by Lisa Harris
“Henry’s a white terrier. Perfect for me because he’s not too needy. But I’ve heard there are cougars around here. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to just let him out, but today I was tired, got lazy, and didn’t put him on his leash.”
“Before you start looking again,” Madison said, “we need to ask you some questions. Are you sure you haven’t seen this man while you were here?” She held up Barrick’s picture again.
Mike stared at the photo, then shook his head. “Should I know him?”
“He was staying in a cabin next door, ” Jonas said.
“Wait, is he the felon?”
“You’re sure you haven’t seen him?” Madison repeated her question.
“I don’t know. I’ve been in my cabin most of the time. I didn’t exactly come out here to socialize. I have a deadline in a week.”
“So you’ve been planning this trip for a while?”
“I made the reservations, I don’t know, about two months ago. I write under the name Garrick George. You might have heard about me.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re with the US Marshals, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m only asking because I’ve been playing around with this new series in the back of my head about this tough marshal from Chicago, and to be honest, you look a lot like her. You know, how I picture her in my head.”
Madison shifted uncomfortably, clueless about how to respond to the man.
“I’d love to do an interview with you,” he rushed on. “Ask you some questions about the nitty-gritty day-to-day. You know. Get some insight into what it’s like tracking down a felon and putting your life at risk while hunting the worst of the worst.”
Jonas took a step forward. “Mr. Wells, perhaps we can table the soliciting for help with your book series for now.”
“I’m sorry.” Mike held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just thought—”
One of the deputies stepped inside the house. “I think we found your dog.”
“Henry?”
The deputy held open the door and the dog rushed to his owner, jumping up on him and licking him.
“We’re going to leave now,” Madison said. “Please call the sheriff immediately if you see the man from the photo.”
“Are you sure I’m safe? I mean if he’s out there somewhere.”
“We’re not done looking,” Jonas said. “We’re going to canvass the surrounding cabins and have a couple deputies watching the place. In the meantime, keep your doors locked and think of all of this as fodder for your book.”
“Thanks, but I’d prefer not to live my stories.”
“I think Mike the author has a bit of a crush on you,” Jonas said as they walked down the sidewalk to where the sheriff was waiting for them.
“Very funny.”
“I don’t know. You might have ended up as inspiration for his next series.”
“I have no desire to be anyone’s inspiration for a book.”
“Sounds kind of cool to me.”
“Yeah, and Richard Castle already did a great job with it.”
“Marshals.”
Jonas and Madison turned around.
Mike hurried down the sidewalk toward them with Henry nipping at his heels. “You know, I didn’t think about this until now, but I did run into someone out here this morning.”
“Who was that?”
“An old classmate, and it’s crazy, because I haven’t seen the guy for at least ten years. He acted as if he didn’t recognize me—not that we were ever great friends—but we were in the same class.”
“What was his name?”
“Charlie Gibbons.”
The sheriff walked up to them, his boots crunching on the gravel driveway. “Charlie Gibbons is Mary Margaret’s brother.”
Eighteen
Wait a minute.” Jonas turned toward the sheriff. “You know the name?”
“Charlie Gibbons has been in and out of trouble for years. He’s usually unemployed and makes money doing odd jobs around town.”
“So Mary Margaret’s brother just happened to be out here at the cabin where Barrick is supposed to be,” Jonas said.
Madison leaned against the side of the car. “It makes sense that Barrick would need extra help.”
“Charlie could have picked him up and brought him here.”
“I think we should still keep searching,” Jonas said.
“Agreed,” Madison said. “I want to talk to Mary Margaret again, but I want to talk to Charlie first.”
“That’s not a problem.” The sheriff jiggled his keys. “Try at the Bull’s Bar & Grill on Main Street. When he’s not working, he hangs out there.”
“We’ll head back to town and talk to him,” Jonas said. “Can you stay here and keep searching the area for Barrick?”
“And make sure Mary Margaret still has no access to her cell phone,” Madison said. “We need to keep her isolated for the time being.”
“I’ll remind my deputy,” Sheriff Fischer said. “And we’ll check in if we find anything.”
Jonas took the driver’s seat again and he and Madison made their way back toward town on the winding, narrow road that cut through the trees. There was a question nagging at him. “Do you think Barrick has something on her?”
“You mean is he blackmailing her?”
“It’s something to consider. He could have threatened to tell her husband if she didn’t do what he said.”
“It’s possible, but love can have just as strong a hold on a person. Something tells me that she honestly believes he’ll take her with him wherever he runs to. Especially if she had no intentions of turning him in. But I think you’re right in at least considering blackmail. We’re talking about a small town where she’s lived her entire life. Something like that would be devastating. We might even need to talk to her husband. See if he knows anything.” Madison looked out the window. “They say love is blind, but there’s a good chance he at least has suspicions his wife hasn’t been faithful.”
He was impressed with her insight. Her ability to look at a situation from more than one angle. It was their job in tracking down criminals—to get into the heads of whoever they were after, never giving up until they were found.
