The Trigger (25 page)

“What about Sonja? Or whatever her name really is? How do we put her back?”

“I don’t know.” Spencer scowled. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“If we stop the collapse, we either have to kill her or let her go. And if we let her go, we’ll both end up in prison.” Randall started to think Sonja should die. He wished he’d shot her out on the hill. It would be harder up close.

“We may have another option,” Spencer said. “Maybe we could give her some drugs to mess up her memory.”

Randall lost his patience. “That’s not realistic. She escaped the bunker, but Emma and I subdued her again. Now she’s duct-taped in her apartment. We have to deal with her and keep moving forward.”

Spencer lunged toward him. “I won’t let you harm her! This is out of control!”

Randall quickly held up his hands in supplication. “Deal with her your way, but be smart. I’m not going to prison.” He stepped toward the door. “I have something important to do.”

“No explosions! I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“It’s the weekend. No one will be in the buildings.”
A straight-out lie.
His instructions to his conspirators were to minimize the number of people killed, but they knew there would be casualties. Randall strode out.

He felt Spencer coming after him and spun back around. “Don’t try to stop me.”

Spencer lunged at him again, and Randall shoved him back as hard as he could. His brother stumbled and landed on a chair. Randall bolted through the door and yelled, “Emma! Let’s go!”

She rushed up the hallway into the living room, looking irritated. Randall grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the front door. He glanced back, but Spencer hadn’t followed him.

As they hurried next door, Randall tried to think of what else he would need. He had one of his guns. Did he need another? If things went badly, he’d rather take his own life than go to prison. He was also prepared to shoot a security guard if he had to. Once he sent the email and unleashed the rest of the team, he had to do everything he could to fulfill his end.

Inside his house, he picked up an extra handgun, several bottles of water, and the ten thousand in cash from the safe—just in case things didn’t go according to plan and they had to run for it. Emma used the bathroom and stuffed a few things in an overnight bag. They stepped out the front door into the night, and it occurred to him that it might be the last time he saw his beloved Destiny. He hoped not.

“We’re making a better future,” he declared. He and Emma headed for the truck.

Getting the duct tape off her mouth took longer than Dallas had anticipated. It was still rolled into a wad across her bottom teeth and her lips felt raw, but she could at least make noise now and speak to some degree. A dispatcher might not understand what she was saying, but they might be able to trace the call.

Dallas had considered kicking the wall between her and Raff’s apartment to attract his attention, then changed her mind. She’d heard Randall go next door to talk to him, so the creepy hacker was probably working with the deviant brothers and wouldn’t likely help her. He might even try to harm her. She was feeling lucky to be alive. With all the weapons the Claytons kept around, she couldn’t believe Randall hadn’t shot her. Apparently he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer—just a psychopath who wanted to keep her around as a breeder.

The house was dark except for a lamp next to the couch, but she could see light in the bedroom. Ankles and wrists bound, head pounding from the rock assault, she flopped her way across the living room carpet, feeling like a clumsy seal. Weary of it, she tried standing and hopping but soon fell on her face. It hurt her nose, but at least she didn’t smash her head again. Exhausted and aching, she finally reached the composite floor in the hallway, and the slick surface made the short trip to the bedroom a little easier.

Her suitcase was open on the bed. Randall had apparently been searching her things when she interrupted him. Dallas glanced at the dresser where she’d put her spare cell phone in the middle drawer. It looked undisturbed. Thank god. Dallas maneuvered onto her knees, grabbed the narrow handle with her teeth, and pulled. The drawer moved an inch. She tried again, yanking this time. Another three inches. It took four more pulls to move the drawer past the hinges so it could drop to the floor. She rested for a moment, teeth aching. All those childhood fillings had ground against the metal handle and sent chills down her spine.

The only garment in the drawer was a pair of yoga pants, which she pulled out with her teeth, exposing the phone. Once she had it activated, she could use voice commands to call 911, but how the hell was she supposed to turn the damn thing on? One way or another, she had to make it happen.

