I shift the pistol, fire at him. My shot goes wide, takes a chunk of wood out of the door. Suggs comes down on top of me like a truckload of bricks. The crushing force of his weight smacks the breath from my lungs. Grasping my wrist, he slams my hand against the floor. Pain zings up my arm. I lose my grip on the .22. It skitters across the floor and strikes the wall.

I’m thrashing, trying to wriggle out from beneath Suggs when Smucker draws back and drives a steel-toed boot into my ribs. White-hot pain streaks across my rib cage and lights up my spine. An undignified sound rips from my throat. I throw a single ineffective punch. A second kick lands in my temple. My head is knocked violently sideways. Stars scatter and my vision dims. For several seconds, I lay there, dazed and gasping. I’m aware of Suggs rising. The men speaking words my brain can’t quite process.

I see Jacob Yoder looking down at me, his eyes alight with satisfaction, and then the world fades to black.

Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

I open my eyes to bright light. I’m lying on my back. The kiss of snowflakes against my face. I’m aware of snow beneath me. Cold all around. My head pounding with every rapid-fire beat of my heart. Knife-sharp pain on the left side of my rib cage.

I shift slightly, moaning as another layer of pain wraps around my chest. A quick physical inventory tells me I have broken ribs. My hands are bound in front of me. I roll onto my side and glance down to see they tied me using my scarf. The memory of how I arrived at this unfortunate situation floods my brain following quickly by the realization that I’m in serious trouble.

Raising my head, I look around. I’m on the ground outside the barn’s sliding door. Light rains down from a spotlight mounted above the door. I’ve no idea how I got here or how long I was unconscious. Dan Suggs stands over me in his khaki pants and sheriff’s department parka, looking out over the woods, a flask in his hand.

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, my voice thick and rough.

He looks down at me. “I’m sorry it came to this, Chief. I like you. I really do. You’re a good cop. Too goddamn good, probably.”

“Dan, come on. What are you doing? You’re a cop, for God’s sake. You don’t have to take this any further.”

“Already gone too far.” He looks away and for a moment I think he’s going to actually cry. “Jesus Christ, I’m in deep.”

“It’s not too late to stop this. I’ll help you. Betancourt will, too.”