Hidden Prey (Lawmen)

by Cheyenne McCray

  He set down the tablet as he thought about Miguel. Maybe it was nothing, and he’d been held up.

  A gut-deep sensation twisted Landon’s insides and he gritted his teeth. Like a blow to the solar plexus, a bad feeling struck him hard.

  A real bad feeling.

  CHAPTER 2

  Finally, they were just outside of Bisbee. Tori tucked strands of chin-length dark hair behind her ear as she leaned back in the shuttle van’s seat. She looked ahead at the Mule Pass Tunnel that was the gateway from the west side of town.

  Memories slid back to her of holding her breath from one end of the tunnel to the other. It was something just about everyone who lived in Bisbee had done when they were young.

  Like other town residents, Tori had often referred to it as “The Time Tunnel.” It was like traveling through time, leaving the world of today and traveling into an earlier century. The van entered the dimness of the tunnel and she resisted holding her breath. The concrete walls were stained from seeping water, and she knew it was a never-ending project to maintain the integrity of the tunnel’s walls.

  When the van reached the other end of the tunnel, she blinked away the bright sunlight and let out her breath. She almost laughed. Without realizing it, she’d been holding her breath after all.

  It really was like traveling to another time, another world. As the shuttle continued on, she leaned forward in her seat, her cell phone in her pocket digging into her hip. Her gaze drifted to take in homes perched on the hillsides and the aging narrow road the shuttle traveled.

  Waves of memories rolled over her of her years growing up in Bisbee. She couldn’t wait to leave when she had graduated from Bisbee High School. She’d wanted to escape the small town and find out what waited out in the great big world. Now, here she was, running back to it.

  Her smile faded. She’d never thought one man could make her whole world crash down around her, chasing her away from her dreams and everything she’d worked so hard for. One man.

  She ground her teeth. This was only temporary. She would go back to her life, only it would be without Gregory.

  Just the thought of him and what he’d done to her before she’d left him made her feel dirty, and her skin crawled.

  And now she was running home to Mama.

  The backs of her eyes stung. Josie Nuñez Cox had been Tori’s safe place, her refuge, and even at thirty-three, she needed her mother more than ever.

  Tori put her fingers to her temples. She couldn’t believe she’d left not only her laptop, but her six thousand dollar clarinet. She’d left them by the front door of the townhouse that she owned, and prayed Gregory wouldn’t destroy either in a fit of anger at her leaving. More than likely he wouldn’t because he wasn’t prone to physical violence. No, he preferred to sling harmful words when he was angry, beating her down verbally and emotionally.

  He’d also expect her to come back for the clarinet, especially. It was one of five that she owned, although none of the others had been as expensive as the Buffet Crampon professional. He’d be right that she would be back, but not yet. Although, she didn’t know how she could go many days without music. At least her mother still had the old Baldwin upright piano that Tori had learned to play on from the age of four, and one of Tori’s old clarinets might still be around.

  If her car hadn’t been in the shop, she could have loaded everything that was most important to her. But she hadn’t been able to wait for the car. She’d had to get away from Gregory.

  This morning she’d called her best friend, Paula, and had planned to tell her about what Gregory had done, but she’d been too sick over it to tell her friend. So she’d just told Paula she was headed for her parents’ home in Bisbee and would see her when she got back.

  Tori had met Paula in the Tucson Symphony Orchestra, and the other woman was second chair clarinet while Tori was first chair. Tori had several friends she enjoyed meeting up with when Gregory wasn’t harassing her for not spending enough time with him. But she was closest to Paula.

  Sue and Janice were two other good friends who were also in the symphony. Occasionally, Tori, Paula, Sue, and Janice went to a jazz bar for a glass of wine and good music. But not as often as Tori would have liked. It wasn’t easy getting time away from Gregory.

  Her gaze drifted out the window as she fought back tears and the stinging ache behind her eyes slowly dissolved. She could name the homes of old friends and wondered if any of them still lived there or in town.

