Allison Brennan - Cutting Edge

“Fucking bitch,” Maggie mumbled as she paced. She strained to upright the chair, and put her face an inch from Quin’s. “Don’t do that again or I’ll make you really hurt. And Nora will see every second and hear every note of your screams.”

Quin didn’t doubt her. She sat still.

“Good girl.” Maggie clapped and left the room. When she returned, Quin couldn’t see what Maggie had in her hands. She pressed a button on the camera and Quin saw a small red light inside.

Maggie pointed the camera toward a knife, then put the blade to Quin’s neck. Quin gasped from the shock and fear and started shaking.

“The human body is pretty incredible,” Maggie said for the camera. She untied one of Quin’s arms. “Quin, sweetie, turn your palm up for the nice people.”

Quin held her arm out. She looked at the long-healed scars on her left arm. She’d been twelve when she first cut herself. She hadn’t done it in a long time.

Maggie held the knife to her arm and sliced. The sting both hurt and felt good, the pain turning into forbidden pleasure. But it wasn’t the same. When she’d cut herself, she’d felt marginally better for a while, before the pain of her life returned. The pleasure now was only in the memories.

“The blood drips and then slows,” said Maggie. “Just a little pressure.” She put a cloth on her arm and pressed. “It’ll start healing. That’s the blood clotting.”

She tied her wrist back behind her and showed the camera a small vial with a needle sticking out of it. “This, dear sister, is heparin. You know what heparin does. It stops blood from clotting. It doesn’t take long to take effect, either. Especially in the dose I prefer.”

She drew out the needle. It was filled with the clear drug. She stuck it unceremoniously into Quin’s arm. It stung worse than any bee, and Quin gasped.

“An hour, plus or minus. That’s all it takes. Now, I don’t know how long it takes to bleed out from one slice, and I’m afraid it won’t work, so I’m going to try something different.” She took a red marker and drew on Quin’s body. A three-inch line across her breasts. A five-inch line down each biceps. “Is that enough?” She looked at Quin. Quin couldn’t stop shaking. She wished she could control it, but the fear was growing. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want Nora to die. But she didn’t see any way out of this. Maggie had the upper hand.

“One more for good measure.” She marked Quin’s other forearm to match the cut she’d already made. “Good. I think she’ll last at least an hour before losing consciousness, then another hour before her blood pressure drops so low she won’t be able to recover. This is my insurance, Nora. You bring anyone, you set your fascist pricks on me, and you’ll never find her before she’s dead. I promise you. In one hour I’ll cut along these lines and she’ll slowly bleed to death. If you do what I say, I’ll come back and bandage her up, which might save her.” She held up another vial. “Oh, and this will help. It’s Npate, and it’ll help the blood clot. I don’t know what happens when the two drugs mix, but if you’re a good girl we’ll find out together. If you’re naughty, no one will be here when Quin dies.”

Duke had sent J.T. all the information about Last Chance Road and the property that was owned by Derek Jackson or Tommy/Thomas Templeton. The SWAT team was headed up to the small Colfax airport where they’d stage the manhunt for Maggie O’Dell. They’d transport Nora when she landed and cover her. Duke drove in his sports car with Hooper. They were ahead of the SWAT team.

He had to make sure Nora was safe, and right now he had an edge. J.T. would find the property and they could go in dark and rescue Quin. If Maggie was there, they’d take her into custody before Nora’s plane landed. If Maggie wasn’t, at least the hostage would be safe. If Nora knew that Quin was safe, she would have the upper hand. But if Maggie took Quin with her to Last Chance Road … or set a trap, Duke would need to get to Nora fast. Maggie wasn’t logical-anything could happen, which terrified Duke. Suddenly Duke felt claustrophobic. He rolled down his window as they merged onto Interstate 80.

Twenty years old, younger than Sean, Maggie O’Dell had killed at least six people. How could she be so hardened so young?

“Let’s get there in one piece,” Hooper said. “Cut it to about fifteen miles over the speed limit and I think we’ll be fine.”

“We don’t have time,” Duke said, but eased up a fraction on the gas, going from close to ninety to eighty-two.

“What did Sean say?” Hooper asked.

“He’s planning on landing at Colfax Airport. It’s a small private strip a mile off the freeway. It’s a good place. But that’s still twenty to thirty minutes from the meeting spot on Last Chance Road. He’s not going to make it, and I sure as hell don’t want him hotdogging it. The Corvalis goes nearly three hundred miles an hour, but even going maximum speed with a good tailwind is going to put them here in just under ninety minutes.”

“Is there any other place he can land closer?”

“I don’t know,” Duke said, but he didn’t want to think about Sean risking a landing in the middle of the mountains. Their parents had died in the Cascades when their dad attempted to land in a valley during a mechanical emergency. Any other place and he might have made it. But the mountains had far more dangers with unexpected terrain and winds.

Sean had better not risk his life, or Nora’s. They had time. Just barely, but enough.

J.T phoned. “I got a parcel that used to be owned by Derek Jackson that fits. It’s one hundred ten acres with a Weimar Zip Code, but it’s way the hell in the mountains. It doesn’t border Last Chance Road, but from the satellites there appears to be an old logging road that cuts through the south portion of the property.”

“Used to be owned? Who owns it now?”

“The county foreclosed on it a year ago for back taxes.”

“Where’s the cabin?”

“I’m still looking for it. Don’t go down Last Chance Road, take Weimar Road to Old Bet Road, and by then I hope to have the exact location.”

“Why there?”

“I just emailed you the satellite photos and maps. If you look at Last Chance Road, there’s no way to get from it to the property by car. If the information you gave me is accurate, you’ll be stuck and have to backtrack.”

“She told Nora to pick up her next instructions at the end of Last Chance Road.”

“That doesn’t change the facts, Duke. Civilians first.”

He didn’t need to be reminded, but he was unhappy about the turn of events.

“You’re going to get spotty cell reception up there.”

“I’m fine as long as I’m near my car.” He had a digital booster in his dashboard.

“I’ll send you the coordinates when I find the exact location.”

“Thanks, J.T”

J.T added, “I know what it’s like to have someone you care about in danger. Follow your instincts, not your heart.”

Nora watched the video stream Maggie had emailed to her phone. Quin would die if Duke couldn’t find her. Nora felt so damn helpless, trapped in a plane, unable to stop Maggie O’Dell from hurting her sister. Hadn’t she and Quin gone through Hell already? Forced to grow up too fast, doing things no child should have to do, homeless, often hungry, listening to conversations they didn’t understand. No medical care, no dentists, no education … they might as well have been growing up in a third world country for all Lorraine had cared.

And now … this. Dammit, Nora wanted peace in her life. Quin safe. A home. A home with people she loved.