Blaise wondered what could have led Grace up the mountain the night she and Gypsy crashed. What did she know? What did she suspect? What was she doing up here at night? And who the fuck was after her?
“Thinking about Grace?”
“Yeah,” Blaise sighed. “I keep wondering why she was up here that night and who was after her. We’re only checking out the area because she was with the TSA. Maybe there’s something we don’t know about her and something she doesn’t remember. Maybe we’re all wrong about—”
“You know how we investigate,” Marc interrupted. “We sift through the evidence, piece by piece. You’re right…we have no idea why she was up here and we may be on a wild goose chase now. But at least we’ll know more than we did before we came. Up in the air, we can check out Luke’s blip.”
Now, up in the air while still flying low, Patrick and Marc carefully perused the ground below them as the plane hummed along while Blaise waited impatiently on the ground.
“You doing okay up there?” Patrick asked.
Marc chuckled and said, “Just like riding a bike. I remember my dad teaching me how to fly. God, I thought it was the greatest feeling ever.”
Before Marc could reminisce anymore, Patrick called his attention. “Look down there—on the right side. There’s a small field where a strip of dirt is showing between the crops and runs straight into the woods.”
“You may have something,” Marc said, excitedly. Checking his coordinates, he flew over one more time. “Look over there,” he pointed. “The road goes by the other side of the woods and it looks likes there’s a lane going from the road toward the fields.”
Armed with newer information, Marc turned the plane back toward Bob’s field. Landing several minutes later, he taxied to the old barn. Alighting from the plane, Marc and Patrick walked over to Blaise and Bob, who were waiting for them, beers in hand.
After sitting for a few minutes, talking about the flight and planes in general, Bob eyed the two men speculatively. “You weren’t really just up there reminiscing your childhood, were you?”
Marc pinned the old farmer with his sharp gaze for a moment. Grinning, he said, “What can you tell us about the farm up the road about ten miles? The lane is on the left of the road and disappears into trees before coming out to a field that appears to have a cleared off strip running right through the middle of the cornfield.”
Bob leaned back in his rickety chair, pushing the brim of his ball cap up slightly as a slow grin formed on his face, deepening the weather-worn creases. “Figured you musta had a reason for going up. I seen that field. Owned by another farmer. Joe Savine. Never had much dealings with him…seen him around a bit. I ain’t seen planes landing there, but I seen that strip when I was up. Sometimes I fly over and ask if anyone needs my dusting service. He didn’t want any, so I don’t fly over there anymore. But just because I ain’t seen anyone land…doesn’t mean I ain’t seen them fly over.” He pierced Marc, Patrick, and then Blaise with his stare, measuring them.
Grinning, he said, “You gonna tell me what you’re looking for?”
Blaise was the first to speak. “A woman was chased and run off the mountain road not too far from here about a month ago. We think she may have seen something that someone did not want her to see. And then they went after her.”
At his blunt explanation, Bob’s smile dropped from his face, his grey eyes flashing in anger. “Ain’t got nothin’ against Joe, but since he moved to the farm about four years ago, he ain’t never done anything to try to fit in with his neighbors. Ain’t unfriendly…just not friendly, and that ain’t the way we live ‘round here.”
The three men sat quietly for a few minutes, then Bob said, “You need me, or my plane, again, you come on by. You can take her up whenever you need…and I’ll even have a beer waiting for you.”
“We appreciate it,” Blaise said, standing with Marc and shaking the old man’s hand.
“We’ll let you know about the plane,” Marc added, “but I can guarantee we’ll take you up on the beer.”
Nodding, the Saints headed back down the mountain, more questions than answers still swirling.
Chapter 23
Bart exclaimed his greeting as he jogged up the front steps to Jack and Bethany’s home. Entering, he found the group anxiously awaiting his arrival.
“It’s a beautiful little girl, and both she and Miriam are fine. Cam’s fuckin’over the moon!”