  On Facebook, she was friends with some of her childhood buddies and acquaintances from Bisbee. Most of the people she had grown up with had moved away from the old mining town, but many had stayed. She couldn’t always keep up with statuses of people she didn’t know well anymore, but when she felt like her brain couldn’t take anything more strenuous than skimming through online social media, she’d catch up on the lives of old friends and acquaintances.

  She sobered as her mind turned to two friends who’d recently been diagnosed with devastating news—one with ovarian cancer and the other with breast cancer. If it weren’t for social media, Tori probably wouldn’t even have known. One was an old friend from college who lived in Chicago, and the other was a woman she’d met years ago at a party in Phoenix and became good friends with. Tori had been observing their brave battles as they went through chemo and other challenges. Both women were warriors. By seeing how strong her friends with cancer were, and admiring their strength, it gave her the courage she needed to make the decision to leave.

  The shuttle traveled down Tombstone Canyon, past St. Patrick’s Church. She’d belonged to the church from childhood until she graduated from high school. She had gone through catechism and had received her first Holy Communion and Confirmation at St. Pat’s.

  Castle Rock was coming up as the shuttle continued to Main Street in Old Bisbee. Victorian and European-style homes clung to the hillsides.

  The shuttle passed the jutting Castle Rock and then they were rounding the bend, continuing down the street between rows of old buildings that had been around since about 1910, rebuilt after a fire had ravaged the town. In the early 1900’s, the town had been home to over twenty thousand people and was the largest city between St. Louis and San Francisco.

  Now the town had less than fifty-five hundred people. It had once been reduced to an even lower population.

  Bisbee had nearly died in the 1970’s when the mines had closed, but hippies had revived it by restoring old buildings and homes, turning the town into an artists’ community. The history of the place, plus the uniqueness and quaintness of the town, drew tourists from around the world.

  The shuttle driver parked in the lot behind the Bisbee Convention Center, which had once been the old Phelps Dodge Mercantile. The driver had told her he wouldn’t take the van up the steep winding street to her parents’ home, so she was left to climb up on her own. She didn’t mind—she’d been a runner in high school and had kept in shape by jogging regularly. It would give her a chance to collect herself before she made it to her mom and dad’s. She just hoped her dad wasn’t there. She needed some alone time with her mom.

  After she tipped the driver, she made sure her cell phone was in her pocket then tucked her purse into her bright pink travel bag. She still couldn’t believe she’d run off without her clarinet and laptop. She’d been so upset that she hadn’t been thinking clearly when the shuttle arrived to pick her up.

  She bent to pick up her bag, and her crop top and low-rise jeans revealed her tanned belly and back even more than they already did. Gregory had always hated her revealing any flesh, including the tattoo on her lower back, just above her waistband. He hadn’t liked the idea of other men looking at her nor did he approve of tattoos on women. The tat was the word, Klarinette, the German spelling of her chosen instrument that had been “invented” in Germany around 1701-1704.

  Screw Gregory. She slung the bag over her shoulder. She’d wear whatever she damn well pleased.

  The heavy bag’s long
strap dug into her shoulder as she looked around. The day was waning and the traffic was light as usual. She walked up to the old post office, crossed Main Street, then headed back around an old bank building that was now an antique shop.

  She turned onto Subway Street, which was a quiet one-way street, and then up Shearer Avenue, a steep street that took her near what had once been an old YMCA but had been converted into tourist suites. She continued to climb the paved road on the hillside, past the old Central School, which was now a center for the arts. On the east side, deeper in the canyon, was Brewery Gulch.

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she stopped to pull it out. A number she didn’t recognize was on the display and she wondered who it might be.

  She brought it to her ear and answered, “Hello?”

  “Where are you?” Gregory’s demanding voice was like a punch to her chest. “Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

  “I have nothing to say to you.” She straightened and set her bag on the ground. “We are through.”

