“Who’s in the bag?”
“Well, well, well,” an oily voice said, “if it isn’t fed man Deke Conrad showing up at another crime scene.”
“Prickett.” He struggled against his restraints. “Who’s in the bag?”
“Why don’t you tell me, you sick bastard?”
Rage like nothing he’d felt before boiled to the surface. “Get these handcuffs off me and tell me who’s in the bag!”
“What’d you do with the murder weapon, Conrad?”
“You’re taking this high school feud too far, Prickett. If you don’t uncuff me in the next ten seconds, you’re going to hear from my lawyer.”
“I’m going to hear from your lawyer either way, so I might as well enjoy the sight while it lasts.”
His burning gaze sought the bag again. The gurney was gone. Angling around as best he could with an officer kneeling on his back, he searched for the bag and found it at the back of the ambulance, about to be loaded. Beyond the ambulance, he caught sight of Dylan rushing toward him. He shook his head and shouted, “No!”
His brother halted, his chest heaving, his eyes stormy.
He shook his head.
“Who’re you talking to, fed man?” Prickett strode forward.
“Who’s in the goddamn bag, Prickett?” He began to fight in earnest again, giving Dylan time to disappear. “Is it Evie?”
Prickett smiled down at him. “Do you mean the delectable Evie Steele?”
“Britt!” he roared at the top of his lungs. “Britt, stop them!”
In a blink, his friend was at his side. “What’s going on?”
“The bag,” he panted. “Is it Evie? These bastards won’t tell me.”
Britt’s spine straightened to its full, upright length. His shoulders widened to their impressive width. By anyone’s standards, he was a big, big guy. When pissed? Damn threatening.
“I’m Britt Steele.” He held out his driver’s license. “Evelyn Steele’s my youngest sister. My cousin, Maggie Kingston, is the sheriff in Haywood County.” He nodded toward the bag. “If you believe that’s my sister, open the fucking bag so I can identify her.”
A muscle below Prickett’s right eye twitched, and purple-red blotches appeared on his cheeks and chin, giving him a maniacal doll-like appearance. “The victim’s name is Rachel Gardner.”
Relief flooded the backs of his eyes. He blinked against the stinging sensation while some of the tension released its grip on his body.
Evie wasn’t in the bag. Evie wasn’t in the bag. Thank you, Lord.
Where was she? Not in the RV, or she would’ve come running when she heard the commotion outside.
Unless there was a second body bag inside.
“Why is Deke restrained?”
“He attacked several deputies.”
“Before or after you refused to identify the body?”
“Doesn’t matter. Assault is assault.”
“Good luck finding a jury willing to convict a man who was out of his mind with grief.”
“Is anyone else inside, Prickett?” he asked.
Prickett stared at him, a smirk on his face.
“Sergeant, is my sister inside?” Britt’s voice was hard, deadly.
“No.”
“Uncuff me, Prickett. Enough’s enough.”
“Not until you tell me your whereabouts for the last two hours.”
“Britt can vouch for my whereabouts. I was with him and a small group of men near Creede when I got a call from Evie. She told me about the fire, and we came right away.”
“I’m going to need the name and telephone numbers of all your alibis.”
“Fine. Now the cuffs.”
Prickett motioned for another officer to free him. When he jumped to his feet, Pricket backed up a step.
“Sergeant Prickett,” a new voice said, “what’s going on here?”
Prickett sent him a scorching glare before answering. “A misunderstanding, Chief. We mistook Conrad for the killer.”
“Conrad?” Chief Middleton studied him more closely. “What are you doing here?”
“One of the Med Mobile nurses—Evie Steele—called me. I came right away.”
“Ah, yes, Miss Steele. Your other partner-in-crime.” The chief peered around. “Where’s the victim?”
“Loaded in the ambulance,” Prickett said. “Throat cut. Same as Gracie Gilbert.”
Middleton eyed Deke. “Do you know anything about this, son?”
