Mistletoe Justice

by Carol J. Post

  Worry slithered through him. If Wiggins’s people saw Nicki drop him off in the wee hours of the morning, Darci’s parents would never make it off Cedar Key. “Did you warn them to make sure they’re not being followed?”

  “Yes. I told them to call Hunter.”

  “So what do we do now? You need a safe place to stay.”

  “I’m going to find out what Wiggins is doing.”

  His chest tightened, and though he didn’t want to hear the answer, he asked the question anyway. “How do you intend to do that?”

  “I’m going to camp out in the woods at the mine and stay there until I get to the bottom of it. Claire saw something, something she was convinced would put Wiggins away.”

  “And it got her killed.”

  “What choice do I have?” Desperation filled her tone.

  “Let the police handle it.”

  “And what do we tell them? We think there’s something shady going on but have no idea what?” The desperation had given way to sarcasm. “We don’t have any evidence to take to the police.”

  She was right. They couldn’t ask the authorities to investigate based on a hunch.

  “I’m not letting you do this alone.”

  “You’re being watched. I think we found that out tonight.”

  He cringed at the reminder. “Give me some time. I’ll figure out a way.”

  As soon as he ended the call, he began to pace. Kyle was asleep, having gone to bed a long time ago. The TV was on low, a movie that he’d lost interest in shortly after it had started. He walked into the kitchen to get a drink of water, then returned to the living room. And an idea began to form.

  He picked up his phone. It was late, too late to be making calls. Mike would just have to forgive him. So would Mrs. Peggart.

  He finished the two brief conversations, then pocketed his phone with a smile.

  He had a plan.

  * * *

  Conner stepped out of the woods that bordered the rear of Mike’s house, a pack strapped to his back and two motorcycle helmets in his hands. His friend had been holding on to his bike for the past week, more than enough time for the promised tune-up. Tonight Conner needed it back.

  Instead of circling around to the front of the house, he knocked on the back door. Fortunately, Mike lived only a mile away, because he’d made the entire trip on foot, slipping out his own back door as soon as darkness had fallen and staying under the cover of trees as much as possible.

  Mike stepped out onto the patio. “As promised, it’s all ready.” He led him toward a large carport that held an old Mustang, a four-wheeler and two bikes. The Suzuki was Conner’s.

  Mike eyed the backpack and handed him the key. “I’m not even going to ask what you’re up to.”

  “Good, because I wouldn’t tell you.” He pulled a couple of bills out of his wallet. After strapping one helmet to the back, he put on his own and settled himself onto the seat.

  Within a few minutes, he was on Highway 19-98 headed south, ticking off the miles between Chiefland and Crystal River. Mrs. Peggart had agreed to spend the night. So he could focus his entire attention on Darci.

  He turned from 19 onto Turkey Oak, then slowed as he approached 495, scanning the edges of the road. This was where they were to meet. But after he pulled off, a half minute passed with no sign of her. Then she stepped out of the woods carrying her purse and some plastic bags. When she crossed into the beam of his headlight, his heart dropped to his knees and almost stopped.

  A fist-size bruise covered the left side of her jaw, and that side of her lower lip had ballooned to twice its normal size. Her right cheek was a matching shade of purple, with swelling that extended into her eyelid, pulling it halfway closed.

  He threw the kickstand down and rushed to her, drawing her into his arms.

  She immediately stiffened. “Don’t squeeze. I think I have some cracked ribs.”

  “Wiggins is going to pay for this.” The words bore the strength of a promise.

  For several moments, he held her, emotions at war within him—fury at Wiggins for everything he’d put her through, determination to see justice done and tenderness toward the woman in his arms, so sweet and gentle and caring.

  And he had to name one more: love. He couldn’t deny it any longer. Though he’d fought it with everything in him, he’d fallen in love with Darci Tucker.