  “The hell we are.” The way he spoke was as if he hammered every word. “Get your ass home.”

  Tori gripped the phone tightly. “I’ll come back for my things when I’m ready, but we are done.”

  Before he could say another word, she disconnected the call and jammed the phone back into her pocket and trudged up the hill toward the point where Shearer turned into Clawson Avenue. The phone vibrated again but she ignored it.

  Near the north side of the arts center, Tori took a shortcut. Once she was farther up the hill, she rounded a vehicle. To her right was a black SUV and an old white Toyota parked in an alleyway. They were in the growing shadows, out of sight by anyone but someone walking by, like her, which wasn’t often in this area.

  Two men—a man with white-blond hair and Slavic features, and a dark-haired guy with a pencil thin mustache who looked to be of Hispanic descent—faced a third man. The third man had his back to the white Toyota. He was more slender than the other two but she couldn’t see his face.

  Tori started to turn her gaze in the direction she’d been headed when the men’s voices drew her attention again. She looked to see a fourth man, this one wearing a tailored charcoal gray suit, step out of the back of the SUV. He was an attractive man with finely carved features and an athletic build.

  Something glinted in the fading sunlight and Tori froze. Her heart thudded when she saw that the man in the suit was pointing a gun at the lone man who stood with his back to the Toyota.

  “Death is more than you deserve, Mateo.” The suited man’s Hispanic accent was heavy and cultured. “But your death will send a message.”

  Tori watched in horror as the speaker aimed his handgun at Mateo’s chest. It had a long barrel, like one of those guns with silencers she’d seen on TV.

  Mateo didn’t flinch and he raised his chin. “Your family’s reign of terror will end, El Puño.”

  The man in the suit gave Mateo an appraising look and a smile curved the corner of his mouth. “A dead man’s desperate attempt to make his life end with meaning. Pathetic.” The man gestured to the ground. “On your knees.”

  When Mateo didn’t move, the other two men grabbed him by the arms and forced him to his knees, facing away from the suited man, his hands cuffed behind him.

  Tori’s eyes widened as she stared in horror, unable to comprehend what was happening.

  The suited man moved closer and put the barrel of his gun to the back of Mateo’s head.

  A spitting sound, and blood and brain matter sprayed over the white car as Mateo dropped. He collapsed on his side, and in her shock Tori saw that his face had been blown off.

  Tori screamed before she could stop herself. The remaining three men turned and spotted her. The man in the suit raised his gun and pointed it at her.

  She dropped her bag and ran.

  Terror ripped through her. Adrenaline pumped in her veins, jacking up her pulse and blood pounded in her ears.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God!

  She had to run up higher on the hillside as the men had the way down blocked off.

  “Get her!” the man in the suit shouted. “Kill the bitch!”

  A bullet pierced a stop sign as she passed it, the bullet making a pinging sound as it tore through metal.

  Tori ran faster. Her heart beat harder and she thought it might explode from fear. She couldn’t think, she could only react.

  Sounds of heavy footfalls grew closer behind her and she doubled her speed. She could outrun these men. She had to outrun them.

  She glanced over her shoulder and her fear spiked. They were closer than she’d realized and they each held guns, aimed at her.

  Another scream tore from her and she increased her speed. Even though she ran on a daily basis, she was no longer used to the high altitude or the steepness of the streets.

  She threw another look over her shoulder and saw that the men were closing in on her. One of them stopped and aimed his weapon. She zigged and zagged, hoping that would keep the men from hitting her. She passed a stone wall beneath a house on the hillside, and small pieces of rock exploded beside her.

  The sting of the rocks striking her face and arms only made her fight harder to keep running. She prayed for someone to come out to help her but then prayed no one would so they wouldn’t be shot. These men would kill any witnesses, of that she was certain. She had to outlast them, had to find a place to hide. She thought about the old high school. Could she find a place around it where she wouldn’t be found?

