Roaming Wild (Steele Ridge Book 6)

by Tracey Devlyn

  The clearing project would take days to complete. Days of battling old fears. Under normal circumstances, she would have jumped at the opportunity to sort through the memories and trash the junk. She loved to organize. Her clothes hung in her closet by color, not by season or style.

  But she couldn’t organize the attic. No matter how much she loved her mother and wanted to help. Especially not right now. Right now, she needed to be moving, doing. She needed Deke, dammit.

  Never in her wildest dreams would she have considered herself the clingy type. She wanted Deke here, beside her, joking with her family. Or she wanted to be with him, helping track down his brother, offering up a hug if he learned Dylan’s involvement in Gracie’s murder wasn’t incidental.

  She rubbed her sweaty palms over the napkin in her lap. “Sorry, Mama. We’ll have to clean out the beast another time.” Holding back a shudder, she cut a bite of lasagna with her fork. “I’m headed out of town tomorrow.”

  “Where’re you going?”

  “I intend to finish the MedTour.”

  “By yourself?”

  “How are you going to treat patients without Lisa’s supervision?” Jonah asked. “Doesn’t that violate some health care rule?”

  “I’ll work out a plan with Lisa’s supervisor, Dr. Muir. There will definitely be some things I can’t do, but lots of other things I can do.”

  She caught Randi glancing at Carlie Beth, whose lips twitched before she caught Brynne’s gaze.

  What were those three smirking about? She peered at her sister in confusion. Micki wore a knowing grin and one brow hitched into a you-can’t-be-that-dense arch.

  Rather than call them out on whatever crazy notion they floated around to each other, she mixed her cottage cheese with her applesauce before spooning the combo into her mouth. She ignored the whisper of understanding that crackled in the back of her mind.

  Deke had nothing to do with her resuming the MedTour.

  Nothing at all.

  15

  Deke reached SONR’s bunker at the summit of one of many mountain ridges surrounding Asheville. Unlike a lot of the natural areas in this region of Western North Carolina, this pocket of wilderness had never been timbered or destroyed by fire. Tulip trees thicker than the widest SUV thrived here. Abundant populations of ginseng covered the hills, and black bear, bobcats, and elk roamed the valleys.

  What made the location perfect for SONR’s headquarters was the absence of humans. No trails zigzagged the ridges, no campsites dotted the landscape, and no engines pierced the air.

  When he approached the entrance, an armed figure broke away from the shadows. “Commander.”

  Outside his wide-brimmed cowboy hat and handlebar mustache, Wes Crawley appeared ready for combat.

  He nodded toward his weapons specialist’s AR15. “Expecting trouble?”

  “Taj’s surveillance cameras picked up a drone on our southern border. Thought I’d keep an eye on things for a while.”

  “Probably a hobby aircraft that got away from its owner. Good to take extra precaution, though.”

  Wes rapped out a series of knocks. Not that he needed to with Taj watching their every move through the entrance cam.

  It didn’t take long for the telltale sound of sliding deadbolts. The door squeaked open, and Keone appeared.

  “Welcome back.” Keone stepped aside for him to enter.

  Looking at the bunker from the outside, no one would guess at the vastness within. Matteo designed the structure to nestle into the mountain, be a living, breathing part of it, leaving only the south-facing side vulnerable to detection, though not the only way out. Once past the double entrance barrier, a dozen pods snaked off a large circular area known as the Status Room. The epicenter of SONR. Or, as Jax like to say—where the magic happened.

  Dropping his backpack on the floor next to a well-used brown leather couch, Deke took in his team one more time, still unable to believe that any of them would betray their mission or each other. Even though Keone hadn’t been able to identify the leak yet, Deke had taken a leap of faith last night.