“I’ve got some ideas.”
“Don’t need any ideas. Got all those I can stomach.”
“Can we talk about it inside the RV? I’d like to take a look around.”
“So you can destroy the evidence?” Prickett asked. “Absolutely not.”
Middleton turned his gray eyes on Prickett. “Last I heard, I held the chief’s title and appear to be the highest-ranking member of law enforcement here, at the moment.”
“He could be involved in this,” Prickett said.
“Could be. Could be not.” He motioned for Deke to follow him into the RV. “I’ll wrangle up enough intelligence to make sure he doesn’t move the evidence tape.” He ascended the stairs. “Smoke’s not too bad.”
He peered at Britt. “You coming?”
“I’ll do some digging out here.”
When he entered the RV, the front cabin and exam room one appeared normal and untouched, but for a large pool of blood at the base of the exam table. The rear was a complete loss.
“What happened, Chief?”
“We have ourselves an open investigation. Wouldn’t be right to share the details.”
“Would you being willing to discuss them with a special agent with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Is this special agent working the same case?”
“Yes, he is, but from a different angle.”
“Then we have ourselves an interdepartmental cooperation.”
“What do you know so far?”
“The arsonist used Molotovs to set both RVs on fire. One to the front and back of the staff RV and one to the rear of the Med Mobile.”
Nodding toward the blood, he asked, “What happened?”
“According to Miss Frye, your Miss Steele decided to check on Miss Gardner and move this RV away from the fire. When the RV didn’t move and Miss Steele didn’t appear, Miss Frye asked an officer to check on her. Evidently, Miss Steele had thought a man was following her across the parking lot, earlier.”
“Did your officer speak to Evie?”
“Sure did. Prickett said she appeared a little sad, but otherwise okay. She gave him a description of the stalker.”
“Did Prickett ask to step inside, so he could verify the guy wasn’t on the opposite side of the door, pointing a gun at Evie’s head?”
“Can’t say that he did.”
“Is that protocol?”
“No, it’s not.” Chief clipped his thumbs inside his duty belt. “I’ll be getting to the bottom of why.” His fingers rubbed over the evening scruff growing on his chin. “Prickett checked on the women ten minutes later and found one dead and the other missing.”
“Missing? How is it that none of the emergency personnel saw this guy take Evie?”
“We don’t know that he did.”
“What other conclusion’s possible?”
“Maybe she ran.”
The thought of Evie running for her life down the streets and alleyways, trying to evade her attacker, flipped his stomach.
“Why wouldn’t she have doubled back and sought help?”
“There’re more reasons than one for running.”
He stared at the chief, uncomprehending. “Are you insinuating that she had something to do with her friend’s murder?”
“The best of us are capable of the worst in us, with proper motivation.”
“No, not Evie. Not for something like this.” Deke circled the crime scene. “Did the bo
dy have any evidence of defensive wounds?”
“No.”
“Hesitation marks?”
“None. He made one deep, clean cut.”
“The stalker appears to be an old hand at slicing throats.”
“Now there’s a conclusion that doesn’t sit well, does it?”
“No, sir.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he pressed the chief again. “No one saw Evie or the guy exit the RV?”
“We suspect they used the driver’s side door. I’ve dispatched deputies in all directions.”
Striding to the front of the cabin, he maneuvered into the driver’s seat. His hands ached to smooth over the steering wheel. The last place Evie’d likely touched. She must be so scared. Had the bastard hurt her? Was it Eli Harwood? Had to be. Everything’s pointing to him with big, neon red arrows.
But he didn’t have his mom’s psychic ability, and her gift had only ever worked with her immediate family.
“In your investigation of Gracie Gilbert, have you come across any evidence related to Eli Harwood—or the Harwood clan?”
“Harwood,” Chief repeated in a flat tone. “Is that the bright idea you spoke of earlier?”