  The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and she didn’t know how much farther she could make it. This time when she looked over her shoulder she saw that she was farther ahead of the men.

  Her heart pounded, her face flushed, sweat coating her body. Her breathing became more labored and her muscles screamed as she ran higher and higher yet.

  She rounded another corner and then an SUV. Just as she ran around the vehicle, rough hands grabbed her, jerking her out of the street. She started to scream when a hand clamped over her mouth.

  Panic sent more adrenaline surging through her and she tried to struggle and get away from the strong arm clamped around her. She kicked, her heel connecting with a shin, and heard the man swear.

  “I’m trying to help you.” The man’s voice was low. “Come on.”

  She stopped fighting and he released her. She whirled to face a big man with a hard look on his scarred features. He grabbed her hand. Instinct told her he was one of the good guys, and she ran with him up a short flight of stairs that led to a small house surrounded by tall shrubs. They ducked inside a side door and he shut it behind them quickly but without allowing it to close hard enough to make a sound.

  Her chest rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath, her whole body hot, sweat dripping down the small of her back. Her heart felt like it was going to explode from fear and the run up the hills. The man peeked through the gap in the white curtains covering the rectangle of glass in the side door.

  It was then that she noticed the gun.

  A cry of fear escaped her as she stumbled in the small kitchen. She backed away from the man who gripped the weapon in his right hand as he peered through the slit in the curtains. Her hip hit a kitchen chair and it screeched over the linoleum. She swung her gaze around her, as if she might find some kind of weapon.

  He looked over his shoulder and must have recognized the terror in her eyes as she stared at his gun.

  “I’m a federal agent.” He pulled his overshirt aside and she felt a rush of relief when she saw a gold badge on his belt. He turned back to the window. “You can tell me what the hell is going on once I make sure these bastards are long gone.”

  “Watch your tongue, Landon Michael Walker,” came a voice from behind Tori.

  Tori gave a startled yelp as she spun to face a woman who looked as if she was a hundred years old and under five feet tall. It was easy to see that she’d been a little taller before age and gravity had taken away a
few inches and had caused her back and shoulders to stoop.

  “Sorry, Grandma Teresa,” Landon said and Tori cut her gaze back to him. He was still looking out the window. And she was still shaking.

  “Who are you?” Grandma Teresa asked, her tone blunt.

  The woman had a strong accent. Polish, Tori thought. She’d had a Polish professor during her undergrad years.

  “I’m Tori.” She swallowed. “Tori Cox.”

  “You in some kind of trouble?” the elderly woman asked.

  “I—I saw something.” Tori’s entire body was trembling. “I—” She put her fist in her mouth and bit down as she tried to calm down.

  “No sign of the men who were chasing you.” Landon turned away from the window. “I think you’re safe. What did you see?”

  Tori couldn’t think straight, almost couldn’t comprehend the man’s question.

  “What did you see?” he repeated. “It’s important you tell me now.”

  She lowered her hand. Her voice shook as she spoke and she had a hard time getting the words out. “I saw them kill a man.”

  Landon’s expression hardened. “Are you sure?”

  “I can’t believe it.” She brought her shaking hand to her neck. “They shot him. Oh, my God. They shot him.”

  “I need you to focus.” Landon holstered his weapon and grasped her firmly by her shoulders. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I—I” Her throat worked. “It was shadowed, getting dark in the alleyway. But I saw them. I wasn’t that far from where the men were standing. I saw them.”

  He kept his gaze locked with hers. “Where?”

  Her whole body started shaking even harder as all that happened hit her more violently. “An alleyway.” She tried to focus on her words. “North of the arts center, on the way up School Hill.”

  He released her and pulled a cell phone out of a holster on his belt. He punched in a number. She rubbed her arms with her hands, feeling goose bumps beneath her palms. She bit her lower lip as she listened while he reported the possible homicide to the Bisbee Police Department.