The group erupted into cheers, as Bethany’s hand went to her small baby bump, meeting Jack’s hand already there. Smiling up at him, she said, “I’ll get the girls over later, but I have a feeling Cam and Miriam’s large families are filling up the hospital room now.”
The Saints then followed Jack down into the conference room, where strategy planning ensued. Listening to Marc’s description of the obscure airfield, they decided a nighttime reconnaissance was needed.
“I’ll go, of course,” Bart proclaimed, “but my partner is out of commission for a bit.”
“I want in on this,” Blaise said, his eyes catching Jack’s. “I want to be able to see, first hand, what Grace might have been dealing with.”
The other Saints shifted their gazes between Blaise and Jack, as they sat at the conference table.
“There’s no evidence at this time that Grace was anywhere near that field,” Jack stated calmly.
“I know that,” Blaise admitted. “But something sent her up the mountain. She has no friends there, no reason to be there. But she’s a trained TSA dog handler and she went with her drug-dog. There’s a strong possibility that there is a connection.”
“I should go as well,” Marc added. “I’m the only one with flight and aircraft experience. I can tell if the field has been used for flying and how recently.”
Jack acquiesced. “Alright. Tonight, Bart, Blaise, and Marc will go pay a visit to Joe Savine’s property.”
“I don’t want Grace alone,” Blaise said. Before he could continue, the other Saints quickly volunteered their protection.
Nodding his appreciation, he looked up as Jack proclaimed, “She’ll stay here tonight. Bethany would love the company and I have the most protected area.”
Grace’s safety decided, they continued their plans.
*
The jeep silently held to the curves of the mountain road, the headlights providing the only illumination. Having not been on the road at night, Blaise was once more assaulted with images of Grace having to hurtle down the road to escape whatever was after her.
Passing by Bob’s farm, they continued along the road, Marc following a map he had produced based on their air reconnaissance. Calling out from the back seat, he said to Bart, “About another seven miles on this road, then look for a dirt drive on the left.”
The miles churned in silence as the three men peered out of the windshield, watching for the drive. Over ten minutes had passed before Bart called out, “Got it.”
He pulled the jeep to the right-hand side of the road, turning around and tucking it slightly into a grove of trees for camouflage and for easier escape if they needed. Getting out, they donned night-vision goggles, as well as arming themselves. With a nod, Bart crossed the road with Blaise and Marc following.
Keeping to the edge of the wooded drive, they followed it for half a mile before seeing a small house in a clearing. A single light burned over the front door, but otherwise, the house was cloaked in darkness. The trio continued at the edge of the woods, circling around toward the back of the clearing. A few old, ramshackle outbuildings stood around as dark as the house.
Directly behind the clearing, another path led off through the woods. Once more, staying to the edge, they made their way toward the field. A large barn that had been built, it’s structure much newer than the old house, stood in the woods. Just enough trees had been cleared for the building and its roof was covered in tree limbs.
“Someone wants the barn hidden from the air or satellites,” Marc whispered. A wide dirt road ca
me directly from between the cornrows in the field to the front of the barn. The three squatted silently, assessing the area.
“If this is used as a transport area for illegal drugs, they may have sensors or security around,” Bart warned. A small red light, on the side of the barn, blinked in the darkness. “Bingo,” he exclaimed. “They do have security.”
“Can you deal with it?” Blaise asked.
“With these goggles on, you can’t see the glare I’m sending your way,” Bart joked. “Of course I can take care of it.”
He stealthily moved forward as the others stayed back. Bart moved out of their line of vision and within two minutes, the red light went dark. Grinning as they got the go ahead, Blaise and Marc moved forward toward the barn.
Slipping around the side that Bart had taken, they met up with him near the front door. “There are no ground floor windows and only this wide door here. As you can see, it’s wide enough for a small plane.”
“What do you suggest?” Blaise asked. He was an expert in many areas but bowed to Bart’s SEAL training.
“I’m climbing the closest tree and getting in that way. There is a window on the east side, close to the woods.”