  But regardless of what he felt for her, he wouldn’t pursue anything permanent. Because if he did, he would fail miserably. Just like his dad and the string of stepdads that followed. He couldn’t do that to Darci.

  He reluctantly released her, took the bags from her and handed her the other helmet. After he secured her bags and shifted the pack to his front, she settled in behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. A half mile from the mine, he pulled off the road and killed the engine.

  “We’ll push this into the woods so it’s hidden from the road. Then we’ll hike in. Are you up to it?”

  “You’d better believe it.”

  He again strapped the pack to his back and gripped the handlebars of the bike. The night was quiet, the silence broken only by the crunch of the leaves and pine needles beneath their feet. Traffic on the road behind them was nonexistent.

  “I think this is good.”

  He removed a small flashlight from his pocket, then took her hand. They would stay just inside the woods along the road, then move in deeper along the gravel drive leading into the mine. He wouldn’t risk the cameras picking up their movements.

  “So what’s inside the pack?”

  “Snacks, a couple of bottles of water, a thin blanket and a video camera. Have you eaten today?”

  “Yes, dry cereal for breakfast, a can of soup for lunch and a can of beans and hot dogs for dinner. All cold, of course. But I’m just thankful that Nicki had stocked the kitchen with lots of cans that had pop tops.”

  “What about water?”

  “I have two water bottles that I’ve kept filled from public water fountains.”

  “Good.” Darci was resourceful. And she was smart. If anyone could take care of herself, she could.

  He stopped walking and removed the pack from his back. “This is the closest we can get to where I saw the backhoe tracks and still be hidden.”

  After pulling the blanket from the pack, he spread it out on the ground. Then they settled down to wait. Hopefully, something would happen soon.

  Or it was going to be a long night.

  ELEVEN

  “Darci, wake up.”

  The words seemed to come from a distance, hollow and faint, and she tried to tune them out. She was comfortable and content and wasn’t going to let anything intrude.

  “Sweetheart.”

  She turned away from the sound. Then a hand on her shoulder brought her instantly awake. She bolted upright with a gasp.

  “Sorry I startled you.” Conner was on one knee, looking down at her, bathed in filtered moonlight.

  She shook her head to clear it. “I fell asleep.” She was in the woods, exposed and vulnerable. But she’d felt secure enough in Conner’s presence to actually sleep.

  “It’s eleven o’clock, and someone’s coming up the drive.”

  Now that Conner mentioned it, she heard it, too, the crunch of gravel and the hum of an engine. He extended a hand and pulled her to her feet. A half minute later, a pickup truck appeared around the corner of the office building and continued its path away from them. It came to a stop near the Caterpillar backhoe. A moment later, a man stepped out.

  Conner leaned toward her. “Do you know him?”

  Darci squinted into the darkness. A half-moon shone from a cloudless sky, but it didn’t offer enough light for her to identify the man at that distance. “I can’t tell.”

&n
bsp; The backhoe cranked up and a spotlight on top came on. Then it turned and started to crawl toward them. Less than a hundred feet from where they stood, it stopped and began to dig. Its claw-lined bucket plunged into the earth again and again, creating a mountain of dirt next to an ever-widening hole. Someone was getting ready to bury something—something big, based on the size of the hole.

  She looked past him to the mounds in the distance. The mine extended for several hundred acres behind and to the right of the offices. But none of the mining work happened this close to the woods. Tonight’s activities weren’t related to the operations of P. T. Aggregates.

  Finally the man stopped digging and shut off the backhoe. The spot stayed on. The door on the side opened, and he stepped down and lit a cigarette.

  “Now do you recognize him?” Conner’s voice was a soft whisper. With the backhoe off, everything was once again wrapped in silence.

  “Not at all.” He wasn’t an employee of P. T. He was a big guy with an air of toughness. As he stood with his feet planted wide, taking long drags on his cigarette, she hoped neither of them would have to tangle with him.

