a nail, but over time the painting had slipped and it now hung askew showing empty space between it and the frame at the top left corner. So the Logans weren’t art lovers. I moved on to the door itself, careful not to set my feet too hard on the wooden stoop. I couldn’t see through the door, but from within filtered the low buzz of voices in muted conversation. I couldn’t discern the individual voices, so wasn’t positive that it was the girls whispering together or if in fact Samuel had returned and was making plans with his cousin.

Continuing to the right, I again found a chink in the wall, and this time could make out a kitchen, replete with a pot sink and hand pump faucet. Dirty dishes were stacked on a draining board, but only enough to have been used during one meal. I could just make out the corner of a stove, and to the other side a table and chairs, and directly across from me a window overlooking the front porch. There was no movement, and the voices were quieter here. If things didn’t change in the next minute, that would place Brent and the girls at the front left corner of the house.

Returning to the door, I tried the handle. Bingo! The door swung open. I controlled it, teasing it an inch at a time so that it didn’t make a noise and alert anyone to my presence. Opening inward, left to right, it compromised my gun hand somewhat, so I had to stand well to the left jamb while opening the door. I continued pushing as the gap widened, making sure that no one was hiding behind the door by pressing it all the way against the wall it abutted at the hinges. The wind was still blowing and a gust chose then to dance its way inside. I could only hope that Brent wasn’t perceptive enough to notice the change in pressure and correlate it to an invasion of the house. In case he did, I moved quickly after the breeze, bringing up my gun.

To form the bunk room, an interior wall had been erected opposite a similar one that partitioned off the kitchen, so I moved through a short hallway. The air inside was rank: the stench of spoiled food, spilled alcohol, and unwashed bodies blended together. I breathed through my mouth. A threadbare rug softened my footfalls. Over my own movements I heard a thump, followed by the shifting of a body on floorboards. A voice snapped, ‘How many times have I to tell you to shut the hell up? If I have to come over there I’ll bust both your heads.’

Something else followed Brent’s warning that I hadn’t expected. There was a high-pitched squeak followed by a rising and falling wail, then a buzz. Brent was trying to get a CB radio working, and didn’t seem to be having much joy. Perhaps he was trying to patch into what his father and Samuel were saying over their walkie-talkies, which boded well for me because it meant Samuel hadn’t returned yet. Also, his warning revealed that both girls were in the same room as him.

I chose to step directly into the living space, my gun twisting towards the static shriek emitted by the CB radio.

What I saw made ice flood my veins and I’d no second thoughts about shooting Brent Logan.

Both girls were there, Nicole and Ellie, sitting side by side like conjoined twins in the corner of the room, a rope fixed between their ankles so they’d have to walk in unison. Otherwise they were as naked as babies, and that’s what infuriated me the most. It was a probability that their bodies had been violated, a sick enough thought, but the Logans had gone further than that and sought to humiliate them by constantly parading their nudity.

There was an ounce of me that wanted questions, primarily why the Logans had done this, but the rest of my being screamed for vengeance for these girls, and also the ones I’d been too late to save. If Brent hadn’t already started to rise at my sudden appearance I would have ordered him to stand, because before he died I wanted to shoot off his balls.

As it was, the young man came up with startling speed and made a grab for something propped next to the CB base station. It was the stock of a sawn-off shotgun. Hanging from his mouth was the white paper stick of a lollipop. In the dim light it was a flag to the business end of my gun. I aimed and fired, the gun bucking in recoil.

The remains of Brent’s lollipop flew across the room and landed at the feet of the girls, who both flinched back, emitting squeals of horror. Not so much at the sight of the lollipop as at the chunk of lip that adhered to it.

Brent fell over backwards, upsetting the chair he’d been sitting in, and crashing against a low couch with sunken cushions. He wasn’t dead and was trying to scream in protest, but it was difficult with half his lower jaw missing. I felt a savage sense of justice uncommon to me, knowing that he must be insane with agony, and tempered my next shot so that he continued to suffer a little longer. Normally I take no satisfaction in killing, but for what he’d forced these girls to endure, I gladly made an exception. I shot him square in the gut.

Coming from a Special Forces background, I preferred a lower calibre shell than the .357s I used here. When conducting hostage rescues the last thing you wanted was for your bullet to pass through the bad guy and kill their prisoner behind them. In the heat of the moment I’d forgotten about that, but Brent was well away from the girls, so the bullet just went into the cushions. As he rolled to the floor, I saw a huge open wound in his back. Nevertheless the man wasn’t dead yet and he was still gripping the shotgun. No way could he bring it on me, but it was aimed at the girls. I couldn’t take the chance he’d get off a shot so put him out of his misery far too soon for my liking. My bullet almost split his skull in two, leaving bloodied tendrils of his straw-like hair jutting out of the wound.

Hurrying over, I plucked the shotgun from his grasp. His finger was twisted through the trigger guard but pulled loose and allowed his arm to drop lifeless to the floor. I stood, looking around quickly to check that nobody had followed me into the room. The girls were horrified at my appearance, but there was also a note of hope in their gaze.

‘I’m a friend. Don’t be afraid, I’m here to help you.’

There was a knife on the table near to the CB radio. I retrieved it, having jammed the S&W into my belt. As I approached the two young women they flinched, grabbing at each other. I decided on a new tactic. ‘I’m a friend of Jay Walker. I’m here to get you both free.’

Nicole Challinor was slight of build, but there was no denying she was all woman: on the contrary Ellie was still a child in my eyes and it made my skin crawl to view her nakedness. I felt dirty approaching them the way I did, but there was nothing for it. I crouched, then split the rope binding them together with one yank of the blade. It seemed that Jay’s name did the trick of winning over Nicole, just as mentioning Jay’s dad had for her. She stood up, unabashed by her state of undress, and reached back to help the younger girl off the floor. ‘I told you everything would turn out fine,’ she said to Ellie. Then, with Ellie held in her arms, Nicole said to me, ‘Is she safe? Did Jay make it?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘She’s safe.’

‘Where is she? The men discovered that she’d escaped from the hole and were chasing her.’

‘She’s safe,’ I repeated, as I ducked and secreted the knife inside my boot. ‘She’s in my car and already on her way to the police.’

The expression that descended over Nicole’s face took me by surprise. Her eyes welled with tears and she sobbed. Something in the look told me it wasn’t entirely in relief.