David Wolf series Box Set 2

by Jeff Carson

  “Some huge FBI sting up on Star Ridge Road gone wrong. Turned into a chase, and there’s a whole bunch of shots …”

  Patterson looked at Lancaster.

  Behind those mirrored sunglasses there was a twitch of his eyebrows, and that was enough for Patterson.

  Like the crack of a whip she drew her pistol and leveled it on Lancaster. “Freeze!”

  Prough went silent and stumbled backwards, catching a heel and landing on his ass on the asphalt.

  She ignored the deputy, keeping her unblinking gaze on those mirrored shades. “Put your hands in the air right now.”

  Lancaster put his hands out and took a step back. “Whoa, Deputy. What’s going on?” His voice had a high timbre she’d never heard before. Desperation. She realized he was playing to Prough.

  And it worked. Prough got up, drew his own weapon, and pointed it at Patterson. “Drop your weapon, Patterson! Drop it!”

  Patterson shook her head.

  “Fire!” Lancaster yelled, like a quarterback trying to draw the defense offside.

  Patterson flinched but kept her pistol level. “Prough, don’t listen to him!”

  “Fire, Prough! That’s an order!”

  “Stand down! Stand down!” Three FBI jacketed men weaved toward them through the cars, pistols drawn and aimed at Lancaster.

  “Stand down, Deputy,” the first agent said, reaching Prough. “Male deputy, stand down, now.”

  Prough swallowed and eyed the agents, and then lowered his weapon. “What the heck?”

  With a draw so fast it was a blur, Lancaster raised his pistol and began firing. Two of the FBI agents toppled backward onto the asphalt.

  Without hesitation, Patterson aimed her gun and squeezed the trigger, punching a hole in Lancaster’s chest. Then she shot again, and then again.

  As her hearing became muffled, she watched Lancaster’s body convulse and spew blood as the other FBI agent emptied his clip into him.

  Holstering her weapon, she rushed to the first agent on the ground. He was grunting and howling in pain. The other man clenched his chest, rolling from side to side, and then a loud inhale broke his silence.

  With a flood of relief, she realized they were both been wearing flak jackets and, by the looks of it, were just catching their wind. They may have had a few broken ribs each, but they would live.

  “Are you two okay?”

  After another few seconds they got to their knees and looked at Lancaster’s corpse.

  Patterson ignored the carnage and stepped up to the agent who had fired. “What happened up on Star Ridge Road?”

  Chapter 45

  Having sat in disuse for twenty-five years, the firehouse was a weeded-over one-story, oversized garage with broken-out windows. The structure sagged under its own weight, and the four-story tower behind it had been roped off in case local kids decided to climb its brittle wooden stairs.

  The building itself was a poor place for shelter, or cover from a gun-wielding madman, but the entire property was surrounded by thick forest on all sides.

  As Wolf drove nearer, he saw the black pickup truck parked alongside the house and reminded himself just how well covered Burton and Jack would’ve been.

  But would they have been expecting danger from a lone visitor? Would they have been drawn out into the open?

  Wolf jammed the brakes and put the car in park. As it slid to a full stop, he jumped out the door with his gun raised.

  Frye spilled out of the back and strode next to him, covering the left side while Wolf took right.

  The pickup-truck door was wide open and engine still running, making it impossible to hear anything but the metallic rumbling of the diesel motor.

  Wolf aimed inside, then reached in and twisted the key.

  They froze in the silence.

  “Jack!”

  The suspense was too much. He marched around the side of the house with his pistol raised.

  “Wait,” Frye hissed, taking cover at the corner.

  Wolf skidded to a stop, taking aim at the back of a man holding a pistol, then lowered his weapon when he realized it was Jack’s lanky form. At his son’s feet lay a muscular, white-skinned body covered in blood.

  “Jack.”

  Jack twisted around and fell onto one knee as he raised his pistol.

  “It’s me, Dad!”

  Jack’s gun clattered to the ground. He blinked and tears fell down his cheeks.

  “I shot him. He missed me and I shot him. He’s not dead. I didn’t kill him.”

