Highway to Homicide

by Lucy Quinn

  “When did this arrive?” Cookie asked her mother as she waved the bear at her.

  Rain turned her uninterested eyes on the stuffed animal and shrugged. “I don’t know. The days are all running together. Nothing makes sense.” She held her can of Pringles toward Cookie. “Sour cream and onion?”

  “No thanks, Mom. When was Cari last here? Today? After Dylan and I checked in on you?”

  “Huh? Oh, right. She brought me these Pringles.” She held the can up. “Isn’t she the best?” Rain scanned the cell, appearing to look for something. “She also brought me the cutest bear. Where did it go?”

  “This one?” Cookie pushed the bear she’d been holding toward her mother.

  “Yeah. Isn’t it cute? But wasn’t it cuffed to the bars? I could have sworn Cari did that as a joke.”

  “Sure. It’s cute,” Cookie said. She opted not to say anything about the Raincam the stuffed animal had contained. Her mother was barely functioning already. Cookie didn’t want to worry her more by indicating they might need to make a run for it.

  “Do you need anything, Rain?” Dylan asked. “A change of clothes? Wet Wipes?” He sniffed the air. “Deodorant?”

  Cookie cast him warning glare. He just shrugged as if to say, I’m only trying to help.

  “No, I’m good sweetie,” Rain said, wiping her chip crumbs on her black yoga pants, leaving a trail of white seasoning powder on her leg.

  “All right then,” he said, staring at the ceiling. But he grabbed Cookie’s hand to offer her his support.

  “Mom, we have to go,” Cookie said. “Hang in there, okay? I’m going to send Scarlett over with some dinner.”

  “Tell her I’m out of brownies,” Rain said, glancing around at the garbage piling up at her feet. “The fun kind.”

  “Right. I think we’ll stick with the sober version, though. We don’t need Loon adding charges to the trumped-up ones.”

  Rain stuck her bottom lip out, pouting. “I don’t think that’s fair.”

  “No one does, Rain,” Dylan agreed with a nod. “But for now, we need to play by the rules. Okay?”

  “Rules,” Rain said with a sigh. “I always hated those. I’m always more fun when I’m breaking them.”

  Cookie snorted. “Isn’t that the truth.” She reached through the bars of the cell and grabbed her mother’s sticky hand. “We’re going to get you out of here, Mom. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

  “Sure.” Rain dropped her hand and flopped back onto her mattress, already reaching for a half-eaten chocolate.

  Cookie didn’t want to leave her, but she had a job to do. Reluctantly, she turned and walked down the hall to June’s office. She paused in the doorway, taking in the scene.

  The deputy sheriff was sitting at her desk, her feet up, waving the leather whip she’d confiscated from Blake in the air while Peaches used a file to scrape away the callouses on the deputy sheriff’s feet. The perky technician was wearing latex gloves and had a barely concealed grimace on her face.

  “You know, Deputy Sheriff Loon, this would go a lot faster if you came in for regular appointments. When’s the last time you had a pedicure?” Peaches asked.

  “Hmm? Pedicure?” Loon repeated. “Oh, I don’t know.” She glanced at her calendar. “I think the last time was three or four years ago?”

  “Three or four years!” Peaches jerked back, scandalized. “How are you ever going to get and keep a man if your feet feel like talons?”

  Cookie couldn’t help it, and a small huff of laughter escaped her lips.

  June jerked her foot away from Peaches and sat up, tossing the whip onto the desk. “Cookie, Dylan. You’re back already? I was just… well, you know how busy my schedule is. I thought I’d multitask.”

  Cookie scanned the office, wondering what June had been doing besides torturing Peaches with her four-year-old calluses.

  Peaches quickly started packing up her tools, shaking her head, and muttering to herself.

  “What are you doing?” Loon asked her.

  “I need to get back to the shop. This took longer than I expected, and I have an appointment in five minutes.”

  “But only one foot has been done!” Loon cried. “I’ll look like one leg is shorter than the other one.”