Eyeing the sheriff, he wondered if he’d made a fatal mistake. Could the sheriff and Blaze Harwood be pals? They were of a similar age. Both elected officials. Worked together at the city.
“Any evidence of Harwood’s involvement?” he asked again.
“Your brother’s our only suspect, so far. Heard from him?”
“As I mentioned during my interrogation, my family and I are estranged. I know little of their comings and goings.”
Chief Middleton’s attention moved to a spot beyond Deke’s shoulder. His eyes narrowed before sharpening on Deke once again. “Looks like your brother’s got something he wants to share with you.”
Angling around, he found Dylan crouching behind a dumpster, motioning for Deke to join him.
So much for staying put.
As he reached for the door handle, Prickett and a deputy emerged from the shadows and shoved his brother to the ground.
47
Evie’s terror increased with each step she took through the cave-black woods. After driving his truck off the road and stuffing it into a dense web of trees and shrubs, they hiked deep into a blackened mountainous landscape, along an invisible path that only Eli could see.
After what seemed an eternity, she could stay quiet no longer. “Where are we going?”
Silence.
“Eli?”
“Keep your mouth shut.”
The impact of his palm against her shoulder forced her to stumble and go down on one knee. Again.
Mr. Talkative used shoving as his means of navigation. Unseen vines and decaying logs littered the forest floor, which gave her a 50-50 chance of staying upright versus kissing dirt.
Using her scraped, bound hands to push off the ground, she rose and continued. Minutes later, the underbrush became thicker, and brambles caught onto her thin capris and tore into her bare calves.
She bit her lip, catching the cry before it emerged. She didn’t stop. In fact, she increased her pace and plowed through, knowing the brambles meant sunlight. Sunlight meant the edge of the woods. Edge of the woods meant moonlight. Moonlight meant openness.
Like her Steele siblings, she’d spent years traipsing through the mountains and hiking miles of trails. Many people labeled her a city slicker, at first glance. She loved dresses, high heels, and dangly earrings.
However, she loved hanging with nature more.
Down she went, again. Raspberry thorns scraped her cheek and caught in her long hair. She sat back on her heels, trying to disentangle herself. Rough fingers curled into her hair and yanked her upright. Tears stung the backs of her eyes at leaving a good amount of her tresses behind.
Another push, and she bolted through the last of the brambles. The trees thinned and moonlight sprayed her face. She refused to look down at the damage to her legs and arms and hands. She had more serious things to worry about.
Eli grabbed the back of her shirt, hauling her to a stop. He came to stand beside her, his attention shifting from a dilapidated barn to their left and an old farmhouse with several more modern outbuildings farther in the distance.
The isolation pressed in on her, sucked the last breath from her lungs and killed the final dregs of her hope. No one would find her here. This place would become her tomb, her grave. A vacuum for her screams.
Poor Deke. When he found the carnage Eli left behind and discovered her missing, he’d be out of his mind with worry. He might not realize he loved her yet, but he cared about her.
If only she’d been smarter. Intelligent enough to alert Sergeant Prickett of the danger and save Rachel.
Rachel. Good God, Eli’d murdered her while she’d lain helpless and unconscious. The depravity of the act was beyond imagining.
“If you scream or try to escape, I’ll stab you a thousand times. Then I’ll hunt down your boyfriend and stab him a thousand times in front of his mama.” He grabbed her forearm. “Step where I step.”
As they neared the barn, three large dogs barreled toward them. Their vicious barks put her muscles on lockdown.
But only for a split second.
She nearly ripped her elbow out of socket trying to break free of Eli’s hold. “Let me go! They’re going to tear us to shreds.”
Eli growled a low, firm command, and the dogs stopped. They didn’t sit or stand or return from where they came. They paced. Tail tucked, ears down, head low.
Her captor continued toward the barn. His barn? Or rather, his father’s? Could this be Harwoods’ estate? Had they been walking on Harwood land since leaving his truck?
