Dark Visions Read online

  Alex didn't ask what she was talking about. While she hopped up and through the window he took one final glance at the road and saw FBI vehicles converging in a small dust cloud.

  Just in time, he thought as he followed Sarah and landed on the broken wooden floor of what was once a bedroom.

  He grabbed Sarah's arm and began looking for Gert.

  They headed for the kitchen area of the farmhouse.

  Chapter 63

  The temporary command post was coming together fast as Jill organized and briefed the Hostage Rescue Team leader. His team was taking up positions around the perimeter of the farmhouse.

  She was interrupted as her earpiece buzzed that Sarah's parents were waiting one hundred yards back on the country road with the department psychologist. She told the driver to wait for her signal to approach the command post because they hadn't located Dolan and Sarah yet.

  Her tactical team radioed in. There was no sign of Sam Johnson but his vehicle was found parked twenty yards behind a small thicket of bush and trees. The stolen BMW SUV was visible in front of the farmhouse and a silver Honda was parked in the rear, behind a weathered barn. License plates identified it as belonging to an Alex Stuart.

  "Fergus," Jill turned to her partner, "find out who Alex Stuart is. And get me Dolan on the phone. I need to know Sarah's safe before we enter the farm house."

  Her HRT commander called in that all his men were in position. Barricaded by the front of a Crown Victoria, her negotiator started bellowing on a bullhorn. She saw no movement at the farm house. He continued his plea for a peaceful surrender.

  Jill grabbed her cell phone as it vibrated on her waist.

  "Speak."

  "We've got a problem."

  She recognized Angus Tran's voice. "Go ahead."

  "Dolan was just picked up by a traveling businessman five miles from here. He's on the way to the hospital. It looks like he's been shot more than once."

  She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Where's Sarah then?"

  "Apparently he's been in and out of consciousness. He told the business man who picked him up to call us and tell us that Sarah was taken by the guy who shot him. It was his assistant, Alex Stuart."

  Jill lowered her phone and looked at the farmhouse. That meant Sarah was a hostage again. If Alex Stuart's Honda was parked in the rear of the farmhouse that also meant Sarah was in there with two men. Could they be working together?

  The HRT was calling in her ear piece looking for the go-ahead. The negotiator had tried, but there'd been no response from anyone in the building. What were they waiting for?

  Thoughts assailed her at a rapid pace. All that she read while debriefing on this case was coming together. A couple of guys kidnapping for hire. The girl always comes home, but no perps get arrested. The psychic can pinpoint victims but not the criminals. That's how Dolan knew where the victims were. It would seem likely he's involved. But how did he get shot?

  How important was this Alex Stuart? She would have to treat him as a hostile.

  Fergus spoke to her through her ear piece. Sarah's parents were on the move.

  She lifted her wrist to talk into the cuff. "I thought I ordered them held back for now."

  "They stepped from the vehicle to stretch their legs. Caleb walked a little from the Suburban and then bolted across the grass. He wasn't seen until...well, he should be right behind you."

  Special Agent Jill Hanover turned around and saw a panting Caleb Roberts walk past one of the Crown Vic's parked a stone's throw from her.

  Her radio crackled as the HRT reported an emergency. She listened as one of the men said he found Sam. He was alive but shot multiple times. An ambulance was needed immediately.

  This operation was falling apart fast, she thought.

  She turned to greet Caleb while she ordered Fergus to get an ambulance here yesterday.

  Shots rang out from inside the farmhouse behind her.

  Chapter 64

  Sarah couldn't control her shaking. Alex had jumped through the window behind her. They were in a small room which probably served as a bedroom when this house was in use. It had to be at least a hundred degrees where she stood, but she couldn't stop shaking. She felt it was a delayed stress reaction. Or maybe her body was finally giving out after days of malnourishment on the run.

  The man standing beside her checking his gun was probably more dangerous than Gert, yet she didn't feel any fear. She remembered him watching her at the fair, lurking around. She'd felt something strange about him then, but it wasn't fear. Not the kind of anxiety that would accompany a situation like this. Or was she getting cocky? Mistakes could happen if she got over confident. She'd have to watch herself, stay alert and be proactive. Keep a clear mind and seize any opportunity to escape if one revealed itself.

  Alex stopped fiddling with his weapon and grabbed her arm above the elbow. He pushed her silently toward the gaping doorway. With no measure of stealth, Alex pushed her into the hallway and then stopped. She knew he was using her to draw fire from Gert. She couldn't let that happen, but at the moment she felt powerless to stop it.

  She wrinkled her nose at the smell of mold and the thickness in the air caused by the beating afternoon sun.

  Even though they inched along the hallway, the worn out boards beneath their feet left a creaking telltale sign of their arrival. She'd have to think fast. She needed to figure out what door Gert was most likely behind so she could duck Alex's grasp.

  That task felt impossible. How could she ever know something like that? He could be in the attic, the basement, or the next room.

  The hallway opened up on the left. The room was spacious and bright as the sun shone through the broken glass of what was once the living room window. One foot in front of her on the right was another opening. It probably led to the kitchen.

