Roaming Wild (Steele Ridge Book 6)

by Tracey Devlyn

  Pawpaw.

  Fruit. Food.

  On hands and knees, he crawled to the energy-boosting pod. He attacked it like a dog that had gone too long without food. The sweet custardy flavors of banana, mango, and cantaloupe overwhelmed his taste buds. Bite by bite, his cells came back to life and his lightheadedness dissipated.

  Licking the juice from his fingers, he scooped up more pawpaws and hiked another two miles before emerging from the woodland. The thick tree cover and lack of moon made the journey treacherous, even with a country road to guide him.

  An hour later, he made it to a main intersection and veered toward town. The rumble of a vehicle in need of a new muffler approached him from behind. He moved to the edge of the shoulder, knowing the driver couldn’t see him. An old rusted-out Ford F-150 toddled past him. Brake lights flashed, illuminating the road until the truck stopped.

  He’d done a lot of stupid things in his lifetime, but hitchhiking wasn’t one of his misdemeanors. He closed in on the truck, cautious.

  “Need a lift?” asked a bearded young man, sporting a button-down plaid shirt and John Deere ball cap.

  “Don’t want to put you out. But if you have a cell phone, I’d appreciate using it to make a phone call.”

  “Can’t help you there. All I can offer is a ride into town.”

  The driver’s indifferent expression conveyed that he’d drive away without a second thought.

  “Then I’ll take the ride.” He jumped into the passenger side, and the truck crept forward.

  Crept.

  After several miles of going ten below the speed limit, he began to wonder if he could’ve walked to civilization faster.

  “Looks like you got into a bit of trouble.”

  His nose throbbed and his cheek hurt. Dried blood lined his arms, and his rumpled, dirty, cut-up clothing had seen better days. He finger combed his hair, though he doubted the gesture had much affect.

  A dry chuckle escaped between his lips. “Yeah.”

  For a second, he considered sharing his ordeal with his escort. But everyone knew everyone—or, at least, knew of everyone—in this area. Harwoods enjoyed a lot of power in Creede. And that power extended to neighboring towns.

  Would his driver relay every word back to one of the Harwoods? Or would he help him get to safety?

  His escort hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a cooler in the cab. Grab a water.”

  Every cell in his body clenched at the thought of water nearby. He twisted around and dug into the cooler. “Would you like one?”

  “Nah.”

  Shifting back around, he broke the cap’s seal with trembling fingers. Shooting a sidelong glance at his driver, he couldn’t get a read on the guy. He appeared fresh out of high school, though the lines flaring out from the corner of his eyes indicated an age closer to his.

  “You from around these parts?” the driver asked.

  He took a long swallow of water. The cool liquid against his parched mouth created a pleasure-pain sensation. Not wanting to draw attention to how long it’d been since he’d had water, he forced the bottle away from his lips.

  “Got lost in the woods for a few hours. Had a hard time seeing three feet in front of me once the sun dipped below the ridge.”

  “What business you got in them woods?”

  “My vehicle broke down, and I thought cutting through the woods would save me some time.”

  “Guess that didn’t work out too well, huh?”

  Something about the driver’s attitude sanded his nerves. Every question had a condescending quality that didn’t set so well. But the driver gave him water when he didn’t have to, so he did his best to let go of his irritation.

  “Not really. You live around here?”

  “Just passing through.”

  “I noticed your John Deere hat. You a farmer?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Don’t care much for the profession, then?”

  “My family’s built a good living off the land. Not my path, though.”

  “What kind of work do you do?”

  A heavy silence followed his question. He wished this pile of metal went faster than twenty-five miles per hour.

  He waved his hand between them. “Didn’t mean to pry. Just filling time with small talk.”

  “I take on odd jobs that need taking on.”

  Time to move their conversation to a less charged topic. “Town’s much farther away than I realized. You saved me a good hour’s hike, Mr. —”

  His escort angled his head around to meet Dylan’s gaze. “Cleamer. Frank Cleamer.”

  40

  “I don’t like this.”

  Rolling to a halt in the pharmacy parking lot, Deke brushed the fall of Evie’s hair over her shoulder. “I can’t take you with us.”

  “Aren’t we a team now?”

  He hated hearing the uncertainty in her voice. But taking her to the storage unit was out of the question. She would be safer at the Med Mobile. “Yes, though not to the extent that I’m willing to take you on a breaking and entering mission. If things go wrong, I don’t want you anywhere near the heat.”

  “I could be your lookout.”

  “That’s Matteo and Rae’s job.”

  She drummed her fingers on her armrest. “I really want to know what’s in Dylan’s gun case.”

  “We don’t know for sure that there is a gun case.”

  “Didn’t Leah say—”

  “Dylan’s ex had little interest in helping us. She might have thrown out the storage unit just to get us to leave.”

  “Then why are you going?”

  “Because it’s the only active lead we have on Gold Star, at the moment.” He traced the ridge of her jawline. “This is what I do, Evie. This is why relationships with my kind don’t work.” He cupped the back of her neck. “Letting us go, day after day, night after night, to unknown destinations and into unfathomable danger, corrodes the mind and heart.”

