“You know the drill,” Reuben said. If you can get him out safely, and he’s alert, do so. If not…Secure the tow rope to the vehicle, and we’ll reel you both back.”
Jackson nodded, put his breathing apparatus into his mouth, and entered the water. Immediately feeling the pull of the current on his legs, the same current that was pulling the car closer and closer to the embankment, he walked steadily forward through the waist-high water. Twenty feet might not seem like a lot, but it was a hell of a long way to fall, and getting stuck in the mud could be just as dangerous.
Moving slowly, Jackson edged his way to the vehicle, As soon as he got there, he knew he wouldn’t be lifting the body back. Diving down into the muddy water, he felt his way along the car until he found what he was looking for. He untied the towrope and hooked it to the vehicle’s undercarriage, and fighting the current, he pulled himself back up. The car was no more than a couple of feet from the embankment when he signaled AK and felt the pull of the wench dragging him and the vehicle back from the brink.
Once he was close enough to shore, Jackson let go of the car and walked out of the water, removing his breather from his mouth and unzipping his wet suit. “It’s Zeke Jones,” Jackson stated moving over to the coroner’s side. “Looks like someone put a bullet in his head. You’ll have to call Cal. The pass on his shirt says he was at Anamosa yesterday. He’ll want to find out who he spoke to.”
Doc Hazlet frowned. “What the hell is going on here?”
“I don’t know, but I think the Chef’s behind it all. I’ve got to make another call, then I need to find Peter Preston. Something tells me that kid’s life isn’t worth two cents now.” Hurrying back to the truck, Jackson called Emily’s cell, relieved when she answered on the second ring.
“Good morning,” she said. “Did you get the problem straightened out at the school?”
“Not exactly. Isaac is dead. Someone broke into the school and stole supplies from the science lab, including a bunch of chemicals Micah didn’t order. I think your Chef’s going ahead with his plans to set up shop. He may not have anything to do with that murder, and he’s using all the confusion going on the hide his own signature and tracks. It takes balls to order the individual chemicals, have them delivered to the school, and then steal them, casting doubt on everyone working there, including Micah.”
“Oh, God, Jackson. I’m so sorry. I didn’t get to meet Isaac, but is Micah okay?”
“She’s as good as can be expected. Kevin is with her, and I’m sure he’ll stay by her side.”
“If it’s the Chef, he’s getting too sloppy, making amateur mistakes. In the past, he set things up neatly, but it’s almost as if he wants to get caught”
“Or wants to point the finger at someone else. That break-in last night…I don’t think it was supposed to go down the way it did. Joey must’ve challenged him in some way and of course, you were supposed to be there and weren’t. I don’t think the Chef is psychologically stable, and if I’m right, he’s more dangerous than ever.
“I need to leave and get out of here before anyone else dies.”
“Emily, listen to me. I’m out on County Road 8 with Doc Hazlet. I just pulled Zeke’s body out of a car on a flooded road. He’d been shot. Another twenty minutes, and the car would’ve gone over the embankment and disappeared into the river. If the rain hadn’t let up, it would be long gone by now. He’d been to Anamosa State Prison earlier yesterday. He knew something, and now he’s dead. Cal’s on his way to the prison to check the visitor logs. There are a few cartel guys doing a dime there for various offenses. You’re safe at the house for now. We’ll move you as soon as we can.”
“Are you coming back soon?”
“Not yet. I have to find Peter. He’s in danger. I feel it in my gut. Stay inside and keep the alarm on. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Okay,” she replied quietly.
He knew she was scared and upset, but she trusted him. They would make whatever there was between them succeed. As soon as the Chef was behind bars, he would get to work convincing her they could have a future together—maybe even get her to stay at the homestead since she really had nowhere else to go. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Be careful.” She ended the call.
Jackson then got into the truck, heading farther north away from her toward the old airport. She would be safe inside until he got there, and once he did, they were packing up and getting out of Dodge until this son of a bitch was caught. The nice thing about having money was that you could come and go as you pleased.
