Fatal Exposure

chapter 15



Parker stood stock-still in the cabin’s shadows, shutting down every thought but one. Hoffman had taken Brynn hostage.

He had to save the woman he loved.

He shifted deeper into the shadows, careful not to make any sound. Then he stopped behind a tree and listened intently, struggling to hear above the stark fear bludgeoning his skull. Tree branches creaked overhead. A night creature cried in the distance, the wild sound scraping his nerves. The frigid wind gusted, howling through a crack in the wooden shed, while bushes frothed in the pulsing night.

It was too quiet. Too tense. Locking his gaze on the second cabin, Parker battled the need billowing inside him to burst through that door in a frenzy and rescue Brynn. But he couldn’t afford to make a mistake. He had to stay cool and think this through—or Brynn would pay with her life.

He melted farther into the darkness, every sense attuned to the slightest sounds. He skirted a rotting woodpile, crept to the small shed standing between the cabins and peered inside. Empty, just as he’d expected.

Only one place left.

He merged back into the forest, taking a circuitous path through the trees. Twigs crackled underfoot. The brisk wind blew again, raising goose bumps along his spine while ice congealed in his heart. Something had tipped Hoffman off. Did he have a scanner inside the cabin? Had his wife somehow seen them at the house and contacted him? Was he aware that even now police were converging on the camp, preparing to bring him down?

If so, he’d be desperate, even more dangerous, which didn’t bode well for Brynn.

Dread making his heart thud, Parker neared the cabin and stopped. He took a deep pull of air, struggling to think through the overload of adrenaline blurring his mind, and snuck a peek at his watch. The police should have reached the farmhouse by now. Local law enforcement would take the lead, coordinating the SWAT and HRT teams as they searched the camp. Given Hoffman’s rank, Lieutenant Lewis would be on scene, along with various department bigwigs—the deputy commissioner, a PR representative, the head of internal affairs.

But none of that was going to help Parker. No one knew about these old cabins. No one knew where he’d gone.

But he couldn’t do this alone. He needed a hostage negotiator to make contact with Hoffman. He needed an expert to convince him to surrender without harming Brynn or that runaway kid. At the very least he needed their stun grenades to get inside that cabin. The blinding light and noise would disorient Hoffman, incapacitating him long enough to free the captives and bring him in.

A whimper cut through the night. Parker’s heart stuttered hard, then took off in a rush. Brynn. He clenched his hands, shaking with the need to save her, to forget every bit of training he’d ever had and barge through that cabin door.

But he had to resist. Too much could go lethally wrong. And it could be a ploy, a trick to lure him into a trap. He had to keep his head, sit tight and hope to God those teams figured out where he’d gone—and arrived in time.

Then another wild cry split the night.

To hell with it. Trap or not, he couldn’t stand by and let Hoffman torture Brynn. By the time the hostage rescue team discovered their whereabouts, she could be dead.

He darted across the clearing to the cabin, then crouched beneath the bushes beside the door. The windows were boarded up. A sliver of light peeked through the cracks, but he couldn’t see inside.

He drew in a breath, trying to think this through. No matter how desperately he wanted to save her, he couldn’t rush in blind. He had to locate everyone’s position in the cabin first.

Figuring Hoffman would monitor the door and windows, Parker worked his way around the perimeter of the cabin, searching for another way in. Then a piece of wooden lattice covering the crawl space caught his eye. He ripped it off and set it aside, then shimmied through the opening. Turning on his flashlight, he belly-crawled through the dirt and weeds, hoping he’d get lucky and the cabin would have a trapdoor to drain the pipes. He finally spotted it several feet away, draped with spiderwebs.

Positioning himself beneath it, he waited a beat, but no sounds came through the floor. Why was it so quiet? What was Hoffman doing in there?

Not wanting to imagine the answer, he tested the door, but it didn’t budge. Putting more force behind it, he pushed again. Locked. Hoffman had secured it from the other side.

Swearing, he crawled back out. Aware that time was fading quickly, he ran through his options again. He could discharge his weapon to alert the cops. That would bring them to the area fast. But it could also cause Hoffman to panic and kill his captives—a disaster he had to avoid. Parker could surrender to Hoffman in order to get inside, then hope to fight it out. But he’d save that as a last resort.