  But maybe she already had. He was the right size to be the guy who had beat her up. And he was a smoker. Chances were good that if she got close enough to see his eyes, they would be a deep, vivid blue.

  When another vehicle made its way up the drive, the backhoe operator flicked his cigarette onto the sand and ground it out with the sole of his shoe. He waited with his arms crossed as a car rounded the back corner of the building. Wiggins’s Mercedes.

  Conner unzipped the pack, removed his video camera and set it to record. Wiggins pulled into a parking space, then got out and approached the other man. Conner followed his movement with the camera.

  “They’ll be here in thirty minutes.” Wiggins’s words were terse. “You done?”

  “I’m ready.”

  Wiggins made a large circle around the hole, then began to pace, the cockiness that he always exuded conspicuously absent. What was wrong? Did he sense his days of freedom were coming to an end?

  A half hour later, almost to the minute, another vehicle came up the drive. This one was much larger, sending a deep vibration through the ground beneath their feet. A large dump truck moved toward the backhoe and the two men standing there. It made a sharp right, then began to back toward the hole. There were no identifying markings, no company logo painted on its doors.

  Leaving the truck running, the driver exited and walked the length of it to release a lever on its back. After he returned to the cab, the front of the dump bed began to rise, adding the hiss and whine of hydraulic pistons to the low rumble of the engine. The dump gate, hinged at the top, swung open and a dozen or so fifty-five-gallon drums rolled into the hole.

  She cast a glance at Conner. He was still recording, capturing every detail. They had discovered at least one of Wiggins’s criminal activities. He was having toxic waste dumped at the mine. They had proof. Tomorrow they would turn the recording over to the police.

  Excitement coursed through her, and the black cloud of worry that had hung over her for the past five weeks vanished, giving her a sense of weightlessness. It was almost over. In less than twenty-four hours, she could return home. Her parents and Jayden would be on their way back to Florida. And she would have her life back.

  “Hey!”

  The sharp word shattered that newfound serenity and sent shards of panic spiking through her. She shifted her gaze back to the men. All activity had ceased. Wiggins stood with his arm outstretched, index finger pointed in their direction. The backhoe operator stood next to him, eyes scouring the woods. The door to the dump truck swung open, and the driver dropped to the ground. He, too, joined the others.

  Darci swayed as terror crashed down on her.

  They had been discovered.

  * * *

  Conner lowered the camera, panic scattering his thoughts. They were outnumbered three to two. And more than likely, at least one of the men was armed. People who did their business under cover of darkness usually were.

  Without taking his eyes from Wiggins and his cronies, he reached for Darci’s hand. If they ran, the men would hear them and be on them in moments. But if they stayed where they were, they would be sitting ducks. The record light on the camera, as small as it was, had given away their position. He needed to call 911.

  But there was no time. Wiggins moved toward them, the other men flanking him.

  “Turn over the camera, Tucker, and no one will get hurt.”

  Conner squeezed her hand. Wiggins was a liar. As soon as he had the evidence in his possession, he would kill them both.

  He stuffed the camera into his jacket pocket. “Run!” His command was a sharp hiss.

  Darci didn’t hesitate. She jerked her hand from his and sprinted away, her path carrying her deeper into the woods. He stayed right on her heels. Heavy footsteps sounded behind them.

  Wiggins’s girth would hold him back. They could easily outrun him. But the truck driver looked to be in excellent shape. The backhoe operator was huge, like a grizzly. But grizzlies were deceptively fast.

  A shot rang out, and pine bark peppered his right cheek and arm like shrapnel. That was too close. They had a chance of outrunning the men, but not their bullets.

  Then Darci stumbled in front of him and went down with a thud and a grunt. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t change direction, couldn’t even take a panicked leap over her. One foot caught her body, and for a half moment, he went airborne. Then he, too, hit the ground. Nicki’s too-large shoes. He should have brought her some that fit.

  The footsteps grew louder. He held up a hand, motioning her to stay still. They couldn’t run now. The men were too close.