  Frye stepped up and kicked a pistol lying on the ground into the dry grass.

  Wolf pulled his son into a hug, and he had to grip hard to keep standing as relief flooded through him.

  The man on the ground coughed.

  “Clayton Pope,” Frye said. “Known to be one of the highest-ranking men in the Colorado Ghost Cartel.”

  Blood pumped from a hole near Pope’s heart. His tattooed arm was slathered in red, making the sick rendition of the Pope drawn on it look even worse.

  “Where’s Burton?” Wolf asked.

  Jack pointed to the field. “He’s shot. The guy shot him, so I had to shoot. I had to.”

  Frye ran into the field toward Burton and knelt next to him. “He’s alive! Shot in the right shoulder. Could have caught the lung.”

  Frye ripped off his own button-up shirt and began dressing the wound.

  Burton squirmed and grunted while Frye called for an ambulance on his cell phone.

  “He’ll be all right,” Frye said. “You’ll be all right.”

  Wolf stepped to Burton and knelt down. “Hey, old man. You all right?”

  Burton nodded with clenched eyes and teeth. “Jack got him?”

  “Yes.”

  Burton nodded and let out a breath, clearly relieved.

  “We’ve got a helicopter coming up for you. Just sit back and relax,” Frye said.

  “Shit, I don’t need a helicopter.”

  “We’ll take the ride, and then worry about if you needed it or not.”

  Jack stood frozen behind them, staring at a bullet hole in the side of the run-down building.

  Wolf walked over and stood over Pope.

  “Did I kill him?” Jack asked with a cracking voice. “Shit … did I kill him?”

  Pope looked up at Wolf and smiled. His chest gurgled repeatedly as he laughed, his red teeth gleaming in the sun.

  “No. You didn’t.”

  Wolf aimed at the man’s head and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 46

  Wolf tucked the gun in the rear of his pants and stepped away from the dead drug-lord.

  Frye was standing next to Burton now, his hand lowering from his shoulder holster.

  “He was reaching for his gun,” Wolf said.

  Frye knelt back down next to Burton. “I’ll need to take that weapon, Wolf.”

  For the first time, Wolf noticed the absolute silence beyond Jack’s labored breathing and Burton’s grunts. “I think the shooting is over back there.”

  Wolf walked back to Burton and knelt down. “Thank you, Hal. You kept my son safe.”

  Burton’s lips moved.

  “Lean back and relax.” Frye said. Then he stood and dialed a number on his phone. “What’s going on up there? Okay … casualties? Dang it … all right. We’ve got a civilian with a gunshot wound. Medevac is on its way.”

  Jack stood motionless, staring at Pope’s dead body.

  Wolf put an arm around his shoulder and led him away.

  “You think he was the one who killed Mom?”

  “I think he was the one who gave the order.”

  “We’ve got one dead agent, three shot.” Frye pocketed his phone and closed his eyes.

  “Who was it?” Wolf asked, dreading the answer.

  “Benjamin.”

  Wolf nodded, feeling guilt-ridden relief.

  Frye opened his eyes and nodded. “Luke’s been shot, too.”

  Wolf jogged away toward the shot-up
Crown Vic.

  “I need your weapon, Wolf!”

  “So do I.”

  Wolf parked the sputtering sedan nose to nose with the first shot-up cartel pickup truck and got out. Two legs stuck out from beneath it, lying in a fresh stream of blood.

  Sirens blared in the distance and the first in a line of SBCSD vehicles crunched to a stop on the county road.

  Wolf jogged past the pickup trucks, swerving around dead cartel members along the way.

  “Freeze!” an agent yelled, and suddenly there were ten guns trained on Wolf.

  Wolf froze and held up his hands.

  “All clear!” another agent said. “Hold your fire!”

  Wolf waited until each and every pistol had been lowered, then walked toward a group of agents clustered around someone on the ground. He held his breath as he saw the gray sweatpants, then upped his pace when he noticed they were soaked in blood.

  “Stand back,” an agent said, his arms outstretched to the others.