Deciding to try the windows, he crept to the back of the cabin again, tugging on the plywood for signs of give. He finally came across a loose board and pried it up, far enough to peek inside.

It led to the back bedroom. He made out a dresser and chair and in the corner a narrow bed—with a small figure huddled on top. His heart missed a beat. The runaway girl. That put Hoffman and Brynn in the living room.

His mind racing, he lowered the board. Hoffman needed this child for leverage. If Parker snuck inside and released her, he took away Hoffman’s bargaining chip.

He would also remove Hoffman’s only reason to use restraint. Once he realized he couldn’t escape, Hoffman could decide to retaliate—on Brynn.

But Parker couldn’t leave that child inside. The risks were far too high. He had to free her while he had the chance—and then try to neutralize Hoffman before he could murder Brynn.

His heart beating even faster, he pulled on the plywood again. It creaked, and Parker cringed, hoping Hoffman hadn’t heard the noise. But he was committed now.

Working quickly, he yanked the final nail loose and tossed the board aside. Then he braced his hands on the sill and heaved himself over the ledge. The girl whimpered and shrank back against the wall.

“Shh. I’m a cop. I’m here to help you.” He strode across the room, but the sight of her small hands tied to the bed frame nearly razed his self-control. Not wanting to spook her, he knelt on the floor beside the bed. “I’m going to untie your hands, okay? And then I’m going to lower you out the window. I want you to run into the woods—not too far—and hide until the police get here. Do you understand?”

Her eyes were huge, but she managed to nod, and his admiration rose. Even badly traumatized, she was a fighter.

Like Brynn.

He shut down that thought fast, needing to focus on freeing this child. “Okay, I’m going to untie your hands now. Don’t be afraid.” She flinched as he reached for the rope, but didn’t make another sound. He quickly worked the knots loose, mentally cursing when he saw her wrists. The bastard had tied her so tightly that her skin was raw.

Suddenly footsteps sounded in the other room. Tensing, Parker reached for his gun, his gaze locked on the bedroom door. But then the footsteps retreated, and he eased out his breath.

With no time to waste now, he undid the final knot and rose. He started to help her stand but stopped when she jerked away. Instead, he stripped off his leather jacket and held it out. “Here, put this on. It’s cold out there.

“I’m going to lower you out the window,” he continued as she shrugged his jacket on.

“Okay,” she whispered, still trembling.

He crossed the room to the window and held out his hands. “Ready?”

She grabbed his hands, and more respect for her swelled inside. He could only imagine how much it cost her to trust a man right now. He lifted her over the sill, releasing her when she reached the ground. She stumbled, but regained her balance and darted into the woods.

One down.

Drawing his weapon, he turned around. But the wind gusted again, blowing through the open window and knocking papers off the dresser beside the door. Parker lunged forward to grab them, but something plastic clattered to the floor.

Oh, hell. He leaped toward the wall, intending to hide behind the door. But the door crashed open and the overhead light flicked on. Hoffman stood in the doorway, holding Brynn in front of him like a shield, his gun wedged under her jaw.

Parker’s world spun away at the sight of the gun pressed to her fragile throat. He took in her terror-glazed eyes, the dark bruise puffing her cheek. She was trembling so violently he could detect it from across the room.

A frantic feeling took hold inside him. He met his boss’s glittering eyes—the eyes of a man teetering on the edge of control—and his hopes plummeted even more.

His worst fear had just come true.

Hoffman knew that the kid was gone. He knew that he’d been exposed. He had no chance to escape arrest, no reason to stay alive.

In seconds they’d all be dead.

“Put down your gun,” Hoffman ordered.

“Don’t do it,” Brynn cried. “Don’t—” She gasped, her body stiffening as the gun dug into her neck.

“Right now,” Hoffman said.

Parker’s palms turned slick. He lowered the gun slightly, struggling to think. Brynn knew how to fight. She’d nearly bested him in the alley the night they’d met. And Hoffman was older, fatter, slower. If Parker could give her an opening, she could break free.

But he had to be careful. Hoffman barely had a grip on his nerves. If Parker blundered, he’d snap.

