The guy went to the front door of the house, opened it and came back to the car. He opened the passenger door on the driver’s side, lifted a woman out of the car and carried her in.
McCain couldn’t tell who the woman was, nor could he tell if she was passed out or dead. She definitely wasn’t putting up a fight. Because it looked like Sinclair’s car, he had to assume it was her.
“We gotta get up there, Jack,” he said. The dog’s ears perked up at the sound of his name. A second later he was standing in his seat.
Before they headed toward the house, McCain called 911 and gave them his location. Then he grabbed his service pistol in his holster and attached it to his belt. He also put his Taser in his pocket, and then he and Jack jumped out of the truck. They worked quickly through the orchard, then up the hill to the house.
The killer placed her in the same chair where he had put the others. He zip-tied her ankles to the legs of the chair and secured her wrists behind her around the back of the chair.
When he looked at her he realized she was different. Yes, she was fit and pretty and had long black hair, but when he looked in her eyes he didn’t see the fear that he had seen in the other women’s eyes. All he saw in her eyes was rage. She was flat out mad, which scared him for a second.
He double checked the plastic ties and then he got in front of her. He explained to her that he really didn’t want to do all of this, but he had to punish her. He had to hurt her like she had hurt him. He asked her why she had left him with the horrible people. Why had she abandoned him with the people who beat him and treated him worse than their dogs? He asked her why she never returned to get him, to save him.
The more he talked to the woman the madder he got. The heat was rising within him again. His voice got louder and louder and soon he was screaming at her.
McCain could hear the man talking but he couldn’t see what was going on, so he slowly worked his way around the other side of the house, Jack moving quietly by his side.
He looked into one of the windows but could see nothing. The only light on in the house was in the front room, and McCain was on the other side of the house. He had to move around to get a better look.
He and Jack started moving slowly around, but McCain stopped when he heard the man’s voice getting louder. He still hadn’t heard Sinclair’s voice, so he still didn’t know if she was conscious or if she was gagged.
They continued moving around the house, stopping to listen when the man’s voice was raised, in obvious anger. Finally, McCain noticed a crack in the blinds and peeked through. He could see the back of the man who was again screaming in anger at Sinclair in the chair. He looked unarmed, but McCain knew he most likely had a gun nearby. The man, dressed all in black, stepped to the side just enough for McCain to get a good view of Sinclair. She was awake but gagged. Blood dripped from her head.
“Ah, shit,” he said under his breath. About then he could hear sirens in the distance. Come on, get here, he thought.
He looked again and saw the man turn as he heard the sirens wail. McCain could also see the anger in Sinclair’s eyes. She was tied to the chair, but he could see in her eyes she wasn’t afraid.
McCain drew his pistol as the man came toward the window.
“Give it up, Stratford!” McCain said. “I have cops on the way. Let’s end this. I’ve told them who you are, and they’ll be here shortly. Let Agent Sinclair go and end this now.”
McCain had backed away from the window, so he had no idea what was happening in there. But he knew if the deputy was getting a gun, Sinclair was in real danger. He decided to head for the door. If he could distract Stratford enough, he could possibly get in there to save her.
He thought he had heard sirens outside. But the voices in his head were drowning them out. He loved his mother but he had to punish her for what she did. He had to punish her and then rip her heart out, like she had done to him all those years ago. As hard as he tried, he would never understand how she could do that to him when he loved her so much.
The next voice he heard wasn’t in his head. It was a man’s voice and it said, “Give it up, Stratford.” He knew that voice. It was the damned game warden, McCain!
The cops were surely on the way, but he had played out this scenario in his head many times. He knew what he had to do. And he had to do it fast.
McCain, with Jack still by his side, stayed low and moved toward the front door. He could hear some rustling in the house but couldn’t tell what was going on. When he got to the front door, McCain reached up and tried turning the doorknob. It was locked.
He listened some more and heard movement, but it was farther away. McCain decided he couldn’t wait any longer. He stood up, stepped back, and with all the considerable strength he had in his 227-pound body, he kicked the door. To his surprise the door exploded open, pieces of the wood frame going everywhere. His momentum