Once they were close to town, Madison glanced at the GPS on her phone. “Take a left at the next street. That will get us onto Main Street. The restaurant is two blocks ahead on the right.”
Bull’s Bar & Grill was old and run-down, but the parking lot was packed. Inside was just as rustic, though the smell of garlic and seared beef made Jonas remember he’d missed lunch. If they managed to get through before the place closed, he wouldn’t mind coming back for a burger and fries.
He walked up to the bartender and raised his voice above the music. “We’re looking for Charlie Gibbons. We heard he comes here after work.”
“Who’s asking?”
Jonas held up his badge.
The bartender frowned, then nodded across the room. “He’s over in the corner. Black T-shirt and a white beanie.”
“Thanks.”
They walked across the room, ignoring the stares from a couple of the patrons, then stopped across the table from him, blocking his exit. “Charlie Gibbons, I’m Marshal Jonas Quinn and this is my partner, Marshal Madison James.”
Charlie pushed his chair back, but there was nowhere for him to go. “What do you want?”
“We need to talk.”
Charlie hesitated, then shoved the entire table forward, knocking it over before running past them and heading outside.
“Seriously?” Madison threw up her hands.
“I’m always surprised at how often they run,” Jonas said as they chased after him. “Where does he think he’s going? We know his name, where he lives, where he works.”
Charlie jumped into his pickup and peeled out of the parking lot, but they were right behind him.
Madison pulled out her cell phone and put the call
on speaker. “Sheriff, Charlie Gibbons got spooked and decided to run. He’s heading northeast out of town toward the highway, driving a red pickup truck.”
“I know the truck. I’ll send a deputy your way for backup, but he won’t get past the roadblock.”
“Copy that. And tell the officers there that we’re coming right at them and to hold all cars coming in our direction.”
Madison grasped the armrest as Jonas flew down the two-lane road headed out of town.
Jonas jerked the steering wheel to the left, matching the erratic turns of the pickup as it darted around the corner. He followed as close as he could. Things were starting to add up. This had been nothing more than a wild-goose chase so Barrick could run. Which meant he could be anywhere.
“Where does he think he’s going?” Madison asked.
“I don’t know, but the sheriff’s right. He’ll never make it past the roadblock.”
Jonas pressed on the accelerator, knowing what she was thinking. Car chases with the authorities rarely ended well and should be avoided. There were too many chances of involving civilians. But the one running rarely thought of that.
A mile later, Charlie was still in front of them, but now they could see the roadblock up ahead. Two patrol vehicles had blocked the two-lane road where the tree line hugged the road, giving drivers no real choice but to stop.
Charlie had to see it as well, but at the speed he was going, his options were limited to running the roadblock or trying to skirt around it. Neither was a good option.
“He’s not slowing down. He’s going to ram right through it.”
Jonas’s hands clenched the steering wheel. He’d never make it.
Tires squealed as Charlie tried to stop at the last second. Too late. The truck flipped three times, then landed upside down, skidding across the road before smashing into a tree.
Jonas parked a couple dozen feet from the accident and hurried out of the vehicle. A second later flames erupted at the back of the pickup.
He ran toward the wrecked vehicle. “We need to get him out of there now. The fuel tank must have ruptured.”
Charlie was hanging upside down from his seat belt. Both deputies who’d been working the roadblock ran toward the truck with fire extinguishers.
“Madison—”
“I’m right behind you. I’ve got the fire department and ambulance coming.”
Jonas held his hand up across his face as they approached the truck. So far the fire was behind the cab, which would hopefully give them the precious extra seconds to get Charlie out. He tapped the handle of the door, thankful it wasn’t hot yet. But the man wasn’t moving.
“Charlie . . . Charlie, can you hear me?” Jonas tugged on the door, but it was stuck. He kicked at the bent frame, but it wasn’t going to open. A plume of smoke gushed out of the cab. A tire exploded in the back with a loud pop. They were running out of time.
“We’re going to need to get him out through the window.”
“Let me see if I can get a fireproof blanket,” Madison said.
One of the officers shouted at her to grab one out of the trunk of his car. “There’s a seat belt cutter in there if you need it.”
Jonas aimed his boot at the glass and kicked. His lungs were burning. The fire was getting closer. They just needed a few more seconds. Madison ran back and laid the blanket down across the shattered glass, then stepped back. Jonas tried to undo the seat belt, but Charlie still wasn’t moving, and the seat belt wouldn’t budge. He grabbed the cutter from Madison. Getting him down that way was going to be a problem if he was injured, but with the fire spreading, they had no choice.
He sliced through the thick fabric, then tried to lessen the impact as the man fell. Charlie groaned as they pulled him out and set him on his side a few dozen feet from the accident.
“He’s breathing,” Jonas said. “Pulse is fast, but steady.” Jonas put a hand on the man’s shoulder as he tried to sit up. “Take it slow and just breathe.”
Charlie nodded.
Madison handed him a bottle of water. “Take a sip.”
