Lethal Target

by Janice Cantore

  “All I can do is repeat that I have every confidence in the Jackson County sheriff.”

  Damien studied her for a moment, then gave a nod and left. Tess slowly released her fist, wondering where the rumor had started and just how far it had spread.

  46

  Oliver had wanted to tell Addie she was wrong to bow to the pressure but knew it wasn’t his place to do such a thing. As he walked across the street to the church, he prayed for Tess and for a quick resolution to the murder of Hector Connor-Ruiz. He could tell Tess was shaken by the request she take time off. Addie might not believe in the charge, but putting Tess on vacation was a huge vote of no confidence.

  It was more and more apparent to him that while Tess had come far in life, she was still being held back by the anger she felt over the loss of her father. He was not only reminded of Drake, Oliver also thought of a woman in the fellowship he knew well. Years ago, Nan had climbed behind the wheel of her car impaired by alcohol. Driving too fast on a curvy road, she’d lost control and rolled the car, injuring herself and killing her boyfriend and their young child. Nan served several months in jail after she was released from the hospital.

  Why was a word that had Nan stuck even years later. Oliver had spoken to her many times, prayed for her often. She said she knew God had forgiven her, but she couldn’t stop asking why. “Why did I get behind the wheel that night when I knew better?” She couldn’t move forward, couldn’t put one foot in front of the other. Oliver knew that could have just as easily been him. His “why” question about Anna would never be answered either. Nan was stuck, and Drake was stuck; their issues were obvious because they wore the pain on their sleeve.

  Tess was just as stuck, but she’d buried her pain deep, covered it over with a mission to honor her father by being a good cop. Oliver knew that things people buried had a nasty habit of surfacing at the most inopportune moments. He prayed for the strength and wisdom to help both Tess and Drake.

  Drake had to grieve in a healthy way. And he had the support of a loving wife. Oliver prayed that Eva could bring him around. Tess was more of a challenge. Oliver had to figure out how to show her that there was no betrayal where God was concerned. He’d heard enough about her father’s death to know that the man had made a choice, a heroic choice, to lay down his life for a citizen he served. And he understood enough about Tess to realize she’d do the same thing if the situation presented itself.

  She still hurt over her father’s loss. How to get the message across that it was okay to still hurt, that it was okay to hate how he left her so young, that his loss was not the result of a betrayal by God? Her father wouldn’t have wanted her to walk away from her faith—Oliver was certain about that.

  As he reached the church, he wondered about the murder of Hector Connor-Ruiz and who could be trying to frame the chief. He never for an instant doubted that she was innocent. She was not a killer; she was strong and fearless and relentless in the pursuit of justice. It wasn’t in her to kill someone in cold blood. He’d learned a lot last summer when the two of them had raced to Diamond Lake to save Kayla Reno from Roger Marshall, the pedophile.

  He’d seen the Connor-Ruiz homicide report; Addie had shared it with him because it so disturbed her. It was cold-blooded. Connor-Ruiz had been shot execution-style by someone with a very dark heart. That wasn’t Tess.

  He knew this town, this area in the Upper Rogue, and the question she’d asked troubled him, rocked him to his toes. Who here was coldhearted enough to murder Connor-Ruiz and then try to make it look like Tess had done it, and why?

  Oliver recognized that the pot laws had brought a lot of strangers to town. He hated to look at every newcomer with skepticism, but unless there was another Roger Marshall in their midst, Connor-Ruiz was likely killed by a newcomer. But who?

  He decided it wouldn’t hurt to ask around and maybe help the investigation a bit. Don Cherry might have answers.

  – – –

  After Damien left, Tess closed her office door, needing quiet to think. It made sense that the shooting would become election fodder. Cole Markarov had hated her from the beginning of her employment. The news really didn’t change anything.

  Sheila stepped in to tell her that two news organizations were on the phone, wanting interviews. After taking the calls and being as brief as possible, Tess began to see wisdom in Addie’s decision, though it hurt. As long as she was on duty and a murder suspect, the inquiries would keep coming and get more pointed. But taking a vacation was so cowardly. It was hiding. Her father had never hidden from anything in his life.

