by Rhona Weaver
Phillips nodded. “Win and Trey work with me. I know you and your wife have had a scare, but I’d appreciate it if we could visit with you.”
Luke considered that for a few seconds. Win could see that Luke and Phillips were sizing each other up—like fighters before a bout. Luke was totally focused on Phillips; he hadn’t even glanced at the much more formidable-looking Matt Smith after the initial handshake.
He finally agreed. “Sure. C’mon in. Win made the coffee. Y’all make yourselves at home.”
As they were getting seated with their coffee, Trey appeared from down the hall in Luke’s hunting clothes and sock feet. He was trying to dry his short hair with a hand towel and obviously didn’t know they had company.
“Luke, I got your .30-06 out of the gun safe and I’ve got to go find—ahhh.” He pulled up short when he spotted the new arrivals in the den. Trey glanced at Win and rolled his eyes just enough to let him know he wished he could become invisible.
Well, that should do wonders to convince Phillips that Trey isn’t too tight with Luke, Win thought. Phillips and Smith both nodded to the embarrassed ranger and turned their attention back to Luke.
“I understand your wife wasn’t harmed. We’re glad for that. She’s still here?” Phillips asked.
“Yeah, in a hot bath tryin’ to get warm. She and Trey were both soaked from the river. These boys hadn’t gotten here when they did, it could’ve been real bad.”
Phillips took a sip of the coffee. He had a conversational tone. “And her attacker?”
“Went in the river; Win’s got guys out lookin’ fer him. Why am I telling you things you already know? Ain’t no need to dillydally, let’s get on with your purpose fer bein’ here.” Luke was upping the ante, but his voice remained cordial.
“You know who we are?”
“Special ops of some sort, probably HRT.”
Phillips sat back on the couch and raised his eyebrows. “That obvious?”
Luke shrugged and cradled his coffee cup in both hands. “Make my livin’ watching things, animals and such; you make yours watching people. Y’all are here fer one reason: to size up the competition fer tomorrow.”
Phillips leaned forward and considered that before answering. “Yes, that’s true, so how is it going to go tomorrow?”
“Wouldn’t know, since I ain’t planning on being there, but no reason fer anybody to get hurt since y’all don’t exactly have the element of surprise. And why go in on a Sunday, of all days to raid a church? Why go in at all and give the Prophet what he wants? Some FBI rule? Fly out West—hit a target—fly back East . . .”
Luke’s cell phone rang. He fished it out of his jacket pocket with his free hand, glanced down at it, and looked genuinely surprised. “Excuse me—need to take this call.” He put the phone to his ear and dropped his head. “This is Luke.”
“Brother Luke, is Sister Ellie all right? Such awful news within the fellowship! I’m so sorry it happened.” They could all clearly hear the caller’s midwestern accent. Luke made no move to walk away or turn down the cell’s volume.
“You’re kind to call, Prophet, she’s gonna be fine. Just really shook up.”
Phillips traded a sharp glance with Smith, and Win and Trey both perked up considerably. Win looked at his watch. It had been less than two and a half hours since Ellie first sent that text to Trey, and already the bad guys had the word.
“Ah, I hear it was Bronte. Brother King sent him away yesterday—no discipline in his soul. He was no longer a part of the church, but I can’t imagine why he’d do such a reckless and evil act. What happened? Did the police arrest him?” The man’s voice sounded earnest and concerned.
“Ellie texted me and an old ranger friend of ours when Bronte pulled up at the house early this mornin’. She began to feel threatened by him and locked herself in before he busted open the door. Thank goodness, the ranger showed up with a Fed. That put him on the run. . . . I showed up when he was tryin’ to cross the river with Ellie. Bronte never made it across that river. Dangerous to cross on a cable this time of year.”
“So the hand of God brought him low!”
“Yes, sir, you could say that.” Luke’s voice was hard and direct.
“Well, some of the sisters can come be with her, if you think it would help, or we could bring a meal. Whatever we can do for you.”
