by Metsy Hingle
Lights flashed in the road up ahead, and Justin slowed the truck to a crawl. Suddenly sirens screamed. Shouts followed. Justin saw the group of trucks, surrounded by more trucks and sedans equipped with flashing lights and sirens.
In the space of a heartbeat, he heard the roar of an engine, the squeal of tires followed by the unmistakable burst of gunfire. And then he saw the dark green monster of a pickup racing away from the chaos—and heading straight for them.
“Hang on,” Justin yelled to Angela as he cut his lights and shoved the Bronco into Reverse. The tires spun on the asphalt, and he jerked it to a stop and yelled, “Hurry! Get out!”
“Justin, no! You can’t—”
He pushed her out of the passenger door and onto the road. And praying she wasn’t hurt, that she would forgive him, he hit the gas and shot forward, then swerved the Bronco around so that it formed a blockade in the road. Quickly he shoved the gear into Park, and with the engine still running, he dove out the still-open passenger door. He had barely cleared the door before the green monster smashed into his Bronco. It was slowed by the impact but kept going, again picking up speed. Scrambling to his feet, Justin took aim at the fleeing truck and fired. But even as he did so, he knew there was little chance he’d hit his mark.
Then all he could think of was Angela. Spinning around, he searched the side of the road where he’d shoved her from the truck. When he spotted her lying there, his heart lurched. He raced over to her. “Angel, are you all right?” he asked as he knelt down beside her, helped her to sit up. He cupped her head in his hands and stared into her eyes. Relief flooded through him when she looked at him out of dazed blue eyes.
“Did I hurt you? Is anything broken?” He spit out the questions one after the other, all the while running his hands up and down her arms, her legs, checking her body to be sure she was okay.
What if she hadn’t made it out of that truck in time? What if she had still been in that truck when it was hit?
The questions ran through his head, and for the first time in his life he realized he knew real fear. Shaken by her narrow escape and furious with himself for the chance he’d taken with her life, it took Justin several moments to register that Angela was yelling at him.
“Justin, I said I’m okay!”
Finally her words penetrated. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” she assured him, her voice softening. “Now, will you help me up so we can see what’s going on over there?”
Justin helped her to her feet. Doing his best not to look at what was left of his Bronco, he and Angela made their way over to where an army of vehicles had surrounded six trucks. In what looked like a circus, a horde of what he presumed were federal agents were running around, shouting orders. Justin recognized several members of Del Brio’s crew spread-eagled and being cuffed while they were being read their rights. He also noted a number of cement bags imprinted with Mercado Brothers Paving and Contracting that were lying on the ground, slit open, and crosses, coins and other relics covered with powdery dust. He shot a look at Angela, realized she’d seen them, too, and had made the connection to her sketches. As he neared the heart of the melee, Justin shouted, “Who’s in charge of this circus?”
“I am,” came a familiar-sounding New York accent from the center of the fracas. When the man rose and turned to face him, Justin wasn’t surprised to see Angela’s neighbor Mr. Collins emerge from the group of agents. But he didn’t expect to see the man who followed behind him—his own deputy, Bobby Hunter. Within seconds, Justin put two and two together, and a red haze of anger took charge.
“Listen, Justin, I’m sorry about this,” Bobby began as he approached with the other agent.
Without preamble, Justin slugged him.
Two other agents grabbed him, restraining him before he could go at the deputy again. “You just made a big mistake, pal,” one of the agents said. “You just assaulted a federal officer.”
“I just hit a lying bastard,” Justin countered.
“Let him go,” Bobby said as he wiped the blood from his mouth. “Given the circumstances, the sheriff has a right to be angry. I’m sorry I had to lie to you.”
“You can take your apology and stuff it,” Justin fired back as the agents released him. “What I want to know is where you guys get off conducting an undercover operation in my county without advising me.”
“It was my call whether to tell you or not, and I chose not to,” Collins told him.
“Then you better have a good reason.”
“The Lion’s Den that was operating out of here until a year ago seemed reason enough.”
Knowing that the agent referred to the corruption within the former police chief’s office, Justin resented the implication. “We both know that group was dismembered when the last police chief and his cronies were taken down.”
“True. But we had no way of knowing whether or not the corruption was more widespread and included county law enforcement, too,” Collins told him. “Agent Hunter here assures me that it doesn’t.”
“If you think that squares things, you’re wrong,” Justin informed the man. “I should have been told what was going on.”
“I considered it. Until Ms. Mason showed up. Given her close…association with both you and Ricky Mercado, I felt we couldn’t take the risk.”
Justin narrowed his eyes, not liking the implication. He’d already figured out the reason Collins had posed as Angela’s neighbor was because they considered her a suspect. “Careful, Collins. I’ve already hit one federal officer. I have no problem going two for two.”
Collins’s hazel eyes flashed. “You might want to think twice about threatening a federal agent.”
Justin took a step forward, curling his hands into fists at his sides. “I don’t need to think twice. Angela Mason is as honest as they come. To imply otherwise is an insult, and you owe the lady an apology.”
“And are you speaking as a man or a sheriff?” Collins asked.
