Major Nanny

Chapter Seventeen

Curling himself around Zachary to keep the child from being hit by gunfire or trampled by the crowd, Harlan located the governor’s position. Parker McKenna was blocking her body with his, while Nolan Law was covering Bart Bellows in his wheelchair as the agents hustled them both out the side exit, probably to the armored SUV parked outside for just such a contingency.

Relieved on one point, Harlan scanned the gallery above. The shots had come from that direction.

There. He saw movement behind one of the columns. A man dressed in all black, his face covered with a ski mask.

“All units, gunman on the second floor gallery, west section.” He picked Zachary up and carried him beneath the overhang created by the second floor walkway, below the gunman’s position. A doorway nearby led into the governor’s office. He dug the keys to the office from his pocket and took Zachary inside. “Zachary, listen-you know how important promises are, right?”

Zachary was crying, but he nodded.

“Promise you’ll stay here until I come get you. Promise?”

Zachary nodded again.

Zachary kissed the little boy’s forehead. “I love you, little man. Stay right here and I’ll be back to get you. I promise.”

“Promises are important,” Zachary said on a soft hitching sob.

“That’s right.” Harlan slipped out the door on the opposite side of the office, locking it behind him.

Listening to the radio chatter to get his bearings, he tried to anticipate where the gunman might go now that he’d been thwarted in his quest to shoot the governor. But all he could think about was what Zachary had said to him just before the shots rang out. You said to find you if Mommy needed you.

When was the last time he’d seen Stacy? When she headed to the guesthouse to check on Zachary and the others?

“Unit Ten, this is Unit One.” Unit Ten was Jeff Appleton, the deputy in charge of guarding the guesthouse. He’d talked to Appleton right before Stacy left so he’d know she was coming.

Had he talked to him since?”

“Unit Ten, please respond.”

Nothing.

Fear settled in the center of Harlan’s chest, heavy as lead. “Unit Seven, Unit Ten is not responding.”

“Unit One, can’t check. All hell’s broken loose out here.”

“All units, Unit One going to check on Unit Ten. Keep looking for the gunman.”

He headed for the side exit, keeping an eye out for the gunman who’d opened fire in the hall. Panicked guests were being herded out of the ballroom doors a few yards to the north, while other security units were scouring the ranch house in search of the shooter.

How the hell had the man in black gotten past the checkpoints to get inside? They had metal detectors set up at all the main entrances-any weapon should have been caught on the scan.

He set that question aside and concentrated on making a quiet approach toward the checkpoint outside the guesthouse. It was empty, he saw to his surprise, but he heard a soft moaning sound coming from somewhere to his left.

Sidetracking, he nearly stumbled over something lying on the shadowy ground beneath a tall cottonwood tree. Flashing the penlight on his key ring onto the ground, he saw Jeff Appleton lying on his side, bleeding from his head. His eyes were fluttering, as if he was trying to regain consciousness.

His sidearm was missing.

“Appleton, it’s McClain.” Harlan crouched by the man, scanning the area to make sure he wasn’t being lured into an ambush. There were no strange sounds, no sign of any furtive movements around him. “Can you hear me?”

Appleton’s eyes flickered open. “McClain.” He winced, touching his hand to his bleeding head.

“Who hit you?”

“Got me from behind.” He blinked hard and tried to sit up, groaning at the effort.

“Don’t move-I’ll call for a medical unit.”

“Wait.” Appleton grabbed Harlan’s arm. “Trevor Lewis.”

Harlan frowned at him. “What about Lewis?”

“Before I got knocked out, I spotted Lewis heading for the house. It was just after you radioed me to tell me Stacy was coming.” His grip on Harlan’s arm weakened. “He had…a key…” His eyes fluttered shut. He was still breathing and still had a strong, steady pulse, Harlan saw with relief. He eased the man to the ground and radioed in his position.

