Ben pulled the rifle around from his back and dropped to a crouched position as he studied the tracks and tried to decipher what they meant. Sam’s paw prints ran past the scrub brush and down into the old waterway, where they disappeared into a mess of human footprints that had broken through the dried crust of dirt at the bottom.

  He tried to deny the obvious, but after only a few seconds, he was forced to acknowledge the evidence laid out in front of him. Sam hadn’t wandered off of her own accord. Initially, maybe she had, but there was more to her sudden disappearance than that. She’d been lured to this location and taken.

  Joel scooted down the sloped concrete channel, landing in the flat bottom of the dry waterway, just a few inches from the disturbed ground. He studied the tracks and followed the two sets of footprints that led away from the area, farther down the ditch.

  “Sam’s tracks end here.” Joel traced the dog’s entry point down to the broken layer of baked ground with his finger, then continued to the two sets of human footprints that headed east through the oversized gutter.

  Ben slid down the forty-five-degree concrete embankment, coming to a stop next to his son, but his focus was on the footprints. He noticed they were deep and uneven, suggesting that whoever made them had been in a hurry. The prints led away from the empty lot, where the path narrowed and converged into a single line.

  Ben regretted not bringing the radio with him, but why would he have? What had started out as a simple task to retrieve a stubborn dog had quickly escalated into a rescue mission.

  “Joel, I need you to run back and let the others know what’s going on. Have them wait at the gas station, but tell them to park behind the building so they can’t be seen from the highway. Then come back. I’ll wait here. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Joel answered, then snapped into action, climbing out of the ditch and sprinting for the others without hesitation.

  “And grab the radio,” Ben added.

  He felt guilty for sending the boy back and forth in this oppressive heat, but he’d neglected to wear the knee brace today, seeing as how Sandy was driving. The thing made his leg sweat nonstop, and he didn’t think he needed to wear it while riding shotgun in the Blazer. Ben waited impatiently with the understanding that each passing second meant the culprits were getting farther away with Sam, although the dog would be a handful if she was being carried, which appeared to be the case.

  Sam was no longer the trim, athletic, duck-hunting machine she’d once been. He didn’t know her exact weight, but if he had to guess, she’d probably tipped the scales around sixty-five pounds, although they’d all lost a little bit off their waistlines since the start of this trip.

  Ben was jolted back to reality by pounding footsteps from above. Joel had returned, covered in sweat and radio in hand.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” he panted.

  Ben took the radio and clipped it to his belt after turning the volume all the way down. “All right, let’s go get Sam back.” He had every intention of retrieving Sam from whoever had taken her, but he knew time was against them.

  There was only one reason he could think of to steal an animal, and it made his skin crawl, triggering flashbacks of the moonshiners’ camp, where they’d found Bajer by the makeshift butcher station. Ben’s heart quickened as he pressed on, worried about what he might find at the end of this trail. He carefully navigated the concrete trench, listening for any sounds that might give them clues as to Sam’s whereabouts or health, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger or the missing dog.

  They reached a fork in the culvert. The left path led out toward an open field, while the right went back toward town and the highway.

  “They go right.” Joel pointed to the footprints in the dirt.

  Ben took the right channel toward town and caught sight of something glinting in the sunlight. Cautiously, he approached and discovered a small, silver dog tag partially buried in the sand. The name “Sam,” along with Jack’s address, was engraved on it, confirming that these were the footprints of the dognappers. He and Joel were on the right track.

  Fueled by a newfound determination, Ben hastened his steps; his commitment to locating Sam and ensuring her safe return to the rest of the group was unwavering. While his mission was centered on rescue, his relentless drive stemmed from his unwillingness to let down the children and the pledge he’d made to Jack. Ben had always prided himself on his composed nature and ability to maintain objectivity even in the most challenging of circumstances. Yet he felt the stronghold of reason gradually giving way to a surge of anger and an overwhelming desire for retribution.

  The culvert led them into a stormwater retention pond located behind an industrial park consisting of metal warehouse-type buildings. While most of the commercial-style units were intact, they’d all been broken into, with a large majority of the overhead loading doors missing or forced open. The footprints ended at the corner of the pond, where the sloped edges leading up and out of the basin were covered in dead grass.

  Ben crouched and checked on Joel behind him. “I’m guessing they went through there.” He crept to the top of the dry pond’s edge, eyeing the parted section of chain-link fence that was the only obvious way out of the stormwater system.

  “You think they’re in one of those buildings?” Joel asked.

  “We’re about to find out. Stay here and be ready to cover me while I get to the building. Then you come when I give you the signal.” Ben waited for Joel to nod, then slipped through the busted fence and ran across the parking lot to the row of warehouses. He stopped behind a dumpster and took a second to listen for anything that might give away Sam’s location, but the only sound he heard was the thumping of his heart. He checked the windows of the building for movement, then made his way around the dumpster and took a position outside one of the open garage doors.

  He glanced back and waved for Joel to join him, then turned his attention back to the warehouse.

