Fugitive Chase

by Jenna Night

  “You think he found what he was looking for and bought it from someone else?” Harry asked.

  “Maybe. Before I came over here this morning, I did a quick search on recent property purchases on Lake Bell, but nothing came up connected to his name.”

  “He might have had someone else pretend to be the buyer,” Ramona suggested.

  Caleb nodded in agreement. “Or he might have thought he could keep the transaction quiet if he bought directly from the seller rather than going through a realtor. Also, eight weeks isn’t much time when you’re talking about a real estate transaction. Title searches and all the other details that need to be taken care of take time. So, maybe the sale is pending. Or maybe somebody is renting to him instead.”

  “Why did you want to tell me about this instead of the cops?” Harry asked.

  Caleb sat back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair. When he was focused on real estate, he’d calmed down a little, but now he looked uncomfortable again.

  “When Darrin first contacted me, I had no idea who he was,” he said. “But he seemed edgy and his emphasis on secrecy had me concerned. It was a weird experience all the way around. So, I was talking about it with my family one Sunday when I went to my parents’ house for dinner, and I saw my youngest brother starting to look nervous.”

  Caleb sighed heavily before continuing. “My brother told me later that he knew some people who’d bought drugs from Darrin.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t sure what I should do in a situation like this. I didn’t want to go to the cops and possibly get my brother’s friends in trouble. And honestly, right now my main concern is that my brother might be using drugs, too.” His voice cracked. “He’s only eighteen, still at that age where he thinks he’s invincible and takes stupid risks.”

  He took a minute to breathe deep and compose himself. “Also, I was afraid if I gave information to the cops and Darrin heard about it, he’d take out his rage on my brother.” Caleb looked at Harry. “I was trying to figure out the best thing to do. So, when you showed up at the lounge, I felt like talking to you was my answer.”

  “You want to help Darrin get locked up, but you want to keep your name and your brother’s name out of it?” Harry asked.

  “Exactly. My brother’s heard things that make me worry about how much damage Darrin could do. He says Darrin has expanded into weapon sales. He’s formed a network of people who buy guns at gun shows—or steal them—and he resells them to people who could never buy them legally. Mostly criminal gangs out of Seattle or Portland or Los Angeles. It’s turning out to be a pretty lucrative business.”

  “So right now, Linder’s got a lot of motivation to stay near Stone River,” Harry said. “It’s unlikely he’d flee the area for any length of time and risk losing his connections and his business. It would take time for him to reestablish that someplace else.”

  Caleb got to his feet as did Ramona and Harry. Caleb slid his phone out of his pocket. “I didn’t pick up one of your cards at the lounge last night because I was afraid someone would see me and word would get to Darrin. But if you want to give me your contact information, I’ll use the resources I have to look for properties Darrin might be using.”

  Harry rattled off his phone number and email address.

  Caleb tapped the information into his phone. “I’ve got to head in to work. But I’ll be in touch.”

  Harry walked with Caleb to the door and followed him outside a few steps. Ramona moved toward the front window, where she could see both men looking up and down the street. Finally, Caleb headed toward a car parked at the curb, climbed inside and drove off.

  A little farther down the street, Alex and his workers stood outside a panel van. One of the workers held a power drill while the other picked up some cardboard boxes that looked like they might hold security equipment for the installation. Alex held an electronic tablet in one hand and a box in the other. All three of them started heading toward Jasmine’s front door.

  Harry stepped back inside. “We should probably get going,” he said to Ramona.

  Ramona glanced at a folded sheet of paper in her hand. Jasmine had printed out a map of the small town of Bridger, highlighting a couple possible turns inside town that might take them to the right house. When they found a house that fit Jasmine’s general description, they were supposed to text her a photo and she’d tell them if it was the right place.

  Jasmine had also promised to call Paul Robel, owner of the Nature Zone Sports Shoppe in Bridger, and ask if he’d be available to speak with Ramona and Harry when they arrived in a couple of hours.

  Darrin had introduced Jasmine to Paul when the three of them had crossed paths at a restaurant in Bridger. The two men were obviously acquaintances, but they didn’t appear to be especially close friends. The hope was that Jasmine’s endorsement of Ramona and Harry’s visit might encourage Paul to answer their questions about whether or not Darrin had been in town recently. And maybe he would offer suggestions of any other places around Bridger where Darrin might be hiding.

  “I got another text from Darrin,” Jasmine said quietly just before Ramona and Harry stepped out the door.

  They both turned to look at her.

  “I didn’t want to talk about it in front of Caleb,” she added quickly. “And before you ask, yes, I let Sergeant Bergman know.”

  “What did the text say?” Harry asked.

  Jasmine picked up her phone from the coffee table, tapped the screen a couple of times and then read aloud, “I know now we are meant to be together. Life is empty without you. Others are trying to come between us. I will stop them. For good.”

  The memory of being chased through the dark woods—and shot at—flashed through Ramona’s mind. He knees weakened and she quickly grabbed the back of a chair to hold herself steady. She was one of the others Darrin was referring to when he said he’d stop them for good. Or maybe the term really referred to her alone.

