by Laura Scott
“I’m sure.” Jeremy wasn’t worried about watching the autopsy. He was more concerned with what had happened to Eden. The autopsy had barely started, but the bruising around his neck made it obvious that the meth addict hadn’t died of a simple overdose.
He’d been strangled. Murder? His gut said yes.
Did Trina know about this? He felt certain she did, and he didn’t like knowing she’d kept it a secret. She’d called her shift busy. Guess stumbling over a dead body would add to a cop’s workload. But why not tell him? Okay, sure, he could understand how Eden’s death was an active investigation. But still, he’d expected her to at least mention the guy was dead.
What about motive? The only thing that made sense was that Eden’s death was related to Trina’s investigation into the location of the meth lab.
And maybe a not-so-subtle warning for Trina to back off from her mission.
Trina yawned and decided to pull into the local gas station to grab another cup of coffee and something to eat.
So far, the tourists were behaving themselves. As she patrolled and responded to calls, she sipped her coffee and thought about Nathan Beck sleeping on the job. She’d been so sure he was the one who’d slammed her into a tree, but now she had to assume he’d been sleeping until he’d gotten the call about the crash from dispatch.
Maybe it was time to talk to Ian and Abe Crowley again. Their stories had lined up, but that didn’t mean the father wasn’t covering up for the son.
Deep down, she couldn’t imagine either one of the Crowley’s choking the life out of Timothy Eden. They just didn’t seem cold, callous, or ruthless enough.
Nathan Beck had the strength to do it, but it would likely take more time and energy than he was willing to expend. Apparently, he couldn’t even be bothered to do routine patrols much less find the motivation to do anything more strenuous.
Wait a minute. She abruptly straightened in her seat. What if Kevin Powell knew about Beck’s lackadaisical attitude? Powell had to have come across Beck’s naptime at some point over the past few years. Why not slip off to do something illegal, especially knowing you didn’t have to worry about being caught by your sleeping partner?
Was it possible Powell’s marital problems were related to the fact that he was secretly making meth? Did his wife suspect something unsavory was going on?
Trina turned off Main Street and headed to the outskirts of town where the Powells lived. She mentally kicked herself for not thinking of this last night.
She pounded the steering wheel with her fist. She’d been so stupid! She’d followed the wrong deputy!
The Powell house wasn’t difficult to find, but seeing the run-down structure shocked her. The yard was overgrown with weeds, and paint was peeling from the door and window frames. There was no indication that anyone was home, but considering Kevin worked night shift last night, she had to assume he was sleeping.
Did his wife still live there? It seemed odd that she’d allow the place to become so dilapidated.
Trina continued driving down the road, then turned around so she could go past the place a second time. She considered going up to knock at the front door, but then thought better of it.
She decided to follow Powell while he was on duty. Her earlier exhaustion vanished beneath a surge of adrenaline. This could be it. Kevin Powell was likely the one who was in charge of the meth lab. The failed marriage, the run-down house were all signs indicating he was in trouble.
The only piece of the puzzle that didn’t quite fit was that he didn’t drive a black truck. But for all she knew, Powell was only one of the people in charge. It could be that he either worked for someone else or that he had people doing his dirty work.
The rest of her shift passed in a blur. Thankfully all the calls she received were for minor infractions of the law, nothing serious.
With less than thirty minutes left of her shift, she was about to head back to headquarters when her cell phone buzzed.
She considered ignoring it but pulled off to the side of the road to look at the screen. She’d expected the caller to be Jeremy, but it was Alex Rhine.
Odd that he was calling her phone, but she quickly answered. “Hey, Alex, what’s up?”
“Trina?” His voice was a low, urgent whisper. “Where are you?”
“Less than a mile from headquarters, why? What’s wrong?”
“I think I found the trailer.” He was still whispering, but there was also a sense of excitement. “Can you meet me?”
“Absolutely.” She didn’t hesitate. “Where are you?”
There was a brief silence, then the faint rustling of leaves. “I’m on a dirt road that basically leads nowhere.” He was still whispering as if worried someone might overhear him. “It’s off Highway ZZ. There’s a very faint path through the woods, and that’s where I found the trailer.”
She thought about the dirt road where she’d found Beck napping. Maybe if she’d gone further into the woods last night, she might have stumbled right upon the trailer for herself.
“I know right where it is. I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.”
“Hurry,” Alex urged.
She disconnected the call, then performed an illegal U-turn so she could head west on Highway ZZ. As she approached the dirt road, it occurred to her that this was close to the area where she’d pulled Timothy Eden over for driving under the influence.
Ironically, it was also the same dirt road where she’d found Beck napping.
Was he involved after all? Maybe watching the place to keep it safe? Maybe she’d been wrong about his involvement.
The dirt road looked different in daylight, and she quickly recognized Alex’s beat-up black truck. She jumped out of the car, looking around for him.
Spying the faint path leading into the woods, she headed that way, resting her hand on her weapon. The path was longer than she’d anticipated, and she soon could see the shape of the trailer through the trees.
She’d found it! Actually, Alex had found it!
