“Lonnie, for heaven’s sake,” she said, barely managing to keep her voice steady. “I’ll be done in just a minute. Just wait for us outside.”
“You open this door, now, and get your ass out here,” he ordered.
Maggie made a grunting noise. “I’m not finished yet. I can’t.”
“Don’t tell me what you can or can’t—”
“Oh!” a deep female voice rang out. “I’m sorry. I thought I was in the—I am in the ladies’ rest room.”
“I’m sorry,” Lonnie said. “It’s my wife. She’s sick. No one else was in here, so I came to check on her.”
Maggie grunted again. She could almost feel Lonnie’s rage radiating through the metal door. She wouldn’t be able to put him off for much longer. She could only pray the police came soon.
“Oh,” she heard the woman say. “Would you like me to wait outside a second?”
“You okay in there, honey?” Lonnie asked.
“I’m all right,” Maggie replied. “I’ll be out as soon as I can. I’m sorry to make you wait like this, but I can’t help it.”
She watched Lonnie’s boots step away. As the detested footgear disappeared from sight, she went limp with relief and hung her head.
The stall door next to her opened and clanked shut. She leaned down and looked at the other woman’s smudged sneakers. She considered saying nothing, fearful that Lonnie might be lingering near the doorway and would be able to hear her. But she didn’t want to put anyone else in danger.
In a stage whisper, she said, “That man who just left is crazy and dangerous. Please, don’t stay to use the bathroom. Get out of here. If he goes over the edge and you’re still in here, I’m afraid you’ll get hurt.”
The woman sighed. A second later, Maggie heard a rush of urine. “Have you ever wondered why men get so obnoxious when they’re traveling? They’re worse than kids.”
Nonplussed, Maggie stared at the woman’s shoe. Traveling? “No!” she whispered urgently. “You don’t understand. He’s—”
“Oh, I understand.” The woman laughed softly. “You think I’m hooked up with Prince Charming? If Pete yells at me one more time for having to stop and pee, I’m gonna shove his hot cigarette lighter up his ass. Chain-smoking. Can you believe it? I can barely breathe without my window down, and it’s freezing out there. Would you believe he actually counts the cars that he’s already passed while I’m using the rest room? They’re all ahead of him again, he tells me. Like we’re in some kind of race?”
Maggie felt as if she were trapped in a nutty dream. “No, you don’t understand, lady. He abducted me! He’s got a gun. The police may be on their way. If he hears sirens or sees cop cars, he’ll go ballistic. I’m afraid he’s going to kill me.”
Long silence. Then: “You serious?”
Maggie grunted loudly, just in case Lonnie was listening. “He abducted me at gunpoint. He’s already shot one woman tonight. Of course I’m serious. Get out of here, please.”
She heard the woman stand up. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “I just pissed down my pant leg.” Maggie heard her zipper rasp. “Oh, Holy Mother. He’s got a gun? I haven’t made my Easter duty in six years.”
Maggie stared at the puddle spreading over the floor in the next stall. She grunted again for Lonnie’s benefit. “He’s insane! I don’t want anyone else getting hurt. Would you just get out of here?”
The woman made an odd little sound. The next instant, they heard the rest room door open again. Fearful that it was Lonnie coming back, they both stopped talking and listened.
Oh, God, oh, God. Maggie held her breath, praying mindlessly. Lonnie would shoot that woman if she got in his way, just as he had shot Becca.
The stall door to Maggie’s right squeaked open and thumped shut. She saw a woman’s red-laced hiking boots. Not Lonnie. When she had recovered enough to regain her voice, she leaned down and said, “Lady? Don’t use the bathroom. Just make a U-turn and get out of here. There’s a man outside. He’s got a gun. Your life may be in danger.”
“This is a joke. Right?” the newcomer whispered. “Am I on Candid Camera or something?”
Candid Camera? Maggie accepted in that moment that the situation was so bizarre as to be unbelievable. Neither of these women was taking her seriously—one of them worrying about her Easter duty and the other thinking there was a hidden camera in her bathroom stall?
