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  “Unfortunately, I did,” Gerald Long said. The Special Supervisory Agent didn’t sound any happier than Holt. “But Rabor is armed and on the run.”

  “How?”

  “He had help. His loyal girlfriend, Shondra Miller, disguised herself as a nurse and walked right in with a key to the cuffs.” Gerald’s disgust echoed through the line.

  Holt didn’t bother asking how she managed to bypass all the security and ID checks to get to the patient. That was someone else’s responsibility to investigate, but it had happened and now he needed to deal with the fallout.

  “When?” After Darius Rabor had killed a federal judge, the FBI had joined the hunt for him. Holt had been lead on the task force that put Rabor away a year and a half ago. He’d been on death row, his execution date coming up next month.

  “Two hours ago,” Gerald said. “Rabor was in the hospital for emergency gall bladder surgery. Killed a nurse and the two transport officers. One of the hospital security guards is in surgery. I’m reconvening the original task force, as everyone is already familiar with this guy. I need you and Sands in Asheville, North Carolina, yesterday.”

  “Asheville. Of course he’d go back there,” Holt muttered. Rabor knew the mountains well and had family there. Holt was in the Columbia, South Carolina, field office, and Rabor had been incarcerated at the Broad River Correctional Institution just a few miles away. Where Holt’s sister was also an inmate. He grimaced at the unwanted thought. But there was nothing he could do about Zoe. He had a killer to capture again before anyone else died by his hand.

  “He had surgery yesterday,” Gerald said. “This afternoon, he was in his room, cuffed to the bed. The next time someone checked on him, he was coming out of the bathroom, dressed in street clothes. Before the guard had a chance to pull his weapon, Rabor used a knife to stab the guy three times.”

  “That’s his weapon of choice. A knife slipped to him by his girlfriend, along with the key?”

  “No doubt. And the clothes to allow him to blend in. After he killed the guard, he took the man’s weapon and, in the ensuing chaos, shot his way out. The two then stole a car from the valet parking attendant and headed out of town with police after them. They made it to Asheville, then crashed at the bottom of Mount Mitchell. He and Shondra took off on foot, going up. I’m sending you the coordinates. Police chased them up the mountain and put out an alert for residents to lock their homes and report anything suspicious. Asheville’s RA is expecting you and will be offering support.” He paused. “On the ground anyway. Air support is iffy at this point, with the storms getting ready to unleash their worst on the area. But you’re going to have to take a chopper to get there. It’s standing by. When you land, the RA has a car waiting for you.”

  Great. “We’re on the way.” He hung up, took a moment to gather his thoughts and emotions, then shot to his feet.

  His partner, Martin Sands, looked up. “What now? More stuff with Zoe? Her kids okay?”

  Marty was the one person Holt felt comfortable venting to about his sister and her confession to killing her husband two years ago—and the fact that he’d finally conceded that she did it. He ignored the shame that tried to creep in every time he thought about her. He should be turning over every rock to find evidence to the contrary, but the truth was, his sister was guilty of murder. Why work to prove her innocence when all the evidence and her own words said the effort would be a waste of time?

  “No, she’s on the back burner for now. Her kids are fine.” They lived with his parents for the moment. Twelve-year-old Ellie and eight-year-old Krissy. His precious nieces that he never got to see enough of. “Rabor and his girlfriend are on the loose. You and I are now officially back on the task force to recapture him.”

  “What? You’re kidding me. How?”

  “I’ll explain on the way.”

  Martin followed him out the door, muttering his displeasure. Holt let him vent while he concentrated on how best to catch the man. Again. It hadn’t been easy the first time.

  It would be even harder now, as Rabor wouldn’t make the same mistakes twice—and he had his girlfriend helping him this time. However, he was one day out of surgery. How far could he get? Then again, the fact that he’d managed to kill three people in spite of being on drugs and, most likely, in pain, sent dread coursing through him. Holt knew better than anyone just how resourceful the killer was, and he had the scar to prove it. His hand went to the area just below his vest on his left side, but he didn’t need to touch the place to know what was there. The nightmares reminded him most nights.