  It was crystal clear to her that she had only two options: give up, go home, and hibernate until she was arrested or the real killer was caught; or forge ahead, vacation or no, and try to find Tim’s killer. Of those two options, there was only one she could pick.

  She would find a way to use her forced vacation to her advantage. She could concentrate on one thing—finding Tim’s killer—and not have to deal with anything else if she didn’t want to.

  Satisfied with her plan, she texted the officer on duty, Gabe Bender, and told him she was officially on vacation, and Curtis was in charge. She called Curtis Pounder and told him the same thing. She changed into civilian clothes and perused her office, considering Rogue’s Hollow PD. The department she’d inherited was a good one; she knew it would run smoothly even if she was forced to step away. And after a year of working with these guys, she knew they rarely stood on rank. They would all do their jobs and ask each other for help when they needed it.

  A glance at the clock told her that Steve would be there soon to pick up her .45. That in and of itself might clear her once and for all, but she wasn’t going to lean on a maybe. Then she remembered that Oliver thought there might be a cloud account with Tim’s photos. She sent him a text, asking if he’d heard anything from Travis yet. Satisfied she’d done all she could in the chief’s uniform, she locked her desk and grabbed her things. Her mind turned Tim’s case repeatedly as she climbed into her SUV and drove home.

  – – –

  Tess got home and made herself a sandwich. She wasn’t hungry, but she needed something to do while she waited for Steve. Before she sat down to eat, she retrieved her .45 from her small gun safe. She released the clip, ejected a round from the chamber, left the chamber open, and set it in the living room.

  Then she had too much nervous energy to sit and eat. She took a bite of her sandwich, set it down, and paced, only stopping when she heard car tires crunching on the gravel in her driveway. She peeked out the window. Steve climbed out of his patrol car. In seconds, he was at her door.

  “Morning, Tess,” he said as he stood in the doorway, the evidence bag with her duty weapon in his hand.

  Tess felt stiff. Not too long ago his appearance at her door would have brought a smile, but right now she didn’t know where they stood.

  “Or maybe I should say afternoon.” He stepped into the living room when Tess stepped back. “Why are you in civvies?”

  “I’m officially on vacation. A first for me.”

  Something like concern crossed his face—he knew exactly what she was saying. But then it was gone and his cop face was back in place.

  “Here’s your nine. Do you have the .45?”

  “No problem.” She held her hand out for her 9mm and he gave it to her. She set it down in the bag and picked up the .45, holding it by the trigger guard and handing it to Steve. “Here you go. Any chance you can tell me when I’ll get my laptop back?”

  “Techs are still working on it.”

  Tess nodded but could tell that Steve had more to say.

  “Can we take a minute to clear the air, please?”

  “What, since you couldn’t match my nine to the murder, suddenly you’re conflicted?”

  “I never thought you killed that guy. Look, Belcher is breathing down my neck. He’s in charge and he wants to stay there. I think he believes solving this murder with a high-profile arrest will enhance his résumé
, give him a leg up on the competition.”

  “What about impartial investigation?”

  “Aw, it’s politics!” He threw his hands up. “You know better than anyone else how politics mucks things up. I care about you, Tess. I’m doing my job the best I can under the circumstances.”

  Taken aback because this certainly was not the Steve at the crime scene or on the phone, Tess blinked and thought carefully before responding.

  “Steve, you’re a good cop; I know that. But you betrayed my trust. I wasn’t asking for special treatment; all I was asking for was the benefit of the doubt. And then you called me on a taped line, for heaven’s sake. I just can’t forgive that right now.” She held her hand out toward the door.

  “That was Belcher. I don’t know how to show you that I’m on your side in this. Someone is trying to frame you; that became clear to me right away. So be careful.” He turned on his heel and left the house.

  Tess stood for a long time after he left, with the door open, until she could no longer hear his tires on the gravel drive.

  – – –

  Tess picked at the rest of her sandwich. Her phone dinged with a text from Oliver. Sorry, no recent pics from Tim on the cloud.