This was pointless. This rest area attracted a steady stream of visitors. No matter what she did, someone else was bound to be in here with her when Lonnie realized he’d been hoodwinked. Better that it be these two women than someone with small children.
Maggie rose to her feet, unbolted the lock, and pushed from the stall. She had to do something. Only what? She gazed at the door. No lock. If only she could think of some way to keep Lonnie from entering until the police arrived. She knew she wasn’t strong enough to hold the door closed by herself if Lonnie was determined to get in, and there was nothing in the bathroom to barricade it shut. The trash receptacle would only tip over.
She stepped closer to the stalls. “Hurry. Both of you. If any of us are going to live through this, I’m going to need your help, and you’d better hustle before it’s too late.”
Both women emerged from the stalls almost simultaneously, the deep-voiced woman in sneakers a stout, broad-shouldered individual, the owner of the hiking boots a thin, pale-faced blonde. Maggie looked them both in the eye.
“That man out there has already murdered one woman tonight, and the three of us will be next unless you help me. Do you understand? This is not a hoax. He’s got a gun. We’ve got to hold that door closed to keep him out of here because he won’t hesitate to shoot all of us. He’s just that crazy.”
“My mom and kids are waiting out there for me!” the blonde cried.
Maggie heard brakes squeal. Though she couldn’t see outside, all her instincts told her a regular passenger car wouldn’t be entering a rest area parking lot at such a high speed. She whirled, her heart pounding. In three running steps, she reached the door and threw her weight against it. Glancing back at the other two women, she cried, “That’s probably the cops! Help me, damn it. Don’t just—”
“You bitch!” Lonnie yelled from outside. The next instant, he tried to open the door.
Maggie braced against him, using all her strength, but her sneakers merely slid backward on the tile. “Help me!” she screamed. “Don’t just stand there. He’ll kill us!”
The sound of squealing tires came again. Maggie heard shouts and cries of alarm. “Freeze, Boyle!” a man yelled.
A woman screamed. There came a loud crashing sound, as if someone had collided with a garbage can. The other two women rushed to help Maggie, the blonde crying, “Oh, dear God!”
The next instant, the deafening sound of gunfire erupted in the night. Maggie heard running footsteps, people shouting and screeching. The report of one of the guns was so loud that she knew it had to be Lonnie’s. Trembling, she pushed against the door with all her might, thankful to have the heavyset woman beside her. The blonde was so slightly built and afraid, she wasn’t much help.
At any second, Maggie expected Lonnie to open fire on the door. The bullets would penetrate the wood. She or one of her companions could be killed. With every report of a weapon, she flinched, expecting lead to plow into her body.
Rafe brought the pickup to a screeching stop and killed the engine, then threw open his door and bailed from the cab. Maggie. It was a scene out of his worst nightmare, the rest area crawling with people who were fleeing for their lives. Lonnie Boyle was crouched behind a rock drinking fountain in front of the rest-room block, shooting at the police officers. None of the lawmen could get a clear enough shot at the man to take him down.
Maggie. Where in God’s name was she? Rafe scanned the crowd, searching frantically for her. He didn’t see her anywhere. Ducking low, he ran toward the nearest police car, using parked vehicles along the curb for cover.
“I’
m Rafe Kendrick,” he said as he darted around the rear fender of the white bubble top. “It’s my wife Boyle abducted. Where is she? Is she safe? I don’t see her!”
Crouched behind the open door of his car, the cop glanced back over his shoulder. “Are you crazy, man? Get your ass behind the car.”
“Where’s my wife!”
The officer swore under his breath. “In the women’s john, we think.”
“Is she all right?”
“We don’t know.”
A bullet struck the front fender of the police car, which was parked at a slight angle to provide maximum cover. The state policeman flinched and ducked. “Damn. We’ve gotta take him out. He’s gonna kill someone.”
Crouching low, Rafe retraced his steps back to Ryan’s pickup. His brother was crouched on the far side of the vehicle, watching the goings-on while protecting himself from the gunfire as best he could. “Where is she?” he asked when he saw Rafe.