Jackson drove through the gate at the airport and along the row of abandoned hangers until he saw Peter’s old car parked at the side of one of the ones usually used for crop dusting planes.
Entering the building, he called out. “Peter? It’s Mr. Harris. Your dad sent me.”
Almost instantly, the door to one of the workrooms opened, and Peter came out, dressed in a white jumpsuit complete with bootees for his feet. “Is my dad okay? She hasn’t hurt him, has she?” The fear in the boy’s eyes was real.
“Your dad is fine. Who did you think hurt him?” He just said she—was Micah at the bottom of it all?
“The meth Chef. She’s pretending to be a federal agent here to run some food program, but she isn’t. The FBI identified her on Monday, but they can’t arrest her without proof, so we’re to go ahead as planned. Mrs. Loucks was right not to trust her. It’s all a front, and she had a partner in the area helping her, but she killed him. She’s a big time drug dealer wanted for murder. The twins, Tyler, and I are helping the FBI set a trap for her. We’re building a phony lab, and we’re going to lure her here.”
“Where the hell did you hear that?” Jackson was staring at the boy unable to get his head around the case the Chef was building against Emily, but she’d been with him last night, so he knew she hadn’t stolen those chemicals or killed Isaac.
“From Randolph Scott. He’s the agent in charge of the case. He brought in all the equipment to set up the lab last night. The others are doing surveillance, taking turns watching her. Since I’m the best science student, I get to do this.” He frowned. “You said my dad sent you?”
“When did you last see the twins and Tyler?”
“On Wednesday after we helped Ms. Thomas unload some stuff at the school. We all came out here and met Agent Scott. Once I get the lab set up, I have a recipe to follow to fabricate some synthetic meth, but it isn’t really meth. The boys will spread it around and one of them will go to her with it. She’ll think we’re trying to compete with her, and the FBI will grab her when she comes out here to make a deal.”
Jackson shook his head. This sounded like a script for B movie. Peter was a smart boy. Why would he believe all this crap? It was true the four boys often acted on impulse, but…“Where and when did you meet this FBI agent?”
“Two weeks ago when we found the body. We called 9-1-1, and he got there before the sheriff because he was monitoring the call. He’d heard the Chef had a falling out with her partner. The twins and Tyler stayed there until the sheriff came, but he swore us all to secrecy about his real mission. Said the man was his partner and she’d killed him. He asked me where we might be able to set a trap. I mentioned this place and he agreed to meet us here on Thursday. The best part is, he said we’d never have to worry about money for school since the FBI would cover the costs as compensation for our help.”
The boy was so proud of himself, it tore at Jackson’s heart. He knew how badly Peter wanted to go to MIT. “Peter, this man lied to you.”
“No, he didn’t. I’m not stupid,” he said affronted. “Mr. Harris. He had all our school records, not copies, the real deal. We asked to see his credentials. They were legit. I even looked him up using the web address on the card. He’s one of the FBI’s top men. He’s also worked with the DEA, and he’s sort of retired. This will be his last case.”
“He lied to you. All those school documents he got by hacking into the board data
base. His credentials are probably false, too. Jacob, Joshua, and Tyler are in intensive care after an arsenic and meth overdose on Wednesday night. If it hadn’t been for Ms. Jacobson, the real DEA agent on this case, they would have died.”
Peter turned white. “That’s why they haven’t answered their phones,” he said his lips trembling. Agent Scott said it was because they were undercover, taking turns sleeping and watching her. But why are you so sure she’s not the Chef?”
“Because Isaac is dead. He was killed around nine last night when someone broke into the school and stole science equipment and supplies. It couldn’t have been Emily. She was with me. Her apartment was trashed and all her clothes destroyed, and if you’re going to tell me she did that as a way to confuse things, forget it. We left her apartment intact before noon and came back around seven, then found it destroyed. Joey Manning is in a coma in the hospital. Also, I just fished Ezekiel Jones’ body out of the river and there was a bullet hole in his head. The real Chef has been using you. And since you know what he looks like, you’re a liability. I’m willing to bet that if you cooked up his recipe, it would be the real McCoy and a bunch of nasty guys with Mexican accents would be here to pick it up from you.”
