Page 83 of Orphan Girl's Mountain Men

CHAPTER 32

Reed

Moonlight spills through the clouds in long, silver bands. Not enough to see clearly, but enough to cast eerie shadows across the pine trunks. We're crouched in a gully a little northeast of the old Steadfast silver mine, two ridgelines away from the trail the kidnappers took.

It's quiet now. Real quiet. We'd watched them through the night vision goggles. Three goons. Two we'd not seen before and the big lad that had accompanied the sheriff into our kitchen and carried the briefcase. We could tell it was him from the size and shape of his outline. He could have body-doubled as Jaws from the James Bond films. We'd already agreed that Lennon would tackle that guy. That left two more—one each for me and Dean. No Sinclair though, and no Grace either, that we could see. But we're confident she's here all the same, else why would they be here? She's probably asleep, drugged even. Whatever. We'd soon find her, with or without their help.

One of the smaller two had lain down a while back, leaving two who appeared to be staying awake on guard. The big guy was over to the left, seated on the ground, chain smoking cigarettes, the glow of the lit end brightening regularly as he sucked the smoke through into his lungs and exhaled. The other guy wasobviously nervous. Constantly shifting around. Starting up at the smallest noise from the surrounding forest. We'd need to make sure we got to that one quickly, so he didn't raise the alarm.

We've gone over the plan a dozen times. We'll wait until 2am, then move in fast. Hit the lookouts first, then take the mine. It's a basic setup—nothing fancy—but we're counting on the element of surprise and a lack of skill on the other side. These aren't professionals. Hell, they didn't even try to hide their tracks.

Dean's eyes meet mine in the dark. He raises a hand, three fingers splayed. Three minutes until kick-off. I nod back. Our watches are synchronized, we all know the plan. For the millionth time, I check through my equipment. All good. All ready. I concentrate on breathing regularly and evenly. Now is not the time to get over-excited. Still, there's tension in the air. A kind of prickling at the base of the neck. Like the forest itself is holding its breath.

The raid goes clean. Almost textbook.

Lennon takes down the first guy—the big guy—without a sound. A knife pressed to the windpipe, a whisper in the ear, a zip tie. Done. I take out the nervy guy with a choke hold that sends him to sleep before he even knows what's happening. Took me several minutes to wriggle into position. Came up right behind him. He may have been keeping a watch, but he didn't hear me coming!

One flashbang is thrown into the mine building, and even as it explodes, Lennon lights a flare and flings that in too, just as the three of us sweep into the mine building like a storm, weapons drawn.

Two more are inside, one who had been snoring on an old camp mattress, the other—presumably the one we'd seen outside earlier—nursing a flask near a lit stove. They didn't stand a chance, since they were still recovering from the shock of the flashbang, their eyes blinking from the light of the flare. Within moments we'd dropped them, zip-tied their wrists and ankles, shoved a rag into each mouth and covered their heads with a black bag, then laid them down, side by side.

We scour the room. No one else. We look at each other. What now? Dean points to me and then nods to the right, then to Lennon and nods to the left. We each head in the indicated direction, opening doors, checking cupboards, looking for anything that might tell us something.

"Here!" A shout from Dean. Lennon and I turn to look. He's holding up a little doll, no taller than perhaps four or five inches high, dressed in a yellow and white striped knitted sweater and yellow pants. "This is hers, right?"

Lennon nods. "Yeah, that's her Labubu doll. I bought it for her last week."

So now we know for sure Grace had been here… but where is she now?

Shit!

We head for the outbuildings, search every corner. Lennon tears the place apart. "Where is she?" he growls, gripping one of the men by the collar. "Where's my daughter?"

Blank stares. Panic. One guy wets himself. Suddenly, Dean crouches, brushing at the dirt. "Footprints," he mutters. "Single set. Fresh. Headed out. Carrying a load, I'd say."

Lennon's face goes pale. "Someone got away. With her."

We look at each other, despair creeping in.

Failure!

The three of us pack our kit and head back down the mountain, shoulders heavy, heads down. I can hear Dean cursing. Lennon of course says nothing, but the look of abject misery on his face does all the necessary talking. We'll pick up Hailey on the way down, and then regroup at home, plan our next move.

We're in single file, following the track and getting close to where we expect to find Hailey, Dean in front, when suddenly he freezes, holding up his hand. Instantly, Lennon and I unshoulder our rifles, and Dean draws his Glock, crouching low in the same movement.

"Up ahead," he murmurs—a murmur travels far less distance than a whisper, due to the reduced sibilance. It's something we learn in the SEALs induction training. "Something on the ground. I can't make it out, but it's moving about."

We nod. We can all see the strange shape now, in the dark. We don't have our night vision on, but there's no time for that.

"Cover me." Lennon and I split. This time Lennon goes left, I go right, our rifles trained on the odd shape ahead. It's bulky, and it's sort of cocoon-like, and it's… well it's sort of wriggling. Then I hear a moan. A distinct moan. A man's moan, too deep for a woman, and definitely not a child. What the fuck?

Then a voice beside me, right in my ear says, "You took your time."

"Jesus Christ!" I almost shit myself. Standing right next to me, as large as life is Hailey. "Hailey! What the fuck?"

Then I hear a giggle, and right beside her is little Grace, dressed in pink PJs and a dark blue hoodie that's about twenty sizes too large for her. "What the Hell's going on?"

"Hey!" A shout from up ahead. A torch plays on the form on the ground. I can see now what it is. "It's a man. Inside a sleeping bag." This from Dean. Lennon says nothing, he's picked up Grace and he's hugging her like he's never gonna let her go again. There're tears in the big man's eyes. But there's laughter in her eyes.

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