  Peaches snorted. “That’s entirely possible.” She wrinkled her nose at the trash can she’d been working over and then peered at the deputy. “You just make sure and come into the shop so we can finish up. It’ll be easier there anyway.”

  “But you do Rain’s pedicures here,” Loon pouted.

  “Rain keeps regular appointments,” Peaches insisted. “Besides, she needs the pampering. Prison is really hard on a girl’s psyche.”

  Loon tsked. “She should’ve thought of that before she blew up that barge.”

  Cookie rolled her eyes.

  But Peaches bristled. “Rain is my best customer. I won’t stand for anyone disparaging her character. I think you should probably find a new nail technician.” Then with her head held high, Peaches hefted her bag over her shoulder and strode out, a deep frown on her pretty face.

  “Can you believe her?” Loon asked Cookie. “She didn’t even bother to paint my toes.”

  Cookie chose to ignore June’s mini-crisis. “We have an issue out at the condominium complex construction site.”

  June shoved her feet into the flats under her desk and turned her attention to Cookie. “More protesters? You know there’s a restraining order issued for Julie Taylor. Is she harassing that poor man again?”

  “We found a large stash of guns while inspecting some zoning regulations,” Dylan cut in, clearly impatient with her. “We could really use some backup to conduct a search and bring him in.”

  “Guns?” She stood. “What kind of guns?”

  “Piles of semi-automatic rifles as well as handguns.”

  “Whatever for?” June asked as her eyebrows met in a frown of confusion.

  Before June could suggest some sort of misguided theory, Cookie said, “The most likely reason they’d have that many guns is if someone was smuggling them.” When Loon still looked confused, Cookie explained further. “The condo development is the hiding spot, kind of like an inventory warehouse.”

  June’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ as realization dawned on her, and she picked up the phone. Five minutes later, they were outfitted in Kevlar vests, and she had an official search warrant humming through the printer. Tucking the paper into her vest that made her wider than she was tall, she pointed to Zeke and then looked at Cookie and Dylan. “Let’s go.”

  Cookie was impressed with the woman’s efficiency and for a moment wondered if maybe June Loon had actually once been a competent law enforcement official. Her suspicions were quickly squashed, though, because June and Zeke climbed into the island’s one police cruiser, and before Dylan even cranked the engine of his truck, June had pulled the cruiser onto the main road, the lights whirling and the siren blaring.

  “That’s subtle,” Cookie said dryly.

  “I’m surprised she didn’t call the press yet,” Dylan said as he put the truck in gear.

  Cookie closed her eyes and took a deep calming breath, praying that Loon had been too excited about the bust to remember to call her favorite television stations. Cookie held on to the handle above her passenger window as Dylan drove with the skill of a race car driver to keep up with June, swerving to avoid potholes in the dirt road he knew like the back of his hand. Cookie watched in horror as Deputy-sheriff Loon fishtailed and bottomed out the cruiser so many times that she was surprised she didn’t break an axle.

  When they arrived at the condo complex, Dylan pulled the truck into the parking lot and parked behind the cruiser, which still had its lights flashing. Zeke, dressed in a slicker and ball cap, hopped out of the police car with his gun at the ready.

  Cookie scanned the area and noticed Hank’s car was gone and the window to the office was dark. June waved her gun at Cookie and Dylan, making them both duck out of in
stinct to avoid being shot. “You two go first.”

  Dylan gave Cookie a concerned glance and she muttered, “Right, because we’re the expendable ones.”

  “Good thing we gave him plenty of notice to clear out,” Dylan whispered back.

  Chapter 24

  Cookie knocked on the door of Hank Romero’s office and cried out, “Police! Open up!”

  When they heard nothing, she nodded at Dylan to indicate she was going to open the door, but as she grabbed the handle, June, apparently having grown impatient, said, “Oh for heaven’s sake.” Then she walked over and plastered her face to the window of the office. “I don’t think he’s here.” She glanced at Cookie. “Try the door.”

  Cookie bit her tongue hard enough to taste the metallic flavor of blood. But since she was pretty sure Hank was gone, she twisted the handle to find the door was locked.

  “Looks like we missed him.” Zeke said.

