Page 53 of Lone Star Showdown

The car was heading to Stronghold.

Chapter Eighteen

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“Aunt Tilda,” Rachel said on a rise of breath.

She stood, ready to bolt, but then she stopped when she felt Jericho’s hand gently slide over hers. Just that touch was enough to snap her back, to tamp down the worry that had started to claim her.

“Tilda’s still in the hospital,” Ruby assured Rachel, her voice as calm as a proverbial lake. Her expression was, too. “She’s supposed to be discharged in a couple of hours, but we’ll delay that. In the meantime, I’ve sent an extra guard to her room.”

“Thank you,” Rachel couldn’t say fast enough. “So, if they aren’t going to use my aunt to draw me out, who are they using?”

“That’s to be determined,” Ruby started, but then she stopped when Jericho’s phone rang. “It’s possible that’s the killer contacting you now with the terms of, well, whatever this is.”

Jericho was calm, too, as he took out his phone, and he put the call on speaker. “Mr. McKenna, this is Don Larson at dispatch. Someone wants to speak to you.”

Rachel felt the worry return with a vengeance, knifing through her, and she steeled herself up to talk to a killer.

But it wasn’t.

“The caller is a Mr. Woody Barrow,” the dispatcher added.

Woody, the leader of the compound and definitely not the killer. No motive. Plus, he’d been in the compound when Bodine had attacked it.

“Put the call through,” Jericho instructed.

It only took a matter of seconds before she heard Woody’s voice. “Jericho,” the man said, and his voice cracked on that one word.

“What’s wrong?” Jericho asked. “What happened?”

“The killer has Sasha. The killer has my granddaughter,” Woody blurted.

Rachel groaned. She recalled the young woman at the hospital when Tilda had been admitted. Sasha was training to be a nurse and had given Tilda some medical care before the EMTs had arrived.

“Who has her?” Jericho demanded.

“I don’t know.” Again, his voice was unsteady. Understandable. Because if the killer did have her, his granddaughter was in grave danger. “Someone fired an arrow over the fence here at Stronghold, and it had a note attached to it.”

An arrow. That would be an effective way to get through a message since there weren’t many cell phones in the compound, and the killer might have had trouble getting the number for one of them.

“Exactly what did the note say?” Jericho insisted. “Read it to me word for word.”

She heard Woody swallow hard, and Rachel grabbed a pen and paper so she could jot down the contents.

“I have Sasha,” Woody read, “and if you want her to stay alive, you and your followers only have to do one thing. You have to stand down. If any shots or threats come from Stronghold, she dies. If you bring in the police, she dies. If you obey, Sasha will be released within two hours.”

Rachel glanced through what she’d written and shook her head. It didn’t make sense. Why would the killer insist on taking this mission of vengeance to Stronghold? Except the killer had basically neutralized any threat from Stronghold by taking Sasha.

Still, why there?

“It’s a remote location,” Jericho said as if he’d heard her voice that question. “No cops. Just lots of thick woods. I’m betting the killer’s been out there for a while, setting things up for a showdown.”

“Showdown,” Rachel repeated. Yes, that’s what this was. A showdown between her and a killer who just wouldn’t give up.

“Woody, for now, I need you to do as the note says,” Jericho spelled out. “Stand down and make sure everyone in the compound knows to do that.”

“I will,” Woody verified. “We all will.” He paused a moment. “Jericho, bring Sasha back to me. Don’t let this sonofabitch hurt her.”

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