“Both.”
“Then maybe I should point out that you might not be as objective considering that you were married to the woman and have been staying at her place for the past two weeks,” Collins replied.
“What are you implying?” Justin demanded.
“Simply that since Ms. Mason here has an obvious relationship with Ricky Mercado, I couldn’t tell you what we were doing because I had no way of knowing if she was using you to feed information to Mercado.”
Furious with the federal agent, Justin took another step closer. “I don’t give a damn what you think about me, Collins. But I better hear an apology to Angela tripping from that smart mouth of yours or I’m going to rip out your Yankee tongue and feed it to you.”
“You’re welcome to try, Wainwright.”
“Justin, this isn’t necessary,” Angela said, grabbing at his arm.
He ignored her and the rumble coming from the other agents who watched the exchange. “Apologize. Now,” he told Collins.
Collins met his steely gaze. “I don’t take orders from small-town sheriffs, and I don’t apologize for doing my job.”
“That’s enough,” Angela said, stepping between the two men. “I’d suggest you both rein in the testosterone. The last time I checked, we were both on the same side.”
“She’s right, Collins,” the blond female agent told him. “Try playing nice for a change. They might be able to help us locate Del Brio.”
“Shut up, Harte. We’ll find Del Brio,” Collins said. He looked at Angela. “It’s nothing personal, Mason. I’m just doing my job.”
“So am I, Agent Collins. So I’ll just let my record speak for itself,” Angela said coolly. “And I certainly hope yours will be able to do the same for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Collins asked.
“It means that I intend to file in my report to the governor and the FBI how your failure to apprise the local law-enforcement agency of your activities here may very well have hindered our investigation and r
ecovery of a kidnapped child—a child that we have every reason to believe belongs to Haley Mercado and is being held by Frank Del Brio. And thanks to your bungling of things here tonight, Del Brio is now on the run and our chances of recovering that little girl alive have just grown a lot slimmer.”
Collins’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think the kid belongs to Haley Mercado? And why do you believe Del Brio has her?”
“Why, Agent Collins, you surprise me,” Angela said. “I mean, a man who has gone to the lengths you have to check into my background and pry into my personal relationships. I’d have thought surely you had uncovered the fact that I’m psychic.”
Thirteen
“Why don’t we leave Agent Collins and his people to clean up their mess,” Angela told Justin, and turned away before Collins could respond.
“Hang on a second,” Justin told her. “I need a vehicle.”
“Take mine,” Bobby said, and tossed Justin the keys.
“Let’s go,” Justin said to her, and together they walked over to the deputy’s navy-blue truck. Once they were inside, Justin turned to her and asked, “Are you all right?”
“Sure,” she told him. “And thanks for sticking up for me back there.”
“You didn’t need any help from me,” he told her. “You did fine all on your own. I suspect Agent Collins will think twice before tangling with another Texas gal.”
Pleased by his comment and the fact that the arrogant agent had appeared shell-shocked by her claims, she grinned. “There’s just one thing I need to know. Do you really believe what you told Collins? Or do you think that I would have warned Ricky about this bust if I’d known about it?”
“You wouldn’t have told him.”
“You’re sure about that? After all, he and I have been friends a long time. I wouldn’t have wanted to see him go to jail.”
“You wouldn’t have told him,” he said firmly, and started the engine.
“Thank you for that,” she murmured, trying to find solace in the fact that Justin believed her. If only she knew how he would respond when she told him she was pregnant. She still could hardly believe the over-the-counter test she’d done had come back positive all three times. She was pregnant with Justin’s child.
As he drove past the mangled Bronco, he said, “I don’t guess there’s much point in trying to find my cell phone in that mess.” He cut his glance to her. “I’m sorry about your bag and the drawings. But I don’t want you giving up on finding Lena. I’m sure Collins has already cut off the roads out of Lone Star County but when I get to a phone, I’ll give Hank a call. In the meantime, if I know Del Brio, he won’t leave without getting the baby first. She’s his link to Haley. And stopping to get her from wherever he’s got her stashed will give us some time.”
Angela didn’t even want to look at the speedometer to see how fast they were going. She held onto the door’s armrest as he swerved around a bend. “Justin—”
“We’re going to find her. I promised Luke. In fact, I’ll call him and ask for his help. I found out the other night that the man has more connections than I’d ever realized.”
“Justin, I think I know where she is.”
“And Luke can— What did you say?”
“I said I think I know where Lena is,” she repeated.
“But back there, you told Collins—”
Angela wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t see any point in telling the dumb fed I figured out where Lena was. I thought he deserved to stew awhile.”
“Remind me never to play poker with you,” he said dryly. “So are you going to fill me in on where we’re going?”
“Remember that section where I got off the main highway and got lost the first day I went out on my own? The place where you said the property owners sold out to make room for a potential highway that wasn’t built?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“At that old ranch house, the one that we thought was abandoned, there was a rusted-out sign hanging from the hinges with a horse in the center of the letter C. When the truck that Del Brio was in sped past, there was a bumper sticker on it that read Carousel Gardens, and I made the connection.”
