Sudden Death

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Megan was jolted into consciousness by waves of pain radiating from her right foot. Her entire body spasmed, then she went limp like a rag doll. She had no energy. No strength. Both her feet throbbed as if they were buried in burning coals. It was all she could do to open her eyes.

“Much better!” Karin said. “I don’t like it when you get tired. It’s no fun. And if it’s not fun for me, I’ll just kill you.”

Megan worked her mouth, but no sound came out. She was so tired. She tried to look at the clock, but the red numbers were a blur. She squinted and still couldn’t see them. She thought it was still dark outside, but she didn’t know if an hour had passed or a full day.

“You know, I thought you had potential. I thought you understood. But you’re a people pleaser. Teacher’s pet. Hans liked you better because you fawned over him, you told him how smart he was, it was sick. I thought you had a thing for him, then I realized that you had replaced your father. No one could replace my father. Certainly not Hans. I was really sad when he had to die.”

Megan couldn’t have heard that right. Hans? Dead? No. “Wh-at?” she squeezed out of her raw throat.

“He read my diary. Asshole.”

She wasn’t talking about Hans. She was talking about her father.

“He wanted to send me to a shrink. I couldn’t- not then. I didn’t have the shields up. My mother always told me never to write anything down. I had them hidden, but he found them. I hated it when she was right.”

Karin had killed her father. It made sense, a very sick, logical sense. Yet-she’d been only twelve when he died. “H-how?” Megan asked.

“It was raining. I had the poor road conditions going for me. It was really stupid, but I was young. See this scar here?” She pulled down the collar of her T-shirt and pointed to a faded white scar-thin, about three inches long. “Piece of metal hit me in the neck. But I was young, I wasn’t thinking, I thought because I had my seat belt on and he didn’t … Well, it still worked and I was only in the hospital for a couple days. I think that was the first time my mom was actually proud of me. Maybe the only time.” Her voice trailed off.

Megan’s stomach rolled. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing about Karin’s sick family. Her mother knew that Karin was violent? That she’d killed her father? Condoned it?

“I’ve hated you for a long time, but never more than when you had me fired.”

“You tried to kill me!”

“See, that’s the thing. They didn’t even believe you! But they still fired me. I had to play this emotionally strung out depressed nervous wreck just to prove I didn’t shoot poor Meggie Elliott on purpose. I hate you for that. I hate you for being such a goody two-shoes, a premium saint. You know, there’s nothing wrong with executions, with or without a righteous judge. And I had hope for you, but you started investigating me. Looking into my life. My family. No. Not allowed! You crossed the line, and I had to take care of it.

“But,” she continued, “I do owe you one. A small one. I finally had the courage to take care of my mother. That fucking bitch was a thorn in my side for years, but when she-” Karin spun around and Megan couldn’t see her face. “She went too far,” Karin said, her voice low. “Just like Ethan.”

“The police.” Megan swallowed. “They thought it was suicide.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t too hard. A few pills to make her sleepy, a running car in a closed garage, a note on the computer … the only thing I regret is I couldn’t do this to her.”

Karin stuck in a needle and, although it hurt, it didn’t hit a nerve.

Karin frowned at the needle and threw it across the room. Took a deep breath, calmed herself, squeezed her hands open and shut. Megan watched the process, wanted to keep Karin talking because that seemed to distract her so she couldn’t concentrate. The reprieve gave Megan time to regather her strength and time for someone to find her.

“I don’t understand.” Megan tried to relax. She was so cold she couldn’t feel her fingers or toes. “Why did you have to kill your mother because of me?”

“It’s called planning. First, I wanted her dead. I had been trying to figure out a way to do it for years, but I didn’t want to be caught. Nothing worked, or there was too great a risk to me. Then you started investigating me, and all of a sudden, the plan unfolded.