  Either way, she was certain that in his twisted mind he still saw Ramona as the main obstacle on the path to his reunion with Jasmine and the stumbling to his future happiness. And he was still intent on killing her.

  * * *

  “Sorry, but I can’t help you.” The owner of the Nature Zone Sports Shoppe leaned back against one of the counters in his store and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Harry looked at him a little more closely. Paul Robel was a slender man with sun-streaked blond hair that reached his shoulders, and he moved with the easy grace of a younger man. You had to get up close to realize he was fifty years old if he was a day.

  “I only know Darrin Linder because he comes into the shop a couple of times a year, typically once during ski season and then once again over the summer,” Paul continued. “I run into him every now and then in town or on the ski slope. But that’s it.” He shook his head. “Man, I didn’t even know he was in trouble with the police until his girlfriend called.”

  “Ex-girlfriend,” Ramona said.

  Harry glanced over at her before he continued questioning the store owner. “Do you have any record of his address for deliveries, maybe? We’re looking for the address of the house where he stays here in town.”

  Paul retreated to the back office and came back a few minutes later. “Sorry, I don’t have any kind of account information for him at all.”

  “Any thoughts on where he might go if he wanted to hide around here? Could you tell me the places he likes to hang out when he’s in town? Maybe give me the names of some local friends?”

  “I have no idea about any of that,” Paul said stiffly. He looked toward the line of customers waiting to be rung up by the sole cashier, then turned back to Ramona and Harry. “Like I said, sorry I can’t help you. But right now, I need to get back to work. This end-of-season sale for winter equipment will be my last big hurrah until June. Sales will be slow until then.”

  “Of course,
” Harry said, handing him a business card. “And please call me if you think of anything.”

  He and Ramona walked out to his truck. He called Cassie to give her a quick update as they started driving through town, using Jasmine’s map as a general guide. The first two streets she’d indicated as possibilities didn’t have any houses that looked like the one she described. But the third street did have a house that appeared to be a likely candidate. By then, Harry had already ended his phone call with Cassie.

  He and Ramona sat in the truck, engine idling, while Ramona snapped a quick picture of the house and sent it to Jasmine. Within a couple of minutes, her phone rang. It was Jasmine, confirming that this was the house she’d been to with Darrin.

  “It doesn’t look like anyone’s home right now,” Harry said as soon as Ramona disconnected her call.

  Even though it was midday, heavy cloud cover shaded the small town. Most of the buildings had some kind of electrical lighting visible through the windows. The dark green single-story house they were parked in front of did not.

  Harry gestured at the narrow drive that ran beside the house to a building toward the back. “They got snow a few days ago, and there are tire tracks heading toward what I’m guessing is a garage,” he said. “Someone’s been here recently.”

  “This is used by several people as a vacation house,” Ramona reminded him. “The tracks could be from the owner or one of the vacationers. Or maybe even a caretaker.”

  “Maybe,” Harry said. But he was looking at the snow on the front walkway, the steps leading up to the front porch and the porch itself. It seemed reasonable that anyone staying there would clear those off. But maybe they wouldn’t if they didn’t want anyone to know they were there.

  He sent a quick text to Cassie with the address and a request for her to find as much information about the residence as she could.

  “What’s your plan?” Ramona asked.

  “Well, I’m not going to leave you alone in the truck, so you’re coming with me. And I want you to stay behind me. I’m going to walk up to the front door and knock. If nobody answers, we’ll walk around a little bit to see what we can see.” He turned to her. “And if there’s trouble, I want you to run and hide and call 9-1-1.”

  She looked at him and nodded solemnly.

  They walked up to the porch of the house, and Harry knocked on the front door. He gave it a minute, and when there was no response, he knocked again. After that he rang the doorbell a few times, knocked again, and then called out, “Hello! Is anybody in the house?”

  He listened for the sound of someone inside walking around, talking, whispering, anything.

  The only noise he could hear came from the neighborhood around them. He took a couple of steps back and looked to each end of the house in the off chance that someone might try to run past him and make an escape. But he didn’t see anybody.

  “Should we look in all the windows now?” Ramona asked. “And what if someone is in there and they call the cops on us?”

  Now that she looked earnest instead of solemn, Harry found himself smiling a little. She was such an intriguing combination of logic and eccentricity in the way she thought about things. It made her fun to be around. Even in a serious situation. “If someone calls the police, we’ll simply explain ourselves,” he said. “Everything will be fine.”

  He tried to look into the window by the front door, but the curtains covering them had a thick lining and he couldn’t see through them. Then he made his way through the snow to each of the house’s windows, grateful that he wasn’t trying to do this in the dead of winter when the snow could easily be chest-high on him and almost above Ramona’s head.

  He was able to see through curtain gaps in a couple of windows, but the dreary day and lack of lighting inside made it impossible for him to see anything other than vague outlines. None of the outlines looked like people, nor did they move, so by the time he got to the kitchen window he was pretty convinced there was no one inside.