“Unit Ten is down. Need medical assistance.” His gaze slid to the quiet facade of Stacy’s home, his heart pounding a cadence of pure terror. “We may have a hostage situation at the guesthouse.”

“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Stacy fought to keep her voice low and calm, even though panic screamed through every cell of her body. Where was Zachary? She’d seen him for a split second when she came into the house, before Trevor locked her son and Jeff Appleton’s little girl, Abby, in Zachary’s bedroom and told them to stay there.

She’d heard Abby crying inconsolably off and on for the past half hour, but not a peep from Zachary.

How would a kid with Asperger’s react to something this unexpected and strange? Shut down and pretend it wasn’t happening? It was possible.

She hoped that was the answer. If he shut down, then maybe he wasn’t living through the terror that poor Abby Appleton seemed to be experiencing at the moment, her cries rising from inside the locked bedroom.

Trevor sat on one of the bar stools, his posture almost relaxed, though the pistol he held pointed at Charlotte’s bound, gagged figure belied any sort of calm on his part. “I’m waiting for the signal.”

“What signal?”

“I’ll know it when I hear it. Then we can get Zachary and go.” He shot a look at Charlotte, who was gazing at him with wide, terrified eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you if everyone just cooperates. I just came for Stacy, but we have to wait for the signal before we can go.”

“What about Deputy Appleton? What did you do to get past him?” Stacy asked.

“I didn’t do anything,” Trevor answered, but the emphasis he put on the first word provided a frightening clue. If he hadn’t done anything to Jeff, did he have an accomplice who had?

“Where do you plan to take Zachary and me?” she asked aloud.

“Did you know my family has money?” Trevor smiled at her. “Lots of it. I got the bulk of an inheritance from my grandfather when I turned twenty-five. Last year, I bought a small horse ranch in Colorado. You and Zachary will love it there. He’ll have horses to ride whenever he wants to, and you can stop worrying so hard about making ends meet.” Trevor rose from the chair and crossed to where she sat on the sofa. He sank onto the coffee table, reaching across to touch her cheek. “I just want to take care of both of you. You haven’t had anyone to do that for you since your husband left, have you?”

A picture of Harlan flashed in her head. Strong, solid Harlan, who loved her son and seemed to want more from her than she was brave enough to give him. He’d take care of her and Zachary, if she needed him to, but he respected her ability to take care of herself and her son on her own.

The comparison to the crazy man sitting in front of her with his gun still held at the ready was enough to bring stinging tears to her eyes. But she held them back, refusing to let the fear make her weaker.

Harlan would realize she hadn’t returned to the party, sooner or later. He knew where she’d been going when she left the ranch house. He’d come looking.

She just had to stay alert, listen for signs of his arrival. If she could distract Trevor at just the right time-

“Zachary’s being awfully quiet.” Trevor pushed himself to his feet, reaching down to catch her wrist. “Let’s go check.”

She shook her head, not wanting her son to see her being held at gunpoint. “You know Zachary. He’s probably caught up in reading one of his horse books.”

“He’s probably hungry, don’t you think?” He glanced at the counter, where the half-eaten remains of vegetable soup sat cooling in bowls. “I interrupted dinner, I’m afraid.”

He dragged her down the hall to Zachary’s bedroom, untying the shoestrings he’d used to secure the door closed by tying it to Stacy’s bedroom doorknob. At the rattle of the doorknob, Abby Appleton started crying again.

Trevor opened the door. Abby sobbed in terror.

But Stacy didn’t see Zachary.

“Where is he?” Trevor asked the crying child.

She just sobbed harder.

“Ask her!” Trevor’s grip tightened on Stacy’s arm, pushing her into the room.

She stumbled forward, almost falling into the crying child. Catching herself, she crouched by Abby, reaching out to touch the child’s cold, damp cheek. “Abby, where did Zachary go?”

Abby’s blue eyes shifted sideways.

Toward the open bedroom window.