  “Stop.” The command came from either the truck driver or the backhoe operator.

  The forest fell silent, except for some rustling in the distance, probably Wiggins bringing up the rear.

  “Listen.” It was the same voice as before.

  “I don’t hear anything.”

  “That’s my point, you idiot. They’ve stopped running.”

  Conner tried to still his breathing and sent up a silent prayer. Darci was likely doing the same. As long as the men didn’t pass too close, the underbrush would help conceal them, even though it wasn’t as thick as in the summertime.

  A flashlight beam swept the area, passing right over their heads, and Conner flattened himself against the ground.

  “Get your tails in gear.” Wiggins had almost caught up to the others and wasn’t happy to see them idle. His tread was heavy, and he wheezed as he walked.

  The same man who had called for the halt answered. “They’re close by. We’d probably hear them if we didn’t have Sasquatch lumbering through the forest with us.”

  Wiggins countered the insult with a threat. “If you let them get away, you’re going to wish all you had to deal with was Sasquatch.”

  He now stood with the other men, all of them only twenty feet away. The glow of a cell phone illuminated Wiggins’s face, then disappeared as he pressed it to his ear. Conner’s own phone was still in his pocket, if he hadn’t broken it during his fall. As desperate as he was to make that 911 call, he didn’t dare try.

  Finally Wiggins spoke. “You’d better get out here. Your girlfriend just videotaped everything.”

  Conner didn’t miss Wiggins’s sneer on the word girlfriend. Who was he talking to, Fuller?

  Wiggins spoke again, this time louder. “I’m giving you one more chance to give yourself up, Tucker. Give me the camera, and I’ll let you walk out of here.”

  Conner waited. Darci wouldn’t fall for it. She was too smart.

  “Fine. Have it your way.” The cell phone came out again. Several seconds passed in silence before Wiggins spoke again. “Go get him. We need some insuran
ce.”

  Go get who? An answer tried to weave its way into his mind, but he shut it out. Jayden was with Darci’s parents. They would have arrived in North Carolina hours ago.

  Unless they never made it out of Levy County. Or maybe Wiggins’s men followed them to Murphy, just in case they needed to pull that card. A sick sense of dread settled over him. If anything happened to Jayden, it would kill Darci.

  If Wiggins didn’t kill her first. He sent up another prayer.

  “Listen up.” Wiggins was in commander mode. “You two spread out, keep looking. I’m getting the dog.”

  Conner’s breath hitched as a new fear gripped him. Wiggins was coming back with Genghis. Although the pit knew him, he didn’t know Darci. But if commanded to attack, it wouldn’t matter whether the dog knew him or not.

  The two men moved away, deeper into the woods, as Wiggins backtracked. Over the next several minutes, the crunch of dried leaves sounded all around them, gradually fading. The men were combing the forest for them.

  Conner raised himself to a crouch and pulled out his cell phone. He couldn’t call 911 without being overheard. But he could send Hunter a text and pray with everything in him that the officer had his phone on him. Concealing the light as well as he could with his jacket, he keyed in the message—At mine. SOS. Send help. He would attempt the 911 call later.

  He rose without making a sound, then helped Darci to her feet. Since the men had moved farther ahead, their best bet would be to go back the way Wiggins had, then head for the road. If they could make it to his bike, they could escape.

  They retraced their steps, moving more slowly than they had earlier, more concerned with stealth than speed. Actually, they needed to be concerned with both. Soon Wiggins would be back with Genghis. God, please let us reach the bike first.

  A deep, menacing bark pierced the still night, putting some speed in his step. The barking grew closer, then became frenzied. Genghis had smelled them, or maybe heard them. He was hot on their trail.

  Conner stepped over a downed tree and bent to tuck the camera into a fork. If they escaped, he would bring the authorities back with him to retrieve it. If Wiggins caught them, he would use it as a bargaining chip.