  He’d brought the team up-to-speed on the MedTour and Distributor and shared what little facts he had on the murder case involving his brother. Every single team member had offered their assistance with his personal situation. Though he’d expected no less of them, their unblinking support had left him tight-throated for several minutes. When he’d warned them about using SONR’s resources to ferret out information on Dylan’s case, they’d all smirked, and Wes had murmured something about family coming first.

  “What’s the latest?” he asked. “Anything on the kid with the bear claw?”

  “Not much dirt on the stepfather,” Jax said. “Successful real estate agent and well-respected family man. The only blot on his record was a DUI conviction, five years ago.”

  “Came across some folks reporting the family as odd,” Keone added.

  “In what way?” he asked.

  “They’re somewhat social, but mostly tend to stay to themselves. No one could recall ever getting an invite to their home.”

  “Is he a hunter?”

  “Every chance he can get.”

  “Dig deeper. I got the distinct impression that Amy was scared of her husband.”

  “What about Noah’s biological father? Did Amy’s story pan out?”

  “Yep,” Jax said. “He died two years ago from complications after an appendectomy. By all reports, Kyle McMann had been a loving husband and terrific father.”

  He paced in front of the couch. Ever since he and Evie’d parted, he’d felt…restless. Like he’d left something undone, left a part of himself behind. “Rae, anything on Gracie Gilbert’s autopsy yet?”

  “Medical Examiner hasn’t released his report yet.” Rae broke open the cap on her water bottle. “My contact saw the body arrive. He said the sheet slid off the corpse’s foot, revealing discoloration around the toes.”

  “What kind of discoloration?”

  “He only saw it for split second, but he said the area was dark, like a severe contusion.”

  “Maybe it got stepped on during the assault.”

  “I’m not sure her foot could have gained that level of discoloration before she died.”

  “Could’ve gotten the contusion a hundred different ways,” Keone said.

  “Or it’s not a contusion at all,” Deke added. “Any luck locating my brother, Taji?”

  “If he turns on his phone, uses his credit cards, or withdrawals money from his bank, I’ll have him pegged within seconds. Matteo’s keeping an eye on his apartment.”

  “Matteo? What’s he doing back to work?”

  “Same could be asked about you.”

  “What about your kid brother’s friends?” Wes asked, joining the group. He secured his AR into a long gun cabinet by the door. “Should we be talking to any of them?”

  “I have a few names, but I don’t know if he’s even hanging out with them anymore.”

  “Worth a shot.”

  “We’ll have to tread carefully. There’s a sergeant—Prickett—who would love to see me in jail for interfering with his investigation.”

  “What’s the matter? Did you destroy his sand castle?”

  “Worse. His high school girlfriend decided she liked the looks of me more.”

  “Was that before or after alcohol?”

  “You do realize I’m doling out assignments, right?”

  “Some things are worth the punishment.”

  “Speaking of girlfriends,” Jax said. “Does Dylan have one?”

  “Damned if I know.” Deke recalled the gregarious blonde his brother had been seeing when they were still on speaking terms. “He used to date a Leah.”

  “Got a last name?”

  “Brunner? Brewster? Brist—Bristow. That’s it. Leah Bristow.”

  Jax tapped on her keyboard for several seconds. “Looks like she’s still in the area. 567 Fulton Road, Rockton.”

  “I know the p
lace.” Deke jotted down a couple names and handed them off to Jax. “Once you have those addresses, pass them on to Keone and Wes. I’ll pay the girlfriend a call.” He checked his handgun before sliding it back into his chest holster. “Rae, I want the results of that autopsy. If you still can’t get it, find out from your contact if Gracie Gilbert had any controlled substances in her system.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Check on the police report, while you’re at it.” He caught Taji’s eye. “Anything from Matteo?”

  “Just got a text. All’s quiet at your brother’s apartment.”

  “Tell Matteo to hang tight. I’ll join him after my interview with Leah.”

  “Haven’t the police already swept the place?” Keone asked.

  “Yes, which is why I want to take a look. Even though I haven’t seen Dylan in months, I still know my brother and can spot his screwups a mile away.”