“In the rest room, they think.” Rafe hunkered next to his brother to take stock of their surroundings. Like most Oregon rest areas, the park-like lawns were bordered by timber and undergrowth. “I’m going to circle around and come in behind him. It’s only a matter of time before he decides to storm that bathroom.”
“You’re gonna what?” Ryan grabbed Rafe’s arm. “You can’t do that. Are you nuts? The bastard’ll shoot you.” He gave a shaky laugh. “No way, bro. You don’t even have a gun.”
“I’m going. If she’s still alive, she won’t be for long if he goes in there. If something happens to her—” Rafe broke off and swallowed. He met his brother’s gaze. In the light of the pole lights, Ryan looked pale and drawn, his eyes glittering with a mixture of anger and fear. “I have to do this.”
“I’ll go with you then.”
“No.” Rafe jerked his arm from his brother’s grasp. “There’s Jaimie and Heidi, Ryan. If something happens, I’m counting on you.”
Ryan stared at him for a long moment. Then he finally nodded. No further words were necessary. Using the parked vehicles for cover, Rafe left the truck and ran in a crouch toward the south entrance of the rest area. From there, he would be able to enter the woods unseen, circle around from behind, and approach the rest-room block from the rear. With a little bit of luck, Lonnie would be so preoccupied returning the policemen’s fire that Rafe could take him by surprise.
With a little luck. The words became a litany in Rafe’s mind as he raced through the woods, thankful with every running step that he could see better than most people in the dark. He fell through the deep snow in places and pitched forward on the ice. He scarcely felt the impact. Maggie. He kept seeing her sweet face and her expressive eyes, the way her mouth curved when she smiled. He loved her. So very much. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. He simply couldn’t. Without her, his own life wouldn’t be worth living.
When Rafe reached the rear of the rest room, he pressed his back against the cement blocks and listened to the gunfire. Shit. When he ran out there, Lonnie’s bullets wouldn’t be the only risk factor. What if one of the cops accidentally shot him?
For a split second, Rafe stood there, weighing the odds, which weren’t good. Then he decided he didn’t care. He’d lost one family. He knew how it felt afterward—the pain that cut so deep you wanted to die yourself, the sense of hopelessness with no end in sight. He couldn’t live through that again. Better to die trying to save her than to live without her.
Rafe pushed out from the wall, darted around the corner, and ran the length of the building in a crouch. The sound of the gunfire suddenly seemed muted, as if it came from a great distance. The pounding of his heart thrummed in his temples.
When he reached the front corner of the building, instead of slowing, he poured on more speed, angling right toward the stone drinking fountain as he burst into the open. Running, running. He felt as if he were pushing against a headwind, that every second lasted forever. A boiling rage narrowed Rafe’s vision. He focused on Boyle’s miserable, cowardly figure crouched behind the wide, tapering base of the stone-and-mortar fountain he used as a shield against the bullets.
Just before Rafe reached him, the other man jerked around, his eyes wide with fright. Rafe saw the gun come up. He tensed, expecting the bullet to rip into him as he leaped. The next instant, his body plowed into Boyle’s, and the two of them rolled across the cement.
Ordinarily Rafe would have tried to come out on top. Not this time. Boyle could have that honor. As they rolled to a stop, Rafe shoved hard against the other man’s shoulders, lifting him away from his body, hoping to give the police a clear target.
Rage contorted Boyle’s features. “You bastard!” he cried.
Rafe felt the muzzle of Boyle’s gun stab his ribs. He tensed, expecting the man to pull the trigger. Before Boyle could, the deafening report of a high-powered rifle rent the air. Boyle jerked, and even in the eerie light, Rafe saw the stunned, disbelieving expression that crossed his face just before he went limp. Rafe shoved at the deadweight and rolled in the opposite direction, struggling to disengage his legs from the dead man’s. When he finally managed to pull free, he just lay there on his side for a moment, feeling oddly separated from reality.
Over. It’s over, Rafe thought. He had kept his promise. Lonnie Boyle would never lay a hand on Maggie again. He just prayed to God that he wasn’t too late.