Movement behind her made her tense. She pulled her weapon, but a moment too late.
The cold hard muzzle of a gun was pressed into the back of her head.
“Drop it.”
She swallowed hard, recognizing Alex’s voice. “What are you doing?”
“Drop it,” he repeated.
Moving slowly, she pulled her weapon from its holster and tossed it toward the brush. She closed her eyes for a moment, mentally berating herself for walking into his trap.
The man behind the meth lab wasn’t Kevin Powell or Nathan Beck.
It was Alex Rhine.
14
Jeremy watched the entire autopsy, impressed with Patton’s knowledge even though his questions that were meant to be statements drove him bonkers. He was starving by the time the procedure was over, and despite what he’d just been through, he stopped at Daisy’s for a late afternoon lunch.
As he was chowing down a large burger, his phone rang. He pulled the device from his pocket, hoping the call was from Trina.
But it was Garth.
“Hey, Garth.”
“Jeremy, where are you?”
He frowned at the odd cadence in his brother-in-law’s tone. “At Daisy’s, why? Something wrong? Jemma? Trey?”
“My family is fine, but Trina fell off the grid. She isn’t answering her calls via radio or cell phone, and I’m concerned.”
Trina? His heart squeezed in his chest. He pushed his plate away and reached for his wallet. “When was the last time she was on the grid?”
“She took a call an hour ago and hasn’t been heard from or seen since.”
“Because she’s investigating the meth lab.” He was speaking more to himself than to Garth. “Something went wrong.”
“That’s my theory,” Garth agreed. “I’ve let Sheriff Donnelly know, but I need to hear from you what she’s been working on.”
“I’ll tell you, but no one else. I’ll be in the headquarters parking
lot in less than five minutes.” Jeremy tossed a twenty on the table to cover his twelve-dollar burger and soft drink and slid out of the booth.
His blood ran cold at the thought of Trina being in danger. She was a well-trained cop, but if her gut instinct was correct and the perp was also a deputy, then he was afraid her training wouldn’t be enough.
He sent up a silent prayer as he pulled into the parking lot. Garth was waiting for him.
“Come inside,” Garth urged. “We all want to find her.”
Jeremy grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the building. “No. You need to understand Trina suspects a cop of being involved.”
Garth’s eyes widened. “She told you that?”
Jeremy quickly filled him in on Trina’s search for black trucks and her suspicions about Nathan Beck. Garth’s expression was grim by the time he’d finished.
“She should have filled me in.” Garth scowled. “Especially after we found Eden’s body.”
“She didn’t want to ruin your wedding, but you’re right. I observed the entire autopsy, Timothy Eden was definitely murdered,” he agreed. “I figure it was a warning because he’d told Trina the location of the trailer.”
“Exactly. And the body was found at the same spot where she was assaulted. We need to find her.”
“And we need to be careful about who we trust.” At the moment, Garth was the only cop he wanted involved. “I have to think she didn’t find anything related to Beck last night, or she wouldn’t have come into work. Any chance you can get your hands on the list of black trucks she searched?”
Garth nodded. “Yeah, give me a minute.”
Jeremy paced as he waited, trying to come up with some sort of logical plan. He wasn’t a cop, but he was willing to do whatever Garth needed to find her.
Hang on, Trina, he silently urged. We’re coming.
Garth returned with paperwork. “There are too many black truck owners here to narrow them down, but I did find two that we should look into.”
“Who?”
“A guy named Abe Crowley.” Garth paused, then added, “and Alex Rhine.”
The name Alex sounded familiar, and it took a moment for Jeremy to place it. “Deputy Rhine? He was here at headquarters the night Trina pulled Eden over.”
“Interesting. If he’s the one behind this, the timing works that he would have moved the trailer.” Garth’s eyes flashed with anger.
“You could be right, especially because Trina already checked out Abe Crowley, she told me that the son was driving the truck and had an alibi.” He stared at Garth. “Where do we start?”
“I’d like to get all the deputies involved, put out a BOLO for Rhine.”
“And if we’re wrong and it’s really Beck?” Jeremy battled a surge of panic. “Then what?”
Garth hesitated, then shook his head. “We’re wasting time. Beck worked last night, but Rhine is off today. I’m leaning toward Rhine. If Beck is home sleeping, he won’t know about the BOLO anyway.”
His brother-in-law was right. They were wasting time. He grabbed the paperwork and found Rhine’s license plate number, committing it to memory. “Put out the BOLO, I’m going to drive around. Someone must know something.”
“Keep your phone handy.” Garth tucked the paperwork into his pocket. “Don’t do anything without calling me first.”
“I won’t.” Jeremy turned and jogged toward his car. Driving around without a destination in mind was akin to spitting in the wind, but it was better than standing around doing absolutely nothing.
Dodging tourist traffic, he made his way through downtown McNally Bay to the highway. Once, he’d considered the lush foliage lining each side of the road as pretty, but now he found it concerning. There were so many places to hide. It seemed impossible they’d find Trina before it was too late.
Before she ended up dead like Timothy Eden.