“Appreciate it, sir, but we’ll probably just hole up here and let her rest.”
“Of course . . . of course.” It was quiet for a moment, then, “Remember my offers, Brother Luke, there’s glory to be achieved in the coming days.”
“I’ll be praying on it. And I’ll tell Ellie you called. It’ll cheer her.”
The call ended and everyone just sat there staring at their coffee mugs. Win was thinking this was the first real-time conversation where he’d heard the voice of the man who likely wanted him dead. Then Phillips asked the question the lawmen were all wondering.
“Not that I’d want to be listening in on your private conversation, but what did he mean when he said there’s glory to be achieved in the coming days?”
Luke smiled at the man. “You listened to my private conversation ’cause I ain’t got no reason to hide anything from any of y’all. I’m also thinkin’ you’ve got my phone tapped, so what the hell. I haven’t broken any laws, so you’ve got nothin’ on me.”
Win was thinking that might be true unless you counted him shooting Bronte off the cable an hour ago. As if that thought had suddenly occurred to him, Luke turned slightly toward Win to see if he’d bring it up. Win just glanced back at him and raised his eyebrows slightly. Some things were best left unsaid in present company.
Luke paused for a long moment. “Welp, y’all are apparently all workin’ together, and I told Trey and Win what needed to be said up on that ridge the other day. Don’t get trigger-happy and the raid will go down just like the Prophet hopes.” He gave Phillips a dismissive look that said the little visit was over and stood up.
The SWAT Team leader showed up at the door with the missing deer rifle and warily handed it off to Luke as everyone was leaving. The man gave his two cents’ worth on the chances of finding Bronte, “No way anyone survives that river. Body could be twenty miles downstream by now.” Win asked him to continue to search as far down as the highway and told him the locals were supposedly on the way to relieve them.
The SWAT guy hitched up his collar and headed back toward the river. The rest of them stood on the porch in the biting wind as melting snow dripped from every surface. Phillips had a parting word for Luke.
“I understand you’ve finished your contract training Shepherd’s militia, but you’re still working with them—you’re still involved. You nearly lost your wife. You can see where this is getting you,” Phillips said as he pulled on his cap.
“Last I looked it was still a free country,” Luke replied softly as he rested the rifle across his arm.
As the HRT men moved down the steps, Win was remembering Phillips’s words from three days ago, He fits our profile for a really serious domestic terrorist threat—fits it perfectly. Luke certainly looked the part: camouflage field clothes, military hiking boots with gaiters, high-powered scoped rifle, tactical belt with weapons, brown fleece face mask scrunched down around his neck. His black hair was windswept; his dark eyes were emotionless. He looked completely at ease and decidedly dangerous. If Trey Hechtner could be the poster boy of a spit-and-polish park ranger, this guy could just as easily be the epitome of an anti-government, right-wing militiaman. They both looked their parts. Win wondered for a second how others saw him. Sort of a silly question, when he wasn’t even sure how he saw himself.
* * *
Phillips and Smith didn’t waste any time heading for their vehicle, and Luke went back inside the house. Phillips beckoned to Win, who walked over and leaned next to the SUV’s open window. “The b
ad guys had the intel on this within what, three hours of Mrs. Bordeaux’s call to the emergency desk?” Phillips asked.
“More like two and a half hours by my watch. As soon as the locals get here, we’ll get back on it. Based on this situation, it doesn’t look to me as if it’s an electronic compromise. Far as I know nothing went out on our side by phone, text, or radio that would have identified the perpetrator as Bronte, yet Daniel Shepherd knew it was Bronte. It looks like someone on the inside is actually passing the information. We’re gonna run a sting on our principal suspects this afternoon. Should narrow it down further. . . . Hoping it breaks the case.”
“Well, get back on it as soon as you can,” Phillips said.
“Your impression of Luke change after meeting him?” Win asked.
“If anything, I’m more concerned—a very intelligent guy, very confident. And he’s certainly not on our side. Don’t let his good ole boy act fool you, Win. That guy speaks four languages fluently. I would guess redneck English isn’t even one of them.”