  They headed for the chopper while thunder boomed in the distance. It wasn’t raining yet, but it was about to start at any moment. The pilot nodded to them and soon they were in the air, headed toward the mountain. Thirty minutes later, Holt slid into the driver’s seat of the Bureau’s waiting sedan and checked the weather app on his phone. “This is going to be a fun drive. It’s cold and icy, and storm warnings are everywhere.”

  “We’ve driven through worse. Right?”

  True, but he didn’t like it any more than Marty did—and Marty really hated bad weather. Holt’s phone dinged again. “Command center is on the way too. We’ll meet them there.”

  They drove through the blowing wind and rain with Holt fighting to keep the vehicle on the road. Across the street from the base of the mountain, the mobile command center had already been set up in the elementary school parking lot. Holt ducked into the customized motor home and shook the water out of his hair. Marty entered behind him. Seated in front of the first computer to Holt’s left was Julianna Jameson. “Jules? What brings you here? He hasn’t taken any hostages, has he?”

  “Not yet.”

  Julianna was one of the Bureau’s most skilled negotiators with the Crisis Negotiation Unit. She was also one of his favorite people, with her quick wit and dry humor. However, she usually didn’t go into the field unless the situation called for it.

  “I was in the area doing some training. When I got word about the situation, I hightailed it over here. I’m here as a precaution,” she said. “Local cops are swarming the area in spite of the weather. There are six small neighborhoods spaced out along the road that leads to the top of the mountain. Two cop cars are assigned to each one. One at the entrance and one that’s driving a constant loop.”

  “What about the houses that don’t have neighborhoods or fences or alarm systems?”

  “We’ve activated the Reverse 911 and officers are going door-to-door and asking residents to phone everyone they can think of to warn them, but it’s definitely possible someone will be missed.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s not all. We’ve gotten word that a medevac chopper made an emergency landing about an hour ago in a clearing on top of the mountain, and Gerald asked me to be on-site just in case Darius manages to get there first.”

  “Oh no.” He took a seat opposite her.

  She studied him. “It’s Penny and her crew, Holt. They’ve got a fifteen-year-old patient in pretty serious shape.”

  Holt raked a hand through his hair. Penny, Holly, and Raina had been the ones to save his life eighteen months ago. He and Penny had hit it off and gone out a few times after he’d recovered. While their relationship was only at a friendship-but-could-possibly-be-more stage—and had been for longer than he liked as he was ready for the “more” part—their schedules hadn’t allowed more than brief dinners and short conversations on the phone. But he cared about Penny. A lot.

  She and Julianna were tight friends, sharing a past that he still didn’t know all the details of. “All right, then we need to head that way and get them down off that mountain. If Rabor or Shondra run into them . . .”

  “Yeah. And unfortunately, they’re not answering the attempts to contact them. The emergency locator beacon is the only thing they have to go on right now.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “This storm is only going to get worse in the next little while,�
� Julianna said. “Hopefully, we can get to them before too much longer.”

  “We?” Julianna wouldn’t normally do something like that, but since it was Penny—

  “I’m going with you.” She narrowed her eyes. “There’s a killer up there. And so are Penny and the others. If he manages to grab one of them, it’s not going to be good.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I need to be there.”

  “I agree,” Holt said. “Rabor knows we’re on his tail and is going to be looking for someone he can use as leverage. I don’t want to give him that opportunity.”

  She nodded. “Exactly.”

  With practiced movements, they gathered their gear, satellite phones, and rain ponchos and headed back out into the storm.

  CHAPTER

  TWO

  If Penny hadn’t had her watch and cell phone to tell her what time it was, she’d have thought a week had passed by the time she located one of the houses she’d seen from the sky.

