Free Jake by R. C. Ryan Page B

road within minutes. As his truck ate up the miles, he dialed a number and waited until he heard a voice that sounded as weary as his own.
    “Police Chief Everett Fletcher here.”
    “Everett. Jake Conway.” In a few terse sentences he explained about the phone call, and his destination.
    “You want me out there, Jake?”
    “I’ll check it out and report in. If you don’t hear from me within the hour, I’d appreciate some backup.”
    “You got it, Jake. You stay safe now.”
    Jake’s tone was pure ice. “Count on it.”

Chapter Six
     
    Meg. Hey, Meg.”
    At the sound of Cory’s frantic whispers, and his hands shoving roughly against her shoulder, Meg jerked awake and sat up in the darkness. “What—?”
    At the sound of her voice a small hand clamped over her mouth. “Shh. There’s someone out there. Don’t let him hear you.”
    “An intruder?” She sat up, struggling to untangle herself from the blanket.
    “I saw him out my window.”
    “A man? You saw a man?”
    The boy nodded. “Jake said to wake you.”
    “Jake?” Her sleep-fogged brain couldn’t seem to wrap around the boy’s words. “Jake’s here, too?”
    “I called him.”
    “We’re alone here with the intruder?” Now she was up and rushing to the window. “Where is he? I don’t see anyone. Are you sure you saw someone out there?”
    “I’m sure. I know what I saw.”
    Meg looked around the room. “I need a weapon. Something I can use to defend us.” Spotting the curtains, she pulled down the round wooden rod, testing its weight.
    Seeing what she intended, Cory caught her arm. “No. Jake said we should stay here in your room until he comes.”
    “What if he doesn’t come?”
    “He said he would.” The boy raced across the room and leaned his thin shoulder against the dresser. “Jake said we should block the door so the intruder can’t get in.”
    It was on the tip of her tongue to argue, but against her better judgment Meg moved to the other edge of the dresser. Together, pushing, shoving with all their might, they managed to position the heavy dresser against the door.
    Then, hearts pounding, faces intent, the two of them pressed their ears to the door, waiting for whatever danger lay just beyond.
    Meg crossed to the night table and flipped open her phone, dialing the police chief’s number. In a breathy voice she said, “It’s Meg Stanford here. Cory spotted an intruder.”
    “Yes, ma’am. Jake Conway already alerted me. Are you and the boy all right?”
    “We’re okay for now. We’re up in my room.”
    “That’s good. You stay there. Jake’s on his way. When he gets there, he’ll report in.”
    Meg clutched her phone, wondering why the knowledge that Jake was coming gave her a measure of comfort. Still, her heart continued racing like a runaway train.
    The agony of having to wait, without knowing who was out there or what he was doing, had her breathing hard and fast. Each minute felt like an eternity.
      
    Jake drove like a madman. As though the very devil himself was after him. When he reached the gravel road that led to the Stanford ranch, he cut the lights on his truck. No sense telegraphing to the intruder that he was coming.
    As he approached the house, all his senses went on high alert.
    He hoped to hell the guy was still around. After the night he’d put in, Jake was feeling mean and itching for a good knock-down, drag-out fight. He couldn’t think of a more worthy opponent than the creep who had trashed Meg’s car and her father’s office.
    As he rounded the corner of the house he saw a sudden movement on the porch. Jake snatched up his rifle and was out of his truck in an instant. He could just make out a man’s figure leaping over the porch railing and racing hell-bent toward the barn.
    “Stop right there or you’re a dead man.”
    The figure never even paused as it rounded the corner of the first barn and continued on, with Jake in hot pursuit.
    The man ahead changed directions and