She leaned over and used her chin to press the edge of the phone with the switch against the side of the drawer. Nothing happened on the first five tries, but finally the familiar light of the home screen came on. Dallas gave it a moment to fully engage, then used her chin again to press the genie button. “Call 911,” she mumbled through the wadded tape.

The phone didn’t respond, so she tried again, speaking more slowly. She still sounded a bit garbled, but the beautiful sound of a call going through filled the silent room.

“What is your emergency?” a chipper female voice asked.

“Kidnapped. Call FBI.” She had to keep it simple to be understood.

“Did you say kidnapped?”

“Yes. Call FBI. Agent Dallas.”

“Call the FBI in Dallas Texas? Where are you now?”

“Redding. I’m Agent Dallas.” The damn duct tape got in the way of her tongue and made her sound ridiculous.

“I’m having trouble understanding you. Can you tell me where you are?”

“Outside Redding. Destiny.”

She heard the front door open and footsteps come her way. “Send help now!”

Dallas sat back on her heels so she could face whoever had come to assault her. Spencer walked into the room, carrying her weapon. His face was inscrutable.
Oh shit
. Dallas tried to show no fear, but her heart ached for all the things she hadn’t done with her life yet.

“I see you called for help.” Spencer reached down and hung up on the dispatcher. “There’s no need for that now.”

He stared at her for a long moment, and Dallas struggled to get up. She wouldn’t beg for her life or even try to bargain, but she would ram him if he gave her a chance.

“I’ll be right back,” he finally said.

She tried again to stand. Just as she made it, he came back carrying a steak knife.

“Sit down on the bed. I’m going to cut you loose.”

Why would he? This couldn’t be good.
She complied, leery but relieved, as he removed the rest of the duct tape from her mouth.

He talked as he sawed through the tape, his voice flat as if he were in shock. “I had nothing to do with Emma’s abduction or yours. I just learned of Randall’s criminal activities minutes ago. I’m freeing you so you can go after him. I think he plans to set off an explosion.”

Dallas watched his face, which gave nothing away. She didn’t believe a word of it, except the part about blowing something up. Spencer had clearly turned on his brother, playing the good guy to save himself from prosecution. She would work with that. “Emma said you had plans to cause a financial collapse. Tell me the details, so our people can stop it.”

“I don’t know what else Randall had planned.” He started on the tape around her ankles.

“Can you guess? If you want immunity, you have to help the bureau stop this.”

“He mentioned something about a run on the banks, but he destroyed the computers before he left. And I think Randall has followers out there that he’ll contact now, if he hasn’t already. They might be planning multiple explosions.” Spencer handed over her gun, then slipped off her backpack and gave it to her.

Relief washed over Dallas. She checked the chamber, but the gun was no longer loaded. “What are the targets?”

“I really don’t know. I had no part in planning any of this.”

“Is Raff involved? Does he know?” Dallas gestured at the dividing wall.

“No. I hired him to set up networks, maybe join the community if he liked it here.”

Lying ratface.
She kept the thought to herself, needing his cooperation. But first she had to call her team. “Will you sit down and write out a statement with everything you know?” Dallas looked around. Did she have any paper? She found a small tablet in her suitcase and handed it to him.

“I’m sorry things worked out this way. I really liked you.” Spencer gave her a sad smile.

Dallas tried not to roll her eyes. “Excuse me.” She waved at him to leave. He didn’t act like someone who’d make a run for it.

Spencer walked out, and Dallas called McCullen. She thought he might be quicker to respond at four-thirty in the morning than Gibson. McCullen picked up immediately. “Dallas. What’s happening?”

“Randall Clayton just left the property, and Emma has gone along with him. I think they plan to blow up something connected to internet infrastructure. I’m going after him.”

McCullen sucked in a quick breath. “I may have spotted his truck a few minutes ago. I was on my way out to Destiny, but I’ll turn around right now.”

She was curious about why he’d been headed her way, but now was not the time. “There may be other targets, so I need to call Gibson. Stay on Randall and update me with your location in a few minutes.”

Searching for her car keys, she called her team leader, and he finally picked up. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice scratchy. “Did you find our missing woman?”