Keeping watch, Marc and Blaise observed as Bart skillfully hefted his large body up the tree, moving out onto a branch that overhung the barn. It appeared the window was not locked and within minutes, Bart was inside. Soon the wide front door swung open, just enough to allow Blaise and Marc to pass through.
Continuing to use their goggles, they perused the large barn, built more like an airplane hangar than a farming barn. The structure did not have a loft; instead, the space rose to the vaulted ceiling. A separate room was in the back and, upon first glance, it appeared to be an office. Stepping inside, Blaise could see a metal desk containing a laptop and printer, along with a filing cabinet in the corner. Maps lined the walls but there was no other furniture or identifying evidence of its owners.
“I’ll check the computer,” Blaise said, sending Luke a text to alert him to be on standby. Gaining the go-ahead, he inserted the special drive into the computer and while Luke was obtaining the information, Blaise snapped pictures of the maps along the walls. Five minutes later, Luke notified him that he was finished and Blaise pulled out the drive then quickly dusted for fingerprints on the laptop, desk, and chair. Moving to the maps, he fingerprinted the corners where the thumbtacks were as well as the light switch. Lastly, he dusted the doorknob before cleaning the dust residue off all areas.
Re-entering the barn, he stalked over to where Marc and Bart had entered the storage area. Remnants of cardboard boxes and wooden crates scattered the floor, but otherwise, the room was empty.
“Should have brought Gypsy with us,” Blaise said, thinking of the dog’s training sniffing for drugs.
“Would she have worked for anyone besides Grace?” Marc asked.
“I think she would’ve worked for me,” Blaise replied, continuing to snap pictures.
The trio walked back to the hangar, Marc immediately circling the small plane. “It’s a Cessna 205s,” he remarked. “Can carry weight and its high wings are perfect for landing on dirt roads. But no way this came from Mexico. This must be what they use once in the country going from small airstrip to airstrip. Otherwise, it’d be detected.”
“So they get the drugs into the country, then have them shipped out with these little planes?” Blaise asked.
“That’d be my guess,” Marc said. “Get pics and we’ll get this to Mitch and his DEA contacts as well.”
Blaise stood unmoving for a moment, uncharacteristically lost in thought. Marc and Bart shared a glance, before moving over to their friend.
“Whatever happened to Grace that night…we’ll figure it out. And we’ll eliminate the threat to her,” Bart vowed.
Blaise jolted, nodding before moving around the plane, taking pictures, while Marc and Bart began fingerprinting the aircraft.
Once outside they saw another smaller outbuilding and moved in to investigate. Inside, they found an elaborate setup of mechanical equipment. Marc said, “Don’t know exactly what I’m looking at, but I have an idea this is where the satellite interrupters are located. Goddamn cartels have a fuck ton of money to keep the DEA from figuring out shit!”
Retreating, they made their way back to their vehicle, pulling their goggles off once inside. Heading back down the mountain road, Blaise’s mind churned with the possibilities. Even though they had no proof that Grace was involved in the Savine farm at all, his gut told him she had stumbled upon it and then had to flee for her life. But what made her come up here at all? What made her come searching that night?
*
Later that night, Blaise held Grace tighter than normal. She slept, but he found no rest. Earlier, when he picked her up at Jack’s, he filled his boss in on what they found and turned the pictures and thumb drive over to Luke, who would process them in the morning.
Grace’s greeting smile did nothing to ease his worry, but he covered it as much as he could. It appeared she and Bethany had fun and he did not want to spoil it for her. After spending weeks living like she did, I’m not about to bring her down. Even when she questioned him on the way home, he kept his responses noncommittal.
Now, hours later, he wanted answers. He wanted to know why she drove up the mountain that night…and what she found when she got there.
His attention jolted as he felt her twitch. Here they come, he thought, recognizing the beginnings of her dream remembrances. Some nights she would wake, remembering good times with friends or her family. Other nights, the terrors of the accident would jar her awake, sweating and shaking. What is tonight going to be, babe? He readied himself for whatever would come.
