Call Back: Magnolia Steel Mystery #3 (Magnolia Steele Mystery)

by Denise Grover Swank

  I plastered my back to the wheels closest to the building, hoping the wheel and the shadows would hide me from view. I dug my phone from my pocket and read the time—10:55. Five minutes before Colt had told the (almost certainly fake) person on the other line to pick up the gold.

  A dark sedan slowed to a crawl as it reached the semi, then inched around the cab of the truck at a snail’s pace. When it reached the other side, it stopped with the engine idling. The slow thump of its windshield wipers set me on edge.

  My heart beat against my chest and fear crawled up my spine as I heard the dull clunk of footsteps on the concrete.

  Where was Colt? Had he snuck around the corner and out of sight?

  As the footsteps moved closer, I realized that if the person looked under the truck, I’d be in plain sight. I scrambled toward the wheels directly in front of me. Pain pulsed through my left hand, and I looked down to see I’d rested my palm on a piece of jagged wire jammed beneath the wheel. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. After a beat, I held my breath, listening for the sound of footsteps over my heartbeat pounding in my ears, but the rain was falling hard enough to drown out the sound.

  After several seconds, curiosity got the better of me, and I peered between the two sets of tires to see what was going on, hoping the shadows would hide me since the sedan’s headlights were pointed in the opposite direction. A man in dark pants and a dark, hooded jacket was bent over what I’d bet a dog full of gold was space #145. After several seconds, he emerged with a packet in his hand. His back ramrod stiff, he stared at the end of the alley before turning to face the truck. The shadows covered his face.

  I held my breath again, but he got back into his sedan and drove to the end of the block. I had a minor freak-out, worried he might see Colt, but he turned right, and the sound of the car’s engine grew softer as it drove away.

  I waited a good thirty seconds after the sound of the car disappeared before I started to crawl out from under the truck. “Colt!” I shouted over the rain. “Where are you?”

  A solid metal door ten feet from the barrel opened and Colt stepped out of it. “Magnolia? What the fuck? What are you doing here?”

  “I knew you were coming. I heard your phone call in the apartment.” My hands hit the wet pavement, and I was halfway out when I was jerked to a halt. My pant leg had snagged on the piece of wire.

  “You could have gotten yourself killed!” he said, sounding pissed. “Get out from under there now.”

  “I’m trying,” I grunted as I reached behind me and tugged on my pant leg.

  The sound of a revving engine—a car, moving fast—filtered to us from the front of the industrial park.

  “I’m not shitting, Magnolia.” His voice rose in pitch. “Come on!”

  “I’m not either!” I said in a panic. “My pants leg is caught on a wire.”

  “Dammit!” Colt disappeared, the door shutting.

  “You’re leaving me?” I cried out in disbelief, my pants no closer to being free. I was about to start crawling back under the truck to hide when Colt burst through the door, running for the semi with something in his hand.

  He dove under the truck with me as headlight beams lit up the alley from the opposite end.

  “Fuck!” Colt spat out as he held up a pocket knife. “He figured out the gold wasn’t there.”

  The sight of Colt brandishing a knife and pointing it in my direction caught me off guard. I shrank back into the wheel well.

  He gave me a look of disbelief, but didn’t comment as he sliced through the fabric and cut me free.

  Now was not the time to fall apart.

  The sound of screeching tires filled the air, and suddenly the headlights were illuminating the area under the trailer. The car was headed toward us.

  I pulled myself together as Colt practically threw himself on top of me, shoving me into the wheel well. “Did they see us?” I asked in panic.

  “We’re about to find out,” was his tight reply.

  The car came to a skidding halt, and seconds later a male voice shouted, “Come on out, Austin!”

  “He knows who you are?” I whispered.

  “Of course he knows who I am,” Colt said in disgust, then his voice softened. “I don’t think he knows you’re here. Stay hidden and let me deal with this.”

  “No!” I whispered-shouted. “He’ll kill you.”