“All right,” Parker said. “I’ll put it down. But you owe me some answers first.”

“Answers?” Hoffman scoffed. “About what?”

“Tommy. How you killed him.”

Hoffman blinked. “I didn’t kill him.”

“The hell you didn’t. You executed that guy in the warehouse. You went after Brynn, then killed Tommy when he got in your way. You were there with that gang, the City of the Dead.”

Incredulity crossed Hoffman’s face. “You’re nuts. I wasn’t there. I had nothing to do with that.”

Parker frowned, doubts worming through his anger, but he shook them off. The evidence pointed to his boss. “And when those photos showed up in Homicide, you destroyed them to cover your tracks.”

“You’re crazy. I’ve never killed anyone in my life.”

Until now.

The unspoken words hung between them. Parker’s gaze connected with Brynn’s, the desperation in her eyes wrenching his heart. And it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to rush over and grab her away. But he’d never make it. She’d be dead before he went two feet.

“You killed Erin Walker,” he pointed out.

“Erin?” Hoffman’s indignation rose. “I did not. I wasn’t anywhere near her when she died.”

“You brought her here that night. You gave her drugs.”

“She wanted to come. But then she went berserk. It had nothing to do with me.”

“You abused her.”

“That’s a lie. I never hurt her. We were friends. She liked what I did.”

Parker realized that he believed that. In his sick, twisted mind he hadn’t harmed that child.

But what about Tommy? Was Hoffman telling the truth about that? He definitely molested children. There was enough evidence in these cabins to convict him, even if that girl didn’t testify. But had he killed Tommy? Or was Delgado responsible for that?

Parker shook away the thought. He’d sort that out later. Right now he had to save Brynn.

But Hoffman tightened his grip on her throat, causing her to wheeze for breath.

And Parker knew with a sinking feeling that he’d run out of time.

“Put down your gun,” Hoffman said. “Right now, or she’s dead.”

Not seeing an option, Parker bent over and set his gun on the wooden floor.

“Kick it over here.”

Parker sent it skidding across the floor. It came to a stop several feet from Brynn. She rolled her eyes sideways, and he knew she was calculating the distance, trying to figure out a way to get that gun. But she needed him to create a diversion first.

“That’s better.” A triumphant smile slashed Hoffman’s face. “You always did obey orders.”

Like a fool. “I trusted you. I thought you were an honest man. But you used me for your own sick ends.”

“I only wanted you to bring her in. That’s all. I tried to warn you about her. I said she’d manipulate you. But you didn’t listen...and now I don’t have a choice.”

Brynn went still. Her gaze snapped to his, the shock over his betrayal edging out her fear. Parker’s stomach took a sudden dive. “It’s not what you think,” he told her.

“You lied to me.” The pain in her voice ripped through his heart.

He couldn’t deny it. Any attempt to justify his behavior would only seem like a lame excuse. But he had intended to tell her; he’d just wanted to do it at a better time, when he could explain how his opinion of her had changed, how he admired her, cared for her.

How he loved her.

But he’d waited too long. And now that she’d learned the truth from Hoffman, she’d never believe him again.

Their eyes remained locked. And suddenly he knew what he had to do. He had to prove that he hadn’t betrayed her. He had to give her a chance to survive.

He lunged toward his boss. Hoffman swiveled his gun his way.

And fired.

* * *

Brynn screamed. She stared at Parker aghast as he staggered another step forward, then stopped and slumped to the floor. He’d just forfeited his life to save her. He was giving her a chance to get free. But she refused to leave him at this madman’s mercy, no matter how much his betrayal stung.

Jerking herself into action, she shoved away from Hoffman and whipped around. Then she slammed her foot behind his knee, causing him to fall down.

But he wouldn’t stay down for long.

She dove for Parker’s gun, managing to wrap her hands around it just as another shot rang out, the earsplitting bang reverberating through her skull. She rolled over and swung around, feeling as if time had slowed to a standstill, and squeezed off a shot. Hoffman dove behind a chair.

Scrambling to her feet, she glanced at Parker. He lay facedown on the floor, blood pooling around him, groaning with pain. Desperation drummed inside her. She had to help him. She had to stanch the bleeding and rush him to the hospital before he died.