“WE HAVE MOVEMENT INSIDE.” Around the side of the house, Freedom Sheriff Bernard Hale motioned for Harlan to join him. Behind them, EMTs had arrived, lights and sirens off, to make sure no one inside the ranch house was alerted to the police presence. They scooped up Appleton and carried him off to a safer staging area closer to the road.

Back at the ranch house, the agents had finished a thorough sweep without finding the mysterious gunman who’d fired shots at the governor earlier. They had, however, found a gun hidden in a plant in the upper gallery. It had been recently fired.

Matt Soarez was staying with Zachary in the governor’s office until Harlan could get back to the house. Zachary refused to leave until Harlan came back to get him.

Harlan scooted closer to the sheriff. They were looking through the open window of Zachary’s bedroom, he realized. That’s how the little boy had gotten out.

Borrowing the sheriff’s binoculars, he peered into the room and saw Trevor Lewis standing at the window, looking out.

“It’s Lewis,” he confirmed in a low whisper. He and the sheriff were pretty well camouflaged by the scrubby bush giving them cover, but he still hunched lower as Trevor looked out the window briefly before ducking inside. “Wish I had my M40.”

“You’re a sniper?” Hale asked.

“Used to be,” he answered. Of course, it had been a while since he’d been able to shoot a rifle with any sort of confidence. The man at the firing range thought it was more mental than physical for Harlan, but based on what the doctors had told him when he’d first sustained the injury, the scar tissue alone would preclude regaining his old form.

“I can get you a Remington M24.”

“Shouldn’t we try negotiating first?” Harlan asked.

“Of course,” Hale answered. “Just thinking about contingencies.” He thumbed the radio on his shoulder. “All units, hold position. I’m going to make a call.” He looked at Harlan. “I need the number.”

Harlan rattled it off, keeping his eye on the window. He couldn’t see Lewis anymore, but he caught a glimpse of a curvy silhouette against a rectangle of light inside the room. Stacy, he thought, his heart in his throat

“Stacy’s in there with him,” he said to Hale.

“You sure?”

He nodded. He’d know the shape of her anywhere.

Hale dialed the number, his cell phone on speaker. The phone inside rang four times before Stacy answered. “Hello?”

She sounded scared, Harlan thought. And brave. A surge of emotion racked him, as if someone had opened a flood-gate inside and let the pent-up energy flow.

He loved her. Everything about her, from her bloody stubborn streak to her blasted pride. And if it was the last thing he ever did, he’d get her out of that house safely and reunite her with that quirky little kid they both loved so much.

“STACY, THIS IS BERNARD HALE.” The sheriff’s voice came over the line loud and clear, as if he were in the next room. That meant he was probably somewhere close, maybe just outside. “Is Trevor Lewis in there with you?”

Stacy flinched as Trevor rested his chin on her shoulder from behind, his ear pressing the phone receiver against her own ear. “He’s right here.”

“I’d like to speak to him.”

Trevor’s hot breath brushed her cheek. “Tell him no.” He backed away, pacing a few steps toward the kitchen. “See what your kid did? Sneaked out and made trouble for us. Maybe if you didn’t baby him so much, he wouldn’t have bugged out.”

Trevor was losing it, she thought, trying not to let the gnawing panic in her belly take hold. “It’s not too late to stop this,” she said to Trevor, pleased that her voice remained calm and even despite the fear.

“He’ll stop it,” Trevor said with manic confidence. “He has a plan.”

“Who’s ‘he’?” she asked, hoping the sheriff was taking notes on the other end of the line.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Trevor murmured, his voice almost gleeful.

“Stacy, it’s Harlan.” The low-pitched, familiar voice in her ear set her nerves jangling. “Is he listening in now?”

“No,” she murmured.

“Yes, you will,” Trevor said, waving the gun in a wide sweep. “He’s got it all worked out.”

“Zachary’s okay,” Harlan said. “He came to get me.”

Her heart leaped. “Really?”

