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  “Call the sheriff,” Richard said. “He’s wasting his time parked in Gunther.”

  While Dalton talked to Ford, Richard took the binocs to the parking area and scanned the other buildings. Nothing. Dalton came out with his own binoculars and studied the tree line by the creek. Still nothing.

  Forty minutes later, headlights showed at the gate. Richard recognized the roof rack on the sheriff’s cruiser. Through the binoculars, he watched Glenn unlock the gate, wave the sheriff through, then lock up again as the cruiser kicked up a cloud of dust down the drive to the house. Richard headed back inside to get the women, but found them already waiting on the porch with mugs of coffee.

  Dalton and Ford joined them. When KD handed the sheriff a mug of coffee, Richard noticed his hands were shaky. Maybe age. Maybe not.

  After the older man drank, he finally spoke. “Glenn said your wrangler found a man with his foot in a snare just off the front fence. He’d torn himself up pretty bad, trying to get loose. Alejandro disarmed him, had a talk with him, and took him to Glenn’s. They left him tied and unconscious in the locked tool shed. Sounds like he won’t be going anywhere soon.”

  Richard felt a surge of relief. Even KD was smiling. “One down, two to go. Progress.”

  Ford sipped from his mug again. He seemed calmer now, his voice steadier. “I suspect when we get around to collecting the guy, he’ll show injuries other than those caused by the snare.”

  Dalton bit back a smile. “Glenn did say he was torn up.”

  Raney put on a worried face. “Hopefully the hogs won’t find him.”

  “Mercy, I didn’t think about that!” KD made a show of looking around. “Anybody got a hog caller?” It seemed they were all feeling a burst of giddy optimism at this small bit of good news.

  The sheriff didn’t share their amusement. “I don’t need to hear that kind of talk from my deputies,” he said without much enthusiasm.

  Dalton’s cell buzzed again. He put it on speaker. “What’s up, Glenn?”

  “That car I sent Chuy to find? It’s parked up the road. Empty.”

  * * *

  * * *

  They scrambled to fix positions. Ford was to cover the inside of the house. Richard was stationed at the livestock barn, where he could watch the driveway from the front gate, past the house, and down to the barn, while Dalton took the area on the other side of the barn toward the AI lab. Raney and Shirley would keep watch at Len’s window, and KD would cover the upstairs hallway and staircase leading down to the kitchen. Harvey and Sarge were to hold their positions in the hay barn and the AI building, but to look for two men instead of three, since the man in Glenn’s tool shed was out of commission.

  Before leaving for his position, Dalton called Glenn to tell the foreman and Chuy to be ready to move wherever he called, and for Alejandro to shift his patrol to the trees along the creek. “Is the guy in the shed still alive?” he asked.

  “When Alejandro left, he was.”

  Fifteen minutes later, positions were set and everybody was locked and loaded.

  Showtime.

  CHAPTER 21

  Khalil Farid frowned at his fancy new phone. Mohammad called it a smartphone. It was very different from the flip top phones they used in Afghanistan. He was weary from the long drive and found it difficult to remember the codes and how to work the many applications. Muhammad was the one who understood such devices. He even knew how to put aerial maps and photographs on phones. The one Khalil studied now was the most recent satellite image of his enemy’s dwelling, taken from hundreds of kilometers above the earth. An amazing thing. But it troubled Khalil that this image was different from the printed one they had studied in Afghanistan.

  The house was the same: set back almost three hundred meters from the road. A long drive ran along the left side of the dwelling to a parking area at the back, before it turned left toward the other ranch buildings. None of that had changed.

  But what of the new structures that had suddenly appeared on this latest image? A cluster of six, maybe more, half hidden by trees along the small creek. There was no activity around them. Were they abandoned? Muhammad thought they might be temporary shelters for hay or equipment storage, or even transient agricultural workers. But why were they set apart from the other buildings? And why was no one using them? If unoccupied, they might be perfect for their purposes.