“See, you always need an out, a Plan B. A Plan C doesn’t hurt, either. My Plan A was to put you in the line of fire and have a bad guy take you down. With my help but his gun. But if that didn’t work I might go to prison. Sure, I thought you’d be dead, and prison is not ideal, but I was willing to risk it. Then I thought-wait, Plan B. If my mom commits suicide and I don’t talk about it, start acting a bit different, but not strange enough to get myself committed, then if something went wrong and it was my gun that killed you, I could claim emotional distress. I might lose my job, but most likely I wouldn’t. Maybe administrative leave and counseling, then I’d be back. But you testified against me. You had me fired.”

There was a sick and twisted logic in her reasoning. Megan felt ill from more than the pain and cold.

Karin picked up another needle and held it in front of Megan’s face. She tried not to show fear, but it was impossible. She’d never been this scared in her life.

The needle twirled in Karin’s fingers. Megan couldn’t stop staring at it, shaking, half-frozen, pained and panicked. The anticipation of pain was almost as emotionally devastating as the pain itself.

Karin pressed the needle gently against Megan’s chest without puncturing the skin. Using it like a pen, she moved it down Megan’s body.

Megan had thought Karin hadn’t cut into her, but a long, thin red line oozed out of a hairline incision.

Down her stomach, her right calf. Megan shook uncontrollably. Karin brought the needle slowly down to the backside of her knee and then poked.

Megan screamed in a voice so hoarse she thought she might lose it forever.

But she wouldn’t need her voice if she was dead.

Karin inserted a needle behind her other knee. Megan saw bright stars, then nothing at all.

J.T. and Jack met with the local SWAT commander, Lee Beck, around the bend from the cabin where Beck’s team had confirmed that Megan Elliott was alive, but restrained.

“What condition is the hostage in?” Jack asked, his stomach twisted in knots.

“Alive, but not in good shape. We have a sniper in position, but there haven’t been any clear shots. The target has at least one gun on a table about ten feet from where the hostage is restrained. She may have more, we don’t have confirmation.”

“We’ll integrate into your team,” Jack said, “but we have a plan. We can’t leave Agent Elliott in there much longer.”

“Agreed,” Beck said. “She is unconscious right now.”

Jack’s head jerked up. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Because she’s alive. And when she passes out, the suspect leaves her alone.”

“Where’s the suspect now?” J.T. asked.

It was all Jack could do not to make a fool move on the cabin right then and there. He itched to see for himself that Megan was alive and breathing. But rash action would get her killed.

Beck asked for a status report, listened to his earpiece, and told them, “The target is standing two feet to the right of the hostage, back to my man, bent over a table. He can’t see what she is doing.”

“Does he have a clear shot?” Jack asked.

“Negative,” Beck responded. “The angle is bad. She needs to be directly at the window or at the front door to take the shot.”

Jack didn’t like the plan. They needed more time to infiltrate the cabin. Jack did not want to risk Padre’s life, but he couldn’t see another alternative. They needed to buy time to extract Megan, and because Megan was in no condition to assist, it would take more time to bring her to safety.

Dillon and Hans approached them. Hans said, “Two entrances, front and back. Beck’s men have the cabin completely surrounded. But I think your plan will work.”

“Did you see Megan?” Jack asked.

“No,” Hans said. “We didn’t want to get too close and tip our hand.”

J.T said, “Daybreak is in thirty minutes. We’ll lose the cover of darkness. Ready, Kincaid?”

“Hell, yes. Let’s get Megan out now.”

Torturing Megan was less fun than Karin had thought it would be.

Three hours and the wimp had fallen unconscious three times. When Ethan did it, the other victims didn’t lose consciousness more than once. Was she being too rough? Or was Megan just too weak and pathetic?

It also disturbed Karin that Megan knew about the Rubins. If she knew the truth, others could learn it. And Karin would become a fugitive. She didn’t want to live in hiding with a fake identity and no future. She wanted to continue doing what she’d been doing for as long as she could remember. Serving justice.

Megan had said Karin just liked to kill. Had a taste for it, so to speak. Maybe that was true. What was wrong with liking your job?

But all these months-years, really-had culminated in tonight, and Karin now felt let down. Slowing killing Megan was supposed to be the highlight, yet when Karin thought about it, last night, when she shot Hackett and Ethan, that had provided a headier rush of power.

