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They’d surveyed the property earlier using satellite imagery, and had noted a turn-off a quarter mile from the property where they could park the bus, as well as all their trucks and cars without being seen.
Once there, they rendezvoused without issue, and Doug had to bide his time again, until the plan was reiterated. Doug knew that was for the best. Nobody wanted a fuck-up at the last minute.
As it stood, eight squads would use the woods as cover to surround the single floor cabin. As soon as they were in position, they’d send Briar in to knock on the door. She’d already ditched her call-out gear to dress in civies, a backpack over her shoulders. Her story would be that she got turned around during a hike, had fallen into a stream that had trashed her phone, and she was looking for a way back to town.
Briar was petite and blonde, clearly Peter’s type, so they hoped he’d open the door and let her in. Little would Peter know that Briar was not only armed to the teeth, but she could take down an opponent three times her size.
As soon as Briar had breached, the rest of the squads would move in and assist in taking Peter into custody, while Doug secured and comforted Pixie.
Finally, it was time to move out.
Pixie had been rightabout the windows. Neither one of them would budge. Frustrated, but not close to giving up, she searched the room, and…Bingo! Under the bed. The hammer Peter had obviously used to nail the windows shut. The guy really was an idiot.
She finagled it out from under the frame with her good hand, and stood.
Time was ticking, and she needed to hurry.
Heading to the nearest window, she didn’t hesitate, but hauled back with the hammer and smashed the glass. It made a hell of a racket, but if she’d guessed correctly, this cabin was extremely remote, and no one would hear. Too bad. It might have made getting away easier if there were neighbors, but when had life ever been easy for Pixie?
Quickly, once the major bits of the window were all laying in pieces outside on the ground, Pixie used the hammer to pound out all the wooden mullions, which luckily were pulpy with age and easy to disengage. She then turned the tool on its side, and cleared out all the excess glass and wood that she was able, without being obsessive over it. That bit accomplished, she grabbed the thin blanket off the bed and draped it over the sill.
Now, to get herself out.
Pixie chewed on her lip. She was too short to simply hike herself over the lip, especially without the use of one hand, but could she possibly move the bed? It was small, so she might have a shot. She suddenly realized that her thought processes were becoming clearer, and thanked whatever power might be listening. No concussion. And the drug remnants were obviously dissipating. Her brain became sharper with every minute that passed.
Passing minutes…Yeah.She needed to get moving.
Giving it her all, Pixie positioned herself behind the aged headboard, leaned her right shoulder into it, and pushed.
A laugh bubbled up from her throat. The thing was far lighter than she’d imagined, and it took her only two, sustained shoves to position it below the window. That was an actual bit of luck. She’d take it.
The biggest problem Pixie faced was, shoes or no shoes heading out? The heels she’d been so excited to don this morning, would do nothing but impede her flight through the woods. She remembered the beds of pine needles surrounding Doug’s cottage, and knew her stilettos would sink into the groundcover faster than spoons in pudding.
But the glass she’d just broken…
Making a swift decision, she climbed onto the bed, leaving her shoes on, then shimmied her way out the window, landing to crunch awkwardly in the glass-strewn dirt outside. But onceshe was clear, the heels really did make traveling impossible, so she wobbled her way into the woods before taking them off and tossing them under a bush.
Now, she had to run.
Makingtheir way silently through the trees toward the cabin, Doug’s nerves finally settled. This would all be over in a few minutes, then he’d have Pixie in his arms and would hold her until she cried uncle, declaring his love for her.
It took the team two minutes to reach their target, and to ascertain that Peter and Pixie had to be inside. The perp’s car was parked outside the small, rough cabin, and having run the plates, they knew it was the prick’s vehicle.
Mason made a silent hand signal that they were all to disburse to their positions, and they quietly slunk away. But just as Doug was settling in, twenty feet wide on the west side of the cabin, the comm in his ear squawked.
“Chief, we have a problem.” It was Talia’s voice, tight with concern.
“What is it?” Mason replied sharply.
“The window on this side of the cabin is broken, and a blanket is laying over the windowsill.”
Doug heard her take a deep, shuddering breath and responded with one of his own.
Doug gave the LT props. Talia was somehow able to continue. “My guess is that Pixie must have incapacitated Peter in some way, then escaped into the woods.”
“Wouldn’t she use the door?” Alvero’s voice questioned.
Doug had been wondering the same thing.