  “Heed your own advice,” Keone warned. “The cops are almost certainly surveilling his apartment. Stay sharp.”

  He swung his pack onto his back, snapping it into place at his waist. After exiting the bunker, he stretched his legs into a steady jog. In order to avoid detection, they parked their vehicles near the bottom of the mountain, though they had an ATV available to cart up equipment.

  As much as he’d like to rail at Dylan for getting himself mixed up in a murder, the Gracie piece wasn’t adding up. Why would a well-liked mom, with two kids, who’d never been involved with controlled substances, all of a sudden turn to drugs?

  He couldn’t see Dylan as a murderer either. Not because of the family connection. Slitting someone’s throat took a lot of balls and a steady hand. It was far more intimate than shooting a person from twenty yards away. The act was up close, personal. The killer might have even held Gracie in his arms as he drew the knife through flesh, muscle, and tendons.

  No sign of false starts was evident on Gracie’s neck. The killer had made one, clean, swift slice, and that was it.

  Dylan had been one of those quirky boys who removed worms from the driveway so they wouldn’t get squashed. One time, he’d cried until their mom agreed to use live mousetraps instead of the spine-crushing ones. Then he’d cajoled her into driving him to the nearby national forest to set the rodent free. All these years later, the conservationist in him cringed at the thought of his family introducing new strains of disease into the national forest through their vermin rescue efforts.

  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reconcile that the gentle-spirited kid had become a coldhearted killer. But people changed.

  Dylan had been a sweet kid before he’d become the family terror at thirteen. A hardcore thrill-seeking hooligan who never seemed to be aware of the destruction he always left in his wake.

  Had he run through his repertoire of physical and chemical stimuli and now sought something more psychological?

  Primeval?

  16

  Evie learned something about herself. She might not possess the required amount of patience for the health care world.

  When Dr. Muir mentioned that a replacement nurse practitioner wouldn’t be available until the following day, she’d cajoled—okay begged—the kind old man into allowing her to drive the Med Mobile to their next scheduled stop in Niles. She’d reasoned that she could have the clinic ready to go by the time the nurse practitioner arrived.

  The doctor had relented, and she’d hightailed it out of town before he changed his mind. But not before she checked in on Lisa and recruited Britt to help her hook up her Rogue to the back of the RV. No way was she going to be stranded in the Med Mobile for the rest of the day. Not with Deke so close by. She used her bit of downtime to locate Deke and see how things were going with his brother’s case.

  All the way to Niles, she’d texted Deke, but he never answered. Anxiety chipped away at her excitement of seeing him again. She unhooked her vehicle from the Med Mobile and prepped the clinic for the next day.

  Still no response from Deke.

  Should she be worried? Or ticked off? She didn’t like the idea of him getting in the middle of a murder case. What if he’d learned something important and the killer had gone after him? What if he lay somewhere, bleeding and helpless, even now?

  What if he was ignoring her texts?

  After another hour of pacing and silence, she took matters into her own hands and called Rita Sampson.

  “Hey Rita, it’s Evie Steele.”

  “How are y’all doing after our BBQ bungle?”

  “Thanks again for organizing the BBQ. We’re doing fine. Lisa saw her doctor and he prescribed her some migraine medicine.”

  “What about Deke? I could’ve whopped Mitch Conrad’s hide for how he’d treated his son.”

  “Deke’s fine. Unfortunately, he’s somewhat used to his daddy’s abuse.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” A long sigh passed through the receiver. “Did you call to give me an update, or is there something I can do for you?”

  “A little of both. I’ve been trying to get a hold of Deke with no luck.” She sent up a plea of forgiveness. “He was headed to see his brother Dylan. Deke left something in the Med Mobile, and I’m in the area and thought I’d drop it off.” Her fingers rubbed at the tightness in her chest. “I wondered if you knew where Dylan lived.”