The idea made him sick to his stomach, and he shoved it aside, keeping his gaze pinned on the road. He was driving far slower than the posted speed limit, and each time a vehicle came up behind him, he edged off onto the shoulder to allow the driver room to pass.
After heading east for almost ten miles, he turned around and retraced his path. Each passing moment was agonizing. He couldn’t shake the idea that they were running out of time.
When he passed a dirt road, he slammed on the brakes, jerking to an abrupt stop. It appeared that the dirt road led nowhere special, but he vaguely remembered seeing a squad parked there on another night.
But when? He searched his memory, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. Was he losing it?
No. He snapped his fingers, remembering the moment. He checked the rearview mirror and quickly backed up enough that he could drive onto the dirt road. A squad had been there, early in the morning after he’d left Trina’s place after her car crash.
At the time, he’d thought it was a spot the deputies used to clock vehicles going over the speed limit.
But maybe he’d been wrong? Maybe the squad had been here for another reason?
He was about to get out of his Audi, but then he stopped and reached for his phone. Garth answered on the first ring.
“Did you find her?”
“No, but I’m on a dead-end dirt road. I remember seeing a squad parked here a couple of days ago. I’m going to check it out.”
“Where?” Garth’s voice rose with concern. “Don’t go alone, I’ll meet you.”
Jeremy hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t want backup, but if this was nothing, he wanted Garth to keep searching. “Let me look around first.”
“No, tell me where you are.”
“Off Highway ZZ, heading west from town, maybe five miles from the B and B, but not as far as the Pine Cone Campground. The road is on the south side of the highway.”
“I’ll be right there.” The line went dead.
Jeremy pocketed his phone. He took a moment to scan the area, looking for signs that someone had been there recently. A narrow path leading off to the west.
His heart quickened, and he felt certain this was the place. Unable to simply sit there, he pushed out of the car and softly closed the door behind him.
There were footprints in the dirt by his feet. He slowly dropped down for a closer look. They were too small to belong to a man.
Trina.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed the redial for Garth’s number as headed for the narrow path. “I’m going in. Meet me as soon as you can.”
“Wait for me.”
“I can’t, but I’ll keep the line open.” Without disconnecting, Jeremy put the phone back into his pocket so that both his hands were free.
He wasn’t going to wait another second, sensing Trina’s life was in terrible danger.
The sound of frantic pounding woke her. She wrinkled her nose at the foul stench of ammonia and tried to understand what had happened. Her hands were bound behind her back, and there was a metallic taste in her mouth. The interior of the trailer was stifling and felt like it was over one hundred degrees. Her uniform and hair were damp with sweat.
The pounding continued, and she could hear someone calling her name.
She tried to answer, but nothing came out but a harsh croak. Alex had forced her into the trailer at gunpoint, then had knocked her out once again. Her head ached, but she ignored the pain and did her best to roll across the floor, trying to find something to loosen the zip ties binding her wrists.
“Trina? Are you in there?”
She tried again. “Yes!” It took far longer than it should have to brace herself along the side of the trailer in order to get her feet under her. When she stood, she found the ammonia scent to be even stronger.
Staggering to the small kitchen, her heart squeezed in her chest. The oven was on, which was why it was so hot inside the trailer, but that’s not what made her tremble with fear.
The ingredients for creating crystal meth were not exactly stable, which made meth labs prone to explosio
ns.
Smoke was leaking from the edges of the oven, which she assumed was being run off propane.
Something wasn’t right. There shouldn’t be so much smoke. She had to get out of there, now!
Lurching toward the door, she turned and tried to use her bound hands to open it. The handle was at the right height, but it was locked. Her numb fingers couldn’t seem to flip the latch.
“Trina? Are you in there?” This time, she recognized Jeremy’s voice.
“Yes!” Her voice was hoarse, so she used all her strength to shout louder. “Stay back! It’s going to explode!”
“I’m coming!”
“No! The door’s locked! Stay back!” Fear spurred her to try again. She could hardly feel the lock but refused to give up. Somehow, she managed to flip the tiny lever downward.
The smoke grew thicker, and she knew it was only a matter of seconds before it blew. With her back to the door, she tried to twist the handle. The door suddenly swung open, and she felt herself falling backward.
“Trina!” Jeremy caught her in his arms. “Thank God you’re alive!”
“Hurry! Get away from the trailer!”
Jeremy did as she asked, carrying her awkwardly since her arms were still bound behind her back. She was glad he’d headed down the narrow path toward the dirt road.
A large explosion sent them airborne.
“Oomph.” She landed facedown in the brush, branches and twigs stabbing her in the face. For a long second, she didn’t move. Pain surrounded her, especially from her head injury, and there was a loud ringing in her ears.
“Trina?” Strong hands eased her onto her back. Jeremy was looming over her, his dirt-streaked expression anxious. “Are you all right?”
“My hands.” She forced the words past her constricted throat.
Jeremy rolled her onto her side and used a pocketknife to quickly cut through the binds around her wrists. Her muscles screamed as blood rushed into them, and it was all she could do not to cry. Instead, she forced herself to open and close her fingers, willing the feeling to return.