The Indigo Brothers Trilogy Boxed Set

by Vickie McKeehan

  The memory brought a smile to Raine’s lips. “Not really. For a woman who loved the water, going below a certain depth scared her. And she wasn’t too good yet at going through her pre-dive checks. I told her I thought they missed a few steps with her training. After only about three hours of short dives, she was ready to come back home.”

  The recollection faded as she suddenly blurted out, “My God! She planned to dive for that gold even back then. That’s how seriously she took Walker’s gold fever.”

  Mitch frowned, not willing to consider it. But the longer he sat there, the more convinced he became. “It definitely shows she wanted the gold as much as Walker did. And was ill-prepared to help him find it. Maybe that’s one reason she brought Nathan into the mix.”

  Raine took his hand. “I think you just have to accept she brought Nathan in because she trusted him.”

  “Trusted the wrong damn person,” Mitch muttered. “I’m glad Dietrich killed him. Although I would like to have gotten more information out of him at the time.”

  Feeling better about heading off to a potential crime scene, she stood up. “Come on. Let’s go see what’s happening at the bridge.”

  By the time they reached the trestle, Garret and Anniston had been joined by Jackson and Tessa. It was a surreal sight to say the least. Crime scene technicians mulled about the area, spreading out with shovels and pickaxes to flay along the boggy shore. They’d already taken readings from ground-penetrating radar and mapped out coordinates for their grid.

  Mitch stared at Anniston as she peered through a pair of binoculars. “It’s a shame we can’t get closer. If we could, we might be able to make out the radargram.”

  “Good thing I brought these with me then,” Anniston remarked, gripping the field glasses. “Those soil layerings come off as dash lines, right?” She glanced at Jackson for confirmation.

  “Yep. Anything else and it falls into either man-made or natural. When man-made doesn’t fit in the surroundings you change the equation, then they have to consider the alternative.” Jackson continued to study the reactions on the faces of the techs. “Let me see those binoculars.”

  Anniston reluctantly handed them over.

  “Based on what I see it looks like they’re using an advanced system with high resolution. They’ve already picked up on a couple of anomalies in the ground.”

  “You can see all that from here?” Mitch queried.

  “Oh yeah. But don’t get your hopes up quite yet. The soil conditions here are far from ideal, too much clay and salt. Unless that state-of-the-art system they’re using is able to take that into consideration, they’ll likely get false readings.”

  “All they have to do is start digging,” Anniston grumbled, taking back her binoculars. “If they catch sight of us, they’ll probably ask us to skedaddle soon anyway. But until they do, I’m planted here for the duration.”

  Getting caught up in the scene, Raine focused on the techs plotting the gridlines. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s the spot where you said you saw Sinclair with the woman. They’re already starting to dig there in a twelve-foot perimeter. That’s encouraging.”

  It was, but Mitch decided the grueling part tended to be reliving the scene that day so many years ago as a child. He could still see Sinclair’s big hands wrap and tighten around the woman’s throat. He remembered how she fought, her eyes filled with fear, her fingers trying to clutch at Sinclair’s to stop him. No matter how she’d fought, she’d lost the battle for her life.

  They watched together until time for Raine to leave for work. When he started to head to his truck, Raine protested. “You can stay here. You don’t have to come with me.”

  “Nope. It’s okay. You’re right. This likely will take all day. Maybe a couple. But now, the bagels are wearing off. I’m hungry for a taco.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five - Justice

  Raine couldn’t believe how well the two of them worked together over an eight-hour period. And not just once or twice, but consistently. She might not be able to picture Mitch doing restaurant work for the rest of his life, but she’d always remember the week he pitched in and slogged through the chores like a fiend to help her out.

  It made her smile now and always would.

  While she changed out one of the soda canisters at the self-serve beverage station, she thought of waking up that morning to find his hard body next to hers. His arm around her. His breathing shallow, his sleep deep and tranquil. She could get used to starting her day like that.