She was going to have to move on. Disappear for a while until she could confirm whether Megan told the truth.

It was Megan’s fault, the bitch.

“Wake up, sugar,” she said. She took a needle and pressed it into her skin. Nothing. She took another. Another. Another. Soon Megan had dozens of needles hitting all major nerve points, and nothing. Was she dead? No! That wasn’t fair! How dare she die like this.

She took a needle and slid it behind her ear.

Megan woke with a scream.

“Good, you’re not dead.” Yet.

The bitch was dumping tears out of her eyes. Rolling them across her face. Her lips were blue. Maybe the ice water hadn’t been such a good idea.

But that part had been fun.

The sound of an approaching vehicle raised Karin’s hackles. She picked up the gun and walked to the front door.

It was a pickup truck. A lone driver. Lost? No. She was too far off the beaten path.

The man got out. Tall, Hispanic, serious. He wore a white collar under a black shirt.

Father Frank Cardenas.

The SWAT sniper was told to take the first clear shot, provided that the hostage was not in the target’s line of fire.

Jack, J.T., and Matt went around the back of the cabin, low and to the ground. SWAT had provided outstanding intelligence, and the back door was exactly where it was supposed to be. J.T silently picked the lock.

Matt slid into the cabin first, toward the kitchen where the circuit breaker was. J.T. and Jack waited for the count of thirty. It was evident that the two former Navy SEALs had worked together in the past; they shared the same silent understanding that Jack had with his soldiers. The familiarity and ease working with them gave Jack greater confidence. But Padre was at the greatest risk right now. He had these thirty seconds to stay alive.

“Father,” Karin said. “How did you know where to find me? Why are you here?”

“You didn’t come to confession, I was worried about you.”

Something was wrong. She glanced behind her; Megan was exactly where Karin left her, frozen in pain.

She looked back to Father Francis.

“You’re not alone.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d been so damn careful!

“Neither are you. I know about Father Michael.”

Karin’s heart rose to her throat. No one knew about Father Michael. No one. How could he know?

He’s a priest.

“I tried to stop her,” Karin whispered.

Father Francis stepped toward her. “You tried to stop who?”

She frowned. He didn’t know. If God was talking to him, he would know her mother killed Father Michael because Karin went to confess everything and beg for forgiveness. Karin confessed not because she felt bad for the people she hurt, but because she was in love with Father Michael. She wanted to share everything with him. If he forgave her, she’d try to stop for him. For his love.

She’d never loved anyone else.

She shook her head. “No. No, no, NO!”

She raised the gun. The lights went out at the same time she pressed the trigger.

Chaos.

Jack had no time to fear for Padre when he heard the gunshot. The lights went out as J.T reached one in his countdown and they both flipped down their tactical night vision monoculars. Everything Jack saw was in crystal clear shades of green. J.T.’s equipment was state-of-the art and could ultimately save Megan’s life.

Jack quickly moved through the back of the cabin and directly to the table where Megan was restrained. He turned the table to shield her body away from where Karin stood. The suspect was partly obscured by the door and a bookshelf. She stood there, staring outside.

You’d damn well better be okay, Frank.

Megan’s entire body was violently shaking and he immediately thought she was going into shock. She was practically naked, her skin ice cold to the touch and soaking wet. The floor was slick with water as well. Several thin needles protruded from her bruised and bloody body. Jack had to force overwhelming emotions of rage and fear down deep; reacting would put Megan’s life at greater risk. He silently motioned to J.T., who nodded his acknowledgment. While Jack cut off the wrist and ankle restraints, J.T. carefully removed the needles. They couldn’t extract her until he was done, but they didn’t want to risk permanent damage, or death.

Jack whispered in Megan’s ear, “It’s okay. It’s Jack.” He didn’t think she heard him; she didn’t seem to be aware of anything happening around her.

Matt Elliott was moving around the interior perimeter to get into position to take Karin down.

Ten seconds had passed since the lights went out.

