Deliver Us from Evil Read online

  Warren stopped outside the hospital’s automatic doors and peered down into Kevin’s face. “So we don’t know anything of the group’s status?”

  “No, sir. Not yet.”

  Lifting his finger to tap his chin, he considered his options and what would benefit him. What would his father, the colonel, do? Warren let out a long sigh and dropped his ungloved hand. “You go back in and find out what you can. I need to think for a moment.”

  “Yes, sir.” The aide stepped on the mat in front of the glass doors—they whooshed open.

  “Kevin.”

  He stopped and turned to stare up at Warren. “Yes, sir?”

  “Keep your ears open, son. They might not share all the information they receive with you. Understand what I’m saying to you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Warren waited until Kevin had crossed the foyer before pacing toward the end of the building. Avoiding the icy sidewalk, he moved to the area normally covered in grass. His dress shoes crunched in the snow, soaking his feet. He glanced down, irritated he’d ruined his new Kenneth Cole suede loafers—he’d just broken them in.

  Rounding the side of the building, Warren yanked out his pack of Camels, shook a cigarette free, and lit it with his engraved lighter. The smoke filled his lungs, sending calming sensations through his body. He exhaled, flicking the lighter’s lid open and closed as he considered his next move.

  Click-click. Click-click.

  He shoved the lighter into his pant’s pocket, then pulled the cell phone free from his breast pocket. Warren never could understand why the general population had a fetish with belt clips and holsters for cell phones. Didn’t they realize it looked tacky, messed up the natural line of a suit? His father had been a stickler about appearances. Warren had never been allowed to wear baggy jeans and shirts in his teens. No, sir. Not the son of Colonel McGovern.

  His fingers, stiff from the frigid air, punched in the number. The call connected, and he pressed the phone to his ear. After four rings the computerized voice came over the line, inquiring if he wanted to leave a voice mail or enter a numeric page. Warren flipped the phone closed and shoved it back into his pocket.

  Where was Tom Hurst?

  Saturday, 9:48 a.m.

  Underground

  Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Tennessee

  BRANNON COULDN’T BREATHE. SHE fought to take short, shallow breaths, reminding herself not to hyperventilate.

  Helpless. Complete and utter helplessness. A feeling she detested—ever since losing Mom and Dad in a boating accident.

  Her heart thumped so hard that her chest bounced with the beat. Snow and ice settled on her eyelashes, distorting her vision.

  She sat on frozen ground with her ankle throbbing and a new burning in her shoulder, but she discarded the pain and discomfort. She had more important things to worry about, like how the others fared.

  Brannon tensed her muscles, then glanced around in the darkness. She couldn’t make out any sounds or movement. Alone, all alone. Darkness wrapped around her, cloaking her in its icy grip.

  God, please don’t let us die like this. Not like Mom and Dad and Wade. Please, God, help us. Do something.

  Droplets of beaded ice showered over her shoulder. She froze. Had she done that?

  More movement behind and above her. Crunching registered in her mind.

  “Lincoln? Roark? Are y’all okay?” Pushing past the pain, Brannon waited for a response.

  Nothing.

  Air whooshed from her lungs. Panic catapulted her into action. She felt around in the darkness, her palms grazing the hard, slick rocks. She couldn’t tell if she was inching away from the other two or not.

  She called out again, this time her voice weaker and shakier to her own ears. Her voice echoed in the dark coffin around her.

  Saturday, 9:57 a.m.

  Underground

  Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Tennessee

  ROARK SHIFTED, TESTING HIS limbs. A groan came from the left. Unless his orientation had been distorted during the fall, the sound came from where Lincoln had been standing. Which meant the ranger was alive. But . . . what about Brannon?

  Lincoln had grabbed Roark when the ground vanished under them. Brannon had been sitting on the ledge. If his calculations were correct, she should be near his right leg. Should being the operative word.