“Yes, and she’s no longer a victim. She’s working with her husband to set off an explosion, but I don’t know where yet.”

“Holy shit!” Something loud thunked in the background. “Give me a second.”

She found her keys and took a long drink of water while Gibson got himself situated.

Still sounding breathless, he asked, “What are they driving?”

“Dark blue Ford truck, early 2000 model.”

“What do we know about the target?”

“Emma referred to them as ‘internet buildings,’ so that could be tech companies or places where servers are housed.” Dallas grabbed her laptop and headed for the door. “The plan is to cause a financial and social meltdown, so they could hit government buildings too.”

“You’re saying
they
. How many people? How many targets?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll get the whole bureau on this. We need immediate access to Randall Clayton’s cell phone and email account.”

Dallas pounded down the stairs. “They’ve also got a financial scheme cooking that is supposed to cause a run on the banks. We need to notify all the financial departments. I wish I knew more.”

“You may have mitigated the worst of it. Good work.”

Not really.
She’d been captured and detained twice, and the suspects had given her most of the information. “I’m going after Randall. I may be able to reason with him if I can get him or Emma on the phone.”

“I’ll get a crisis team from the Sacramento office to make contact and be on standby.”

“We need a team out here at the compound too—tech experts who can examine damaged computers.” Dallas unlocked her rental car. “I’ll call again when I’m on the road.”

She thought about the impending confrontation with Randall and wished she had her sniper gear. She remembered Spencer’s gun safe and sprinted for his house. It wouldn’t be the same as her Remington, but the Bushmaster would do in a pinch.

McCullen braked to a near stop and made a wide U-turn in the road. The truck he’d seen going the other way in the dark hadn’t really registered, except as a local farmer or hunter. He’d expected to arrive at Destiny while everyone slept and knock quietly on Dallas’ door first to make sure she was all right. If she hadn’t been there, he would have called for backup, rousted Randall out of bed, and hauled him into the bureau for questioning. Encountering the suspect on the road had not been on his mind. Now Randall had a five- or seven-minute lead.

Punching the gas, McCullen pushed his sedan to seventy. Even in the dark, he knew the road well and could handle the speed. Where was Randall headed? Without knowing the target, the bureau would waste time and manpower trying to cover every potential—and could still miss the mark.

His thoughts turned to Emma. What had happened with her? He wanted to believe Randall had forced her to go along, but Dallas had indicated Emma was a willing partner. In fact, Dallas had sounded pissed off about it. Had she rescued Emma only to have the victim rejoin the man who’d abducted her? Law enforcement saw that kind of behavior all the time. McCullen thought back to his relationship with Emma. She’d been rather passive-aggressive at times. But she’d been fun too—and very sexual. It saddened him to think of her going to prison.

A wild thought popped into his head. What about Tate? If Emma and Randall were both incarcerated—or dead—the system would have to find a guardian. McCullen decided it was time to request a DNA test for himself and the baby. He’d been thinking about it for months.

A year and a half earlier, he’d stopped at The Highland for a drink after a long day. Emma had joined him at the bar, flirting outrageously. They’d gotten drunk together and arranged to meet at a motel a few blocks away. After an hour of crazy monkey sex that required two trips to the shower, he’d sobered up and sent her home. He’d never regretted the sex—the best he’d ever had—but cheating with another man’s wife had left him ashamed. He’d stopped going into The Highland again. Then months later, he’d heard Emma was pregnant.

He’d tried not to think about it, but in the back of his mind he’d known it was his kid. Randall and Emma had been married for years without producing any children. McCullen had even entertained the idea that Emma had slept with him just to get pregnant. Was it true? Was Tate his kid and about to come into his life on a permanent basis?

Unsettled by all of it, McCullen put his coffee back in the holder and watched the dark road ahead. He didn’t see any tail lights, but he knew the turnoff to Highway 299 was coming up. Randall had probably made the turn already, and McCullen didn’t want to miss it. He also had to call Dallas again and update her on their location. He put in his earpiece and hit callback. He didn’t use the cell phone much in the car and had never mastered voice commands.