“I’m sorry, but you’ve lost me.”
“I know. I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but it does to me. All this time, I was concentrating on finding a ranch with horses because I saw horses moving in circles in my vision. But seeing that bumper sticker made me wonder what if the horses weren’t real horses, but horses on a carousel? Maybe the kind that you’d find atop a music box or a mobile in a child’s room.” Which made sense since she’d heard a lullaby.
Justin took the exit that led to the off road. “So how does that tie in with the abandoned house?”
“Twenty-five, thirty years ago that house could have been the one in my vision. You said most of the homeowners sold out. What about the ones who didn’t? Del Brio wouldn’t have stashed Lena anywhere that we could trace to him. You said yourself he’s too smart for that. But maybe he knew someone who still owned one of those abandoned home sites, and that’s where he has Lena.”
“C for Clawson,” Justin said, and smacked his forehead. “I can’t believe how stupid I was not to see it.”
“See what?”
“That Del Brio’s girlfriend might be in on the kidnapping. He’s been seeing one of the waitresses at the country club, a redhead by the name of Erica Clawson. I think it was Bobby who told me that she likes to ride because her daddy used to own a place with horses, but they lost the place when she was a little girl.” He looked over at her, his green eyes solemn. “What do you want to bet that Miss Butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth Erica Clawson’s family still owns that land?” He hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “I should have checked the place out. I should have checked her out more thoroughly and not bought into that bubbly innocent act of hers.”
She touched his arm. “It doesn’t matter now. We just need to get there before Del Brio gets Lena and leaves.” Because she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that the little girl was in real danger now.
When Justin turned off onto the road leading to the abandoned property, Angela was struck by how dark it was. Much darker than it had been that first time she’d been there at sunset, Angela realized. Without any highway or streetlights, the headlights of the truck and the moon provided their only source of illumination.
Justin came to the fork in the road, pulled over to the shoulder and cut the lights. “If Del Brio’s down there, I don’t want him to spot us. Lock the doors and wait here while I go check the place out.”
Angela didn’t even bother arguing. She exited the truck, and when he came around and saw her, she said, “I’m going.”
“Then stay behind me.”
Her heart was in her throat as they made their way down the dirt road. The moment they reached the bend, they had no trouble seeing the house. It was lit up like a Christmas tree, unlike the last time she’d seen it. And while it still looked shabby and neglected, it no longer looked abandoned.
“Looks like you were right,” Justin whispered.
When they reached the broken gate, they were saved the task of climbing over it because it was open and hanging on its hinges. “Del Brio must have been in a hurry,” she told Justin, and pointed to the rusted horse sign with the letter C that now lay in the dirt besides the gate.
“I don’t see the truck, but there’s a car near the front of the house. Come on.” Angela followed Justin as he crept up toward the house. He hunkered down beside the car, felt the hood. “Still warm. You watch the front. I’m going to check around the back and see if I see anyone.”
While Justin checked the rear, Angela kept herself low and eased up to the window at the front of the house. She looked inside, saw no one. But a chair was overturned and a lamp lay on its side. Inching her way up the steps to the door, she peered inside the broken window pane of the door. And seeing no one, she turned the knob and the door opened.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Justin said in a harsh whisper from behind her. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back against him. With one arm wrapped around her middle, he held her tightly in the cradle of his thighs. In his other hand he held his gun.
“It’s empty,” she told him. “They’re gone.”
Releasing her, he stepped in front of her and kicked the door. It swung open into the house, banging against a wall. After several seconds ticked by, during which no one came running or shouted, he lowered his gun and relaxed his stance. “All right. Let’s check it out.”
While Justin headed for the back of the house, Angela searched for the room where Lena had been kept. She found it. A tiny, dingy room with a crib and a small chest whose drawers had been emptied and tossed onto the floor. Angela’s stomach constricted as she spied a little pink sock on the floor and stooped down to pick it up.
“Look. Over there by the table,” Justin said upon entering the room. Lying on its side in the corner was a music box with a carousel of horses. “You were right all along.”
As she held the baby’s sock to her breast, the images hit her fast and hard. “The barn,” she told him. “Hurry! We’ve got to find the barn.”
“Around back,” he told her.
They hurried out and ran around to the back of the house. And when Angela saw the big ugly red barn, she would have run across the field in the open to reach it, if Justin hadn’t grabbed her.
“Stick to the shadows,” he cautioned.
Though it nearly killed her to move so slowly, Angela did so. As they approached the barn, she spied the sliver of light from beneath the door. When Justin put a finger to his lips, urging her to be quiet, she nodded. He drew his weapon and nudged open the door of the barn with his foot. The squeaking sound echoed loudly in the quiet night and sent a shiver of fear down Angela’s spine.
And then Angela heard it, the frightened cry of a baby coming from inside the barn. Unable to bear the heart-wrenching sounds, Angela stepped from behind Justin and saw Lena. The dark-haired little angel stood at the rail of a small playpen, clutching a stuffed bear while tears streamed down her cheeks. Angela didn’t stop to think, she simply acted with a mother’s instinct and raced inside the barn toward the child.