“We’ve got an ambulance coming. Can you tell me what you’re feeling?” Jonas asked after he’d taken a couple sips.
“I don’t know.” Charlie pulled his knees toward his chest and coughed. “My lungs are burning, and my ribs hurt.”
“Do you remember what happened?” Jonas asked, noticing the raised bump on his forehead and hoping he didn’t have a concussion on top of everything else.
“I was trying to avoid that roadblock.”
“Not your smartest move,” Madison said. “And not easy to do when you’re driving too fast.”
“You spooked me.”
“What did you think we wanted?”
“I don’t know. The sheriff was out at my place last week, asking me about something that happened in town.”
“We’re US Marshals. We don’t investigate crimes. We go after people,” Madison said. “And sometimes, like right now, we track down felons.”
“I’m not a felon or a convict.”
“We know,” Jonas said. “We need to talk to you about your sister.”
“Why?” Charlie held his wrist and groaned. “I think it’s broken.”
Jonas ignored him. He’d get help soon enough. “We’re looking for Damon Barrick, an escaped convict, and we think you know where he is.”
“Who’s that?”
Madison pulled a photo up on her phone and held it out to him. “Recognize this man?”
Jonas didn’t miss the slight shift in his eyes.
“I’ve never seen him.”
“Are you sure?” Jonas asked. “Because we believe you’ve not only met him but that you are also involved in helping him escape.”
“Why would I do that?” Charlie asked.
“Maybe as a favor to your sister?”
“You think my sister’s involved in helping a felon escape? Because if you do, you don’t know her very well. My sister’s totally by the book. Ask anyone in town. She doesn’t even have a parking ticket. She’d never get involved with a felon.”
“Everyone has their secrets,” Madison said.
“Not Mary Margaret.”
“Then what were you doing out at the cabins near Hickory Lake this morning?”
Charlie managed to sit up, then rested his arms against his knees. “I do repairs for the owners sometimes. I was called out there to fix a gas stove.”
Jonas could hear the whir of sirens in the background. He glanced at Madison, his frustration rising. “So all of this is just a coincidence and has nothing to do with Damon Barrick?”
“I said I’ve never seen him.”
“Charlie, please. Our only objective is to find Barrick. Assisting a fugitive is a federal crime that will put you in prison.”
Charlie’s jaw tensed. “I’m not lying.”
An ambulance pulled off to the side of the road behind them, and a moment later two paramedics hurried toward them. Jonas stood up and glanced at the truck. The fire was out now. What if there was any evidence that hadn’t burned?
“I’ll be right back.”
Madison nodded, then turned to the paramedics.
The smell of smoke was still strong even though the cab of the truck had only partially burnt. On the inside of the roof were some old fast-food wrappers and a toolbox that had spilled its contents across the dashboard. A piece of paper was jammed into the console and was partly sticking out. Jonas opened the box, careful of the heat where the plastic had melted. He was surprised that the contents hadn’t burned in the fire or fallen out when he opened the top, but they were wedged tight. The inside of the console was filled with napkins, packets of condiments from fast-food restaurants, and a stash of receipts. He grabbed the slips, then hesitated as he saw a wallet jammed next to the console. He flipped it open and found five hundred dollar bills stuffed inside.
Madison walked up to him as he crawled away from the burnt vehicle. “What have you got?”
He gave half the pile of receipts to Madison, then sifted through the others. His search came up empty, but he saw her looking closely at one of the slips he’d handed her.
“What do you have?”
“According to this receipt, Charlie was in Salt Lake last night.” She glanced up at him. “What was he doing there?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. Put those in an evidence bag,” Jonas said. “I’ll be right back.”
He hurried toward the ambulance before they shut the back door.
“Hold on.” He held up his badge. “I need to talk to your patient before you leave.”
He stepped up into the back of the ambulance where Charlie was lying on a gurney, hooked up to oxygen.
“This gas receipt has you outside Salt Lake City just before midnight last night. What were you doing there?”
Charlie pulled off the mask. “I make supply runs for a couple businesses in town on a regular basis.”
“Who were you working for last night?”
Charlie hesitated. “A builder in town.”
“I need a name.”
Charlie looked away.
“You can’t give me one, can you? Because you met Barrick last night and gave him money from your sister—keeping some for yourself—then you brought back the backpack to be used as ‘proof’ he was here.”
“That’s not how it was.”
“Then how was it?” Jonas asked.
“I . . .” Charlie’s gaze swept the ceiling. “I was doing a job for my sister. She never told me the guy was a felon.”
“What did she tell you about this job?” Jonas asked.
“Just that she’d pay me to drive to Salt Lake and give a friend a package.”
“Damon Barrick.”
Charlie nodded. “I didn’t know the man’s name, but it was the guy in the photo you showed me. She knows I can use the money.”
“Do you know what was inside the package?”
“I never asked. Didn’t think it was my business.”
“So you didn’t notice you were taking him cash?”
Charlie avoided his gaze, but Jonas wasn’t finished pushing for answers.