Trevor gave her an odd look. “Yes. Are you willing to be part of it, too?”

“Jeff Appleton’s injured but being treated. Are Charlotte and his daughter okay?”

“Yes,” she answered.

Trevor’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

In her ear, Harlan gave her a quick update. “A gunman shot at the governor. She’s okay. Nobody hurt, just bumps and bruises for the guests during the evacuation.” His voice was a bracing shot of whiskey, shoring up her flagging strength. “We didn’t catch the shooter, but he’s long gone.”

So Trevor’s dream of some big plan unfolding wasn’t going to come true. But would sharing that information with her unstable captor make things better or worse? At this point, he seemed to have lost all touch with reality and didn’t even notice she was still on the phone.

“I’m willing to be part of it,” she said aloud to Trevor. “But I don’t think we should depend on someone else. Why can’t we just come up with our own plan?”

“I need to know where you are. We don’t have a bead on the guy,” Harlan murmured.

She met Trevor’s beaming gaze, wondering how to reveal their position without tipping him off. If she could keep Trevor from getting shot, that’s what she wanted to do. But the more he waved around that gun, the sooner someone was going to get hurt. She didn’t intend for it to be Charlotte, Abby or her. “Trevor, why don’t you untie Charlotte and let her go? She can take Abby with her. They’ll tell Sheriff Hale that everything’s okay-won’t you Charlotte?”

Charlotte nodded, her eyes dark with desperation.

“See?”

Trevor shook his head. “You don’t believe her, do you?” He raised the gun and pointed it right at Charlotte’s head. Charlotte flinched, squeezing her eyes shut.

“No!” Stacy took a step toward him, keeping the phone pressed to her ear so she didn’t lose the connection to Harlan. “I believe her. I do. She’s my best friend. She’d do anything to protect me. She’s not going to let me get in trouble for helping you.”

Trevor lowered the gun. “She may not, but nobody out there is going to believe her. Harlan McClain will poison their minds against me.”

“Tell him to trade Charlotte and Abby for me,” Harlan urged in her ear.

“No,” she said sharply, seeing the black fury in Trevor’s eyes. She had no doubt that if Harlan stepped foot inside the house right now, Trevor would shoot him dead on the spot.

“He will,” Trevor insisted, pointing the gun at Charlotte again. The anger in his eyes melted into bleakness. “We’re not getting out of here alive, Stacy. They won’t let us. We’re surrounded and he’s not coming, is he?”

“Maybe your friend’s just not here yet,” she said quickly, not liking the look in his eyes. “Maybe he’s looking for a distraction-if we could send out Charlotte and Abby, the people outside would be so busy dealing with them-”

“He could make his move,” Trevor finished for her, looking at her with almost childlike hope.

“Let me untie Charlotte. She could go get Abby.”

“Is Abby in Zachary’s room?” Harlan’s voice was a low rumble in her ear.

“It’s probably getting cold in Zachary’s room for Abby, with the window open,” she said to Trevor.

“We’ll put someone at the window to get them out that way-just warn us if Trevor’s coming with her,” Harlan said.

Trevor looked at Stacy uncertainly. “You think it’ll work?”

I hope so, she thought.

HARLAN HEARD A LOW THUD, and seconds later, the sound of ripping tape. Lewis must’ve duct-taped Charlotte Manning to a chair in the kitchen earlier “Stacy?” he murmured, needing to hear the sound of her voice. But she didn’t answer.

“She probably put the phone down to unbind Charlotte,” Sheriff Hale said softly, his gaze on the pair of tactical officers he’d just positioned on either side of Zachary’s bedroom window. As long as Charlotte entered alone, they’d draw her and Jeff Appleton’s daughter to the window and help them escape.

“There. Let Charlotte go get Abby.” Stacy’s voice was back in his ear again. He felt the tension in his gut ease.

“Good,” he said. “Keep him from going with them.”

