Striking Distance

“Did you give Al-Nassar a hard time, too? I doubt it.” Kimball leaned down and caught Laura’s face between his palms, forcing her to look straight into his eyes. “I’m the one who handed you over to him. It was me, Laura. Every time he raped you, every time he beat you, every time he humiliated you, that was

me

.

“

I

did those things to you.”

And Laura realized she was staring into the soulless eyes of a sociopath.

* * *

JAVIER CAME AROUND the corner and saw Laura’s car just ahead.

¡Madre de Dios!

The front end was crumpled, the driver’s-side door wide open.

He glanced around, saw nothing and no one, just open fields. He drew his Walther and stepped out of the SUV, moving in on Laura’s vehicle. He knew he’d find one of two things—Laura’s dead body or nothing at all.

Keeping his distance—her car might be rigged to blow—he circled the vehicle. It was years of working as a special operator that kept steel in his spine, kept his stride deliberate and even. The SEAL part of him responded tactically, even while the man inside him wanted to shout for her, to tear the world down in a mad rush to find her.

She wasn’t there.

The breath left his lungs in a gust.

There was still a chance she was alive.

Hang on,

bella

.

He moved closer to the car, looking for blood or any sign of explosives. McBride had called him to fill him in on the details of Kimball’s service record. It seemed the bastard had tried and failed twice to make it into Army Special Forces before Laura’s investigation had ruined any chance he’d had of getting beyond regular enlisted ranks. Javier was willing to bet Kimball considered himself quite the operator—a strategist, a badass, a cold-blooded warrior. He did have some skills. He’d managed to fake his own death, to disappear and stay hidden for almost seven years. But he lacked experience and discipline—something Javier could use to his advantage.

Javier spotted Laura’s handbag on the passenger-side floor, her cell phone and .22 SIG beside it. And his hope that they’d be able to use her cell phone to locate her vanished.

¡Coño! Damn it!

He noticed something on the dashboard—a wad of gauze. He reached for it, raised it to his nose, and caught the faint scent of . . .

ether

.

He called McBride. “I found her car at the address I gave you, but she’s gone. Her car is totaled. Her cell phone is here and her firearm, too. It looks like someone struck her head-on, then drugged her with ether. I see traces of black paint on her hood and front bumper. There’s no blood. I’m guessing he snatched her and ran.”

“Son of a bitch! I’ve already contacted the Adams County sheriff and put a BOLO out on Kimball. I’ll have units there in twenty minutes.”

“Does that social worker have any idea where he might be staying?”

“No, but we’ve been contacting every lodge, hotel, and no-tell motel in the Denver area in search of anyone fitting his description. So far we’ve found nothing.”

And then it struck Javier.

“You said this location is in Adams County. Where have I heard Adams County mentioned before?” Before McBride could answer, Javier remembered. “The dynamite. It was stolen from a construction site in Adams County, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“How far is that construction site from where I’m standing?”

“It’s going to take me a minute to dig that up.”

“Call me back when you find it. Send me that address as well as some kind of overhead view of the area.”

He ended the call and walked back to Carmichael’s SUV. In the rear storage compartment, he found a halfway decent Kevlar vest, an AR with seriously fucked optics, two loaded magazines, and about fifty spare rounds of 5.56. He carried them to the front seat of the vehicle, removed his shoulder holster, and strapped into the Kevlar. He’d just adjusted the shoulder holster and fastened it in place when his cell rang.

“Yeah.”

“The site is about a mile north of you, and, Corbray, I think you’re right. I diverted an Adams County traffic helo to do a distant flyby, and they spotted what looks like a black minivan parked between two of the houses.”

Laura was there. Javier knew it.

If she was still alive, she needed him now. If she wasn’t . . .

He couldn’t even consider the possibility.

Javier fought to stay on top of his own adrenaline, his own fear, checking the firearms. “I need to know more about that site.”

“The development is an old gravel mine that’s being converted into a lakefront community with luxury homes. The mine pit itself has already filled with groundwater. The houses aren’t completed yet. I’m sending you a satellite image now.”

Javier looked to the north. “I can see the lake from here. Its southern end is about three hundred yards north of my position.”

He set the AR aside and studied the image McBride had sent. The lake was roughly kidney shaped with houses in various stages of construction scattered along the far bank. There was one road in and out. No trees, outcroppings, or shrubs to hide behind. No ravines in the artificially created landscape. Near the mouth of the development, large excavation equipment sat idle beside a trailer that was probably used as an office. To the north and east was open pastureland.

“Where was the van parked?”

“They said they spotted it between the two houses at the northernmost tip of the lake—the two that are more fully built.”

Javier assessed the situation. He could take the road, but Kimball would see him coming almost immediately. That might provoke him into killing Laura, if he hadn’t already. Or Javier could take a route that Kimball wouldn’t expect.

“SWAT is already on its way. I’ll be at your position in about ten minutes. SWAT should arrive in fifteen to twenty.”

“I’ll have her by then. I’m going to swim underwater across the lake and come up behind those two houses. There’s a concrete pipe that spills from the lake into a nearby irrigation ditch off the road to my left here. It was probably built to carry away overflow. I can enter the lake that way so that he won’t spot me climbing over that embankment.”

“Corbray, listen to me. You’re taking a big risk. It’s March, and this isn’t San Diego. The water in that lake won’t be much over forty degrees, if that, and it looks to me like you’ll have a least a half mile to cross.”

“Hey, this is my job, remember?”

It

was

risky. The water temperature would begin to affect him immediately. Swimming underwater meant going for several respiration cycles at a time without fresh oxygen. The combination wasn’t a good one. It wasn’t unheard of for a SEAL to suffer shallow water blackout and drown even under better circumstances.

But Javier had more experience than most SEALs, and he had powerful motivation. If he failed, the woman he loved would die.

“I’m telling you to wait, Corbray. We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

But Javier’s gut told him Laura didn’t have ten minutes.

He disco

* * *

EGO.

That was the key to buying herself time. Kimball was a true narcissist. Some part of him wanted her to appreciate how hard he’d worked to kill her. Some part of him wanted her to be impressed.

Laura fought to hold herself together, fought to see beyond the loathing in Kimball’s eyes, the joy he so obviously felt to know she’d suffered. “I’m supposed to believe you were behind my abduction just because you say so?”