The thought jerked Rafe from his almost stupor-like trance. He stirred, pushed up on one elbow, and twisted onto his knees, swinging his gaze to the women’s rest-room door. Only vaguely aware of the cops who swarmed across the grass toward him, Rafe staggered to his feet, one thought repeating in his mind. Don’t let her be dead. Please, don’t let her be dead.
He couldn’t feel his feet as he moved toward the door, couldn’t feel the wood when he pressed his palm against it. “Maggie?”
When Rafe pushed, the door wouldn’t open. He shoved a little harder, his voice ragged with fear when he called out again. “Maggie!”
Still bracing her weight against the door, Maggie didn’t immediately recognize Rafe’s voice. Lonnie, she thought. Then it hit her. Not Lonnie. She sobbed and reached for the door handle. But the two women on either side of her were still shoving with all their might to keep the door closed.
“It’s all right,” she cried. “It’s all right! That’s my husband.”
The larger woman finally seemed to register what Maggie was saying. She stepped back. The blonde sobbed and stopped pushing as well. Maggie jerked the door open, glimpsed blue chambray and denim, and launched herself at the blur, confident that strong arms would catch her.
Rafe whooped with joy as he captured her in a fierce hug. “Maggie. Oh, God, Maggie.”
He was shaking. Shaking horribly. Or was that her? Maggie couldn’t tell for sure. Didn’t care. It was the most wonderful feeling, having him hold her. He felt so big and solid and safe.
“I called his bluff. I didn’t let him bully me. I took Jaimie with me to the bathroom.” Maggie realized she was babbling and tried to stop talking, but she couldn’t seem to stifle the words. “A lady covered him with her coat and sneaked him out. I did it, Rafe. I stood up to him, and it worked.”
He clamped a big hand over the back of her head and pressed her cheek against the hollow of his shoulder. Maggie heard a man say in a furious voice, “What are you, mister, crazy? I damned near shot you! You have a death wish or something?”
Maggie tried to draw away from Rafe, but he tensed his arms to keep her face against his shoulder. “No, honey. Don’t look.”
As Rafe started to lead her away, Maggie said, “Don’t look at what?”
“Lonnie. They shot him. He’s dead.”
Maggie laughed, the chortle high-pitched and sounding a little hysterical even to her. Dead? Of course he was dead. Otherwise the shooting wouldn’t have stopped.
As Rafe drew her across the grass toward the parking area, a uniformed police officer ran up to them. Rafe came to a stop. “Hello, Sergeant Hall.
Fancy seeing you here.”
“That was a damned fool stunt to pull. You’re lucky that sharpshooter didn’t kill you!”
Rafe relaxed the arm at Maggie’s waist, allowing her to draw slightly away from him. “All’s well that ends well.”
For the first time, Maggie actually looked at Rafe. In the bluish-white lighting, she saw black splotches on his shirt. Her heart caught when she realized he was covered with blood. “Oh, my God. You’re hurt!”
Rafe glanced down, touched one of the spots, and then shook his head. “No, honey. Not me. The blood is Lonnie’s.” He flashed one of those crooked grins she had come to love so very much, his gaze meeting the police officer’s. “Like I said back at the house, Hall, I owe you. Thanks.”
“I almost got you killed,” the policeman said. “It’s nothing less than a miracle that you’re not dead.”
“Yeah, well,” Rafe said softly, “this time around, I had a miracle coming.”
He guided Maggie around the cop, drawing her close as they walked, his lean thigh bumping her hip. She angled forward slightly to peer up at his dark face. “Rafe, how did you get Lonnie’s blood all over your shirt?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re safe.” He graced her with another of those fantastic smiles that always warmed her from the inside out. “So you called his bluff, did you? Tell me about it.”
Maggie searched his gaze. “What did you do?”
“Nothing much.” He jostled her with his arm. “I’m so proud of you, Maggie. Getting Jaimie out of there. Keeping your head. You’re really something, you know it?”
Maggie had a feeling he was the one who was really something, but typically of him, he wasn’t talking. “You saved me,” she said accusingly. “I know you did. You did something crazy. What?”
He chuckled. “I didn’t do anything crazy, I swear it.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Did the bastard hurt you?”
Maggie shook her head. “I pulled in here before he had a chance.”