  “Perfect,” Cookie muttered and walked over to June.

  June rapped on the glass window. “Hello! Anyone in there?”

  “Deputy-sheriff,” Cookie said, “I think it’s safe to say he’s already left for the day.”

  “He could be hiding under his desk,” she insisted. The rain had plastered her hair to her head, and her mascara ran in two tracks down her cheeks, making her look like a crying soap opera actress. Cookie started to say something, but Loon banged on the glass again and called, “Hank! Open up!”

  “His car isn’t here,” Cookie reasoned.

  Loon glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed. “Hmm. I wonder where he put it.”

  “Maybe at his house or apartment?” Cookie asked, unable to hide her incredulous tone.

  June let out a huff of frustration. “Fine. He’s not here. But we’re going in anyway.” She turned to Zeke. “Call a locksmith.”

  The deputy nodded and pulled his phone out.

  Loon glanced around, looking frustrated. “This isn’t going the way I pictured.”

  “I imagine it isn’t,” Cookie said. “The guns are this way.” She waved, indicating Loon should follow her. Dylan fell in step beside her, barely holding back a chuckle while the deputy sheriff continued to rant about Hank messing up her day.

  “Here.” Cookie pointed to the tarp.

  Loon just blinked at her. “And?”

  “Look.” Dylan lifted the tarp, revealing the steel doors. But when he went to lift it, it didn’t budge. He tried again, his biceps bulging with his effort. “Damn. It’s locked.”

  June let out a huff of irritation and stalked off. Cookie and Dylan glanced at each other, both shaking their heads.

  “Should we tell her about her that pesky mascara problem?” Dylan asked, barely containing a laugh.

  Cookie didn’t contain hers. “Probably. But let’s not.”

  He grinned in agreement and then glanced at June. “Are we going to stick around for the locksmith?”

  “As much as I want to head back to the inn and get out of this rain, I think we’d better. I don’t trust Loon to do a thorough search,” Cookie said.

  “Got it.”

  They went to wait in the truck, and Cookie shivered as she crawled into the cab, chilled to the bone.

  “Cold?” Not waiting for an answer, he started the truck and flipped the heater on.

  Cookie glanced over at him and gave him a shy smile. “You really are the best man, Dylan Creed.”

  “I try.” He waved her over, and despite her wet hair, he snuggled her close and rested his chin on the top of her head.

  She sighed and tried not to think about the damage the Raincam might have done.

  After the locksmith arrived and they searched the condo development, catalogued the guns, and assured June they’d take care of things, Cookie and Dylan returned to the inn. “I can’t believe the computer was gone,” Cookie said, pacing the living room. She turned her attention to Dylan and Cade. “Hank was definitely tipped off before we arrived with the cavalry.”

  “Or,” Dylan said, “it’s possible he saw us poking around earlier and freaked.”

  “Damn.” She ground her teeth together, fighting the impulse to run back to the sheriff’s office and keep an eye on Rain. Hale was there, she reminded herself. Once she realized their cover might be blown, she’d enlisted the help of Rain’s friends to make sure one of them stayed with her at all times. Even Loon had conceded that Hank was likely dangerous.

  During the search, they had found the guns. Unfortunately, because the computer had been taken from the office, there weren’t any files to comb through.

  “I’m going to try calling Hunter again and see if he has any information on Hank.”

  “Who’s Hunter?” she heard Cade ask as she pressed her phone to her ear.

  “An FBI contact of Cookie’s,” Dylan said.

  “Charlie,” Hunter said. “I was just getting ready to give you a call.”

  “It’s about time. Where the heck have you been?” She walked through the dining room and into the kitchen, stopping in front of the coffee maker where she found a fresh pot waiting for her.

  “Undercover. Sorry. Big case. Couldn’t be helped.”

  She wanted to rant about how this case was important, but she knew all too well that when the crap started to hit the fan in open cases, the FBI didn’t hesitate. “Did you get your man?” she asked.

  “Not yet. But we will.” He paused and there was a rustle of paperwork. “Listen, I finally talked to the guy who loaded the barge at the marina.”