  As Joel advanced, the building’s long shadow reached across the parking area, providing the first real relief from the unrelenting sun since they’d begun the search. Joel wiped the sweat from his face with the sleeve of his shirt but froze solid when he heard a muffled whimper followed by unintelligible but recognizably frantic and hushed conversation.

  He bumped his dad with his elbow. “Did you hear that?”

  Ben nodded. Joel could feel the tension building in his muscles, listening for any sounds that would signal the potential movement of the bad guys responsible for this colossal waste of their time. However, the silence remained uninterrupted. Had their approach to the building been detected by the people they were tracking?

  Joel knew better than to push his dad in a situation like this, but it was hard not to ask why they weren’t going in now. His dad knew best—he had no doubts about that—but it was hard to sit here while Sam was being…

  He stopped himself from thinking that way. It wasn’t helping to calm his nerves or slow his racing heart. Instead, he did his best to concentrate on his breathing and trying to get his emotions under control, like his dad had taught him.

  Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast. Joel repeated the mantra several times to himself. That was the formula that had gotten them this far, and it would get Sam back, just like it would get them home.

  9

  Ben fought the urge to rush into the building and rescue Sam from these miscreants, but the contrast between the bright sunlight and the dark interior of the warehouse would all but render him and Joel blind if they didn’t allow their eyes to adjust here in the shadows first. He clenched his jaw, trying to be patient, but then another muffled yelp came from inside the building, louder this time. What were they doing to Sam?

  “Dad, we have to do something,” Joel urged.

  “We have to be able to see what we’re doing. We don’t even know how many there are,” Ben said, but Joel was right. The farthest corners of the warehouse’s interior were still as black as night, and it was impossible to discern one shape from another, but they were out of time. He could feel it in his gut. Sam’s life could very well depend on him and Joel making a move now rather than when the timing was right.

  “Stay behind me,” Ben instructed, then slipped inside, weapon first.

  He found a stack of pallets loaded with boxes and concealed himself until Joel entered, being mindful not to crush any of the scattered Styrofoam peanuts that had spilled from the damaged crates. The looters had abandoned their search once they unearthed the contents of the parcels—evidently electronic components of some kind—leaving behind a scene of disarray and a potential minefield of noisy packing material.

  Ben navigated the scattered Styrofoam pieces strewn across the floor, making his way toward a row of towering shelves that reached the ceiling. Each shelf was laden with an array of boxes similar to the ones that had been busted open, offering visual concealment but little else. Judging by the untouched state of the surrounding area, it appeared that the looters had dismissed the rest of the room, likely presuming there was nothing of significant value to be found within.

  “Kill it already. Nobody’s following us,” a voice growled.

  “It’s our only bargaining chip. You saw those people. Every one of ’em was armed,” another voice reasoned.

  “They ain’t comin’. Besides, we can’t afford to give the dog back. I can’t even remember when we had meat last,” the man stated.

  Ben discovered a narrow gap between two boxes and peered through it, catching sight of two men huddled over a table with Sam lying on its surface. The unfortunate dog had her paws and mouth tightly secured with duct tape. She struggled sporadically but couldn’t free herself.

  The sight of Sam, restrained and helpless, sent a surge of fury through Ben’s veins. He clenched his jaw to contain the raw emotion threatening to overwhelm him. The dognappers’ callousness was palpable, the disregard for Sam’s well-being evident in their body language and tone.

  Ben lived by a set of rules when it came to taking a life, but that code was beginning to blur with anger, seeming less reasonable by the second. With a deep breath, he assessed the situation, plotting his next move with calculated precision. Then, without warning, one of the men raised a knife. He hesitated while preparing to drive it downward into Sam.

  Screw the rules. These weren’t people—they were animals.

  Ben kicked a stack of free-standing plastic bins at the end of the shelving unit, sending them tumbling across the floor with a crash. “Hey!”

  Both men turned, but Ben had already decided on his course of action.

  Crack… crack… crack… crack… crack.

  Ben opened fire from where he was. There was no time to negotiate with these subhuman monsters, and even if there was, he didn’t want to. It was his job to get his family home, not try to reform scum like this. At less than twenty yards, all five of Ben’s shots found their targets with pinpoint accuracy. Both men hit the smooth concrete floor with a slap, leaving Sam scared and squirming on the oversized worktable. Joel rushed to Sam’s aid while Ben alternately maintained a bead on the two bodies with his rifle. He figured they were dead, based on the rapidly expanding pools of blood growing around their bodies, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

  The room fell into an eerie silence, punctuated only by Sam’s distressed whimpers and the sound of Joel’s soothing voice as he attempted to comfort the trembling, wild-eyed dog. Ben’s gaze remained fixed on the lifeless bodies, his expression steely and unwavering. The weight of his actions settled heavily on his shoulders, but he did his best to push aside any trace of doubt about what he’d done. He’d acted to protect his own.

  With cautious steps, he approached the table, his grip on the rifle loosening as he assessed the situation. Joel’s reassuring presence calmed Sam’s frantic movements as he cut the tape with his pocketknife. Ben felt a rush of relief wash over him, and he laid his hand on Sam’s head, his touch gentle yet urgent. Sam whimpered softly, her eyes reflecting a mix of fear and gratitude, as if she understood the danger they had faced and what they’d done to ensure her safety.