  With a muttered curse, Khalil punched the button that darkened the image to prolong battery life, and slipped the cell phone into his pocket. He had a charger—a power bank, Muhammad called it—in his other pocket, but Muhammad had warned him to save it for later, when they had the murderous infidel woman and Warrant Officer Murdock in their hands. Filming videos used up a lot of power. Khalil trusted Muhammad. He and Asef had been like brothers, and Muhammad was as intent on vengeance as Khalil.

  Impatience churned in his belly as he looked at his watch. Already it was early morning. He was weary of hiding in the trees. Muhammad should have called by now to let them know he had the woman.

  Had he not found her? Or had something gone wrong?

  He looked with disgust at his nephew, Mostafa, who was looking at lewd images of filthy Western women on his new phone. He was young and foolish, but Khalil’s brother had insisted he come. “To make a man of him,” he had said. Khalil thought it was too late for that. The boy was too weak to change.

  “What are you doing, Mostafa?” he hissed in Dari as he struck his nephew across the back of his head. “You will run down the battery! Muhammad warned us to use the phones only when necessary!”

  Mostafa quickly put the phone away. “How much longer do we wait?”

  Khalil ignored him.

  The silence lengthened.

  Khalil checked his watch again. Soon, the darkness around them would fade. It was time to act. They could wait no longer. Turning to Mostafa, he said, “Muhammad has failed. It is now up to you to get the woman.”

  “Me?” Mostafa’s dark eyes showed his fear. “How do a I find her?”

  “Infidel women are weak. She will sleep inside the dwelling. Look at the photograph Muhammad put on your phone so you will know her when you see her. Find her and bring her to the place Muhammad has chosen. Hurt her if you must, but do not let her die.”

  “What of the soldier? Warrant Officer Murdock?”

  “If you have no choice, kill him. Use your knife and do it quietly.”

  “How will I know him? Muhammad gave me no photograph.”

  “He is older than the woman and will be wearing the uniform of the infidel soldiers.” Khalil gripped his young nephew’s shoulder in a fatherly way. “Be strong, Mostafa. Allah calls upon you to be a brave soldier.”

  “I will do as you say, Uncle.”

  He’s an idiot, Khalil thought, turning away to hide his disappointment. A young, foolish, inept idiot. But after Muhammad’s failure, there was no one else.

  “With Allah’s help, we will be victorious,” he said, striving to put strength into his words. “We will kill the infidels who dishonored our family and show the world how we repay our enemies. Only then, Mostafa, after we have restored the good name of Asef Farid, can we go home.”

  “Allahu Akbar,” Mostafa whispered, fear still in his eyes.

  * * *

  * * *

  At a quarter to three, a muffled thump startled KD as she rested against the wall at the head of the stairs. She sat up, head cocked. Small sounds, hardly noticeable. From the veranda? Probably the sheriff, restless from waiting or checking the locks again. But just to be sure, she rose, pulled the .357 revolver from her holster, and moved silently down the staircase.

  The lower landing was empty. No sign of the sheriff in the kitchen, either. Then she heard something odd. Like a groan, coming from the veranda.

  Fully alert, she cocked the .357. Staying flat against the wall, she crept past the pantry
and along the short hallway off the kitchen. At the doorway onto the darkened veranda, she stopped and listened, gun up and ready.

  “Sheriff?” she whispered.

  No answer. Then another faint groan.

  Reaching past her right shoulder with her left hand, she flipped the switch. Light flooded the porch. Squinting against the sudden brightness, she saw the sheriff lying on the floor just before something slammed into the back of her head.

  * * *

  * * *

  After an hour of waiting in the dark beside the barn, the rush of adrenalin that had flooded Richard’s body earlier had drained away. Fatigue had set in. His gut ached. He felt jittery from too much coffee and not enough sleep. It was a struggle to keep his mind focused. It would be dawn soon. Maybe Khalil had given up. Maybe he’d gone back to the car and left. How much longer could he and the others stay alert without food or sleep?