  “So you’re content to lead a life without passion, love, and family?”

  “Not content, but I’m prepared to.”

  “You make my heart ache, Deke Conrad.” She released a deep sigh and opened her door. The interior light blinked on. “But I’m not prepared to let you live such a dreary existence.”

  Something resembling hope melted the protective casing he’d constructed around his heart. He grasped her elbow before she slipped away.

  “My happiness isn’t your responsibility.”

  A wan smile made a brief appearance before her eyebrows clashed together. “You have the emotional intelligence of a lug nut.”

  She kissed him hard before stomping her way toward the Med Mobile.

  “I found him.”

  Deke’s pulse kicked into hyperdrive at his mom’s breathless announcement. He turned up the volume on his truck’s speakers. “Where?”

  “I saw a red truck, a skinny, bearded man, and a sign for Creede.”

  Frank Cleamer. Had to be. No way could this be a coincidence.

  “Deke? Did you hear me?”

  “Just thinking, Mama.” He shook off his surprise. “Could you tell if it was dark outside?”

  “Like it is now. It’s an active vision.”

  Her visions had a mind of their own. Sometimes they played out in the moment and sometimes they were delayed by several hours. She’d taught herself to focus on the light and shadow patterns in order to make a guesstimate on the time of day.

  “I’m only twenty minutes away from Creede. Let me know if you see anything else useful.”

  “Be careful, son. I sensed your brother’s anxiety.”

  “Will do.” He hesitated a moment. “You did great, Mama.”

  “F-find my baby boy.”

  “I’ll bring him home, and you can chain the little shi—him—to the nearest fence post.”

  Disconnecting, he called Jax.

  “Yo, boss.”

  “Slight change of plans.”

  “If you�
�re thinking I’m bored and need to mix it up, I’m not.”

  “I’ve got a good lead on my brother’s location. I’m headed there now.”

  “Do you want me to send Keone and Taj?”

  “No, I’ll handle this.”

  “In all my spare time—” she made a loud hacking sound, “—I’ve been doing some digging into Harwood’s background.”

  “The son or his old man?”

  “All of them.”

  “What’d you find?”

  “Blaze Harwood owns a trucking business, delivering a variety of products all over the southeast region of the States. He runs his business like a dictatorship, though both of his sons are involved.”

  “Sounds vanilla.”

  “In the last few weeks, he’s rented several storage buildings and is in the process of having state-of-the-art security systems installed in all of them.”

  “Why does a trucking company need storage?”

  “The million-dollar question.”

  “Maybe Harwood’s transporting more than his clients’ products.”

  “Like what?”

  “Something worth setting up my brother for murder.”

  “You think Dylan came across Harwood’s dirty business?”

  “I have no idea. But it’s the only thing that makes sense, right now.”

  “Ready to hear about the son?”

  “Which one?”

  “Take your pick. I got scoops on both.”

  “Oldest.”

  “He married a divorcée with a kid.”

  “Why’s that a scoop?”

  “The Harwoods are a bunch of holy rollers. Taking up with a divorced woman is a pretty big deal.”

  “I’m still not getting the significance.”

  “Do the names Amy and Noah ring a bell?”

  “The bear claw boy and his mother?”

  “One and the same.”

  Shit. He recalled how emphatic Amy had been about keeping her and Noah’s visit to the Med Mobile quiet. How fearful she’d been.

  “Now for the younger brother. Eli Harwood had a run-in with the police about a year ago.”

  “What was the issue?”

  “I’ll give you one guess.”

  “Drugs.”

  “Ding, ding, ding. Want the cherry?”

  “Always.”

  “Many of the townsfolk are afraid of him. He’s a loner and has been caught torturing animals. Sound familiar?”

  “Textbook makings of a serial killer. When you get a chance, do a search for missing persons or unexplained deaths in the area.”

  “You’re so yesterday. Haven’t come across anything yet.”

  “Keep a scan on things. Something tells me that we’re about to reach a breaking point.”

  “If anyone gets knocked off, you’ll be the first to know. Well, I’ll be the first. You’ll be number two, for a change.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nada. Jax out.”

  Deke blasted into Creede five minutes later. The town was small, less than ten thousand people, and not a lot was happening at this time of night. He kept his search to the few places that stayed open past seven on a weekday night.

  After checking two gas stations, an ice cream joint, and a fast food restaurant, he began to wonder if his mother’s gift had failed her. No one he’d spoken to so far had noticed a thirty-year-old man with a skinny, bearded man in a red truck.

  He turned down Ridgeview and noticed a convenience store at the edge of town. If he didn’t find any trace of Dylan here, he would have to concede that his mom’s vision had failed them. Maybe the gift dimmed with age. Whatever the reason, she would be devastated.

  As he pulled into the parking lot, he spotted a red truck and a dark-haired man striding into the store. From this distance, Dylan appeared a bit disheveled but in one piece. Relief poured over him and he whispered a silent thank-you.

  The Ford pulled away.

  Deke hit the gas, maneuvering his vehicle to intercept Cleamer. He’d find out who this mystery man was once and for all. As least he hoped it was Cleamer, or he was about to make a fool of himself.

