THE HOUSE THEY WANTED HER TO DIE FOR

Every gate was sealed. Every deputy was questioned. Surveillance footage showed Lorraine entering an attorney conference room with Grant Mercer. Twenty-seven minutes later, Mercer walked out alone.

A second camera caught a maintenance worker leaving through a service corridor.

The worker’s uniform had been found inside an abandoned truck two blocks away.

Lorraine had escaped wearing it.

“She planned this before the garage,” Rachel said.

Naomi stood in the protected apartment, pinning photographs to the wall.

“She planned several exits,” the detective replied. “The woman driving the van could be Lorraine. The timestamp is consistent with her escape.”

“What about Victor?”

“If they brought him to Blackwater Feed and Grain, he may still be alive.”

Rachel reached for her coat.

Naomi blocked the door.

“You aren’t going.”

“He risked his life for me.”

“And I intend to bring him home. You are not walking into an abandoned industrial property while eight months pregnant.”

Rachel stared at her.

“You can protect my body or you can help me end this. You may not be able to do both.”

Naomi’s jaw tightened.

Before she could answer, the lights went out.

The refrigerator stopped humming. The apartment fell silent.

Naomi drew her weapon.

Mia moved beside Rachel.

A car engine roared below.

The officers stationed downstairs shouted.

Then came the crash.

A black SUV smashed through the building’s front entrance, scattering glass and metal across the lobby.

Naomi pulled Rachel toward the kitchen.

“Fire stairs!”

The apartment door shook beneath a heavy impact.

Someone was using a battering ram.

Mia opened the rear service door, but smoke already climbed the stairwell. The attackers had thrown a burning container onto the landing.

“We’re trapped,” Mia said.

Rachel looked toward the bedroom window. The protected apartment occupied the second floor. A flat awning stretched above the grocery store below.

The front door splintered.

Naomi fired through the damaged frame, forcing the intruders back.

“Go!” she shouted.

Rachel climbed through the bedroom window. Cold air struck her face. She lowered herself until her feet touched the awning.

Mia followed.

The metal flexed beneath them.

From the apartment, Naomi exchanged another shot with the intruders. Plaster exploded from the wall.

Rachel crawled toward the awning’s edge. A delivery truck sat beneath it.

“We can drop onto the roof,” she said.

“That’s eight feet,” Mia replied.

“We don’t have another exit.”

Mia jumped first. She landed on the truck and rolled.

Rachel sat on the edge, lowered herself carefully, and let go. Mia caught her beneath the arms, softening the fall.

Naomi climbed out seconds later.

The black SUV reversed from the lobby. Its headlights swung toward them.

“Move!” Naomi yelled.

They jumped from the truck just as the SUV accelerated down the alley. Naomi fired at the windshield. The vehicle swerved, clipped a dumpster, and disappeared onto the street.

Police units pursued, but the SUV changed plates beneath an overpass and vanished.

Naomi transported Rachel and Mia to a rural sheriff’s station. While officers prepared another secure location, Rachel studied the map recovered from Curtis Dane’s apartment.

A handwritten line ran from her neighborhood to Blackwater Feed and Grain. Halfway between them was an old toll road through the forest.

“My father used to drive that route,” Rachel said. “He called it Cutter’s Road.”

Naomi examined the map.

“The road has been closed for years.”

“Not completely. There’s a maintenance entrance near the old water tower.”

Naomi contacted the tactical commander leading the search for Victor. The primary team was approaching the feed mill from the highway. A second group could enter through Cutter’s Road.

Rachel expected Naomi to leave her at the station.

Instead, the detective placed her in an armored police SUV with Mia and two officers.

“You stay in the vehicle,” Naomi said.

Rachel agreed, though both women knew the promise might not survive the night.

Rain began as they entered the forest.

Cutter’s Road had deteriorated into a narrow strip of cracked asphalt. Branches scraped the vehicle’s sides. Their headlights revealed fallen signs and weeds growing through potholes.

Naomi drove slowly.

A pair of taillights appeared ahead.

The white utility van.

“That’s Victor,” Rachel said.

Naomi activated her radio.

The radio produced only static.

“Signal jammer,” one officer said.

The van accelerated.

Naomi followed.

The road curved sharply beside a steep drainage ditch. The van disappeared around the bend.

When the police SUV reached it, two construction barriers blocked the road.

Naomi hit the brakes.

The barriers exploded beneath the bumper.

A steel cable snapped upward across the windshield.

The reinforced glass cracked but held.

The SUV spun sideways.

Mia screamed as they slid toward the ditch. Naomi countersteered, but the rear wheels dropped from the pavement.

The vehicle rolled onto its side.

Rachel’s seat belt locked across her chest. She covered her stomach as broken glass scattered above her.

“Everyone answer!” Naomi called.

The officers reported minor injuries. Mia’s forehead was bleeding from a shallow cut, but she remained conscious.

Rachel felt the baby move.

“I’m okay.”

The white van stopped fifty yards ahead.

Curtis Dane stepped out carrying a shotgun.

He approached the overturned SUV.

Naomi tried her door, but it was pinned against the ground. The rear hatch was their only exit.

One officer kicked it open.

Dane fired into the air.

“Stay inside!”

Naomi crawled toward the rear with her weapon raised.

A second attacker appeared beside the van and began pouring gasoline onto the road.

Rachel’s heart pounded.

“They’re going to burn us.”

Naomi fired through the open hatch. The second attacker dropped the fuel container and ducked behind the van.

Dane fired at the SUV. Pellets struck the rear frame.

Rachel saw an emergency road flare clipped beneath her seat.

She pulled it free, sparked it, and held the burning red light near the gasoline leaking from the abandoned container.

Naomi understood immediately.

“Rachel, don’t.”

Rachel threw the flare beyond the SUV.

The gasoline ignited in a bright line across the road, separating Dane from the overturned vehicle.

He stumbled backward.

Naomi and the officers crawled out through the hatch, pulling Rachel and Mia after them.

The attackers retreated to the van.

Dane jumped behind the wheel and sped toward the feed mill.

Naomi aimed but did not fire. Victor might still be inside.

The group followed on foot until they reached an old maintenance truck parked beside the water tower. Its keys had been left in the ignition by the tactical team.

Naomi drove.

At the feed mill, police vehicles surrounded the main entrance.

The building appeared empty.

Officers searched loading bays, offices, and storage rooms. They found ropes, food wrappers, and Victor’s jacket, but no Victor.

Rachel entered despite Naomi’s order.

A faint tapping came from beneath the floor.

Rachel followed it into the weighing room. An old metal scale occupied the center.

The tapping repeated.

Three knocks. A pause. Three more.

Officers moved the scale and discovered a trapdoor.

Below it was a narrow concrete chamber.

Victor sat tied to a chair, bruised but alive.

Naomi cut him free.

“Where are Lorraine and Mercer?”

Victor struggled to speak.

“They left through the tunnel.”

“What tunnel?”

He pointed toward the far wall.

“They weren’t trying to hide me. They wanted me to tell Rachel what I saw.”

Rachel stepped closer.

Victor looked at her with terrified eyes.

“Your father came to my house the night before he died. He gave me a metal box and made me promise never to open it unless someone came for your home.”

“Where is it?”

“I buried it beneath your garage.”

A loud mechanical sound echoed through the chamber.

The concrete floor trembled.

Victor looked toward the tunnel entrance.

“They rigged the building.”

Naomi smelled the air.