  To stave off boredom, he called KD to see what was happening at the house. But when it went to voice mail, he stared at the phone in confusion. She should have answered. Why hadn’t she answered?

  Unless she couldn’t.

  Yanking the SIG 40 from the holster on his belt, he raced toward the house.

  Dalton must have seen him from the AI offices. He ran through the lawn gate seconds behind him. “What happened?” he whispered, following him up the steps to the darkened veranda.

  “KD didn’t answer her cell.” Richard stumbled to a stop when he saw the shadowed form of the sheriff lying on the veranda tiles. A second later, he was pounding up the stairs, heart racing, his footsteps loud in the silent house. “KD!”

  Raney and Shirley burst out of Len’s bedroom. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ford’s hurt. Where’s KD?”

  “Last we saw, here on the landing.”

  Dalton yelled from downstairs. “Raney! Shirley! Get the first aid kit! The sheriff’s been stabbed!”

  The next few minutes were bedlam as Raney ran around the house, collecting the things Shirley needed to stop the blood seeping from the wound in Ford’s chest. Richard knelt beside him, applying pressure while Dalton talked to 911, then called Glenn to tell him what had happened.

  Panic sucked the air from Richard’s lungs. I can’t do this. I have to find her. If she’s hurt—He couldn’t finish the thought.

  As soon as Dalton got off his cell, Richard shot to his feet and let Raney help Shirley bandage the sheriff’s chest. “Did they see anything?”

  “Nothing. Chuy’s covering the car, in case they take her there. Glenn’s checking on the one in the shed.”

  Richard felt his stomach roll. “You think they took her?”

  “She wouldn’t have wandered off on her own.”

  “Oh, damn . . .”

  Dalton gripped his shoulder, gave him a rough shake. “Get it together, Richard! We’ll find her.”

  Richard swallowed hard and nodded. “When will the ambulance get here?”

  “It’s coming from Gunther. If we’re lucky, thirty minutes.”

  “I can’t wait that long.”

  “Then go. We’ve got this.”

  Richard pulled his backup Beretta M9 from his pocket and thrust it toward Dalton. “Take it. I don’t give a damn what Ford says.”

  Dalton slipped it into his belt. “Raney and I will cover the house. Go do what you have to do.”

  When Richard cut through the parked cars, he saw Glenn running down the drive toward the house. “He’s gone!” the foreman yelled as he approached. “Somehow the sonofabitch got out of the shed!”

  “Tell Dalton, then go back and cover Chuy! They took KD! We can’t let them leave with her. Go!” Half sick with dread, Richard raced on to the AI lab.

  * * *

  * * *

  As Mostafa struggled to carry the woman across the creek, he heard yelling behind him. Fear sent him stumbling forward at a faster pace.

  They must have found the soldier he’d stabbed. He hoped the cursed infidel was dead. He would have made certain of it, but he heard the woman on the stairs and had been forced to hide. When he saw her creep past his hiding place, he had almost wept with joy. It was the same woman in the photograph on his phone. The one who had murdered Asef. The one he had been sent to find. Allah had surely blessed him to put both the woman and the uniformed soldier in his path.

  He hoped she wasn’t dead. He had tried not to hit her too hard. He shifted her weight in his arms, wondering how one so small could feel so heavy. His legs wobbled with the strain of carrying her. Every breath burned in his throat. His heart drummed so loud, he could hear nothing but the beat of it. Stopping to catch his breath, he looked around, trying to remember the path in the image his uncle had shown him. Then he saw a faint glow ahead and knew he was almost there.

  Suddenly a form appeared beside him. Big. Bloody. Teeth bared.

  Mostafa cried out, almost dropping the woman.

  “Be silent!” the figure hissed in Dari, and Mostafa realized it was Muhammad, come back from the dead.

  * * *

  * * *

  Sarge saw Richard coming and ran down the stairs to meet him at the door of the AI offices.

  Richard told him about KD and the man escaping the shed. “Tell Harvey with KD out there to watch his shots. But if he sees the Afghans, to blow their damn heads off.”