  His wheels screeched to a halt, blocking the red truck. He peered through his passenger window into the windshield of the truck.

  Cleamer.

  The other man started to curse him—his eyes widened in recognition. He threw his vehicle in reverse, but there was nowhere for him to go. Another vehicle idled behind him.

  Throwing his Ram into park, Deke hurried around to catch Cleamer in case he decided to bolt.

  “Frank Cleamer?”

  Mystery man stared at him, mute.

  “Turn off your vehicle, Frank.”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed before he switched off the engine.

  “Why are you following me?”

  Cleamer’s eyebrows slammed together. “I’m not.”

  “I’ve caught you watching me twice, in two different towns.”

  The vehicle honked behind Cleamer, and Deke motioned for it to go around.

  When he turned back, Cleamer’s features had settled into a good ol’ boy’s bored expression. “Ain’t watching you.”

  Steel snaked up his back. “The ladies?”

  Cleamer shrugged. “Yes and no.”

  Too many days of worry over his brother and heartache about his relationship with Evie had his control walking the edge. Cleamer’s offhand attitude about stalking Evie snapped the thread of sanity holding his control in place.

  He grasped a handful of Cleamer’s plaid shirt and hauled him to the window. “I’m not jacking around. Who are you and what do you want?”

  Fear flashed across his face, and he fought Deke’s hold. “Let go of me!”

  Releasing him, he demanded, “Talk.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled as if reassuring himself. “My investigation’s over.”

  “What investigation?”

  He straightened his clothes. “I’ve been hired to observe the Med Mobile.”

  “Why?”

  “Miss Frye applied for a grant. The grant sponsor wanted to ensure the Med Mobile was a worthy candidate.”

  Acid churned in his gut. “What have you determined?”

  “They have some interesting practices.”

  “Like what?”

  “You, for one.” His sharp gaze roamed over Deke. “Where’d you come from? Why’d they give you access to the patients?”

  “I’m a close family friend to Miss Steele and I went to school with Miss Frye.”

  “Still doesn’t explain your role with the Med Mobile.”

  “I—”

  Cleamer waved off any further explanation. “The complications caused by Miss Frye’s medical condition were enough to disqualify her application. Cancelling the tour’s serious business.”

  “Lisa didn’t realize she had a condition. Her doctor prescribed medication to counteract the migraines.”

  “The sponsor’s already made up her mind. Miss Frye can reapply next year.”

  “When will Lisa be notified?”

  “Letter’s in the mail.” Cleamer’s engine fired to life, and he backed away.

  Astonishment kept him immobile a full minute after Cleamer’s retreat. Evie and Lisa would be devastated by the news.

  Guilt carved across his chest at the part he’d played in the grant denial. Would the Med Mobile be able to finish this tour?

  A movement inside the convenience store snagged his attention.

  Dylan.

  Setting aside the Med Mobile for now, Deke went in search of his brother. He located him in the middle of an aisle, swigging down a large bottle of water and tapping on a phone.

  His appearance was far worse up close. Swollen nose, bruised cheek, bloody cuts on his arms, clothes that hung on a too skinny body.

  “Dylan?”

  His brother didn’t stop drinking, only his surprised eyes tracked over to Deke’s location.

  Moving closer, he noticed the ho
llow, blue-black circles beneath his brother’s eyes and the pungent odor of stale body.

  “What happened to you?”

  Dylan handed the phone back to an older gentleman wearing a baseball cap with U.S. Army written across the front and a dozen pins decorating the bill. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Better get that nose looked at, young man.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Dylan—”

  “You got any money?” Dylan interrupted.

  Tension stabbed into Deke’s shoulders. “I’m not your damn billfold—”

  “Cash, credit card, anything?”

  Dylan’s voice carried an odd combination of fury and fear. He grabbed a gallon of milk, two oranges, a salami roll, bag of nuts, and another bottle of water.

  Wrenching his wallet from his pocket, Deke pulled a twenty and held it out. “What’s this stuff for?”

  “I’ll explain in your truck.”

  Deke’s hand dropped to his side, still holding the cash, while he tracked his brother’s unsteady stride toward the store’s entrance.

  “The boy’s had a tough time,” the veteran said. “Give him time to explain.”

  “Do I owe you for my brother’s water?”

  The veteran shook his head. “Glad to help.”

  “Thank you, sir. And thank you for your service.”

  “Remember what I said about your brother.”

  Deke kept an eye on Dylan while he paid the clerk. Where had he been holed up for the past five days? Had he been trying to call him?

  In a blink, Dylan crashed to his knees in the parking lot, doubling over.

  Deke shot out of the store. “What’s the matter?” He removed the food from Dylan’s arms.

  “C-cramp.”

  “Where?”

  “Stomach.”

  He sat back on his heels, calming his pulse. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten or drank anything?”

  “Had some pawpaw not long ago.”

  “And before that?”

  “I d-don’t know. A few days.”

  “Take it easy on the water. Small sips only.” He helped Dylan into his truck. When the cramps appeared to subside, he pushed his brother for answers. “What’s going on?”

  “Head west on Main Street. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

  “Dylan, enough! I need some fucking answers.”

  “Drive, and you’ll get them.”