  Bits of ice fell from the break in the ground above him, but he refused to acknowledge the icy frigidness. He needed to find Brannon. Not that he could explain why, but he just needed to find her and make sure she was okay.

  He reached out again. This time, instead of grabbing air, his fingers grazed against something. Something that moved against him. Something warm. Brannon!

  The darkness fought against him. His breathing came in spurts. No, he wouldn’t think about how small the area had to be. He had to concentrate on reaching her. “Brannon!”

  “Roark?” But it wasn’t her angelic voice responding. Lincoln shifted against him. “Have you heard Brannon yet?”

  “Nothing. What happened?”

  “We fell into a dormant cave.”

  A cave. Just great. The rock formations seemed to close in around him, even though he could see nothing in the pitch darkness. No, he wouldn’t let that happen. He steeled his mind and concentrated on regulating his breathing. In and out. Slow and steady. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

  “I’m trying to find my flashlight.” Lincoln’s jacket rustled in the darkness.

  Roark pushed to standing, then went still, letting his strained muscles relax and rest. The humming of a familiar tune drifted up to him. Soft and muffled, the droning sound soothed him. What was it? He held his breath while trying to discern where the sound came from.

  Below and in front of him. Brannon! She hummed a song.

  Roark tilted his head to the side. What song was that?

  Recharged, however briefly, Roark jabbed the void where Lincoln rustled. “Can you hear that? Is it her?”

  Lincoln chuckled. “That’s her all right. Humming ‘Amazing Grace.’” He flicked on the flashlight and cast the beam around. “Hey, Brannon, can you see me?”

  Brannon stopped humming. She screamed.

  Roark’s heart nearly stopped beating.

  Lincoln jerked the flashlight around the space. Four stone and dirt walls closed in on them, making their space only about twelve feet by twelve feet. Above them, the gap they’d fallen through stood about thirty feet overhead. Stalactites hung over them, jagged spears of rock ready to pierce them.

  But no sign of her.

  “Brannon!” Lincoln inched forward, then reached out his palm to brace against the wall.

  “Lincoln!”

  He shone the light down, not even three feet in front of Roark. A six-foot drop-off of about three feet wide opened beneath them. Brannon lay below them, shielding her eyes from the brightness as she looked up at them. “Are y’all okay?”

  Lincoln glanced at Roark. “We’re fine. How about you?”

  “I-I’mm j-just cold.” But her voice sounded weaker to Roark.

  Must’ve sounded the same to Lincoln. “We’re coming to you. There’s no way out up here. Can you see an opening down there?”

  “N-no. It’s just d-d-dark here.”

  Roark touched Lincoln’s arm and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Even if there isn’t a way out there, we need to check on her. She doesn’t sound so good.”

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  Roark sat on the edge. “Let me lower you down to her. You’ll need to move her out of the way for me.”

  “I can lower you.”

  Assessing the slight differences in their sizes, Roark shook his head. “Nah, you’re the first-aid guru. She’ll need your help. Besides, I’m well over six
feet—I should be able to lower myself easier.”

  Lincoln nodded and set the flashlight on its side. “Brannon, I’m coming down.” He lowered himself alongside the edge.

  Roark took hold of his hands, then swung him over the rim of the rock.

  Lincoln let go as soon as he was free of the jagged edges. He squatted next to Brannon, then Roark could no longer see either of them. A long minute passed before Lincoln moved into view. Brannon was nowhere to be seen. He held up his hands. “I’m good. Toss down the flashlight.”

  After throwing the light to Lincoln, Roark laid on his stomach, letting his feet dangle over the edge of the drop-off. He eased himself lower, glancing over his shoulder to gauge the distance. When his hands reached the jagged rim, he hung about a foot off the ground. He let go, landing on the icy rock and slipping, then regained his footing and moved toward Brannon.

  Her head rested against the side of a rock, her eyes pinched closed. Blood caked the sleeve of her right arm. Roark bent to get on eye level with her. With numb fingers he touched the side of her face.