  He must’ve read her thoughts because he came up behind her. “Need some help?”

  She chuckled. “If you knew how many times I’ve done this per week, you’d know I could change out the drink canisters in my sleep. It’s a sad fact.”

  “Not sad exactly. You’ll always have a fallback skillset,” he teased, then stared at what looked like a complicated weave of hoses underneath the cabinet that resembled a set of wires to an explosive device. “On second thought I’m not sure I could handle connecting the right barrel of soda to the appropriate tube.”

  “It takes a couple of training sessions. Which reminds me. I put an ad in the Indigo Dispatch for counter help, second shift. I’m hoping I get at least ten applicants.”

  “Is that possible in a town this size?”

  She cracked a grin. “Probably not. But hey, a girl can hope there’s someone out there who wants a job in food service and who knows what a cash register looks like.”

  “Maddie’s been in a mood ever since the lunch rush. What’s her problem?”

  “Her daughter, Gabby, recently went through a bad breakup. Since Gabby still lives in Memphis, Maddie worries. It’s hard for her knowing her daughter’s going through something so emotionally shattering and living so far away...” Her voice trailed off. She suddenly snapped her fingers. “Why didn’t I see this before now? Gabby could relocate down here. It would solve two problems. Gabby would get away from the ex who keeps bugging her and she’d get to spend some quality time with her mother.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Hmm, Gabby’s around my age.”

  “This is a tourist town, a vacation spot with plenty to keep you busy if you like to live around the water. You think this Gabby would be interested in working here?”

  “It’s worth a shot. She worked at the same hamburger dive as Maddie, so she knows a thing or two about the restaurant biz.”

  “You could build the place up, the town, I mean, make it sound like it’s a smaller version of Key West.”

  Raine laughed. “You mean lie?”

  “We’re just as laidback,” Mitch pointed out.

  “Yeah, but I hate to exaggerate we’re the smaller quirky version when all these murders have happened here.”

  “I read somewhere the murder rate in Memphis is pretty high.”

  “And what do you think our murder rate is now?”

  “Okay, you have a point. Then stick to the facts and let Gabby decide for herself.” Mitch picked Raine up and whirled her around before setting her feet back down on the concrete floor. “Maybe she could work a full forty hours. That way, it would give you more downtime.”

  “Wouldn’t that be terrific? I’m marching in there right now and suggesting it to Maddie.”

  “Go for it.” He gave her butt a little pat before she disappeared into the kitchen.

  Glowing with a happiness she hadn’t felt in some time, she darted through the swinging door and into the prep area.

  A hand came from out of nowhere to clamp around her mouth.

  Alarm zipped along her spine.

  She felt his breath—heavy on her ear first—before seeing the ring on his hand.That black and gold insignia again. She glanced over to where Maddie lay unconscious on the floor.

  The sight of her cook crumpled in a heap had Raine’s survival instincts kicking in, a newfound strength surging through her veins. This time she didn’t intend to go quietly. She stomped on Sinclair’s foot right before ramming her elbo
w in his ribcage as hard as she could.

  While he struggled to tighten his hold, she spotted a fork someone had left out on the counter. Grabbing the utensil, she jabbed it into his forearm. “Not so tough without your Ketamine to knock me out this time, huh, asshole!”

  He yanked the fork out of his flesh. “That’s like a mosquito bite to me. You’ll have to do better than that, missy!” He took out a short-barrel .357 from his waistband, pointed the stainless steel pistol at her chest.

  “What, you’re going to shoot me now, right here? Why not strangle me like you did Darla Pendleton?” Raine realized she might’ve pushed the wrong button when she watched Sinclair’s eyes glaze over in a crazed, sick look.

  “What do you know about it?”

  “Haven’t you heard? They’re digging under the bridge even as we speak.” She could tell that one statement got into the man’s head.

  The wheels began to turn inside as he began to think about what that meant. “Since when? What are you talking about?”

  “Since this morning. Once they find what’s out there, you’re done in this town, history.”