  In the kitchen, a small wall light illuminated the interior fairly well.

  “What can you see?” Ramona asked.

  Since she was several inches shorter than Harry, she didn’t have the clear view that he had. “There’s nothing sitting on the countertops or on the table,” he said, still peering into the window. “No food containers or cups or dirty dishes.” He stepped back from the window. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s been in there recently.”

  Ramona sighed. “Well, it was just an idea Jasmine had. She didn’t have reason to think he was out here. She just figured it would make a good hiding place.”

  “In this line of work, it’s common to check out a whole lot of places where your bail jumper isn’t before you find the place where he actually is,” Harry said. “But before we write this place off, let’s go check out the garage.”

  There was a large metal roll-up door at the front of the wooden outbuilding. It was closed and padlocked, but there were indeed tire tracks in the patches of snow in the drive leading up to it. The garage, which had a high, pitched roof, was weathered-looking and appeared to have been a do-it-yourself project completed on a modest budget. There was a narrow skylight high on the east side, apparently to capture daylight while keeping the building relatively secure. There was a standard door on the south side.

  That side door was open. Not hanging open, exactly, but the latch wasn’t clicked into place and there was no padlock on it to keep it closed. Harry started walking toward it.

  “Should we open it and take a look?” Ramona said. Obviously, she was focusing on the same thing Harry had just noticed.

  Harry reached for the handle and pulled the door open. Faint daylight fell into the interior just a few feet past the doorway. He listened for a moment, his heartbeat speeding up, his hand hovering near his holster. Then he stretched his hand toward the wall to his right, found a light switch and flicked it. A weak overhead light blinked on.

  There was a lot of stuff crammed inside the building. None of it looked particularly valuable. No tools. No expensive ski equipment. Just junk, like a large pile of scrap lumber near the door and some stacks of newspaper, probably used for starting fires in the fireplace in the house. There were some trash cans and a crusty-looking grill that made the closed-up building smell like lighter fluid.

  In the center of the building there was a row of old bookcases holding some basic yard equipment, some tire chains and a few other items. Sheets of plywood were propped up against the bookcases along with some plastic tarps.

  Harry wanted to see what was on the other side of the garage, the side that lined up directly with the tire tracks he’d seen in the driveway. Maybe Darrin had come to Bridger to hide out. Maybe he wasn’t using this actual house, but he could be using the garage to hide his vehicle so he could lie low somewhere in town.

  Harry walked around the bookcases and tarps, with Ramona right on his heels. He was disappointed to see there was no vehicle parked there.

  A sudden sound alerted him that the side door had opened wider, and he spun around, shoving Ramona behind him. Something glass was flung into the room and it broke against the floor on the other side of the bookcases. He heard a whoosh, smelled gasoline and felt a wave of heat from open flames.

  He ran around the shelves and sprinted toward the door, but it was slammed shut from the outside before he could reach it. And then he heard a padlock being shoved into place on the outside latch, locking them in.

  Meanwhile, the pile of newspapers and scrap lumber were ablaze, the flames already licking the walls of the garage and starting to reach toward the wooden beams overhead.

  The place reeked of gasoline.

  The smell of lighter fluid that he’d assumed came from the grill was actually all around the inside of the building, on all the surfaces. Someone had filled a glass bottle with gasoline, stuffed a rag in the neck, then set the rag on fi
re and thrown it into the soaked garage. The perfect fire-starter.

  Harry tried to force the side door open, but it wouldn’t budge.

  The smoke was already getting thick inside the buttoned-up building and it was getting hot.

  He looked around for something, anything, he could use as a tool to help them escape.

  And then the overhead light went out. The thickening smoke dimmed the glow of the fire, making it hard for him to see much of anything.

  “Harry?” Ramona came up beside him, grabbed hold of his hand and squeezed it tight. Harry squeezed back.

  Someone had set up an elaborate trap. And they’d walked right into it.

  EIGHT

  “Please hurry!” Ramona shouted into her phone. Between the sounds of burning wood cracking and popping and Harry dragging things around inside the garage, it was hard for her to hear the 9-1-1 operator.

  “I need a hand over here,” Harry called out. He was dragging bookcases and other large items she couldn’t quite make out over toward the skylight. Her guess was that he was stacking them up so he could climb up to break through the glass and escape.

  Ramona’s lungs were burning from the smoke and she started coughing, each spasm making her lungs feel like someone was rubbing sandpaper against them. She could feel the pressure of an asthma attack building, but she’d left her inhaler in her purse and that was back in Harry’s truck.

  “Fire and EMS crews have already been dispatched,” the operator said calmly. “I need you to stay on the line with me in case they need further directions when they arrive on scene.”

  “Ramona!” Harry’s call to her had an even greater punch of urgency to it this time.

  “Remind responders that we’re trapped in the garage behind the house,” Ramona said into the phone. “That’s where the fire is. I’ve got to go.”