  “No. He wants the gold, and he doesn’t think you know where it is.”

  “I don’t know where it is.”

  “Exactly. That makes you expendable. He thinks I’m the only one who does know, and he’ll never get it if I’m dead. So trust me on this.”

  I grabbed his sleeve in a tight grip and twisted to look up into his face. “No! Colt, please don’t do this.”

  “I’m tired of waiting, Austin,” the voice shouted over the rain. “And I know you’re under the trailer, so come out before I start shooting!”

  I strained to hear the voice better, trying to figure out if I recognized it, but there was so much noise interference—the rain, the windshield wipers, my frantic heartbeat—it was hard to tell. Besides, if it was Owen, I’d never heard him shout like this before.

  “Maggie,” Colt said, sounding frantic as he tugged at my hand. “Let go. He’s going to kill you.”

  “He’s going to kill you too,” I said in a tearful voice.

  “No. He won’t,” he whispered. “Just trust me, okay? Now listen. If I say go, run for the door I just came out of. Got it?”

  “What about you?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll follow.” Then he broke free of my grip and shouted, “I’m coming. Don’t shoot!”

  I started to cry. I couldn’t let him get killed because of me. “Don’t do it.”

  Colt cupped my cheek and searched my face. His own face was shrouded in shadows. “Mags. I’ve got this. Promise me you’ll stay hidden unless I yell go.”

  I wasn’t sure I had another choice. I nodded. “Okay.”

  Still holding the side of my head in his palm, he leaned in and placed a quick kiss on my forehead. “Good girl. Be ready to run as fast as you can if I give the word.”

  Then he handed me the pocket knife and shouted, “I’m coming out, and I’m unarmed.”

  “Then do it!” the man shouted.

  Colt crawled on hands and knees. “Don’t shoot.”

  “Keep your hands where I can see them!” the man shouted.

  It maddened me, but I still couldn’t tell if I recognized his voice.

  Colt got to his feet and took a step.

  I realized the phone was still in my left hand and the knife was in my right. I put the knife down, swiped at the screen, and opened the camera app with fumbling fingers, turning on the video. I held it out enough to pick up a glimpse of Colt.

  “Stop right there!” the man shouted in a raspy voice. “Where’s the gold? The package was empty.”

  “I don’t know,” Colt said. “But I know it wasn’t meant for you.”

  “Don’t be a smart ass, or I’ll shoot you where you stand! I want that gold bar now!”

  Shit. This guy wanted to know the location of the gold, and Colt was clueless. I wasn’t so sure Colt would escape this unscathed.

  “I left it there,” Colt said. “My contact must have taken it.”

  “I want it!” the man shouted. “And the rest of the gold too.”

  “And I want a brand-new Lexus, but we don’t always get what we want.”

  A gunshot rang out, and I nearly dropped the phone and screamed. There was the sound of metal hitting metal—the bullet must have ricocheted off the metal floor of the trailer several feet from me. Clapping a hand over my mouth, I turned and tried to peek around the tire to make sure Colt was okay. He was still standing.

  “I don’t have the gold,” Colt shouted, sounding panicked. “Stop shooting at the ground!”

  The man didn’t answer and there was silence for several moments, long enough to worry me. I peeked throu
gh the tires, poking my phone out to capture the guy on video. I wanted confirmation that it was Owen Frasier—and so far I didn’t have it.

  The figure stood in front of his car, the headlights on behind him, casting his face in shadows, not that I could see much of his features anyway. He was still wearing that hooded jacket, and the hood was up and over his head. It was impossible to tell who he was. I moved quickly behind the tire, out of sight, but continued to hold up the phone.

  “Where’s the gold?” the man shouted.

  “It’s hidden.”

  “I want it by Saturday night. Or I’ll kill Magnolia. I swear.”

  “I’ll get it!” Colt insisted.

  “I know you’ll be at the fundraiser Saturday night. Bring it there. I’ll be in touch with instructions.”

