by Jenna Night
Yeah, tough girl, you can give me a hard time about hanging around the hospital with you if you want, Martin thought. But you were glad I was there.
And he was glad, and grateful, that he was there, too.
“I was outside, about to get into my car and go to the grocery store, when those two mobsters grabbed me,” Shannon said, her voice quavering a little.
She went on to describe how she was taken at gunpoint. That Jimmy Nestor was already in the SUV the fugitives were using. How they took her to the rec center, tied her up and made the recording to send to Daisy.
After the shoot-out at the shopping mall, they drove to the forest on the west side of town near Pearce Park and waited until dark. Then they took her to the abandoned building downtown where they locked her up in a windowless office. She’d seen Tony Valens for a few brief moments before she was locked up.
“I thought they were going to leave me in that office to die,” Shannon said, letting go of Daisy’s hand to wrap her arms around herself as if she felt a chill.
Daisy leaned against her mom’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Her voice caught in her throat. It sounded like she was fighting back tears. “It’s my fault this happened to you.”
“No.” Shannon shook her head emphatically. “These people decided to do evil things. That decision is on them.” She turned to Daisy. “You do everything you can to bring people who hurt others to justice, and I am so proud of you for that.”
She turned to Martin. “And I am so proud of you, too.”
Martin felt his eyes sting a little. Neither of his parents had ever told him that they were proud of him. And he’d convinced himself that wasn’t a big deal. Until now. The truth was, having someone say those words to him felt good.
“I was certain they weren’t going to let me live, because they didn’t hesitate to kill that man at the rec center.” Shannon closed her eyes for a few seconds and took a couple of deep breaths. “And also because they spoke so freely in front of me, to each other and on phone calls, it was pretty clear they weren’t worried about what I might tell the police.” She shook her head. “They weren’t planning on me being alive to tell the authorities anything.”
“What did they talk about in front of you?” Martin asked.
“The main thing I remember is what I told the police sergeant when Daisy and I were first rescued. That their mob boss wasn’t too happy with them nearly being captured by a bounty hunter in Montana. That they needed to tie up loose ends so they sent a message about how dangerous their organization was and they didn’t give the impression they were a bunch of weak idiots. That they had to kill Daisy.” Shannon sniffed loudly.
“From what I could hear, they weren’t given permission to jump bail back in Miami,” she added. “The mob bosses wanted them to keep their mouths shut, go to trial and do prison time if they had to. But they didn’t want to do that. So they ran, heading first to Atlanta, and then here. I overheard other things about mob stuff, but I don’t remember much of the details. It’s kind of a blur.” She turned to Daisy. “But I heard the boss say that they had to kill you if they wanted to get back into his good graces. That they couldn’t afford to let their competitors—or the cops—see a small-town bounty hunter get the best of them.”
Daisy turned to Martin. “So what exactly do you think we’re dealing with? Are their mob cronies here in Jameson helping them to find me and kill me, or are they doing it all on their own?”
“I don’t know.” Martin held her gaze as several possible scenarios of what could happen if they didn’t find Daltrey and Bunker in time—all of them terrifying—played through his mind. “I don’t know. I do know we have got to find where Daltrey and Bunker are hiding. The question is, where do we start?”
“Start with what you know,” Daisy said softly, repeating her favorite bounty hunting advice. “Daltrey and Bunker drove out to Pearce Park when they had Mom. And that’s where their truck was found abandoned. Maybe they feel safe there. Maybe they’ve gone back there. Or maybe some long-term camper out there saw something. Like the vehicle Daltrey and Bunker drove away in after they abandoned the truck.”
That was a lot of maybes. What Martin wanted was definite answers. Two mob hit men were coming after Daisy to kill her. It was possible they had additional help. The bad guys needed to be captured, now.
Martin’s biggest fear—besides the possibility of Daisy getting killed—was that Daltrey and Bunker would find a good place to lie low for a while, until the heat was off and law enforcement turned their attention toward other, newer, seemingly more pressing crimes. And then the assassins would come after Daisy.
Please guide us, Lord, Martin prayed silently.
And then, to Daisy, he said, “Okay. Tomorrow morning, after the sun comes up and we can see what we’re doing. Let’s go out to Pearce Park and see if we can find any sign of them.”
EIGHT
“If we wait until the sun is completely up, Daltrey and Bunker might see us coming if they’re here in the park,” Daisy said.
“True,” Martin responded. “But if we go in when it’s too dark, we could stumble over them before we know they’re there.”
“Okay.” She looked toward the ridgeline to the east of them, where the skyline was already turning a lighter shade of blue. “We’ll wait a couple more minutes.”
They were in Martin’s truck, parked on the northern edge of the sprawling Pearce Park Campground parking lot. There was no campground attendant on-site this late in the season, but people were still allowed to camp in the park until the first heavy snowfall. After that, the access roads would be closed up and the pipes carrying fresh water to the campground would be closed off and drained so they didn’t freeze and rupture in the winter.
