So this would be it, she thought. It was going down. She ran for the house and burst into the kitchen where Charlotte and Pilly were cooking. Liam was in his high chair and four-year-old Abe was sitting at the long table. The room looked strangely forlorn, one small boy sitting at a table that could comfortably seat twenty to twenty-four. Jacob’s dynasty; Jacob’s legacy, down to two women, two small children and one undercover FBI agent. She was panting. Charlotte and Pilly looked at her in shock. It could have been their surprise at seeing her or maybe surprise at the condition of her face. “Jacob kidnapped Mercy. I don’t know what he might’ve done to Devon. He’s keeping Mercy at his house. He’s talking crazy. He says the police have blocked the road and he’s not giving up his home, this home. He’s talking about his legacy if they take him down. You have to get the kids out of here.”

Charlotte put a hand over her mouth but Pilly looked enraged. “I won’t leave Jacob,” she said. “He needs me!”

“Needs you?” Laine said. “Did he even tell you he had Mercy? Do you even know what he’s planning? Pilly, I’m afraid for you and Liam!”

“I’ll leave if he tells me to go,” she said indignantly. “But he won’t!” And leaving the pan she was stirring on the fire, she stormed out of the kitchen through the back door, headed for Jacob’s house across the river.

Laine looked at Charlotte. “Take the children, Charlotte. I’ll show you the way out—follow the road to the police. Jacob said they’re blocking the road.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try to get Mercy out of his house. I don’t know how, but I’m going to try. If Pilly won’t take Liam, if she risks her life and her son’s to stand by Jacob in his craziest hour, we have to get the kids out of here.” She pulled Liam out of his high chair. “Charlotte, if you don’t do this, bad things are going to happen. Now come with me. Come!”

Laine didn’t have wire cutters or tools or weapons, but even though she felt dangerously alone in here, she did have partners. She would walk along the fence with Charlotte from the front of the fence line to the river, kicking and shaking the fence as she went, and she would undoubtedly find a break in the fence for an emergency getaway.

“How do you know this?” Charlotte asked her.

And Laine gave the standard response. “Because I was going to go, but Jacob held me captive in his house and I couldn’t leave!”

They left the house from the front door so neither Jacob nor Pilly would see them if they were coming. They were just beginning their trek along the fence, partially concealed by the trees and bushes, when there was a smell. A pungent and thick smell. Laine knew what it was. “Holy mother of God,” she said, holding Liam against her and running along the fence. “Hurry! He’s burning everything down!”

They were almost to the river before Laine found a break in the fence. She held it open for Charlotte and handed Liam to her. “Go through the woods and pasture to the road. He’s burning the warehouses and he’ll probably burn everything and if you’re here, you’re in terrible danger. Take the baby, hang on to Abe. Just go!”

“What will you do? Will you be safe?”

“I’m going to try to get Mercy. Don’t worry about me right now, just go quickly. And when you get to the police, tell them who’s left here!”

“Jacob will send the men after us!”

“Charlotte,” she said gravely. “The men are gone.”

* * *

Rawley told Cooper where to park in a small stand of trees near the river. He lit out at a pretty fast clip along the riverbank. He had his knife strapped to his waist and anchored to his thigh and he carried a rifle.

“Rawley, how far?” Devon asked.

“I’m not sure, chickadee. Just stay on my tail and don’t slip. If I have to fish you out, it costs time.”

“The odometer said it was six miles,” she pointed out.

“By road. The river is a straight shot.” Then he stopped, listened, sniffed the air. Everyone came to a standstill behind him—first Devon, then Spencer, then Cooper.

“What is it?” Devon asked.

“Might be burning green cannabis,” he said. Then he put his head down and said, “Step it up. This just keeps getting worse.” And he began to jog along the riverbank.

* * *

Laine could see that a fire had been started inside one of the warehouses; smoke was pouring out through cracks in the roof and doors. Any minute the thing would combust and the outer shell would go up in flames. The whole forest could be at risk, but certainly Jacob’s house, the bunkhouse and the other warehouse.

Laine ran past the burning warehouse to the bunkhouse and tried the door, only to find it locked. She assumed weapons must be stored inside, but she couldn’t get in. She reared back and gave the door a furious kick, but it didn’t budge. There was only an old blue pickup near the bunkhouse and now she could see one lone black SUV parked behind Jacob’s house. The rear hatch was open and it looked as if Jacob might be loading up his belongings.

And between them, an ax sitting beside a stack of firewood.

She picked up the ax and ran toward the house. She softly opened the front door to the house and heard voices within, slightly muffled but she thought she could make out at least some of the words—“No, take that box while I fill this suitcase.”

“What about that?”

“I’ll take care of that. Hurry—there won’t be much time now.”

“Where will we go?”

“Doesn’t matter, just that we leave before they get here.”

It was Pilly and Jacob, with no sound from Mercy. Ax in hand, she followed the sounds and peeked into a room to find the two of them in the back of the house, a room she’d never seen before. It appeared to be Jacob’s office. She dared to peek in the door and what she saw was surreal—Jacob and Pilly were loading boxes full of stacks of papers—it looked suspiciously like manuscripts. His brilliant opus; his manifesto. And from an open safe he was stacking what had to be tens of thousands of dollars in bills into suitcases.