“No, she can do it by herself,” Stacy said, clearly talking to Trevor. “We need to stay here and figure out what we’re going to do when your friend makes his move.”

That’s my girl, he thought. And he was going to do whatever it took to make her see they were right together as soon as he got her out of there.

A rectangle of light appeared in Zachary’s room. The door opened and Harlan spotted Charlotte Manning’s silhouette enter.

The men at the window called softly to her. Following their orders, she handed Abby out the window to one of them and let the other officer help her out. The deputies brought Abby and Charlotte over to where Harlan and the sheriff crouched.

“Where are they?” Harlan asked Charlotte.

“Living room. He’s going to come looking for me if I don’t go back out there.”

Sheriff Hale nodded to another deputy standing nearby. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

Charlotte looked at Harlan. “He’s completely out of it- Stacy’s walking around talking into the phone and it’s like he doesn’t even see it. You’ve got to get her out of there.”

The deputy walked over, carrying an M24 police sniper rifle. He held it out to Harlan.

Harlan stared at the rifle, realizing what Hale intended. “Sheriff, no-”

On the other end of his headset, he heard Stacy’s soft intake of breath.

“Everything’s okay,” he murmured into the microphone.

“You said you were a sniper,” Hale said.

“I have an injury.” He held up his shrapnel-scarred hand.

“What’s taking so long?” Trevor Lewis’s agitated voice was clear over the line. He must be standing close to Stacy.

Harlan realized they were out of time. Lewis seemed to be growing more desperate by the second, and now Stacy was the only remaining target for his madness. He had to end this mess.

Now.

It had been too long since he’d felt as if a sniper rifle was part of his own body, a third arm with which he could deliver justice in a few well-aimed and well-considered shots. But if that was the only way to make sure Stacy got a chance to hold her little boy again, then he’d make it happen.

He held out his hand to the deputy with the rifle. Into the headset, he murmured, “Get him into Zachary’s room, turn on the light, and get the hell out of the way.”

On the other end of the line, Stacy was silent for a long moment. Then, aloud, she said, “We should go check on them.”

Harlan positioned himself for the best possible shot through the open window. His heart was rattling like a snare drum, beating a cadence of fear, but he shook off the doubt and concentrated on the task. Level the sight. Go for center mass.

A silhouette filled the doorway of Zachary’s room, blocking part of the light. Harlan had the shot, but he didn’t know where Stacy was, so he couldn’t take it yet.

“They’re not here.” Trevor’s voice rose with alarm. Harlan could hear him both on the headset and faintly through the open window twenty yards away.

“Are you sure?” Stacy’s voice was strong over the line. “Let me turn on a light.”

Harlan saw her silhouette just behind Trevor’s. Her arm moved, flicking on the light in Zachary’s room.

Illumination flooded the shadowy scene. Harlan saw Trevor Lewis clearly, standing a few feet inside the room. Behind him, Stacy backed out of Zachary’s room at a run.

Trevor turned and ran to the doorway. His gun hand lifted, as if to fire after his escaping captive. Harlan heard a bark of gunfire from the house.

Now or never. Take the shot.

Hoping the short distance would compensate for the unfamiliar rifle and his rusty skills, he squeezed off three shots. Trevor Lewis’s body jerked with each round.

Then he fell out of sight.

For a second, only the sound of the rifle’s echo filled the night air. Then the area erupted in chaos as deputies and agents rushed the guesthouse.

Harlan handed off the rifle and ran to the front of the house, terrified that Lewis’s round had hit its target before Harlan’s shots took him down. He pushed past the deputies in the front room, calling Stacy’s name.

“Harlan!” Her cry swung him in the direction of the kitchen, where she was standing near the sink, tears streaming down her eyes.

Elbowing deputies and agents out of the way, he ran to her, wrapping her in a crushing embrace. Her breath hot and sweet against his cheek, she whispered, “I knew you’d come.”

He kissed her temple. “I always will.”