Movement from Karin’s side of the room accompanied the loud slam of the front door shutting. Jack stepped in front of Megan and pulled his weapon while J.T. finished removing the needles.

Karin stepped into the main room. She looked stunned, blinded by the dark. A.357 revolver was in her hand, the muzzle still facing out. Jack had a clear shot.

Megan cried out, then bit it back on a sob.

Jack saw the moment when Karin’s night vision cleared. She saw their silhouettes and movement.

“She’s mine!” Karin said and pressed the trigger.

Jack fired simultaneously, and heard the report of a rifle from his left-Elliott-and from above-the sniper- competing with his own rounds. His breath was knocked out of him as Karin’s bullet hit him dead center in the middle of his chest, stopped by the Kevlar vest he wore. He stumbled back, shook it off, watched Karin’s body jerk as each bullet fired hit her. The sniper’s round took off half her head, her brains hitting the wall behind her. She crumbled to the floor.

J.T. shouted at Jack, “Are you hit?”

“I’m okay.”

Jack turned back to Megan while Matt inspected Karin’s body and kicked her gun away, then reported through the radio.

“Target dead. All clear.”

A shout from the back of “Lights!” had the three soldiers removing their night vision eyes.

Megan’s injuries looked far worse in normal light. She was dangerously cold, her lips blue, and her skin so pale she looked translucent. Smears of blood covered her body. Jack and J.T. inspected her for any serious external wounds. None of the cuts were still bleeding and they all appeared superficial. But there was nothing superficial about the pain Megan had suffered.

Jack pulled a thermal blanket from his pack and wrapped her in it, then picked her up and held her. “It’s me, Megan. I’m right here. You’re safe.”

Matt approached, his face tight and grim. “How is she?”

“Alive.”

That was all that mattered. They would overcome what happened tonight because Megan was alive, and they were together. He wasn’t letting her go.

“The medics will be here in two minutes,” Matt said. They’d been waiting a half-mile down the road.

Matt touched Megan’s wet hair and cold skin. “What did Standler do to her?” he asked, his voice hard.

J.T. said, “Ice water. Needles. We need more blankets.”

Both J.T. and Matt removed their thermal blankets and Jack wrapped those around Megan as well. “Come on, Blondie, talk to me.”

She didn’t open her eyes. Her body was still shaking uncontrollably.

“She doesn’t know we’re here,” J.T. said, his tone clipped with restrained worry. He glanced at Matt with concern.

“Jack.” Megan’s voice came out a faint, hoarse rasp.

“I got you.” He held her tight against his chest.

She didn’t say anything else, and Jack felt her entire body relax against him and grow heavy. She’d passed out again. He had to get her to a hospital. He didn’t know what else Standler had done to her …

Padre.

Jack carried Megan out of the cabin, side-stepping Karin Standler’s bloody body without a glance. The ambulance approached, the red twirling beams casting odd swaths of light against the breaking dawn. A generator roared to life and lights came on around the periphery.

Padre lay in the dirt fifteen yards from the front door. Dillon was there working on him. Jack ran over and squatted, still holding Megan tight against his chest.

“Dammit, Frank! You promised you wouldn’t get shot.”

“I’m okay.”

“She missed the damn vest,” Jack said.

Dillon was holding a field dressing hard against Padre’s left upper arm, where the shoulder met the bicep. The dressing was already soaked red. Blood had spread under him, soaking into the earth. “He’s lost a lot of blood,” Dillon said.

“We have the same blood type. I’ll give in the ambulance.”

“He’ll need it.”

“I’m okay,” Padre said again. “Megan?”

“Alive.”

“Is she okay?” His voice was weak, his breathing labored. J.T. strode over to the medics to push them to move faster than they already were.

“She will be.” Jack had to believe it, even as she lay unconscious in his arms.

“And Karin Standler?”

“Dead.”

“The plan worked,” Padre said, closing his eyes.

“Not well enough. Don’t you dare die on me, Frank.”

A half-smile crossed Padre’s lips, but he didn’t say anything. When the medics rushed up to them, he was unconscious, too.