  Her eyes stared into his. The pupils were dilated, almost appearing fixed, like she couldn’t focus. Little drops of frozen tears rested on her red and chapped cheeks. Her breathing came in spurts.

  “Brannon . . .” Roark kept his voice low and tone even. Could she be in shock? He touched her shoulder, shaking her just a bit.

  She blinked again, and again, then her eyes filled with moisture. “Roark,” she croaked as she lifted her arms and encircled his neck. She squeezed him so tight he thought she’d choke him.

  He swallowed back an emotion he didn’t dare name. She clung to him like Saran Wrap, her body trembling as she sobbed warm tears against his neck. Lost as to what to do, he held her tight. “You’re okay,” he whispered. Crying women didn’t affect him, but something about Brannon’s tears undid him. Maybe because she was normally such a pillar of strength.

  “Not like Mom and Dad. Not like Wade,” she murmured, her breath hot near his jawbone. What was she talking about? Was she delirious?

  Lincoln grabbed her shoulders, laying her back and running a hand over her head, stroking her wet hair. “No, not like them. We’re okay.”

  Roark narrowed his eyes, locking them on Lincoln.

  “Later,” the man whispered over Brannon’s head.

  Feeling his heart pound, Roark nodded. She wasn’t hysterical.

  Lincoln moved away from her as he flipped off his backpack. Then he held her by the shoulders and scrutinized her face. “Brannon, look at me.” Her sobs continued to fill the air. “Brannon, look at me!”

  Her head jerked up.

  Lincoln smiled. “We’re going to be okay. Do you hear? We’ll be fine. Not like your mom and dad. Not like Wade.”

  “Oh, Lincoln.” She flung herself against his chest. He tucked her head under his chin and held her.

  That strange sensation snaked around Roark’s stomach. Jealousy . . . envy, he didn’t know, but he still didn’t like it. He stared at the ground. Anything to avoid seeing the two rangers embrace so intimately. When was the last time he’d held a woman just to comfort her? What would it be like to feel Brannon’s heart beating against his?

  Roark froze.

  The heart!

  TWELVE

  Saturday, 10:00 a.m.

  Suburb South of Townsend, Tennessee

  MAI OFFERED HALF OF the stale toast to her new friend. Kanya snatched it and tore a big bite free, smacking as she gulped it down. The girl had finally stopped sobbing long enough for Mai to realize she now had an ally in this dungeon.

  “Khaawp jai,” Kanya said around the food in her mouth.

  “You are welcome.” Mai took a bite, chewing as an idea niggled into her brain. “You know why you are here?”

  Kanya’s mouth hung slack, and she answered. “Yes. The man who brought me here made sure I knew.”

  “It’s horrible.” Mai took another bite and studied her friend. “I hate it.”

  “Me, too.” Kanya finished the toast in one bite. “I want to go back home. I wish I had never left.” She swallowed. “I believed their lies.”

  “We all did. Now we know better.” Mai dusted the crumbs from her lap. Even her father bought into the lies. At least Mai chose to believe he had been lied to. She could not bear the thought of his agreeing to sell her for what she was forced to do. “We could do something about it.”

  Kanya’s round eyes widened as she switched to English. “What can we do? We are mere dek aawn.”

  “Yes, we are children, but we can do something. We have to.” Mai darted her gaze around the room, even though only the two of them were present. She lowered her voice. “I cannot stay here. I would rather die.”

  “Me too. But what?”

  Mai leaned forward and kept her voice to a whisper. The walls were, after all, thin. “We can leave.”

  “Laa! Where would we go? How would we go?”

  “Shh.” Mai scooted closer to Kanya. “I do not know, but we at least have to try.”

  Kanya blinked her dark eyes as if considering Mai’s idea.

  “The only other option is to stay here and sang waat with these dirty American men. Is that what you want?”

  Kanya shook her head.

  “Then we must plan our escape.” Mai licked her cracked lips and let her gaze roam over the room. “We will need supplies.”

  “How?”