Win raised his eyebrows in shock. The commander smiled a thin smile. “I’ve seen Bordeaux’s military black file—it’s above your clearance level.”
Smith was leaning his large frame back against the passenger-side door. “How’s it working with the ranger?” he asked.
Win looked past Phillips toward him. “We’re trying to work as partners. He’s helped tremendously on the leak analysis. He risked his life to save Luke’s wife. Trey’s a good man.” Smith took that in and nodded slightly.
Phillips started the truck, and Win moved away from the window. As he turned to go back to the house, Phillips’s voice followed him. “What actually happened to the bad guy?”
Win returned to the open truck window and met Phillips’s probing eyes. “I saw him fall off the cable into the river. Never saw him resurface.”
“Bordeaux shot him off the cable?”
“Probably—can’t prove it without a body.”
“And you’re thinking he had it coming. Thug is trying to kill the man’s wife. But was he trying to surrender, or was he still a threat? You don’t get to decide if it was justified or not. You’re not the judge and jury here. Keep that in mind, Win.”
“Yes, sir,” Win answered.
“Find me that leak . . .” Phillips put the SUV in reverse and Win stepped back from the vehicle. The wind was howling through the tops of the big spruce trees. It had started to spit snow again. Win suddenly felt very cold.
* * *
Ellie had waited until the HRT guys left to come out into the den—which was probably a good thing, Win was thinking as she went straight to Trey, buried her head in his borrowed hunting shirt, and tearfully thanked him. She kept her composure for only a few seconds in Trey’s embrace and then she began crying. Trey appeared to be good at this—comforting crying women. Win was guessing it went with his job of rescuing folks and all.
Luke was standing in the kitchen, making another pot of coffee, and Win stood in the den, wishing he were somewhere else. Shelby had never been one to cry, and Win knew he wouldn’t be any good with sobbing women. When Ellie moved to him a minute later, he internally scrambled for something helpful to say or do. It hurt him to see the red welt on the side of her face where Bronte had hit her, but words didn’t seem adequate. He figured the best route was to hold her real tight, pat her on the back, and tell her it was okay. Luke walked in with his coffee, shook his head, then smiled at him.
“It’s obvious you don’t have sisters or a wife, Win Tyler.” He sat the coffee down and gently pulled her away from Win to his chest. “If you hold them too tight, they just cry harder. . . . They sob like this when they’re happy with you or mad at you or sometimes for no reason at all. It’s one of God’s great mysteries.” He tipped her chin up to his face and smiled down at her and she started to laugh through her tears at his teasing. Then Luke pulled her down on the couch next to him and kissed her on the top of the head.
Win was saved from further embarrassment by a car pulling up in front. Trey looked out the window and announced that the locals had finally arrived. Win noticed then that the weapons had all disappeared. Luke had changed shirts and had removed the camo jacket, gun belt, and gaiters. He now had more the look of a guy just back from squirrel hunting than a domestic terrorist.
The two deputy sheriffs who got out of the cruiser were gray-headed, older men who actually seemed concerned for Ellie. They checked out the red pickup Bronte had driven and found it had been reported stolen in Gardiner yesterday afternoon. They also found two grams of crystal meth in a plastic bag in the glove compartment—that went a long way toward explaining why Bronte thought he could cross that river on the cable.
Ellie went back to the bedroom to rest, and the deputies let Trey and Win give their statements first since they needed to get back to work. Win was careful to concisely answer the questions the officers asked. He didn’t want to get dragged into working a crime scene. It was fortunate that Trey’s text message from Ellie was their tip-off to trouble at the house. Trey’s long-standing friendship with Luke and Ellie helped deflect suspicions that the Bordeaux had any relationship with the FBI. As far as the deputies were concerned, Win was working with Trey today and just came along for the ride. He’d called in more FBI help when it became apparent Mrs. Bordeaux had been abducted and was in imminent danger.
