Riggs and Charlie and the FBI agents were engaged in an animated discussion at the entrance to the private road when they heard the shots. Riggs threw the car in gear and roared up the road. The FBI agents ran to their car.
Jackson bolted down the hallway, suddenly stopped, and looked in Sally Beecham’s bedroom. Empty. He spied the gun on the floor and snatched it up. Then he heard the pounding. He raced to the kitchen and unlocked and threw open the pantry door. Roger Crane, squinting and quivering, stumbled out.
“Thank God, Peter. She had a gun. She put me in here. I... I did exactly as you told me.”
“Thank you, Roger.” He lifted up the pistol. “Tell Alicia I said hello.” Then he fired point blank into his brother’s face. The next instant he was out the door and racing across the lawn for the woods.
As they jumped out of their car Riggs saw Jackson first and sprinted after him. Charlie, despite his weakened state, was right behind. When the lawmen pulled up seconds later, they ran to the house.
LuAnn met them on the stairs. “Where are Matthew and Charlie?”
The men looked at each other. “I saw somebody running into the woods,” one of them answered.
They all ran out onto the front lawn. That’s when they heard it, the drone of the helicopter as the blades cut through the rain and wind. It landed on the front lawn. They all saw the FBI insignia on the side. The group raced over; LuAnn and Lisa reached it first.
Several police cars pulled up next to the fountain and a small army of officers poured out.
George Masters climbed out of the helicopter followed by a team of FBI agents. He looked at her. “LuAnn Tyler?” She nodded. Masters looked at Lisa. “Your daughter?”
“Yes,” LuAnn said.
“Thank God.” He let out a deep sigh of relief and held out his hand. “George Masters, FBI. I came into town to interview Charlie Thomas. When I got to the hospital he was gone.”
“We’ve got to go after Jackson, I mean Peter Crane. He went into the woods,” LuAnn said. “Matthew and Charlie went after him. But I want Lisa safe. I can’t leave her without knowing she’ll be completely safe.”
Masters looked between mother and daughter, spitting images of each other. Then he looked at the helicopter.
“We’ll transport her to the FBI office here in Charlottesville in this helicopter. I’ll put her smack in the center of a room with a half dozen heavily armed FBI agents. That good enough?” He smiled weakly.
A grateful look crossed her face. “Yes. Thanks for understanding.”
“I’ve got children too, LuAnn.”
While Masters gave instructions to the pilot, LuAnn gave Lisa one more hug and kiss and then turned and raced for the woods, a swarm of FBI agents and police officers right behind her. As fleet of foot as she was, and knowing the terrain as well as she did, she soon left them far behind.
Riggs could hear the feet flying in front of him. Charlie had dropped back a bit, but Riggs could hear his heavy breathing not far behind. The woods were wreathed in almost complete darkness and the rain continued to pour down. Riggs blinked his eyes rapidly to gain some degree of night vision. He pulled his gun, slipped the safety off with a quick punch of his finger. Then he halted abruptly as the sounds ahead of him stopped. He crouched and swept the area with his eyes, his gun making wide arcs. He heard the sound behind him an instant too late as the foot slammed into his back, sending him lunging forward and then down. He hit the wet ground hard, his face sliding painfully across the grass and dirt, and he ended up slamming against a tree, his gun smacking hard against the trunk. The impact caused his wounded arm to start bleeding again. When he flipped over on his back, he saw the man flying at him, the foot poised to deliver another crunching blow. Then Charlie blindsided Jackson and the two men went sprawling.
An incensed Charlie pounded Jackson with his fists and then cocked his arm back to deliver a knock-out punch. Quick as an eel, Jackson made a direct hit on Charlie’s wound, a blow that made him scream and double over. Then, with the same motion employed in striking a cymbal, Jackson smashed both palms against Charlie’s ears, forcing a sudden, painful rush of air into his ear canals and rupturing an eardrum. Nauseated and dizzy from the combined blows, Charlie fell off Jackson and lay on the ground groaning.
“I should’ve slit your throat at the motel,” Jackson spat down at him. Jackson was about to deliver a crushing kick to Charlie’s head when he heard Riggs scream at him.
“Get the hell away from him before I blow your damn head off.”
When Jackson looked over, Riggs’s gun was pointed directly at him. Jackson stepped away from Charlie.
“Finally, we meet. Riggs the criminal. How about discussing a financial arrangement that will make you very rich?” Jackson said. His voice was hoarse and weak from his near strangling by LuAnn. He clutched at his torn hand; his face was bleeding from Charlie’s blows.
“I’m not a criminal, asshole. I was an FBI agent who testified against a cartel. That’s why I was in Witness Protection.”
Jackson circled closer to Riggs. “Ex-FBI? Well, then at least I’m certain you won’t shoot me down in cold blood.” He pointed a warning finger at Riggs. “Understand though, if I go down, so does LuAnn. I’ll tell your former employers that she was in on everything, even helped me plan it. I’ll paint a picture so dark that she’ll be grateful for a life sentence. My attorneys will see to that. But don’t worry, I understand you can have yearly conjugal visits in some prisons now.”
“You’re going to rot in jail.”
“I hardly think that. I can only imagine what sort of deal I can cut with the Feds. I would think they’d do anything to avoid public disclosure of all this. When this is all over, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again. In fact, I look forward to it.”
Jackson’s mocking tones burned through every fiber of Riggs’s body. What was even more maddening was the fact that everything Jackson had predicted could very well happen. But it wouldn’t, Riggs swore to himself. “That’s where you’re wrong,” Riggs said.
“About what?”
“About killing you in cold blood.” Riggs pulled the trigger. The sound that didn’t occur seemed to drive all the blood from Riggs’s body. The gun didn’t fire; the impact with the tree had jammed it. He pulled the trigger again with the same sickening result.
Jackson instantly drew his own gun and pointed it at Riggs.
Riggs dropped the useless pistol and backed up as Jackson advanced. He finally stopped retreating when his foot felt nothing but air. He looked behind him: a sheer drop. Down below, the fast-moving water. He looked back at Jackson, who smiled and then fired.
The bullet hit right in front of Riggs’s feet and he stepped back a half inch, teetering on the edge.
“Let’s see how well you swim with no arms.” The next shot hit Riggs’s good arm. He grunted in pain and doubled over, clutching it, trying to maintain his balance. Then he looked up at the sneering face of Jackson.
“Take the bullet or the jump, it’s your choice. But do it quick, I don’t have much time.”
Riggs had only an instant. As he crouched over, the arm that had just been hit slid up the length of his sling — a very natural movement under the circumstances. Jackson had underestimated his resourcefulness. Jackson wasn’t the only one who had lived by his wits, who had gotten himself out of tight spots by acting nimbly. What Riggs was about to do had saved his life while working undercover during a drug deal that had gone sour. It would not save his life this time. But it would save several others, including one that he cared more about than his own: LuAnn’s.