If Martin were on his own, he would already be searching for the fugitives in the darkness. He’d done it plenty of times in the past, successfully finding the target he was tracking. He could move silently through the forest. Daisy, on the other hand, was not so quiet. She was a good tracker in the woods. Her dad had taught her some very useful skills. She was mindful of her movements, and disciplined. To a point. And then her impatience kicked in. At which point she would step on a stick or kick a rock, make some kind of sound that would alert a forest creature that would then chirp or scurry away in alarm and then their cover would be blown.
He’d tried talking to her about it, but it didn’t help. Nobody could be good at everything. And in Daisy’s case, any time she fell short of her aspirations she tended to beat herself up pretty hard. Especially when it came to bounty hunting. She focused on the searches so intently, wanting so badly to see that justice was served, that any stumble or shortcoming on her part became a personal failure in her mind.
Martin had told her to lighten up about it once, and had nearly gotten an iced tea flung in his face for his troubles. So he kept his mouth shut. For now. But he would probably approach the topic again at some point when things weren’t so tense.
“Since the cops came out here and did an area search after the abandoned truck was discovered, didn’t find Daltrey or Bunker, and left, I think there’s a fair chance our fugitives came back,” Daisy said. “They can’t rent a motel room without running the risk of having the cops alerted. This place is familiar to them. And if they stayed out here, they wouldn’t exactly be in plain sight.”
“It’s about time to get out of the truck and hit the ground,” Martin said. “What do you want to do?”
“Head into the forest about fifty or a hundred yards until we connect with one of the paths crisscrossing the campground and see what we can find. I can’t imagine our fugitives hiking deep into the forest, packing food, water and weapons and a tent or sleeping bag. It’s not like they’re looking to stay for a long time and set up residence. They just want to hang around Jameson long enough to kill me, get back into favor with their criminal friends and then have those friends help them ge
t out of town before anyone can find them.”
“All right. And depending on the situation, we might want to question any campers we come across and find out if they’ve seen anything helpful,” Martin said.
The top edge of the sun finally crested the mountain peaks to the east, sending gold rays of sunlight streaming through the branches of the surrounding towering pines. Martin could now clearly see the fear and uncertainty visible in Daisy’s eyes despite the confident tone of her voice. If she were looking closely at him, she would probably see the fear in his eyes, as well. Fear that he might lose her. Because the truth was the good guys didn’t always win. Not in this lifetime.
He held out his hand toward her. And after a slight hesitation, she slipped her hand into his. “Lord, please protect us and everyone else connected to this search,” he prayed. “Please help us find the men we’re looking for. And help us to remember that You are with us always. Amen.”
“Amen,” Daisy echoed, squeezing his hand before she let go. “Let’s get to work.”
They got out of the truck, both of them carrying sidearms tucked into holsters. But they’d agreed that they wanted to avoid firing shots if at all possible. There were people here in the park, and a bullet flying through the air could easily pass through the thick pine needles and hit an innocent unseen person.
Daisy led the way to a path in the woods not far from the parking lot. “This leads to a cluster of campsites with dug-in grills that make it easy to start a fire and keep it going. Maybe they’ll be camped there. It’s below freezing at night now. Our fugitives will need to stay warm. Plus, there’s a spigot where campers can get fresh, clean water. That could draw them, too.”
They followed the path, and soon Martin smelled something cooking. After a couple of sniffs, he decided it was bacon. The path turned and thin smoke drifted into view.
“Let’s slow down,” Daisy said. “Try to look like we’re campers out for a morning walk instead of bounty hunters searching for somebody.”
“If we see them but they don’t see us, let’s just keep walking,” Martin suggested. “We can call the cops, get enough people out here to set up a secure perimeter and then capture them.”
“Agreed,” Daisy said. “I’m way beyond caring about who makes the arrest or about me earning the bounty recovery fee. I just want them locked up.”
Most of the campsites were empty. The rising sun warmed the light layer of frost that had formed on the pine needles, creating droplets that fell whenever Martin or Daisy brushed against them.
They moved closer to the inhabited site that was the source of the smoke and scent of bacon cooking. Through the tree branches alongside the trail, Martin spotted two men by the cookfire, with two small tents behind them. He moved his hand toward his gun, despite his intention not to use it in a setting where there could be innocent civilians potentially in his line of fire. But sometimes a situation arose when you didn’t have much of a choice and you had to do something you didn’t really want to. If the men at the campsite turned out to be Daltrey and Bunker, and they came out shooting, Martin would have to respond in kind.
He glanced at Daisy. She’d slowed her walk considerably as she tried to get a good look. The men were wearing hoodies pulled up and cinched, heads tilted down toward the bacon sizzling in frying pans, faces not clearly visible. Their hands were tucked in their pockets, where they could be holding guns.
A crow cawed loudly from a pine branch behind the bounty hunters. Martin immediately spun around, his heart hammering in his chest. The shadowy creature flapped its wings and flew off, leaving bouncing green branches and a cascade of falling droplets in its wake.
Were they being followed? Should he and Daisy take cover? As a bounty hunter, Martin had to strike a balance between caution and taking action. That wasn’t always easy to do. Especially when someone he cared about was targeted for murder.