The boy looked like he’d been pole axed as the truth sunk in. “Am I going—to j-jail?” He looked like he was going to be sick.
“You should,” Jackson grumbled. “But stupidity and gullibility aren’t crimes. Now, show me what you have in there and then…I want you to describe this Randolph Scott for me. I’ll see you get the protection you need and we can talk about MIT when this is all over.”
* * * *
Emily pulled the second tray of peanut butter cookies she’d baked out of the oven and set them on the counter to cool. Moving over to the crock-pot, she turned down the temperature on the marinara sauce she made to go with the cheese-stuffed breadsticks she had yet to put in the oven. When she and Jackson went into Waterloo, they could pick up salad greens to go with the garlic dressing she’d made to accompany the simple meal. It was the best she could do considering the limited supplies Jackson had on hand.
After his phone call earlier, she went into the kitchen to keep herself busy and try to forget she was probably responsible for the deaths of two more men. Baking always calmed her, and the simple act of combining ingredients to produce something delectable soothed her and helped her think straight.
She was on her way to the bedroom when there was a knock at the door. Spinning the chair, she went to the door and looked out, thinking it might be Cal. When she saw Mike, she smiled and turned off the alarm before letting him in. “You’re back,” she said. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I’m here to take you back to Chicago. I called your cell to let you know I was coming, but you didn’t answer, so I phoned Jackson, and he told me where you were. We heard about the break-in when the sheriff called it in, but he didn’t say where you were staying. I thought you’d be with him and Julie. I heard about the school janitor on my way here, as well as those boys. Rick says I’m to bring you in right away. It’s too dangerous for you to stay here, especially without your prosthesis.”
“I see,” she said fighting to hide her disappointment. “Did you tell Jackson you were taking me back to Chicago?
“I did. He said to be careful, and he would look you up when he was in the city. He mentioned he was sorry you wouldn’t be around to implement the new program.”
Hurt, she turned away from the door and propelled herself into the kitchen where she turned off the crock-pot. “Just let me get my things. I don’t have much.”
Going down the hall to the room she’d used, she picked up her cell phone off the dresser where she’d left it after Jackson’s call, and redialed his number. When the message machine came on, she swallowed painfully. “Jackson, it’s me,” she said hoping he wouldn’t hear the hurt in her voice. “I’m leaving for Chicago with Mike. As you know, they sent him to get me since my cover is blown. Thanks again, for all your help. Mabel will do a fine job with the lunch program, and since the Chef is still at large, they’ll send someone else. I’ll recommend they include you in the case from the onset. I really enjoyed our time together. Call me if you get to the city.”
She ended the message, stuffed her cellphone in her purse and the rest of her things in her bag. She picked up her crutches, and after one last look around the room, went back to the kitchen where Mike was eating a cookie.
“Hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I missed breakfast.”
“Not at all. Grab a few more, but leave some for Jackson. I just have to leave him a note about the sauce and the breadsticks.”
“Okay, let me take these things out to the car for you…” He nodded at her bag, the crutches, and her wheelchair. “…and I’ll come back for you.”
“That works.”
After Mike left, she looked around. At least she’d gotten to work in a dream kitchen once. She scribbled the note about the marinara sauce and breadsticks, reminding him to call her, adding her Mom and Dad’s number since she intended to go there for a while before she decided what to do next.
“All set?” he asked.
“I guess so.”
Mike picked her up and carried her out to the car, leaving the door open. “Damn, I left my cellphone on the kitchen table,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
Emily frowned. She didn’t remember a cellphone, but when Mike came back waving one as he locked the door, she shrugged.
“Chicago’s very impressed with you, especially with the way you connected the body found in the river with the Chef,” he said.
“How did you know about that?”
