Maya Banks - The Darkest Hour

Panic billowing through her like a flash fire, she ran from room to room, turning off every light until the entire house was plunged into darkness.

A phone. She needed a phone.

In the kitchen she yanked the cordless phone off the charger and headed for the basement. There were lots of places she could hide that would buy her time if the men trying to kill her did come back.

When she found the darkest, smallest corner in the tiny closet that housed the hot water heater, she sank to the floor and dialed 911.

THEY’Dbeen through all the possible scenarios. Ethan, Sam and Garrett had coordinated with the local and state authorities, and then they’d broken away to fill the cracks. If there was anything at all the police were missing, the Kellys would find it.

The call came in an hour before dawn. An abandoned SUV with the front end caved in parked off one of the gravel roads off 232.

They converged on it from all directions, but it was obvious no one had been in it for a good while. The engine was completely cold, the doors open, and footprints led away into the woods.

Ethan swore and pounded his fist into the side of the truck. Garrett gripped his hand and pulled him away.

“Save it, man. Rachel needs you.”

“It’s time to go hunting,” Sam murmured as he bent and shone his flashlight at the mishmash of footprints. “See this one? It’s smaller than the others. I think she got away from them. They lead into the woods.”

“What you got?” Sean asked as he approached after his survey of the area.

Sam pointed and related his theory. Sean nodded.

“I’ll have my men spread out.” He looked up at Ethan and eyed him with a steady gaze. “We won’t give up until we find her.”

Ethan nodded. “Thank you.”

The brothers followed the footprints into the woods. At times they lost the trail, when the way became too rocky to register the imprint of a shoe. Then they’d pick it up several yards later. About a quarter mile from the SUV, they found a tennis shoe lying among the leaves and dirt.

Adrenaline surged in Ethan’s veins. “It’s Rachel’s,” he said hoarsely. He scraped the dirt from the sides and the sole with shaking hands. It was definitely hers. His mom had bought them on one of her many shopping trips for Rachel.

“She kept going,” Garrett said.

Sam directed the flashlight beam along the path where the imprint of one tennis shoe and one bare foot led farther into the woods.

“Atta girl,” Sam murmured.

They hurried forward, keeping the flashlights aimed at the ground as they followed the footprints.

Eventually they came to a stop at a riverbank. The soil was disturbed like someone had fallen, and the incline was eaten away.

Ethan slid down the embankment to study the area closer to the river’s edge. There were distinct footprints, and closer to the overhang, there was a hollowed-out area that looked very much like someone had huddled there.

Rachel’s prints ended here, but the larger boot prints circled and overlapped before finally paralleling the shore west.

His brothers scanned the area beside him with frowns on their faces.

“What do you make of it, Sam?” Garrett asked.

Sam stared at Ethan, and it infuriated him that Sam was holding back.

“Just say it,” Ethan bit out. “We’re wasting time.”

“There are two possibilities,” Sam said slowly. “The smaller prints lead here and none lead away. The boot prints arrive here and they leave again in the other direction. Either Rachel lost them here or they caught up to her here and she didn’t leave on her own.”

Ethan sucked in his breath. He might be looking at where Rachel had died. He shook his head. Fuck no. He refused to believe that. If Rachel got away the first time, she could do it again. She was smart, and she was a fighter.

Garrett turned to survey the river.

“She could have gone into the water. She’s listened in on enough of our powwows to have picked up any number of evasion tactics. Hell, we used to sit around drinking beer and telling combat stories. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that she hit the water and stayed there so she wouldn’t leave tracks.”

Excitement curled in Ethan’s stomach. He had to believe that. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

“So we split up,” Sam said. “I’ll go upriver. You two head down. If she headed downriver, she would have hit the lake. I’ll radio Sean and have a search party scour the riverbanks upriver and also search the lake for any sign of her. If she’s out here, we’ll find her.”

Their radios crackled, and Sean’s voice bled into the night air.

“Sam, you read me?”

Sam picked up his radio. Ethan gripped his, but held back the urge to demand if Sean had news.

“Yeah, I read you, go ahead,” Sam replied.

“We just got a 911 call . . . from your house. Woman. Terrified. Babbling about men trying to kill her. Dispatch didn’t get her name before the line went dead, but I’m betting it’s Rachel. I’m on my way over now.”

No longer able to keep silent, Ethan keyed the mic and stuck the radio to his mouth.

“We’re on our way.”

Before his brothers could react, Ethan whirled and sprinted back the way they’d come. His brothers followed close behind. They crashed through underbrush like a herd of elephants. Limbs and bushes slapped Ethan in the face, but he batted them aside and kept going.

When they got back to the wrecked SUV, there was no sign of Sean. Ethan wasn’t waiting around. He jumped into Sam’s truck and cranked the engine. He was already backing down the trail when his brothers jumped into the backseat.

“Son of a bitch, Ethan, are you trying to kill us?” Garrett yelled.

Sam leaned up over the front seat, and Ethan heard the click of a gun clip. “Calm your ass down and get us there in one piece. We won’t do Rachel any good if we’re wrapped around another goddamn tree.”

“How the hell did she get back to your house?” Ethan demanded as he careened back onto the highway. “We found her footprints on the riverbank. They ended there.”

“I’d say our girl got smart and headed downriver to the lake,” Garrett said with a note of pride.

Ethan gripped the steering wheel and ignored the pounding in his head. Sean had slapped a haphazard bandage over his brow to stop the bleeding, and it currently felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his skull.

They made the drive in ten minutes, and probably set a new land speed record in the process. Ethan turned into the driveway damn near on two wheels and skidded to a halt, throwing gravel in all directions.

Sam opened his door and stumbled out. “Shit. House is completely dark. When we left after Sean called about your accident, we were in a hurry and damn near every light in the house was on.”

Garrett slapped a Glock in against Ethan’s stomach and gripped a second one in his hand as they hurried toward the front door.

“We do this smart,” Sam warned. “No one goes in like a dumbass and gets himself shot. For all we know this is one big trap and those assholes are lying in wait. They might have even forced Rachel to make the call if they caught up to her and she didn’t go into the water like we thought.”

“Cut the chitchat and let’s go,” Ethan seethed. “I get it. We go in and clear the house.”

“I’ll go around back,” Garrett said. “Wait fifteen seconds and we’ll go in together. Stay low and quiet until we know what the fuck we’re dealing with.”

Sam held a finger to his lips then gestured for Ethan to move in as Garrett disappeared around the side of the house.