“Noooooo!” Grace screamed out into the night, sitting up quickly, her hands in front of her.
Before Blaise could act, she vaulted from her side of the bed. Gypsy, reacting to her mistress’ distress, barked as she rushed to her. Instinctively, Grace grabbed the large dog, pulling it close, each attempting to protect the other. Ransom, not to be left out, moved to the couple, tangling in Blaise’s legs as he tried to get to Grace.
“Goddamnit!” he shouted, tripping over the dogs before pulling Grace into his arms, sitting down on her side of the bed. Forcing his heartbeat to slow, he pressed her into his lap, tucking her head under his chin, his arms enveloping her shaking body. Glancing at the dogs, noticing Gypsy’s concerned eyes, he calmly said, “It’s okay, Gypsy. I’ve got her. Shhh.”
The large dogs quieted immediately, lying down at his feet. Gypsy appeared content, but her sharp eyes stayed pinned on her mistress.
Grace’s breathing slowly steadied as she felt Blaise’s arms holding her tightly. The horror of her dream stayed with her as she fought to keep tears from falling. After several long minutes of silence, she finally whispered, “A gun. He pointed a gun at me.”
These words were not what Blaise expected and his blood boiled at the thought of what she was saying. “Babe. Sweetheart, I need you to tell me what you dreamed. I want you to go into as much detail as possible.”
She lifted her head up quickly, bumping his chin, as she held his gaze. Licking her lips, she opened and closed her mouth several times but no words came out. Blaise twisted his body around, snagging the water bottle on the nightstand. She took it gratefully, swigging deeply, allowing the cool liquid to soothe her parched throat. Nodding, she handed it back to him and he replaced it on the nightstand.
Scooting backward, Blaise settled against the pillows piled up on the headboard and arranged her across his lap again, still holding her closely. “Babe, I don’t want you to push these memories away. As much as they frighten you, I want you to describe them to me.”
Sucking in a huge breath, she said, “I was…I don’t know where…but it was dark. And there were lots of trees around.”
His mind jumped to the Savine farm, but he did not want to lead her thoughts, so he asked carefully, “Like a park? Like where we u
sed to meet?”
“No, no. Not like that at all. The trees were thick…like woods. You know, with lots of undergrowth and brambles around. It was dark…nighttime.”
“Do you remember why you were there?”
Her forehead scrunched as she closed her eyes in thought. “Following…or maybe looking. It seems like I was moving with a purpose, but I…I don’t know what that purpose was.”
“Okay, okay. This is good,” he encouraged.
“Gypsy was with me. She was very quiet…we both were. We were following a wide path through the trees…it wasn’t paved. There was…a large building in front of us, but we didn’t go to it.”
“Do you remember seeing anyone or anything there? What did the building look like?”
Shaking her head slowly, she admitted, “No. I know we got closer, but there is just a black hole where the building was.”
She’s blanking out something…something that must be too difficult for her to come to grips with. “You’re doing great, Grace. Keep remembering.”
She leaned up, holding his gaze. “There’s a hole there. I don’t remember anything else about the building. But then there was a man and he had a gun. I saw him first before he saw me. I grabbed Gypsy and we started back through the woods the way we came. Then he was chasing me. He yelled for me to stop but we didn’t.” She bolted up from his chest, panting, “He fired at us. I remember him firing at us. I got back to the car and we jumped in. He ran out into the road after us and fired. But we were ahead of him. That’s when the headlights came into my rearview mirror and I knew we were being chased.” She lifted her dark eyes, filled with fear, to his once more and said, “Then I woke up.”
The two lay tangled together as Blaise encircled her body with his warmth. His heart pounded as much as hers, now sure that she had been at the farm. Her description is too similar to what I saw tonight.
“Don’t worry, babe. You’re getting close to your mind accepting what happened. That’s why your dreams are closer and closer to the truth. And I promise the Saints will find out who’s behind this.” And I vow to keep you safe, always.
Remember Love: Saints Protection & Investigations Page 19