  “To a masquerade ball?” Colt asked in disbelief. “Am I supposed to show up as King Midas?”

  “How you transport it is your problem!” the guy shouted.

  It seemed like the bad guy’s problem too—he was going to have to cart it off after Colt delivered it . . . but what was I thinking? Colt couldn’t deliver something he didn’t have.

  “Don’t try some bullshit move on Saturday,” the man said. “I won’t be so forgiving next time. In fact, I know Magnolia is hiding underneath that trailer, and I just might take her with me as collateral to prove I’m serious.”

  Oh shit. I tried not to panic as I picked up Colt’s knife. Everyone knew better than to bring a knife to a gunfight, but it made me feel better to have some sort of weapon.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Colt asked.

  “I saw someone else under there when I pulled up, and I know you two are working together.”

  For the first time since I’d known him, Colt didn’t have a smart-ass answer.

  “Not to worry,” the man shouted. “It’s in my best interest to leave her alone for now. Remember—Saturday night. I’ll let you know the time later. And don’t tell anyone about this, or I’ll kill her anyway. Now turn around and place your hands on the truck and stay that way until I leave.”

  Colt didn’t answer, but I heard a slight banging sound on the metal to my side. Seconds later, the car began backing up, then got to the end of the alley and took off.

  I turned off the camera, which most likely captured nothing more useful than a bunch of images of the bottom of the trailer, and waited what seemed like forever. It was most likely about ten seconds, but Colt finally said, “It’s safe to come out.”

  I peered around the side and then glanced up at Colt, who now stood several feet away from the truck, scrubbing his hands over his head.

  “Was it Owen?” I asked as I crawled out, still holding the knife. I cringed when the rain started pelleting me again.

  “I don’t know.” He sounded frustrated. “But I don’t think so. The headlights made it impossible to get a good look. But it really didn’t sound like him.”

  I debated asking whether he’d had enough previous contact with Owen to recognize his voice—and if so, why—but decided to let it go. Priorities. “What are you going to do? We don’t have the gold.”

  He paced a couple of steps. “I don’t have the answer for that either.” Then he turned and reached for me. “I think he’s gone, but we need to get the hell out of here.”

  A new wave of fear hit me, anchoring my feet to the concrete. There was no way for Colt to comply with the guy’s demand. “What are we going to do?”

  “I’m going to find the gold. Now come on.” He marched over, took the knife from me and closed it in a single, fluid movement, and then grabbed my upper arm.

  I came to my senses and shuffled my feet to keep up as he dragged me through the door and into the dark space beyond it.

  “I know you didn’t put the gold bar in the package,” I said, “but do you still have it?”

  “Yeah. I have it,” he said. “Obviously handing it over wasn’t in our best interest, but I had to give him something. And I had a feeling he might come back after the note I left.” A thin beam of light clicked on, and I realized it was from Colt’s phone. It lit up the space enough for me to see it was a small office area, but Colt was already opening another door and pulling me with him.

  The flashlight beam didn’t cast much light, but I could tell we were in a small warehouse space and Colt’s truck was in front of us.

  “What did it say?”

  He chuckled. “Let’s just say I insulted him in almost every way a person could, from his masculinity to his intelligence.”

  I glanced around the room. “How did you get in here?” I asked.

  “A friend of a friend.” Still gripping my arm, he pulled me around the back of the truck and to the passenger door. After he shoved me inside, he shut the door and disappeared, but a garage door was already opening into the alley on the opposite side.

  Now I knew where Colt had disappeared to after the sedan pulled up. He must have run around the building and come into this space, but I still wasn’t sure how he could have watched the guy pull up and check behind the barrel.

  He got into the truck as the garage door continued to open.

  “What was your big plan?” I asked. “Were you going to confront him?”

  “Does it look like I intended to?” he asked in a short tone.

  “Then how were you going to find out who it was?”

  He turned to me with anger-filled eyes. “I had a plan, Magnolia, and you just fucked it up.”