  A breeze floated through the broken living room window, cooling her. She could hear someone outside announcing through a loudspeaker that they were looking for a peaceful solution to this situation.

  Alex tightened his grip on her arm to the point where she knew circulation was cut off.

  The speaker outside talked about coming out of the building with their hands raised or they would have to come in. She knew Alex was running out of time.

  He motioned for her to continue with a nudge of her arm. It hit her then that the kitchen would be ideal for an ambush. The heart of the building. Accessible from two sides.

  When she crossed the threshold of the kitchen, she threw herself forward and half stumbled half dove for the inside wall on the other side of the doorway, keeping low.

  It all became a blur of noise as she was deafened by the blasts. She felt disoriented. To her right was a mound of broken wood. Studs and pieces of drywall piled three feet high.

  Her sheer will to survive in a room with two men firing weapons, both of whom wanted her dead, got her moving. She crawled to the pile and grabbed a two-by-four with a long nail protruding from the end of it.

  She got to her knees when the guns quieted. Alex was standing now, bleeding from a wound in his lower belly area. She saw Gert with his back against the wall under the kitchen window.

  Her mind thought wildly that this wasn't something eighteen year olds were supposed to be a part of. She questioned briefly why she was even here.

  Gert had blood circling in two areas of his chest. The fatal sign that death was close could be the dazed look on his face as blood gurgled from the corners of his mouth. He sputtered and coughed, the effort all but knocking him closer to the ground like he wanted to lie down. Something about this scene pleased Sarah. She caught herself smiling at the finality of it.

  As Alex stepped closer to Gert, Sarah got to her feet and edged around the pile of debris. She was an arm's length from Alex now.

  Alex took the cops gun in his hand and tossed it over his shoulder. He was reaching for Gert's gun.

  She knew she should get out of this place. Here was her chance. But could she get out that w
indow and around the corner before he was on her?

  She lifted the wood not sure what would happen. She didn't like this role. She wanted to help people. She realized in the same thought that she was helping.

  She was saving herself.

  Alex was on his knees now, fumbling with Gert's hand to get his gun. With the nail jutting out on the side, Sarah swung with everything she had left in her.

  Alex was quicker.

  He turned toward her and a flash of lightning erupted from his hand as the nail was embedded in his shoulder.

  Sarah felt something punch her on the left side of the chest so hard she spun on her feet and fell to her knees. No pain accompanied the impact immediately. She could see the gun in Alex's hand.

  It would look like Gert had killed her and shot Alex too. The boss walks out of here alive and all evidence dies in this farmhouse.

  Not today.

  Not while Sarah had the use of one arm still. Her mind raced back to what she wrote. ...don't thump, rip and tear, better to be savage...

  She pulled hard to get the nail out of his flesh. It must have hit bone because it was stuck. Alex screamed and started to raise the gun again. She jerked and pulled, dislodging the weapon.

  This was it, one last try.

  With a smaller arc, Sarah imbedded the nail in Alex's neck behind his lower ear about where the jaw pivots. He screamed again and dropped the gun just as it had leveled with her head.

  His hand found the business end of the wood and tried to pull it out. Before he could, Sarah turned her body away from him, holding the stud in an iron grip.

  The nail pulled itself through the flesh of his cheek, ripping it wide open on a trail to his lips.

  She fell to the floor with his screams piercing her consciousness. She saw blood everywhere, spilling over both his hands as he struggled to keep it in.

  Her chest was on fire now. Her breathing became shallow as pain started echoing through her.

  The scene became surreal as voices assailed her from all over. She wondered if she'd been too cocky today.

  She opened her eyes. It was such a struggle.

  She saw men in shiny black helmets and black suits carrying what looked like assault rifles.

  Then she blacked out minus the pen and paper.

  Chapter 65

  Sarah felt thirst accompanied with such dryness that her mouth ached when she moved her tongue. A small stab of pain went with each attempt to swallow. She kept her eyes shut as she listened.

  Someone had to be told how thirsty she was. Light could be detected through her eyelids. She felt her mouth was open. Maybe that's why it was as dry as dust. When she pressed her lips together, breathing became a little more difficult. Something was in her nose. Her body felt foreign to her as it rebelled with aches and pains.

  She got her eyes open to small slits. The light was coming from a small lamp on a table beside the bed she lay in. It was almost too bright to keep her eyes open. She turned a little left to avoid its direct rays, but stopped when sharp pain shot through her shoulder.

  When the pain subsided to a dull ache, Sarah was asleep again.

  ***

  Rising out of a storm, swimming deep, searching for the surface, Sarah fought her way up.

  She opened her eyes with a start. Her mouth was so dry it felt like she was massaging sand around her tongue. A nurse was just leaving the room. Sarah took in her surroundings.

  Hospital room, flowers filling a table by the window. Sun beaming in through the blinds. Her mother was asleep in a padded chair, a book in her lap.

  "Mom," she moaned. "Mom?" she tried again.

  Her mother turned her head and woke up. The paperback dropped to the ground as she jumped from her seat.

  "You're awake," she stammered. "Oh baby, how do you feel?"

  "Thirsty."