Win didn’t volunteer his suspicions on the cause of Bronte’s fall from the cable. If a body turned up with a gunshot wound, well, he’d deal with it then. He told the officers the other FBI agents who’d witnessed any aspect of the incident would be able to give statements within twenty-four hours.
No one thought there was any chance of the man surviving a fall into the river at flood stage, but the deputies said they’d conduct a search below the highway and an aerial search whenever the weather cleared. Given the circumstances, Win didn’t volunteer any next of kin information on the man—whose real name wasn’t Bronte, and whose lengthy criminal and military records were neatly stacked within files on his desk back at the office. That could wait until the situation with Prophet Shepherd and his flock wound down a bit.
The deputies finished the initial interviews and sat in their cruiser, calling in a crime scene technician and extra help from Gardiner. Luke walked Trey and Win down the road to Trey’s vehicle.
“Hadn’t had time to really process all this, but you boys can’t imagine how much I owe you both.” Luke was looking at Trey when he said it. He continued, “Meant to tell you, Win, I heard what happened with Richter. God was with you that day. Hope you’re alright. . . . Ain’t an easy thing.”
“No, no it’s not. . . . And how about you today?” Win responded.
Luke met his eyes squarely. There was no remorse. “Some things are easier done than others.” The dark eyes flicked back to Trey. “I’m gonna get Ellie out of here. Told her to stay in Oklahoma, but she wouldn’t.”
“Why not have her call Cindy. She and McKenna went to my sister’s in Bozeman a few days ago. They’d love to have her up there for a visit. Be like old times for them.”
“Yeah, like old times . . . well, yeah, I’ll talk to her ’bout it after the cops get outa here.” Luke took a step toward the house, then turned and spoke. “Some free advice. Looks like you boys are runnin’ with the big dogs. Be careful. Special ops commanders typically don’t care too much who gets trampled underfoot as long as they accomplish their mission.”
Win had already figured that part out.
Chapter Twenty-Six
They drove from Luke’s house back down the wooded hill and across the sagebrush flats to the highway in silence. The low, whitish-gray clouds and freezing fog continued to hug the tops of the higher ridges, and it was still snowing lightly. There would be no aerial search for the bad guy’s body this morning, that was for sure. Win had already called the SWAT Team leader and asked that the FBI search
team take Luke’s four-wheeler back to his house and turn the search, if there was to be one, over to the locals.
It was only 10:35 a.m. when Trey turned the Tahoe onto the highway, but Win felt as if the day had gone on forever. He’d been having lots of those days lately. “Feel as if I’m on a roller coaster these last few weeks. I was led to believe nothing ever happened in Yellowstone National Park.”
“That why you got sent out here? Banishment to the middle of nowhere, where they hoped you’d get bored and quit?”
Well, Trey is certainly direct this morning. Win stared straight ahead at the nearly-empty gray highway with its thin white waves of blowing snow. The bad weather was thinning out the tourists. “Banishment . . . well, I suppose that’s as good a word as any for it.”
“Hasn’t turned out that way for them, has it? You’ve even got my bosses in Washington and HRT impressed with your work, not to mention your Denver people. They’ll have you out of here as soon as this case with the Prophet winds down.”
“You tryin’ to make me feel better about something?”
“Oh, just noticed you seem awfully subdued. We both oughta be feeling really blessed this morning. Some guys our age haven’t even had their second cup of coffee at work yet and we’ve already had the privilege of saving someone’s life. You were goin’ on that cable to get Ellie before I came up behind you—”
“I hesitated.”
“You hesitated ’cause it looked impossible and you were scared, but you were still going. I had to pull you back. You were smart to let me go. I’m the one with the rescue training, and even with that, it’s a miracle Ellie or I didn’t go down the river.”
“Appreciate you saying that. I don’t know. . . . Maybe I’m down ’cause I’ve seen two people die in less than a week and it’s not something I’m used to.”
“Don’t ever want to get used to that. Every life is precious to God.” Trey stared ahead at the road. “Did Luke shoot Bronte off the cable?”