  “Luke.”

  She opened her eyes and Wolf was immediately relieved at her healthy appearance.

  She looked more annoyed by the wound than in pain. “Are you all right? Is Jack all right?”

  Wolf nodded. “Yes, he’s fine.”

  “Stand back,” the agent said again.

  He tried to glimpse the severity of Luke’s wounds as he backed away. The agent was pressing a towel on her thigh. Other than that, she looked scratched up from the earlier car crash. Thigh wounds in the right spot, however, could be fatal.

  “I’ll be all right,” Luke said with tears in her eyes. “They got Benjamin.” She nodded toward a body next to a vehicle down the line. An FBI jacket was draped over the torso and face of a man lying in red mud.

  Wolf nodded. “Stay put and let them do their thing.”

  An ambulance stutter-honked and approached between the growing congregation of feds and Sheriff’s-Department vehicles arriving on scene.

  “I’ll see you soon.” Wolf peered through the dust and rushing men and women, and spotted Patterson climbing out of a vehicle in the distance.

  “Is Jack all right?” Rachette appeared out of nowhere next to him.

  “Yeah, he’s fine. Burton’s been shot. They’re sending up medevac to him.”

  “What was that?” Patterson asked as she reached them both.

  “Jack’s all right,” Rachette said. “Burton’s been shot.”

  “How bad?” Patterson asked.

  “He’ll live,” Wolf said.

  “Lancaster’s dead. Shot …” Patterson swallowed the rest of her sentence.

  Munford and MacLean walked up, and then Baine, Rachette, and Wilson. Everyone was wide eyed, taking in the mayhem.

  “What the hell did the feds do?” MacLean said in a low voice. “We had them coming right into our hands, and they screwed it all up.”

  Wolf nodded. “The cartel must have seen them on their tail and decided to run. They knew they’d be trapped if they came to the cabin.”

  “No,” Patterson said. “The cartel wasn’t even thinking about going to where you were, because I never told them. I never told Lancaster.”

  “What?” Rachette squared off with her. “After all that, you—”

  “The FBI already had a plan in place,” she said. “It made no sense to put you guys in danger.

  “Sir, the FBI got an email from Luke’s partner—a guy named Agent Tedescu. It explained that Lancaster was working hand in hand with the cartel from inside MacLean’s department. There’s too much to explain now, but, basically, from the moment they got the email, they knew you were innocent. But they couldn’t get in contact with either of you.”

  “What?” MacLean blurted. “When did they get that email? I never heard anything about that.”

  “The day after Wolf and Luke escaped. After the Gunnison sighting.”

  “They didn’t tell me that.” MacLean’s face was red.

  “They didn’t tell you, or us, anything because they suspected you were involved.”

  MacLean shook his head and petted his goatee.

  “They involved me because I was partnered with Lancaster. I gave him some false information and then lured him into the station so they could take him down. But he’s dead.” Patterson’s eyes frosted over. “He shot two FBI agents in their flak jackets, and … he’s dead.”

  “Wait a minute,” Rachette said. “What was this plan of theirs?”

  Patterson shrugged. “Basically the same as yours. They knew the cartel had gone after Wolf and Luke, because they found the shot-up truck with their prints inside, and they knew the cartel would jump at the chance to use Jack as leverage to get to Wolf. The FBI sent me a text message that looked like it was from you, and gave a bogus address up in the mountains to lure the cartel in.”

  “Where?” Rachette pressed her. “What address?”

  “I don’t remember the number.” She pulled out her phone. “Up on Star Ridge Road. And then you guys, no more than a few minutes later, called me and had pretty much the same plan.”

  “Star Ridge Road,” Rachette said with a sour face. “That’s a turn off the same county road we were on. But the cartel somehow got spooked by the feds, didn’t take the turn, and then decided to drive right to where Jack and Burton were? That doesn’t make much sense.”

  The truth hit Wolf like a punch in the nose. He closed his eyes and mouth to contain the scream welling up from within.