But she had to stop Hoffman first. She had to get him away from this bedroom before he finished Parker off.

Banking that Hoffman would try to stop her, she bolted through the doorway into the next room, skidding on the wooden floor. His footsteps pounded behind her. His gun barked out, and she flinched, but the shot went wild.

She whirled around and fired back. Her aim was off, but it made him dive into the kitchen, giving her time to scramble behind the couch. Dumb, she realized, gasping for breath. A bullet would go straight through the sofa. She had to get to the door.

“Stop,” her stepfather called out. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

Hysteria burbled inside her. He’d kidnapped her at gunpoint. He’d knocked her out, slamming his fist into her face when she’d tried to escape. He’d just shot Parker and was trying to murder her. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said. “I loved you.”

Love? She shuddered, totally repulsed. “Torture isn’t love.”

“You liked my games. You know you did. You begged me to play with you.”

Her face turned hot. Her vision hazed. Fury scorched through her veins, nearly incinerating what remained of her self-restraint. But this wasn’t the time to lose control, not when Parker needed her help. Struggling to harness her temper, she gauged the distance to the door, but she knew she’d never get that far.

“I did everything for you,” he continued. “You were my little angel, the one I loved. But then you ruined everything.” Rage hardened his voice. “You told lies. You ran away. I loved you, and you lied about me.”

Revolted, she thinned her lips. This man had raped her. He’d robbed her of her innocence in the most despicable of ways. But she couldn’t let him distract her. Parker was dying in the other room. She had to lure Hoffman away from Parker and summon aid.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Hoffman said. “But you ruined everything. You didn’t give me a choice. I had to get Parker to bring you in.”

His voice was getting nearer. He was crawling across the room. Panic morphed into a frenzy inside her. She had to get out now!

Summoning her courage, she lifted her head. She spotted him creeping toward the sofa and fired. He wheeled back, clutching his arm, and howled. Her palms so slick she could hardly grip the gun, she squeezed off another round.

She missed.

Knowing he’d recover at any second, she leaped toward the cabin’s door. She flung it open and lunged outside but missed the step and fell. Landing on her injured shoulder she let out a strangled cry. Then she stumbled upright in a surge of adrenaline and whirled around.

Hoffman slumped against the door frame. Trembling wildly, she raised her weapon and squeezed the trigger—but there was an empty click. She’d run out of ammunition.

And she didn’t have any more rounds.

Hoffman smiled, a maniacal look filling his eyes. He lifted his gun and took aim. She turned and fled just as the shot went rocketing past. She tripped over a tree root and sprawled facedown again.

Oh, God. He was going to catch her. He lurched down the porch steps. Frantic, she jumped up and raced into the woods, running for her life—just like Erin Walker had.

And just like Erin, Brynn needed to reach the lookout tower. The cops would be waiting there. If she could just hold on long enough to find them, she could alert them to the danger and make sure Parker survived.

Trees rose up in her path, and she swerved around them. Low-hanging branches tore at her face and hair. She plunged through stands of brush, stumbling over logs and rocks, trying desperately to escape. But which way was the lookout tower? Without any light to guide her, she was running blind.

Then suddenly something darted into her path. Unable to turn in time, she collided with it headlong. A child. Thrown off balance, Brynn fell into a pile of brush, her head smacking against a rock. Pain scorched through her scalp, and she cried out.

The child flailed and kicked beneath her, finally breaking free. They both scrambled to their feet, and Brynn recognized the missing girl.

A crashing noise rose behind them. Hoffman was only steps away.

“I’m a friend. I’ll help you. Follow me!” Brynn urged and took off running again. The girl sprinted behind her, keeping up despite her smaller size. Seconds later, Brynn reached the creek and plowed across, the frigid water icing her feet. She slipped on a rock and nearly fell, then clawed her way up the opposite bank, pure panic driving her on.

“Help!” the girl called out.

Brynn stopped and whirled around, her breath sawing loudly in the air. Moonlight seeped through the trees, enabling her to see. The child was on her hands and knees in the rushing stream, struggling to rise. Hoffman burst through the trees and stopped.