No wonder Eli knew the area so well. This was his home.
Once they reached the rear of the barn, Eli’s confident steps became more stealth-like as he rounded the side. He paused at the next corner for so long that she bent forward to see what had him so transfixed.
His arm speared out, clotheslining her throat as he flattened her against the barn wall. Her head bounced off the weathered planks. Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed for strength, courage, and the wits to outsmart this creep.
She had to find a way to escape.
To return to Deke.
Grabbing the knot between her wrists, he towed her along behind him, slithering into the barn like a feral cat sneaking in his evening meal.
The scent of decades-old dirt, fetid straw, and excrement filled her nostrils. She’d experienced the smell many times before, but something else, another more acrid, stomach-disturbing odor hovered around the edges.
He led her toward one of the half dozen horse stalls lining the wall. Moonlight didn’t penetrate this deep into the building, and the stalls reminded her of gaping mouths ready to consume their visitors.
Once she stepped into the stall, blackness overwhelmed her senses. She had no grasp of time or position. For all she knew, a dead body could be lying two feet away. A familiar hysteria began to bubble to the surface, taunting her mind, pushing her to flee.
A click, click reached her ears a moment before Eli’s phone light flicked on. He shone the beam on a wooden ladder descending beneath the floor. “Go.”
The sight blasted her back to her family’s cluttered storage shed. Spider webs, beetles, dust on everything. Locked door. Black night. Hot. Hungry. Scared. Urge to pee. Alone.
Even though the incident had happened over fifteen years ago, the cold sweat and paralyzing fear was the same. Jonah wouldn’t find her this time. No one would. Not in this creeper’s hellhole.
She shook her head.
“Get down there, or I’ll throw you down.”
Backing away, she said, “I can’t.”
He stepped toward her, and she bolted. She didn’t stop to think about the stab wounds he promised to inflict on her and Deke or of her hatred for running. In that moment, eight-year-old Evie gained control of her mind and body and had but one purpose.<
br />
Escape.
Every muscled churned, answering her demand for speed. She got as far as the opening, where a twelve-foot sliding door hung at a disturbing angle, before he tackled her to the ground. She let out one, piercing scream before he buried her face in the dirt.
“Shut up!” he demanded in her ear. “Shut up, you stupid hellcat.”
She thrashed like a madwoman, knowing instinctively this was it. The End. But the Steele blood running through her veins refused to let her die without a fight. She wouldn’t cower, cry, or beg. She’d become the hellcat he accused her of being.
Her courageous stand lasted only a few satisfying moments before his fist clocked the side of her head, throwing her world into darkness.
48
“Boss, remember when I made that crack about Gold Star and China?”
“Jax,” Deke readjusted his earpiece, “no jokes. We’re ready to head over to Harwood’s.” A contingent of SONR and Steeles geared up all around the fountain located in the park where he and Evie’d stumbled upon Gracie Gilbert.
“You’d be nicer to me if you knew what montage of happiness I’m about to spin your way.”
“Jax—”
“Fine. Call me just the facts Jax.” A maelstrom of typing echoed through his earpiece. “Once I got us back online, Taj tapped into Harwood’s trucking schedule. Every month, our little wildlife trafficker’s company makes a trip to Wilmington.”
“You’ve got my attention. Go on.”
“Wilmington has an international seaport. So many ships come and go from these ports that it’s impossible for Service agents to inspect every shipload.”
“Interesting, but?”
“Next to each of Harwood’s Wilmington entries is a ‘GS’ designation.”
“Gold Star,” he murmured. “Harwood’s entered the illegal wildlife trafficking arena on a global scale.”
“Ding, ding, ding. I’m placing my bet on China.”
His phone vibrated.
Vasquez.
“Good job. Let me know if anything else pops up.” He peered down at his phone’s display again. “Any more leads on Harwood’s mole?”
Roaming Wild (Steele Ridge Book 6) Page 25