  He opened his eyes. “I was just with Frye. He said that half the agents were waiting at a farmhouse on Star Ridge, and the other half were following in vehicles. They were going to pinch the cartel in at the farmhouse, but Frye thinks the following vehicles got too close. The cartel was just running. It was dumb luck the route they were taking was toward Jack.”

  Rachette exchanged a glance with Wilson. “You think?”

  “Baine,” Wolf walked away from them, “I need you to take me back to Burton’s wife’s cabin. Jack left a few things we need.”

  “Wait,” Rachette protested.

  “Uh … sir?” Baine stood in his spot in their circle. “My truck is wasted.”

  Wolf stopped. “Oh, yeah. Patterson, give me your keys.”

  Patterson stood with a confused look.

  “Come on, damn it!”

  She dug them out and flung them as fast as she could.

  He caught them and pointed. “Luke’s shot—go see to her. Baine, let’s go.” He tossed the keys to Baine. “You’re driving. I’m in no shape to.”

  Baine fumbled the keys and then followed after him.

  “Hey, can I get my phone back?” Rachette asked.

  “No, I still need it.”

  Wolf walked away from confused grumbling and climbed into the passenger seat of Patterson’s squad SUV.

  As he settled into the leather cushion, he pulled out Rachette’s phone and set it on his leg. Then he pulled out Pope’s phone and set it on the other.

  Baine crammed in behind the wheel. “Jesus, we’ve got a midget on the force, and her name is Patterson.” He slid back the seat and eyed the devices on Wolf’s lap. “What’s with the phones?”

  “I have to make a call. Drive.”

  Baine cleared his throat and drove.

  Chapter 47

  Patterson stood still, watching the SUV rumble away in a cloud of dust.

  A helicopter thumped overhead, pulling her attention to the sky.

  “Medevac on the way to pick up Burton,” Rachette said, massaging his shoulder.

  Patterson stopped a passing FBI agent. “Hey, what happened, exactly?”

  The agent looked annoyed. “These cartel guys pulled out automatic rifles and shot us to shit, that’s what happened.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Hey, we lost an agent in the firefight and we have another two down.” He pointed back toward the ambulance. “So if I may, please?” He walked away.

  Patterson watched as Luke was stretchered into the ambulance. For a seco
nd she considered running to speak to her, but that would only cause more delay and confusion. Luke was shot, but she was in good hands.

  “Did they see you following them or what?” Rachette asked another nearby agent.

  “Who?”

  “The cartel. You guys had a trap set up, right? And we hear they passed it by.”

  The agent faced off with Rachette. “There’s no way we were made. I was the lead car following them, and we were a half-mile behind. A half-mile filled with dust. No way they would have seen us.”

  “That’s not what it looked like to me. You guys were right on their ass.”

  The agent stepped up to Rachette. “What are you trying to say?”

  MacLean stepped between them. “Hey, Agent, I’m Sheriff MacLean with the SBCSD. And I think my deputy has a good question.”

  “With all due respect, sir, I don’t think he does. I think he’s trying to say we screwed up. That all this is our fault.”

  Patterson turned away from Luke and stepped toward the ensuing argument.

  Another few agents saw what was going on and moved near.

  “Hey, hey.” MacLean held up his hands. “We’re not causing trouble. Answer my deputy’s question, son. Were you guys made? You say you were a half-mile behind. But we saw you following closer than that when you passed us.”

  The agent refocused on the question. “We were half a mile out, and we were going to close in when they turned into the farmhouse. That was the plan. Only we got word that they never turned, so on ASAC Frye’s command we closed the gap. Agent Frye and other agents left the farmhouse and caught up with us. We were trying to get a game plan on the fly of how to take them down. We knew from previous surveillance that they were armed to the teeth.” He shook his head. “Frye was telling us to hang back just as these guys pulled off on this road and opened fire on us. Is that what you wanted to know?”

  MacLean was lost in thought. “Thank you.”

  The agent shook his head and walked away.

  Patterson watched MacLean. His lips were chomping and his eyes were glazed over.

  “Sir, what do you think?”