  “Easy there, girl,” Ben murmured, his voice low and soothing. “We’ve got you. You’re all right now.”

  “Come on, girl. I gotcha.” Joel helped Sam onto the floor and gave her a quick once-over. “I think she’s okay.”

  Ben exchanged somber glances with Joel while the gravity of what had just gone down sank in, along with the realization of just how close they’d come to losing Sam. The echoes of their recent confrontation lingered in the air, a blunt reminder of the harsh reality they faced every day. Amid the hushed tension, Ben’s mind raced, swiftly formulating a plan to ensure their safe departure from the precarious location. With a quick, calculated glance around the room, he discerned potential entry points. After the noise he’d just made, every fiber of his being was attuned to the need for caution. Sam’s captors might not have been alone.

  “Joel, we need to move,” Ben instructed, his tone conveying a sense of urgency. “Keep an eye out for trouble.”

  Joel nodded in silent understanding, gently coaxing Sam to her feet and guiding her toward the door. Ben kept his head on a swivel, scanning his surroundings for any sign of movement or impending danger. They had Sam, but now was no time to let their guard down.

  Ben signaled for them to halt near the overhead door they had initially entered through. He scanned the parking lot meticulously, ensuring it was safe for a swift exfil from the warehouse. Not detecting any immediate threats, Ben moved to the dumpster, taking a position over the top of the rusty trash receptacle so he could cover Joel.

  “All right, back through the fence,” Ben instructed.

  Joel started for the dried-out stormwater retention pond with his weapon at the ready. Sam followed but wasn’t keeping up. It was then that Ben noticed Sam was limping; her leg was bothering her again. It was no wonder after she’d been manhandled by the two thugs who now lay dead on the floor twenty feet away.

  “Wait a minute. Get back here.” As soon as Joel was close enough, Ben grabbed his shoulder and guided him back into the shadows of the building.

  Sam stopped in the middle of the parking lot and stared at them both for a second before changing direction and limping back their way. The gas station was at least a half mile from here through hundred-degree-plus heat. Sam was in no shape to make the hike back, injury notwithstanding. And without the knee brace, Ben wasn’t too thrilled with the prospect, either. Besides, at the speed Sam was moving, it would take too long to get back to the others on foot—if they made it at all.

  “She won’t be able to make it back to the trucks on that leg,” Ben stated.

  Joel quickly chimed in. “So what’s the plan, then? I can carry her.”

  Ben shook his head. “It’s too risky. I need you ready to back me up in case we run into trouble. The girls are going to have to come get us.”

  Ben pulled the radio from his belt. He’d meant to give the others an update as soon as he knew what was going on, but in the excitement of the rescue and because of the subsequent need to flee the area, he’d forgotten all about it.

  “Come in, Sandy. We’re okay and we have Sam. But we need you to come get us. Over.” Ben waited for a response while he did his best to find a clean part of his shirt to clear the stinging sweat from his eyes.

  Sandy answered right away. “Roger that. We’re ready. Where are you? Over.”

  Her quick response gave Ben an instant boost of confidence and energy. On the way here through the culvert pipe, he had paid attention and kept track of their bearings using a water tower on the other side of the highway from the warehouses.

  “You need to head east again, but only about a half mile or so. You see the water tower? Over.” Ben waited.

  “We see it. Over,” Sandy answered.

  Ben peeked outside and double-checked their location. “We’re across the street in the warehouses. You’ll have to go past us a little and turn around. We’ll be ready on the westbound side of the highway. Over.”

  “Roger that. We’re on our way. Over,” Sandy responded, her voice partially drowned out by the Blazer’s throaty exhaust.

  This was a better plan than him and Joel exhausting themselves of what energy they had left as they tried to backtrack to the trucks with a wounded dog. There was also the added benefit of the others moving away from the gas station. The Blazer and the Jeep had been sitting still for too long.

  “Well, that makes things a lot easier.” Joel’s eyes brightened.

  “We’ll need to move fast and stay sharp,” Ben said, his voice firm and resolute. “We’re not out of the woods just yet.”

  10

  Ben surveyed the warehouse’s interior and determined that it was safest to leave through the front of the building now that they weren’t using the network of drainage ditches to link up with the others. Avoiding the rear parking lot and the row of open garage doors running along the backside of the looted warehouses would be wise, especially considering Sam’s condition and their inability to move with any real speed.

  He quickly checked the dog, examining her injured leg. Thankfully, there was no visible injury, but she seemed to have strained herself while trying to wriggle free of the duct tape. They might have to carry her, but the farther she could move on her own, the better.

  Joel exhaled through tight lips. “Same leg as before.”

  “Yeah, looks that way. You might end up having to carry her, but not yet. Let’s see what it looks like out front. If we can get out that way, it will put us closer to the highway. I don’t want Sandy or Allie pulling off the main road and into the industrial park.” Ben started moving for the door on the other side of the warehouse.

  “Come on, girl.” Joel coaxed Sam along, but it was clear the dog wouldn’t be winning any races in the near future.