  “Last I heard, he had an apartment on the corner of Western and Peck. You can probably Google his name and get an exact address.”

  Evie blinked. Why hadn’t she thought about searching the Internet first?

  “Be careful,” Rita continued. “His apartment building’s near a park that houses troublemakers once the sun sets.”

  “Thanks for the warning. My plan’s not to be there that late.”

  “If you don’t have any luck at Dylan’s place, he might be at the yellow house on Fulton. He used to spend quite a bit of time there. Not sure if he still does, though.”

  “You’re an absolute gem, Rita. I owe you one.”

  “Just make sure that Med Mobile passes through Rockton again, in the near future.”

  “You got it.”

  It took her about forty minutes to get from Niles to Rockton. Every minute rolled into one eternity after another. When she finally located Dylan’s apartment building, she saw no sign of Deke’s truck. Disappointment knifed through her.

  She idled outside the building for another fifteen minutes before giving up on Deke’s arrival. Armed with her GPS, she pulled away from the curb and followed the directions to Fulton Street.

  As she approached the intersection of Fulton and Peregrine, a familiar black Ram 1500 roared by. Her eyes strained to see inside.

  Deke!

  Her foot stomped the gas, and the force slammed her against the seat. She didn’t realize her small crossover had that much power. When she swung onto Fulton, she accelerated to intercept him before he made it to the house.

  But he was too far ahead. His truck pulled into the driveway of a small yellow one-story house. Deke strolled to the front door, and a beautiful blonde appeared. A welcoming smile played across her generous mouth. At this distance, she appeared to be in her late twenties.

  She embraced Deke.

  The hug went on for an eternity before Deke followed her inside.

  The door shut.

  While she followed the tableau playing out in front of the yellow house, her vehicle had parked itself a few doors down. Was Dylan inside? No other cars lined the road or driveway. Had he hiked in from another street?

  Or was Deke alone inside with the blonde?

  Heat crawled up her neck, and her heart tried to ram its way out of her chest. She was spying on him.

  Why, for goodness sake?

  Her intention had been to intercept him before he knocked on the door. Perhaps he and the woman were old friends or cousins…or lovers.

  The heat intensified, burning into Evie’s ears and steaming the backs of her eyes.

  Minutes turned into a quarter hour, a quarter hour tu
rned into a half hour, a half hour became an hour. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand the unknown any longer, he emerged. The pretty blonde lounged in the doorframe, a kitten-and-cream smile on her face.

  He paused to say something, and the blonde wrapped her lean body around him again. Evie closed her eyes, unable to watch the next part.

  When she peeled her eyelids open, Deke’s truck was backing out of the drive. Tears threatened. She shoved them away. He’d warned her. Warned her not to hope.

  Much to her amazement and unparalleled mortification, she followed the Ram.

  17

  Deke slid onto the picnic table bench next to a large Italian man eating carrots and humus and reading a small paperback featuring a bare-chested man holding a long gun. “Good book?”

  “Your timing sucks,” Matteo said. “Come back in five minutes.”

  He nodded toward the agent’s side. “How’s the injury?”

  “Eighty percent.”

  “Do you have clearance to be at work?”

  “Modified duty. No bending, no lifting, no sitting for long periods of time. Lots of reading.”

  “Sounds like you’ve already blown your doctor’s orders.”

  “Only if I get caught.”

  Deke raised a who-the-frick-am-I eyebrow.

  “You don’t count. You’re one of us.”

  “And responsible for your well-being.” He slid his thumbnail beneath a loose piece of green paint and it chipped free. “Just take it easy. SONR can’t afford to lose you.” He nodded toward the apartment building. “Any movement?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Signs of other surveillance?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  “Think or know?”

  “A brunette sat in her vehicle outside the building for a quarter hour, then took off. Haven’t seen her back.” He flipped a page. “Probably waiting for someone and the person never showed up.”