  “Each time we are taken back to the entertaining rooms, we need to steal stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  Mai shrugged. “Clothes, shoes, socks . . . anything we can use.”

  “And food. What will we do about food?”

  “When we are given our sandwiches, we will only eat half. The other we will hide away to take with us.”

  “And drink?” Kanya folded her arms over her chest.

  “We can get a can of that diet soda Madam Nancy keeps in the cabinets back in the rooms. One every time we have to go back there.”

  “Yes, we can do that.” Kanya seemed to be more interested and excited now. “Should we tell the other girls?”

  “No!” Mai lowered her voice again. “Some of them feel like this is home to them. They have certain men who come back again and again to see just them. They think these men will one day take them away from this life.” Mai snorted. She still could not believe some of the girls were so stupid. “We must keep this between us, gaw dai?”

  “Okay.”

  Mai stuck out her hand. Kanya took it, and the two girls shook hands. Anticipation filled Mai—she had a friend, a plan, and a goal. What could go wrong?

  Saturday, 10:05 a.m.

  Underground

  Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Tennessee

  HAD ALL THIS BEEN for nothing?

  Roark grabbed the flashlight from beside Brannon and Lincoln, shining it around the space. It was even smaller than before. At least where he and Lincoln had fallen had airspace above the rocks. Here there was nothing but stone on all four sides and a rock ceiling no more than seven feet above them. Roark’s chest ached, but he had a job to do. He had to find the heart, and the cooler wasn’t here in the confining area.

  “Hey, I need the light to dress Brannon’s shoulder.” Lincoln unzipped his backpack and pulled out the first-aid kit.

  “Did you see the cooler?” Roark struggled to keep his voice steady, even as his breathing felt labored.

  Brannon’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t.”

  “It’s not here. Lincoln, did you see it before we came down?”

  Lincoln frowned. “I don’t remember. I didn’t even think about it, to be honest. I was worried about finding Brannon.”

  “I need to go back up and check.” He stood where he’d lowered himself and Lincoln. If he jumped, he coul
d grab the edge and pull up. Maybe.

  Lincoln moved beside him. “I can give you a boost, then hand you the flashlight.”

  Much better idea. “It shouldn’t take me but a minute to see.” Roark glanced at Brannon, trying to gauge by her expression how much pain she was in. “Can you wait a few moments to see to your injuries?”

  “Sure. It’s really nothing more than a scrape. Go find the heart.” She waved him off, still pale, but sounding stronger.

  Lincoln bent and laced his fingers together, cupping his hands to make a step. Roark placed a toe in Lincoln’s hands and reached for the jagged edge.

  Pebbles dug into his palms, but he pulled himself up until he rested his waist against the edge. He popped a leg up, then lifted himself.

  “Ready for the flashlight?” Lincoln’s voice sounded farther away than he really was.

  Roark lay on his stomach, his arms dangling over the edge.

  “Catch.” Lincoln tossed the light.

  With ease, Roark caught the flashlight. “I’ll only be a second.” He stood and pierced the darkness with the beam.

  No, not there. Not there either.

  His pulse spiked. If he couldn’t find the heart, the mission was a failure. And the lives of two good people were lost for nothing. Not to mention the case would collapse.

  The light danced over something red. Roark jerked the beam back to the rounded corner to the right.

  The cooler, sitting on its side.

  All the air left his lungs. He hadn’t failed. Not yet.

  He had no idea if the fall had damaged the heart, but at least he had it. Lincoln would probably be able to tell him if the organ was okay.

  “Found it!” He snatched up the cooler. He returned to the edge and shone the light below.

  Lincoln smiled up at him. “Way to go. Hand it down to me.”

  Again, Roark lay on his stomach and passed the cooler down, followed by the flashlight. He repeated his movements to get back down to Lincoln and Brannon, even though he hated going into the small space. But there was no way they could get out from where he’d fallen. Maybe there’d be another way out from the smaller space. He could hope.