said with finality.
But Madison was tired of everyone acting like they knew better than her. She was the one who had been kidnapped and held for days. She knew what they were capable of. At the memory her hand automatically reached for her chest, and she swallowed hard to keep from crying. She kept her voice low, leaning forward as she said, “Yeah, but if they’re only in it for the money, maybe the people who took me will offer them more. Dad’s not rich. What’s to stop them from handing us over?”
“It’s not like that.” Bree shook her head impatiently, as if Madison had said something ridiculous. Her short hair bobbed before settling back into place. “The woman in charge, the one from the hospital? She has a personal interest.”
She said the word personal like it was something dirty. Madison ’s eyes narrowed. “Why would she have a personal interest in us?”
“Because she’s dating Dad,” Bree said without meeting her eyes.
Madison felt as though she’d been punched. Sure, her parents were divorced, but the thought of her dad with another woman was still awful to contemplate. She tried to remember her, could only recall a pretty but tough- looking blonde. She wished she’d paid more attention.
There was a noise in the distance, a rumbling like thunder. Bree sat up straight, eyes wide. Madison froze, pulse pounding in her throat.
“What is that?” she asked.
The door to the room flew open. Maltz was wearing a bulletproof vest and had a rifle slung across his back. “It’s time,” he said.
“Time for what?” Bree sounded scared. Madison started to hyperventilate, picturing herself back in that room, the man coming for her…
“Put these on.” He tossed a couple vests into the room. Bree bent to pick them up and handed one to Madison. It was heavy, and Madison struggled to pull it over her head. She fastened the Velcro as tightly as it would go, but it was too big for her and stuck out on either side like wings. Bree’s was similarly large and hung past her waist. We look like kids playing dress-up, Madison thought. Maltz examined them critically. “They’ll do. C’mon, we gotta be ready.”
Ready for what? Madison wanted to ask, but she was too frightened to speak.
Bree handed Madison the crutches and followed her into the main room, keeping one hand on her elbow. Their mother was sitting there, also looking ridiculous in a vest. Her eyes were wide, and seeing how frightened she was made it so much worse. The roaring had grown louder, it sounded like a swarm had surrounded the house. Motorcycles, Madison thought. They were in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, and it sounded like a hundred motorcycles were circling them.
One of the men peered through a narrow crack in the boards nailed over the windows. “I’m counting at least eight.”
Maltz swore under his breath. “Assessment?” he barked.
“Looks like a gang. I see a few shotguns, some handguns. No carbines or semiautos. Firepower, but nothing too heavy.”
“Okay. With any luck, we’re dealing with amateurs.” Maltz turned to them. “Here’s the deal. Dangel is going to drive the van away, drawing them off. We’re going to head out the back and go cross-country. There’s a river at the property line, then another few miles to the next house. If they tail us, we’ll engage, but I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”
“That’s it? That’s your plan?” Madison asked, incredulous. “How the hell am I supposed to run through the woods? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in a cast.”
“I’ll be carrying you, miss,” Maltz said.
“Oh my God.” Madison turned to her mother. “Mom, don’t tell me you’re agreeing to this?”
Her mother continued staring at the floor.
“Any questions?” Maltz asked.
Bree stepped forward, voice strong as she said, “We’re ready.”
A minute later, something thumped against the far wall, glass shattering. Smoke drifted into the room. Her mother screamed. Maltz froze for a second, then nodded at Dangel, who jumped into the back of the van and climbed through to the front seat. A second later he revved the engine. As the van tore away from the house, Maltz slammed the front door.
“Everyone to the back,” he ordered.
Madison clomped through the kitchen to the back door. Her mother and sister were already huddled there, eyes wide with fear. The other two men stood on either side of them. Their jaws were tight, and they avoided her eyes. Maltz appeared a second later. They all waited. Another thump, near the bedrooms. A wisp of smoke curled into the room, dancing up toward the ceiling.
“We’re going to be burned alive,” her mother said, voice strangely calm.
“Not if I can help it, ma’am.” Maltz seemed to be waiting for something. One more smack against the wall by the kitchen, then the sound of motors retreating into the distance.
“They’re leaving,” Bree said.
Maltz motioned for them to step aside. He opened the rear door a crack and thrust his head out quickly, scanning from side to side. Seemingly satisfied, he slipped outside.
“What do we do?” Bree asked. One of the men frowned and motioned for her to be silent. A second later, the door swung wide and Maltz reappeared.
“It’s time. Go, go, go!” he said.
One of the commandos raced out. Bree and her mother followed on his heels, Audrey tripping on the threshold. The other commando caught her and helped her to her feet. Madison was suddenly airborne.
“Hey!”
Her crutches fell to the ground with a clatter. Maltz had thrown her over his shoulder. He dashed off into the woods. Madison gritted her teeth, bumping against his back as he ran. She lifted her head. Flames were licking at the farmhouse, a line of them along the base. They climbed steadily as if alive, racing up toward the roof. She heard more glass shattering, then they dipped into a gulch and the house vanished from view.
Twenty-Four
“They’re not talking,” Agent Taylor said, handing her a cup of coffee.
Kelly smiled at him. “I figured.”
“Getting a lot of that these days,” Rodriguez commented. They were sitting on the warehouse’s loading dock. Behind them, the building throbbed with activity. Agents from the San Antonio field office were interviewing the illegals. Jethro and Jim were waiting for transport to a federal detention facility. Despite repeated attempts at questioning, they continued to issue the same response.
“Yeah? I’ve never seen anything like it.” Taylor shook his head. “Who else?”
“Bunch of skinheads in Arizona.”
“ Arizona? That connected to the Morris killing?” Taylor ’s eyebrows knit together. He was in his early forties, dark hair gelled back and a suit that had seen better days.
“We think so, but we’re not sure,” Kelly said.
“What’s with the float?” Taylor jerked his head toward it.
“The Mexicans said they were supposed to ride in the parade next week, then slip off into the crowd.”
Taylor shook his head. “This pair has Minutemen written all over them. Can’t figure out why they’d be running illegals.”
“We can’t, either,” Kelly said. “Have you had any trouble with them before?”
Taylor shrugged. “ICE will be here soon, they’ll have more information. There have been scattered reports here and there, bodies found in the desert, rumors that some of these guys have gone vigilante. But nothing solid.”