As they drew closer to the men by the cookfire, Martin quickly considered what he would do if he were in Daltrey’s or Bunker’s shoes. He would probably separate from his partner while they were at the campground. People who were hunting the fugitives would be looking for two men together. Plus, it would be smart to have one man keep watch some distance away from their camping spot while the other one slept. And there was no arguing against the reality that these hit men were smart.
So he and Daisy didn’t just need to get a closer look any time they saw two guys together out here. They needed to check out individuals, too. And hope that they hadn’t already been spotted by one or both of the fugitives the minute they drove into the parking lot. And all of that was on the assumption the men were here. They might not be.
They were finally just about even with the two men at the cooking fire. “Get ready,” Daisy whispered. “I’ve got to make some kind of noise so they’ll look at me and I can see their faces.”
Not exactly what Martin wanted to hear. But it was a reasonable action. If they weren’t assertive in their search, they were wasting their time.
Before they were in full view of the men, Daisy kicked a rock. It skittered across the path, hit a tree trunk and made enough noise for the men to look up. And then one of them looked back at the cast-iron skillet over the fire and called out, “Food’s just about ready!”
A woman crawled out from one of the tents. A second woman emerged from the other one.
The men were not Daltrey and Bunker.
Martin and Daisy continued along the trail for a while, passing only one other campsite that was inhabited. A man and woman looked like they’d set up permanent housing, with a tent big enough to hold a large family. The couple were friendly and waved to Martin and Daisy.
“We’re looking for a couple of people,” Daisy said after their initial greeting. She showed them pictures of Daltrey and Bunker.
“These are the guys the cops were out here looking for,” the man said. The woman nodded vigorously in agreement. “These two left a truck up here, I think. The cops towed it away after they came through the campground questioning everybody. We never saw those two men ourselves. Heard they were wanted for some kind of crimes.”
“So you haven’t seen the two men in these pictures around here?” Daisy asked. “Are you sure? Because they might have come back to this area in the last couple of days.”
The man and woman looked at each other, shook their heads and then turned back to Daisy. “No,” the woman said. “Haven’t seen them.”
After talking to the couple, Martin and Daisy headed back toward his truck. Their hike around the campgrounds didn’t get them the result they wanted—they hadn’t found any sign of Daltrey and Bunker—but that was part of bounty hunting. Sometimes you put energy into something and didn’t get a payoff.
At least Daltrey and Bunker hadn’t launched an attack on them from the cover of the forest. That was something. Knowing the hit men had spent time right here in the park and specifically this campground still gave Martin an edgy feeling, even if the assassins weren’t here right now.
Daisy sighed heavily as they walked. “Well, there’s a whole lot of park that we haven’t covered yet and we can’t check it all. We might as well head back to the office and see if we can drum up some other leads to follow.”
They made their way out of the forest to the edge of the parking lot, then walked through the dappled sunlight to Martin’s truck parked beneath a tall pine.
When they got closer to the truck, Martin looked down and his blood ran cold.
All four of the truck’s tires were slashed.
* * *
“It might have been vandals with nothing better to do,” Daisy said, doing a quick turn completely around after noticing the ruined tires to see if she needed to be really worried. She didn’t see anybody watching them. “Maybe it was just bored kids.”
“You don’t really believe that,” Martin said.
“I want t
o.”
Her hand shook with adrenaline as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I’ve got a good mechanic,” she said. “He’ll dispatch a tow truck right away. Peak Bail Bonds will pay for the damage.”
“I’m not worried about that,” Martin said tightly.
Daisy tapped her screen a couple of times, listened to the call connect and start to ring at the other end, and then heard the crack of gunshots and the dull thunk of bullets hitting Martin’s truck right beside her.
“Gun!” Martin yelled, and they sprinted side by side across the parking lot, away from the shooter and into the woods.
Daisy fought to keep her footing while running on uneven ground and rocks for several yards. Finally, she took a quick glance at Martin running beside her. “Did you see the shooter?” she gasped, her lungs already burning from exertion and tight with fear.
“No.” They were moving into a stretch of downward-sloping terrain that would eventually take them to one of the many tributaries of the Spruce River.
“We need to head to the base of the cliffs by the river,” Daisy called over to Martin. “If we get down there we can find a place where our backs are covered and we can see anyone who’s coming after us.”
“Good idea,” he replied.
Daisy had fished down there with her brother and her parents many times as a kid.
She reached for her phone to call for help and felt sickened when she realized she didn’t have it. She must have dropped it when the gunshots startled her in the parking lot. Or else she’d tucked it into her pocket out of habit and it fell out when she’d started running.
“Phone,” she called out. They had to call for help. They were in the Montana wilderness. If someone had heard the shots fired at Martin and Daisy in the parking lot, they might not realize that it meant someone was in danger. They might think somebody was just target practicing and not bother to report it.
Martin looked in her direction and she saw him reach into his pocket. The next thing she knew, he grabbed her arm, yanking her with him as he took cover behind a pair of trees with thick trunks that had grown close enough together to form a useful barricade.