He raised his gun, aiming at the fallen girl, and Brynn gaped at him in shock. He wasn’t human. Even a gunshot wound hadn’t brought him down. But she’d die before she let him harm that child.

Her fury exploding, she picked up a rock and hurled it with all her might, ignoring the sharp pain searing her arm. The rock glanced off his shoulder, not hard enough to stop him, but enough to make him jerk back. The bullet thudded into a tree.

The girl made it to her feet. She stumbled out of the creek and ran toward Brynn just as Hoffman took aim again. Brynn shoved the girl behind her, but she knew that she’d reached the end. She couldn’t escape death this time.

His weapon jammed.

A stunned look crossed his face. He looked down in disbelief, then let loose with a torrent of obscenities as he fumbled to clear the jam. The magazine dropped out, spilling rounds on the forest floor. Brynn spun on her heels, nearly weeping with relief, and ran.

Careful to keep the child with her, she angled through the woods toward the lookout tower, desperate to reach the police. She shoved through a patch of brambles, nearly collided with a boulder and tripped over logs and vines.

Her lungs burned. She could hardly wheeze in a fiery breath. Then she staggered into the clearing by the lookout tower, the absolute mayhem catching her off guard. Red-and-blue lights flashed in the darkness. Emergency vehicles and squad cars surrounded the tower. Cops swarmed the area in bulletproof vests and SWAT gear, shouting orders. Their radios squawked and blared.

“Help!” she cried, stumbling to a halt. She pulled the girl close to protect her and whipped around. “He’s coming! He’s got a gun!” Several officers rushed to their side.

Then Hoffman burst through the trees.

“Watch out!” she screamed, and the officers drew their guns.

But Hoffman was no longer armed. He raised his hands, causing the cops to hold their fire. He swayed for a moment, the colored lights illuminating his face, then sank to the ground. Dozens of officers raced over, shouting for medical help.

Brynn’s knees wobbled, threatening to collapse. “Are you all right, ma’am?” an officer asked her.

“I’m fine, but—”

“This woman’s bleeding!” the man shouted over the noise. “We need an EMT here!”

“No, I’m fine. But Parker...” The memory of his betrayal sliced through her, but she shoved it aside. “He’s at the cabin. That way.” She motioned toward the woods. “You have to hurry. He’s been shot!”

“We’ll find him.”

More radios crackled. Sirens rose in the night. Several officers took off running through the woods while others piled into cars. As Brynn watched in a daze, medical personnel loaded Hoffman onto a gurney, and started wheeling him her way.

But a woman in a uniform stepped into their path, causing them to stop. She was tall, middle-aged, so thin she was almost gaunt. Lieutenant Lewis, Brynn guessed, judging by the authority in her stance. The woman Parker had called for help.

“Colonel Hoffman,” she said, her voice sharp. “You’re under arrest.”

Hoffman raised his head from the gurney. His eyes met the lieutenant’s and filled with fear. He let out an anguished moan.

So he realized he wasn’t going to escape. It was about time he suffered for his crimes.

“Where are you taking him?” Lieutenant Lewis asked an EMT.

“Meritus Hospital in Washington County. They’ll probably fly him to Shock Trauma in Baltimore from there.”

“Fine.” She turned to another cop. “Read him his rights on the way.”

She turned her attention to Brynn, who was still hugging the terrified girl. “Are you all right?”

Brynn managed a nod, but the pain pulsing through her shoulder halted her breath. “Parker—”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get him.” Lieutenant Lewis signaled to the EMT. “Take these two to the hospital.” Pulling out her radio, she strode away.

Several officers surrounded the gurney, along with the ambulance personnel. Hoffman rolled his head as they pushed him past, and, without warning, his eyes met hers. And for a moment, time ground to a halt. She stared into the eyes of the man who’d abused her, a hollowed-out feeling inside. This man had terrorized her for decades. He’d stolen her innocence, done despicable, evil things to her that no child should have to endure. He’d forced her into a life on the run, a precarious existence of desperation, violence and fear—all because of his perverted needs.

Defeated, he looked away. The men closed around him, then loaded him into the waiting ambulance. Brynn eased out her breath as they put on the siren and drove away.

His reign of terror had come to an end.

And she was finally free.