  Her mother grabbed a water bottle and a straw from beside the bed and carefully placed it to Sarah's lips. The pain was still there when she swallowed but now she knew why. Two plastic tubes were in her nose. They worked their way around and down the back of the throat.

  "What are the...tubes for?"

  "The doctor said something about nourishment. They go to your stomach. You've been asleep for over two days. I'm so happy you're back."

  Sarah pulled on the straw a little more, then laid her head back. "Me too."

  "We've got a lot to talk about. Your father met Mary Bennett. It seems you've been up to some kind of hero business. I don't know the whole story, but I'd like to hear it. Everything does seem kind of dangerous seeing the position you're in now."

  Sarah nodded and looked down at the mound of bandages covering her gunshot wound.

  "First I'd like you to tell me about my sister."

  ***

  The next couple of days were a blur. Visits from the FBI for statements. More flowers arriving daily. The woman from the trailer who got shot in the foot came by to see how she was doing. Kim Wepps did a surprise visit. Dolan came in a wheelchair. Both bullets missed vital organs and didn't even nick a bone.

  Mary Bennett was one of the most emotional visits. Sarah was kidnapped and had to endure what she spared Mary from yet Mary felt responsible. It didn't help that she covered for Sarah the night she was taken.

  Esmerelda wouldn't stop hugging her.

  The most unusual visitor came at random times and spoke of societal decay. She also talked about the future and how it would be safer. Previous mistakes would be avoided.

  This visitor spoke through Sarah's pen.

  Her sister Vivian said when the time was right, she'd even tell Sarah who killed her.

  Chapter 66

  Four years later...

  Aaron Beck lowered his newspaper at the sound of the bus rounding the corner. He folded it under his arm and fished for the proper change in his pocket.

  What did buses charge nowadays anyway? He hadn't ridden a bus since he was a teenager. With his car in the shop and his wife Carol working downtown today he had no choice but to use the public transit system.

  The bus pulled up and the accordion doors slid open. Three passengers stepped on before him. He approached the driver, paid his due and walked to the back, where it was relatively empty.

  He opened his paper and commenced reading. So absorbed in his perusal of the news he didn't notice the girl staring at him. His peripheral vision caught her after a few moments.

  She was a young woman of about twenty-two, with close cropped blondish hair. He looked up and saw a pad of paper nestled in her right hand with her left hand scrawling on it.

  Then Aaron's eyes were caught in her stare.

  Her intensity startled him. It was an unsettling feeling, causing him to peel his eyes away.

  He tried to read his newspaper, but couldn't focus. So he lowered it and glanced outside.

  Less than a second later he found himself drawn into her fierce stare, unable to pull away.

  There was no way he knew this girl.

  He was about to ask her why she was staring when she signaled the driver that she wanted off the bus.

  Then she walked over and dropped the notepad into Aaron's lap.

  "You don't know me and have no reason to believe me. You've got less than six minutes to save your wife's life. She and three of her friends are about to cross Front Street, downtown. The worker's truck is without a driver and your wife won't make it." She glanced at her watch. "Call Carol now. There's only five and a half minutes left."

  The bus slowed to a stop and the young girl headed for the door.

  Aaron watched her leave, mouth agape. What was she talking about? This has got to be a joke. This stranger just told him that his wife was going to die.

  He looked down at the notepad.

  "Hold it! I need off here too," Aaron shouted.

  Landing on the sidewalk, Aaron looked both ways.

  The girl was nowhere in sight. He looked down at the pad in his hand again.

  The words stunned him.

&nbs
p; In seconds he scanned the top page and was pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

  Aaron could hear his wife's phone ringing on the other end. He wondered how much time remained of the six-minute prophecy.

  Pick up. Don't tell me you left your cell phone in the office.

  Carol, please pick up.

  On the fifth ring Aaron heard the music of his wife's voice.

  She was still alive.

  "Where're you?"

  "Aaron, is everything all right?"

  "Yes! Just tell me where you are."

  "Okay, okay. I'm with a few of my girlfriends. We're walking downtown. We've decided to go for a coffee at this Danish pastry shop Marge is always talking about."

  "What street are you on?" Aaron asked. He could hear his voice cracking.

  "Aaron? You sound..."

  "What street?"

  "I don't know."

  Aaron could hear her pull the phone away from her ear and ask one of her companions what street they were walking on. "Dwight Street."

  "Can you see Front Street ahead? Are you going to pass Front Street?"

  "Yes, actually. I'm close enough now to read the sign, why?"

  "STOP! Don't go any further." Aaron thought he heard her footsteps halting.

  "Aaron, tell me what's going on," Carol sounded agitated.

  "This girl, on the bus," he was panting now, like he'd run a race, his heart beating fast. "She wrote things on a piece of paper and told me you'd be dead in six minutes. I'm supposed to stop you from crossing Front Street."

  "What girl? What's this about? I'm standing here with my friends. The sun is shining. Everything's fine."

  "I've never met this girl, but she knows us. She wrote about my surgery when I was twelve. About how you and I met. She jotted down your birth date, middle name and the year your parents died in that head-on collision when you were still a baby. Carol, no one could've known those things." Aaron grew hysterical, as he continued to scan the area for any sign of the girl.