But of course. If he’d been selling his “medicinal herbs” he was operating a completely cash business. He wouldn’t have had the luxury of making deposits into a bank—his illegal operation would be exposed. Law enforcement always followed the money in search for clues and suspects.

She crept through the house, beginning with the kitchen where she had last seen Mercy sitting at the table, but she wasn’t there. She looked in the living room, in the bedroom, searched in vain for a cellar door, but the child was not there. Laine felt a rising panic. She had some theories about Jacob but in reality she wasn’t sure how sick or crazy he was. Would he keep Mercy as some kind of hostage? Would he just kill her out of spite? And what of Pilly? Was she that bonded with Jacob that she’d leave her baby behind in a compound in flames just to be with him?

When all else had failed, she went to the doorway of the office where the frantic packing up was happening and stood there, ax hefted in two hands.

“Where is she?” Laine asked in her most threatening voice.

Pilly gasped, but Jacob turned toward her with a controlled expression on his face. He was composed. And then it happened so quickly, Laine never saw it coming. He picked up a gun from the top of his desk, a handgun that looked like a Smith & Wesson .40 caliber, turned it on her and fired. He hit her in the upper right chest with a force so powerful it blew her out of the doorway and knocked the ax out of her grip. Laine whirled around and backed up against the hallway wall, leaving a large smear of blood on the wall.

Willing herself not to fall, Laine hurried down the hall toward escape, leaving a trail of blood behind her.

“Jacob, go get her!” Pilly yelled.

“She’s too late,” he said. “She can’t get out. She’ll just die out there. Get this in the suitcase. Hurry. We have only minutes.”

She’s too late, Laine thought. And she ran from the house, around to the back where the SUV sat with its tailgate open. It was her intention to disable it—maybe she’d pull out a bunch of wires and close it down. She pulled open the driver’s door to pop the hood and glancing into the backseat, there was Mercy, lying there on the seat, sleeping.

Laine had but one usable arm. She opened the rear door and pulled Mercy toward her with one hand, terrified that the worst might’ve befallen the little girl. “Come on, sunshine, come on,” she cooed, jostling the little girl. And thank God, Mercy opened her eyes and sat up. “Come, angel, we have to hurry. Come with me now.” Laine’s shoulder was injured and bleeding profusely; she held that arm tight against her body and with the other, she scooped Mercy out of the SUV and lowered her to her feet. “You have to help me, angel. You have to run with me.”

“Mama?” she asked, her voice laced with tears.

“I’m taking you to her right now. Come with me.”

Jacob might not bother too much with Laine, feeling he’d done enough damage to slow her down, but he was going to be enraged when he saw that Mercy was gone. Knowing this, Laine pulled Mercy by the hand in the opposite direction from whence she came, around the front of the house and toward the bridge, but after she crossed it, she huddled in the darkness beneath it at the river’s edge. The rushing water would muffle any sounds they made should Mercy start to cry.

“Not a sound,” she cautioned Mercy. “We have to hide here now, long enough for him to leave and then I can take you to your mama....” If she lasted that long. She was growing weak and a little dizzy. She shivered; the wet and night air were only making things worse. She tried to keep Mercy above the water, dry as possible, but poor Mercy shook with the cold. But little Mercy was so brave, burying her face in Laine’s neck. It seemed a long time before she heard him roar in outrage, screaming Mercy’s name. Then the SUV came to life, the headlights shining.

Laine heard a couple of gunshots, and with Jacob in the truck she wondered if they were under attack. She consoled herself that if he tried to escape out of the front of the compound, law enforcement would surely stop him before he got far. She waited tensely for the sound of that big SUV to rattle across the bridge, but it didn’t come. She heard the engine, then heard it traveling away and she took a peek and saw something unreal. He was driving right down the river.... She shook her head in confusion, standing up to peek over the bridge and yes, he was driving down the river. There must be some back road out of here, totally concealed and blocked by the forest. The right jacked-up SUV could travel down the rocky river in the shallow parts, then exit the river to a road that Laine had never been aware of and she’d poked around as much as possible.

He was going to get away.

Shaking almost too much to stand up, Laine pushed them to the shore beyond the bridge, pulling Mercy with her. “Come, little angel, we have to hurry away...” But she could barely move. She was on her knees, trying to stand. Mercy was on her feet and Laine tried to push up with her one good arm, but fell to her knees. Her only rational thought was, Shit, I’m going to die from a damn bullet to the shoulder. Mercy was crying and Laine was literally crawling. Even if she had to crawl to the break in the fence, she was going to get Mercy out of this compound and as close as possible to the police barricade.

And then she was aware of footfalls, heavy thuds, running toward her. She glanced up to see a man in a dark ball cap and dark shirt with dirt on his face running toward her. He was carrying a gun and she did what came naturally—she pulled Mercy down to the ground and covered her with her body. And there were more sounds of running coming at her.

As she was being lifted off Mercy, Laine struggled and fought, but it only caused her shoulder to scream in pain, matching the screaming that came from her throat. “No! No! Let the child be, leave her alone! No!”