  “Fuck, yeah! Now we talkin’!”

  After Sarge went to tell Harvey what had happened, Richard wasn’t sure where he should go. He listened for voices or movement but couldn’t hear anything over his own labored breathing.

  KD would put up a fight. Make noise. Do something. Unless she couldn’t and was being carried. If that was the case, whoever had her wouldn’t be able to move fast or far. Where would he take her? They’d covered all the logical places.

  Except Tent City.

  He started running.

  And almost ran into Alejandro and his horse in the trees.

  Richard repeated everything he’d told Sarge. When Alejandro heard that KD had been taken and the man he’d left in the shed had escaped, he let loose a string of hissed curses, both Spanish and English.

  “We don’t have time for that!” Richard warned in a whisper. “You see or hear anything by the creek?”

  With effort, Alejandro calmed himself. “Before you came, I was tracking something I heard moving through the trees. Clumsy. Too noisy to be deer. Maybe hogs.”

  “Moving where?”

  Alejandro pointed in the direction Richard had been running. “Toward the tents.”

  Sudden elation almost sent Richard charging through the brush. Instead, he forced himself to stop and think. A rushed frontal assault would probably get KD killed. But if they could think of a diversion, something to draw the Afghans out . . .

  He pulled out his phone. While he waited for Dalton to answer, he told Alejandro to go tell Sarge to come to the tents. “No noise. Tell Harvey to stay where he is in case one of them tries to run—Hey, Dalton,” he said in a low voice when Cardwell answered. “She’s at Tent City. I’m sure of it. Here’s what I need you to do.”

  By the time he’d finished the call, Alejandro was riding back through the trees. Richard told him to unsaddle his horse, but leave on the bridle, then bring the horse and follow him as quietly as he could.

  * * *

  * * *

  KD rose out of the blackness in fits and starts. Pain. In her head, her neck, even her hands and feet. Dimly, she heard voices whispering and wondered if she was back in the hospital in Germany. But the voices weren’t speaking English.

  Dari!

  Panic engulfed her. She tried to move, couldn’t, and forced open her eyes. When she saw her wrists and ankles zip-tied to a camp chair, terror exploded. Before she could scream, a hand clamped over her mouth, fingers digging into her cheeks and jaw.

  “Be silent
!”

  A face appeared before hers, backlit by the light above his head. Bearded, scarred. Khalil Farid.

  Her mind reeled.

  A rough jerk brought her back. “If you bring them, I will kill them. Like I killed the traitor, Samira, and Warrant Officer Murdock, and will soon kill you.”

  Richard was dead? She started to spiral.

  He shook her again, nails digging into her jaw. “Be silent! Do you understand?”

  With his hand over her mouth, she couldn’t answer or nod. All she could do was stare up at him in helpless terror, knowing what was to come but no way to stop it. Richard . . . oh God . . . I’m so sorry.

  With a shove that sent her head spinning again, he released her and walked a few feet away to where two men were arguing and punching on their cell phones. Beside them stood a small table with several automatic handguns and knives on top and two AK-47s leaning against it.

  She fought to bring her thoughts into focus. When had he killed Richard? They would have heard or seen something. Were the others still alive? She looked around, recognized the plank floor and canvas walls, and realized she was in one of the therapy tents. She couldn’t have been there long. It was still dark outside.

  Think!

  She needed a weapon. Something to cut the zip ties binding her to the chair. But other than the guns and knives on the table, she saw nothing she could use to protect herself . . . or even take her own life if it came to that.

  No! Don’t give up! He’ll come! Khalil must have confused Richard with the sheriff. God . . . let him be alive.

  Time. That’s all she had. If she could buy enough of it, Richard would find her. Even if it cost her a beating, she had to keep the Afghans distracted until he came. “Khalil Farid,” she said in a hoarse voice. “You’re wrong.”

  The three men looked up.

  One was very young, despite the dark stubble on his jaw. A true believer. She saw fear on his face and guessed he was also the weakest link.