“Didn’t I tell you Cal called Chicago?”
“Yes, you did. I forgot.”
Mike turned left out of the driveway headed east toward Braden. “I stopped at the bakery and picked up coffee for you. It’s probably still warm enough to drink. I needed a dose of caffeine to stay awake. She said you like it black.”
“She’s right. Thank you.” Mike really was a nice guy, but he wasn’t Jackson and she knew she would miss that man fort a long time to come. She’d gotten carried away with her daydreams while baking. Reaching for the coffee, she took a mouthful. The beverage was cooler than she liked, so she drank only part of it, before closing the lid and putting it back.
“Coffee not good?” Mike asked.
“No, it’s fine. A little cooler than I like it. She yawned, and blinked, suddenly more tired than she’d been in days.
“Hey, if you’re tired, go ahead and have a nap. I don’t like to talk when I drive. I prefer to concentrate on the road. Close your eyes. We’ve got a long ride ahead of us.”
Feeling compelled to obey, Emily closed her eyes and felt as if she was falling down a deep dark hole.
* * * *
As Jackson listened to Peter as he described the man he knew as Agent Scott, his stomach filled with acid. How could they have made such a huge mistake? It all fell into place—the threats, the attempt to run her off the road, the missing battery, the shots fired at her where only three people knew she would be, even the rage in her apartment. She’d snubbed him.
“Lock this place up and get in the truck,” Jackson said once he was sure the man they were looking for was none other than Mike Reynolds, and knowing what he knew now, there was a good chance that the stiff in the morgue in Des Moines was the real Randolph Scott.
Jackson got into the truck and reached for the phone he’d left on the seat when he’d gone in search of Peter. Sliding the screen open, he saw he had a new voice mail message. He checked the message and when Emily said, she was with Mike on her way back to Chicago, his heart all but stopped. He keyed in Cal’s number praying the sheriff would answer. “Cal, it’s Jackson,” he piped in before the man had even finished his greeting. The Chef is Mike Reynolds.”
“Mike Reynolds, the FBI agent?” Are you nuts?”
“No, listen to me. The night the boys found the body, Mike
must’ve gone back there for something. He conned them into believing he was with the FBI and set up a trap for Emily. Peter described him to me perfectly. There isn’t any doubt. I just got a message from Emily. It’s about fifteen minutes old. He’s got her. She thinks he’s taking her to Chicago, but he’s going to kill her. We have to find her.”
“I’ll call Chicago, verify Mike wasn’t sent to pick her up. He may not want to hurt her. He hasn’t so far, although he must be damn mad at her to have done what he did to her apartment.”
“I think the guy is psychotic. He’s been under so much pressure leading a double life for so long, he snapped. He was using the name Randolph Scott with the kids. Ask Chicago if that rings a bell. I’m heading back toward Braden. I’ll drop Peter off at home. The feds will have to send someone to pack up this lab, although they might want to wait a bit. Peter was supposed to cook up the meth this weekend for pick up on Monday.”
“I’ll let them know. I’ll call you as soon as I have anything. If she’s got her phone on her, they may be able to pick up her GPS signal.”
“I’m calling her now. I’ll do my best to keep her on the line.” He ended the call with Cal and called up Emily’s number. The phone rang, but no one answered. He hung up, and handed the phone to Peter. “Keep hitting redial until someone answers, and when they do, don’t say anything just hand it to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jackson started the car and headed back to Braden. He prayed he would get to Emily soon enough to save her. Losing her wasn’t an option.
* * * *
The vibration of Emily’s cellphone against her right leg felt like thousands of tiny ants crawling on her and it pulled her out of the strange half-sleep she was in. It stopped and she thought she’d imagined it. Looking around her, she was surprised to see they hadn’t made it to the Interstate yet. The cellphone vibrated again and she reached for it. “It’s Jackson,” she said, drawing Mike’s attention to her. She slid the phone open to answer the call.
Secrets and Lies (Hearts Of Braden Book 4) Page 26