  Cookie, who’d been reaching for the coffee pot, froze. “And?”

  “They don’t know anything other than the barge was full of construction supplies. Tiles, drywall, insulation, etc. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone on the barge. The final victim is still unknown. And no one has any idea how explosives might have made it on board. The barge was loaded by the construction supply company, and their guys are so clean they squeak.”

  “Well, that’s not helpful at all,” Cookie said. “What about the tugboat pushing the barge?”

  “I got your message and ran checks on them. They both have pristine records as well. Innocent bystanders from what we can tell.”

  Cookie let out a deep sigh. She’d hoped for an easy way to prove her mother’s innocence.

  “Sorry I don’t have better news, Charlie. How’s it going?”

  Cookie let out a frustrated groan. “Loon has locked Rain up on BS charges with circumstantial evidence. If she ever gets an arraignment, no judge in their right mind would keep her under lock and key. The big news is that we found guns today at the condo site.”

  “Guns?” Hunter was all ears now. “How many? What kind?”

  “Semi-automatic rifles and handguns. Dozens.”

  Hunter let out a low whistle.

  “Yeah,” Cookie swallowed hard. “We both know what that means.”

  “Mob,” they both said at the same time.

  Cookie was dead silent, a chill rolling through her.

  “Is there someone in charge at the complex?” Hunter asked, ready to dive right in, thanks to his FBI training.

  “Yes. That’s actually why I called. Can you run a check on Hank Romero?”

  It was Hunter’s turn to be silent.

  “Hunter?” Cookie asked. “You there?”

  “I’m here, Charlie,” he said quietly. “I already know who Hank is.”

  “Oh.” Of course he does, Cookie thought. Hunter dealt with mobsters every day. He knew of most of the players. “All right. Lay it on me. Is he part of the DeMasis?”

  “No.”

  Relief rushed through her, and she rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the tension she hadn’t realized she’d been holding on to. “That’s good.”

  “It’s not much better. Hank works for the Volkov’s. We’ve had him on our radar for months and we’ve been wondering where he’s been hiding the last few months. He’s suspected of smuggling guns and cocaine. Charlie, if he thinks you’re on to him, you’
re likely a target.”

  “Isn’t that peachy,” Cookie said. “As if I don’t have enough to worry about.”

  “There’s more,” he said.

  Cookie’s stomach sank to her knees. “What is it?”

  “They’ve been warring with the DeMasis. If he’s set up shop there, they likely know about it. And my money is on the DeMasis blowing up the Volkov’s barge.”

  Cookie’s hand was shaking as the blood drained from her face. But she managed to keep from passing out and took a deep breath as Hunter said, “I’m pulling rank on this one, Charlie.”

  “You know what, Hunter? For once I’m not going to put up a fight.”

  He chuckled dryly. “Seems that Creed guy has knocked some sense into you after all.”

  “Funny,” Cookie said. Now that guns had been found, the case was squarely in the FBI’s jurisdiction. Relief washed over her, temporary as it might be, because if anyone could get to the bottom of this while keeping her safe, it was Agent Hunter O’Neil.

  “My first order of business is to get Rain released so you two can get out of there,” said Hunter. “And you will. Do you hear me?”

  Cookie inhaled sharply as her mind raced with all the things she needed to do before running. Like talk to Dylan. Sure, he’d told her many times that he’d go wherever she need to run, but now that it was a reality…

  “Charlie?”

  “I’m here. When will Rain be released?”

  “Not until tomorrow morning. Or the afternoon when I get there at the latest. That should give you enough time to get your affairs in order.”

  She knew he was referring to one very big one. Dylan. “Hunter? I—”

  “I know. You’ve got this, Charlie. And so do I. You have my word.”

  Once Hunter hung up, Cookie stared at her phone for a moment. All the emotions she’d felt the last time she’d had to run to stay alive swirled in her mind; fear, sadness, and regret. But the one thing she didn’t feel this time was despair. Not only had Rain and she survived going undercover once before, but this time she had Dylan, the man she loved, willing to be by her side.