  My stomach tightened as he started the truck, maneuvered it into the alley, and then parked and got out, leaving his door hanging open. He punched a code into the key pad on the side of the building, and the door began to close.

  He got back and shifted into drive. “Where’s your car?”

  “In the apartment parking lot, next to this property.”

  Colt drove down the alley, then turned toward the back of the industrial park instead of the entrance.

  “Why are we going back this way?” I asked. Did he plan to go back and look for evidence by the barrel?

  “I’m trying to save your life.” He shot me an exasperated glare. “Do you trust me, Maggie? From here on out, I need you to trust me. Because you’re either all in or you’re not. What do you pick?”

  I had several reasons not to trust Colt—I was sure he had his own agenda—but I was also sure he’d keep trying to protect me. He’d proved that several times. I made my decision—stupid or not, only time would tell.

  “I’m in.”

  Chapter 13

  My nerves were so strung out, I didn’t even realize where Colt was going until he pulled up to a metal box on top of a pole. There was another gate at the back of the property. He rolled down his window and punched several numbers into the pad.

  “How do you know the code?” I asked as the gate began to slide open.

  He frowned as his hands held the steering wheel in a death grip. “I told you. I have a friend of a friend.” When the door was open wide enough, he drove through the gate into the neighborhood I’d seen on the satellite map.

  “Why are you going out this way? My car’s in the parking lot behind us.”

  “Because he might be watching the front.” He kept darting glances at the rearview mirror intently as the gate closed behind us. Probably making sure the guy didn’t follow us.

  “He knew I was there.”

  He sighed as he drove away from the park. “Not a surprise, I guess. If he made out a woman, it wouldn’t be a leap for him to assume it was you. I need to figure out what to do with you.”

  His phrasing caught me off guard. I involuntarily sucked in a breath and slid toward the passenger door—and was instantly filled with shame. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, yet my instincts had taken over. I was in survival mode.

  He shot me a glance with narrowed eyes. “That’s the second time tonight you’ve acted like you’re afraid of me. Why?”

  “It’s not you,” I said. “Just all those years in the big c
ity. Instinct.”

  He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go as he continued to drive, checking his mirrors. Several blocks later, the street ended at the junction of another street. After taking another sweeping glance at our surroundings, he turned right, even further away from my car.

  I almost asked him what he was doing, but I’d already told him that I trusted him. And while that didn’t mean I was going to let him call all the shots, I decided to keep my mouth shut for now.

  Colt turned right and drove for nearly a half mile until we came to a church on the right side of the road. He pulled into the lot and parked in the back, out of sight from the road.

  “Why are we back here?” I asked, turning in my seat to face him.

  He was quiet for several seconds. “I’m trying to figure out what to do to make sure you’re safe.”

  I started to shake, both from fright and the cold—my clothes and hair were soaked. Colt slid off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders, then turned on the heater.

  “He didn’t threaten to hurt me until Saturday night, right?” I paused, preparing myself for an argument. “Maybe we should tell Brady.” Sure, if the guy turned out to be Owen, Brady and Owen were friends, but I had to believe he would protect me, and Colt in turn.

  Colt smacked his open palm on the steering wheel. “I knew you would want to tell him. I warned you not to get close to him.”

  “Colt,” I said, turning sideways in my seat and leaning toward him. “He can help us.”

  Rage filled Colt’s eyes. “I swear to God, Maggie, if you tell him, we are done as friends.”

  I gasped, feeling like he’d just stabbed me with his pocket knife. I’d expected him to fight me on it, but I’d never expected his reaction to be this strong. “Colt!”

  “End of discussion.”

  “Is this because you have a record? You think he won’t treat you fairly?”

  He shot me a look.

  “I know about your past, Colt. Or at least that you have one. It stands to reason you’d have a record.”

  “It’s more complicated than that. I’ll tell you what I can, but for now, please trust me that we need to keep all of this as far away from the police force as possible. And that includes Bennett.”