  In reality, it had been forty-seven minutes. Her first dash from the chopper had taken her to a steep drop-off, and she’d had to backtrack until she could find a way through the thick undergrowth that actually led down. Thankfully, she stumbled onto a neighborhood about two miles from where she’d landed. At least she thought it was two miles. She was having to go by memory of her numerous flights over the mountain and her judgment. Which might be flawed.

  She approached the fourth house on the street, praying someone would answer the door. The first three she’d tried, no one was home and all the doors were locked. Unfortunately, no lights shone through the windows of this house, but there was an old truck parked in the single driveway. So, either no one was home or the power was out. She was banking on the latter.

  Pushing against the whipping winds and the lashing rain, she gripped the strap of the backpack and trudged up the drive. She finally made it up the porch steps of the small home. With a freezing fist, she pounded on the oak front door. The structure might be little, but even she could see it was well made. Hopefully, sturdy enough to withstand tornado-force winds.

  No one answered and Penny beat against the wood again. “Hello! Is anyone there?” She banged a few more times. “Hello?”

  Again, no response. She tried the knob. Locked. “Of course,” she muttered. A gust of wind sent a branch at her head and she ducked just in time. It clattered against the door and fell to the welcome mat. Her wisdom of trekking about in the storm might be questionable, but Claire was at the forefront of her thoughts. The girl needed to get to a hospital. ASAP. And Penny would give just about anything to be warm again.

  She shivered and glanced at her phone. No bars. Typically, the higher one went, the better the service, but she’d been as high as she could get on top of the mountain and had nothing. So she’d have to go lower and pray she stumbled on a tower—or someone with service. Most of the homes this high up had satellite phones or landlines. If she could get inside, she could make the call. She circled around the side of the house, following the stone path. The wind knocked her off balance and against the siding. The slam jarred her shoulder and she winced but pushed on to the back door. Penny twisted the knob, and wonder of wonders, it opened.

  She practically fell inside and shoved the door shut. Finally. She dragged in a ragged breath while the freezing rain sloughed from her poncho to create a large puddle on the carpet. She’d owe the homeowner a roll of paper towels and an apology, but she’d be happy to pay up as long as Claire lived.

  Penny’s mother would have a fit if she came home to the mess she was making in the stranger’s home. She groaned at the thought of her mom. The woman suffered severe anxiety despite the calm, cool exterior she presented to the world, and Penny’s job often sent her into a tizzy. If Penny didn’t check in soon, it would be months before she’d hear the end of it.

  But, again, Claire trumped her mother.

  Penny glanced around, surprised at the size of the home. The outside appearance was definitely deceptive. The lower level boasted a pool table, air hockey table, and a six-seater media area.

  But no landline phone in sight.

  Penny hurried to the stairs. “Hello? Anyone up there? I got caught in the storm. I’m harmless. Please don’t shoot me or anything. Hello?”

  She flipped the stairwell light on—so much for her theory that the power was out—and started climbing. At the top, she came to a closed door. She knocked, called out one more time, then turned the knob.

  The door creaked open and she stepped into a lovely, updated kitchen. Through the bay window behind the dining area, Penny had a good view of the outdoors. The wind still blew, but she thought it might have lessened a bit and the rain might have slowed. Then a hard gust of wind rattled the window and lightning flashed way too close and she shut off the wishful thinking.

  Okay. Phone. Please have a landline.

  She wanted to just hurry and search the place but was afraid of getting shot by a terrified homeowner. “Hello? I’m just looking for a phone. Anyone here?”

  When she still didn’t get an answer, she decided it was better to move quickly. Claire needed her to.

  No phone in the kitchen.

  She slipped into the adjacent den area and scanned the end tables, the walls . . . and still nothing.

  Finally, she was convinced the house was empty of people and searched faster. In the master bedroom, she finally found the landline. With a relieved cry, Penny grabbed the handset and dialed her boss’s number.

  He answered on the first ring. “Life Flight, this is Mike Bishop, program director.” His gravelly voice grated across her nerves. She simply didn’t like the man and only tolerated him because she loved her job.