  Mitch came through the swinging door like a battering ram, head down, diving headlong into Sinclair’s body, knocking him off his feet.

  The gun went off, sending a bullet into the ceiling.

  Mitch grabbed Sinclair’s arm, trying to make him drop his hold on the weapon. He was able to bend it back so that the chief lost his grip. The gun skidded across the floor, landing under the prep table.

  “Do you ever pick on anyone else besides women?” Mitch yelled as he pounded his fists into the man’s face.“Come on, old man.Give it your best shot.”

  Mitch dodged the chief’s attempt at a right cross, and landed another punch, then another. After three blows, one after the other, Sinclair lay sprawled on the floor, his lip busted and bleeding, his nose trickling red.

  Mitch stood up, walked over and picked up the .357, pointed it at Sinclair. “I should kill you for what you did to my sister and her kids.” He saw the fear in the cop’s face. “But I won’t. I want you to suffer the humiliation of losing your precious badge and everything you hold dear. I want all your dirty secrets laid bare for everyone to see. I want you disgraced, dishonored, because I know that means more to you than anything else, except for the gold, of course.”

  Mitch went over, snatched up a kitchen rag to bind Sinclair’s hands behind his back and saw Raine holding an iron skillet.

  “Just in case you lost the skirmish,” she uttered.

  He grinned. “But I didn’t. Call Briggs.”

  Raine’s hands were still shaking when she went to the wall phone and dialed 911. “See to Maddie. I’ll have them send an ambulance.”

  Mitch went over to the cook and felt for a pulse. He ran his fingers around her head and found a bump and a gash matted with blood. “Tell the EMTs she’s unconscious from a bad rap on the skull. But she’s breathing. How long before Briggs gets here?”

  “Dispatch says he’s on his way.”

  “Good. I want to watch him drag this piece of shit off to jail.”

  By the time Briggs rushed into the eatery with Vargas and Grey, Jackson and Garret were waiting alongside Mitch outside the kitchen. The trio stood guard next to Jessup Sinclair.

  The paramedics had taken Maddie to the hospital and Raine had gone with her.

  Mitch shoved Sinclair toward the captain and watched as Vargas replaced the dishrag binding with metal handcuffs. “He came in here armed and tried to kidnap Raine again. I’m getting tired of doing your job for you.”

  “That’s patently false,” Sinclair stated. “I came in here to arrest that scumbag and he resisted, broke my nose in the process, and then overpowered me. Get these cuffs off me. Now! You should be slapping them on him, not me.”

  “Nice try,” Briggs fired back with a finger pointed toward Sinclair. “I’ve got you on CCTV, kidnapping Raine Manning and loading her in the back of your police cruiser. And that’s just for starters. I have DNA that matches yours from Livvy Buchanan’s body. Because of that I’m charging you with first degree murder under special circumstances, including the kidnapping and murder of Ally and Blake Buchanan.”

  He angled toward Turner Grey. “Read this asshole his rights and get him out of here.”

  That proved more difficult as the state cop moved to take Sinclair into custody. The chief of police refused to budge. “You aren’t taking me anywhere.”

  Like a surly teen, Jessup Sinclair began to protest by kicking and elbowing Turner and Vargas. A string of curse words sailed through the air until two uniformed state patrol officers stepped forward and muscled Sinclair to the floor. They got a better grip on his head, locking his neck in a tight chokehold before taking hold of his feet. It took all of the men to lift Sinclair toward the door, all the while battling the chief’s fit of temper as he wriggled and twisted his body like a toddler who didn’t want to leave the playground.

  The men carted him out the door feet first. But midway to the car, Sinclair changed tactics and started the bawling act. His obscenities changed to wailing like a sick beagle. Once they reached the cruiser, they dragged him into the backseat. Changing his method yet again, Sinclair took to kicking the inside of the vehicle.