  “It’s Penny.”

  “Penny! Where are you?”

  His shout made her wonder if he’d been worried. “I had to emergency land on the mountain.” Because you made me fly in weather that should have grounded us. She bit her tongue so the words wouldn’t escape her lips. She could have refused, but like always, she put the victim first. She gave him the location.

  “That’s where the ELT put you.” His voice dropped. “Her parents are here. Don’t let that girl die, Carlton.”

  Since when did he express such concern for the welfare of the patient? He was a numbers and appearance guy. “Who are they?”

  “Senator Randall Gentry and his wife. They’re also big supporters of this hospital.”

  Well, that explained Mike’s concern. “Claire’s in the best hands she could be in at the moment,” she said, “but she’s bad, Mike. There’s no way an ambulance can get up here. It’s rugged. I had to hike down some rough terrain and break into a house to find a landline.”

  “Break into— I don’t want to know. Are you sure an ambulance can’t get to her?”

  Penny closed her eyes and sighed. “Positive. There’s no road that goes to that little bit of open space where I landed.”

  “Is there room for another chopper to land?”

  She wanted to say no. “Yes. Barely, but yeah. A skilled pilot might be able to do it. Don’t send a newbie.”

  “I’ll have another chopper on the way within minutes.”

  “It’s bad out there. I’m serious, Mike. Don’t play around with this.”

  “Byron can handle it.”

  Byron Hamilton was a great pilot, but even he couldn’t control the weather—or a damaged chopper. She didn’t bother to protest anymore. Mike would do what Mike would do. “I’m heading back to the chopper. We’ll all be there when Byron gets there.” If he managed. He could refuse to fly. Of course if he did, he’d be looking for another job, but he might decide it was worth it this time.

  A door slammed and Penny jerked. “Someone just came home. Now I have to go explain to a stranger why I’m in their bedroom.”

  “Please don’t get killed. I don’t want to have to explain that to the press.”

  “Wow. Thanks.” She hung up and hurried out of the bedroom. “Hello?” A scream e
rupted from the kitchen and Penny hurried down the hall and into the foyer. “I’m harmless, I promise.” She rounded the corner and pulled up short.

  A woman in her early thirties stood at the kitchen island. In her shaking hands, she held a gun that she pointed right at Penny. “Get out of my house,” the woman said.

  “I’m sorry,” Penny said, raising her hands to shoulder level. “I’m a pilot for Life Flight and the storm knocked something into the chopper and I had to put her down and then the radio was busted and my patient is going to die if I don’t get her some help, so—” She broke off, wondering if she was making any sense at all. With the exception of when she was in the pilot’s seat, she always talked too much—okay, rambled—when she was nervous or afraid. Both emotions applied at the moment.

  But at least the woman hadn’t shot her. Yet.

  “Truly, I’m sorry”—how many times had she said that?—“so sorry to scare you. My cell phone wouldn’t work and I had to find a phone. Your basement door was open. I was hoping I could get in and out before anyone came home. To, you know, avoid . . . this.” She gestured to the gun. “Look at the logo on the poncho. See? I’ve also got a uniform on under this with the same logo.” With one hand, she lifted the front of her poncho. “And here’s my ID.” She moved so very slowly, not wanting to make the woman any more nervous than she already was.

  Penny unclipped the ID badge from under her poncho and held it out. The woman examined it, blew out a low sigh, and lowered her weapon. Penny’s knees chose that moment to go weak and she had to lean against the wall or she’d end up on the floor. “I’m Penny, by the way.”

  A laugh, bordering on hysteria, slipped from the woman. “I’m Kacey. I was on the way home from work and was listening to the radio. There’s a serial killer roaming this area, and when I heard you in my house . . .”

  “A serial killer?” Penny’s brows shot up. “Where?”

  “On the mountain somewhere. We have orders to stay in our locked homes and report anything suspicious. Cops are all over the place.”