  Mitch glared at Briggs. “This time you’d better keep him locked up. If I go near him again, I’ll rip him apart and you won’t have to worry about search warrants or gathering any more evidence.”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Briggs grunted, assessing the fight scene through the open door in the kitchen.

  “I’m just telling you flat out,” Mitch warned. “If you don’t find a way to keep him in jail for good—”

  Jackson stepped in the captain’s path. “You owe us, Briggs. If you’d arrested him a week ago, even yesterday, or this morning—take your pick—he wouldn’t have been able to come in here today in broad daylight and pull a gun and threaten Raine again. What do we have to do to make you understand Sinclair’s a danger to the community?”

  Briggs held up his hand. “Okay. Okay. I get it. You’re pissed off. But things don’t sail through the justice system that fast. We went to Sinclair’s house around noon. His wife said he’d packed up and left. We were able to execute a search warrant, though, found a few items that might interest you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Normally my response would be the usual canned PR stuff, but Jackson has a point. I do owe your family a measure of honesty when it comes to the investigation.” Briggs shifted his feet. “Sinclair has a shed at the back of his property. My men are still going through it now. But so far, we’ve found a cell phone belonging to Dack Hawkins, some papers he apparently had in his possession at the time of his death, along with a flash drive. The fact that these items are in Sinclair’s possession now points to him as Dack’s killer.”

  “The flash drive should have Walker’s emails on it,” Garret added. “It’s one of the things Dack had agreed to share with Anniston. That’s why we were out there that night.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, Sinclair found out about the exchange somehow and made sure you didn’t get your hands on the information. Now I just have to prove it.”

  “Which means something in the emails must’ve implicated him and his buddies in a big way. Why would he still keep that stuff around?” Garret wondered.

  Briggs tugged on his ear. “These men may have gotten away with a lot of criminal activity over the years, but they don’t fall in the genius category, not by any standards. They’ve simply been lucky. Eventually, luck runs out. I figure the remaining guys—Baskin, Dandridge and Frawley—are somewhere in hiding.”

  “What about Royce Buchanan? Do you intend to go after him?”

  “If the case takes me his way, of course I will. But the feds will be here tomorrow to begin their investigation into bribery charges. I think they’re serious about prosecuting him for a string of racketeering.”

  “What did you do with Wendy?”r />
  “She’s on her way to Tallahassee and to an undisclosed location for her protection. Why?”

  Mitch narrowed his eyes. “Because if that man you just dragged out of here finds out she’s cooperating, she’ll never last until you get anyone to trial.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six - Justice

  Raine sat by herself near the emergency room entrance, waiting to learn news about Maddie’s condition. When she looked up and saw Anniston and Tessa walking through the double doors of the hospital, she sighed with relief.

  “You okay?” Tessa asked, squeezing Raine’s shoulder. “We got here as soon as we heard.”

  “I’m fine. Sinclair didn’t hit me over the head with a meat mallet.”

  Anniston made a face. “Ouch! Is that what he used on Maddie?”

  “Yep. Picked it up right off the counter where she was standing and walked up behind her, used it to smash her over the head. Bastard knocked her out cold. Have people in this town gone completely mad? Did they at least arrest him this time? I mean, Mitch overpowered him and tied him up, but the way our luck’s been running, Sinclair will figure out some way to beat the charges and get out on bail.”

  “Not this time,” Anniston vowed. “Briggs requested a special prosecutor to come down here to oversee all the indictments. The list is long. They said Sinclair cried like a toddler all the way to jail. Want to see his mug shot?” She took out her phone, flipped to the camera logo, held out the series of bursts showing Sinclair’s face, so Raine could get a good look, maybe even a good laugh.

  “Oh, my God, look at him, he’s bawling like a big ol’ baby.”

  Tessa peered over her shoulder. “How the mighty have fallen. I wish I could storm in there and ask him why he and those assholes had to kill Ryan.”

  “Maybe we’ll get some answers,” Raine prompted. “Although looking at his eyes and that faraway distant look, I’d say he’s already lost it. I hope they put him on suicide watch.”