  Disappointment bit. She wanted to call and talk to Oliver, but the phone rang before she could punch in his number.

  Surprise raised her eyebrows. It was her old friend, DEA Agent Ledge.

  “Agent Ledge. What a surprise.”

  “I hear a lot has been happening for you lately.”

  “You could say that.” She wondered what he’d heard, if rumors that she was a cold-blooded killer had reached his ears. She didn’t offer the information.

  “I’ve been meaning to call. But . . .” She could hear his phone being slid around as if he were talking and walking at the same time and a lot of voices in the background.

  A terse “Hang on” was all she got. After a few minutes with Tess frowning, wondering what was going on, he came back on the line.

  “Look,” he said, “it’s going to be all over the news shortly. We just had a pair of agents ambushed and shot. One is dead, the other hanging on.”

  Tess froze.

  Ledge continued. “It was a targeted ambush. They were lying in wait for the agents. But the good guys returned fire. One of the cowards is dead, the other in custody. O’Rourke, you might be next.”

  47

  Bryce’s small RV trailer behind the main house at the Hang Ten was old and got stuffy with the slightest rise in outside temperature, but it was home while he worked on the farm. Sometimes he wished he had stayed at the Gospel Mission, but without a car to get him back and forth from Medford, he had to be close. And it was quiet most of the time, unless Haywood was playing music to bug the neighbor, or he was arguing with Hector. But the neighbor was gone right now and Hector was dead. Yet loud, angry words rang from the house. It was lunchtime, and getting hot, so all of Bryce’s windows were open while he toasted a grilled cheese sandwich.

  He could make out Haywood’s voice. It got high and reedy when he was upset. The other voice was lower, more measured, and Bryce couldn’t understand what the man was saying.

  He frowned and turned off the burner. It didn’t sound like Cherry, but it might be the new Mexican guy. Haywood just kept saying that it wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t know anything about guns, he wasn’t into gun violence.

  He wasn’t making much sense and he had diarrhea of the mouth, the kind that comes on when you messed up and you were afraid of the person calling you on it. Bryce knew what that felt like. He’d been in that position with his father more times than he cared to remember. But who was Haywood afraid of?

  Bryce stretched, realizing his nosy bone was tweaking him. He scratched his beard, wanting to peek and listen, wanting to know what the fight was about. He peered out the small, open window at the end of the trailer. Bryce saw a car in the driveway he wasn’t familiar with. When did that get here? He hadn’t heard it pull up.

  Bryce noticed so many things that were off lately. The Hulk and the Mexican had filled the Reptile’s old room with plastic tubs. They’d been coming and going—this after Haywood had said everyone was supposed to stay put. The Hulk had been riding around on a sharp little ATV, heading up the canyon lately. He’d begun to fear that Tilly was right, that Haywood was up to illegal things, and he wanted to leave. But he knew they’d never let him, so he would bide his time and wait.

  The voices in the house lowered, and Bryce pulled his T-shirt on. It was probably in the seventies outside, maybe fifteen degrees warmer inside the trailer. He could always say he was just out for fresh air if anyone asked him what he was doing. A little bit of fear roiled his stomach. What was that old saying? “Curiosity killed the cat”? I’m smarter than a cat, he thought.

  As quietly as he could, he opened the door to the trailer and stepped out into the noon sunshine. Looking from side to side, he tiptoed to the window. He peered into the house and saw the short Mexican dude he’d seen once before standing beside someone he’d never seen before, a tall guy who looked like a cop. Haywood was pacing. He looked nervous. Bryce didn’t see the Hulk. They were talking about damage control and somebody named Howard.

  Bryce frowned, wondering what was going on. He was about to turn around and go back to his trailer when he felt the cold steel of a gun press into the back of his warm neck.

  48

  Leaving Tess hanging with a promise he’d call back, Ledge disconnected. Since she didn’t have her laptop, Tess hit the browser on her phone. She checked a news site and found the breaking news story.

  “DEA Agents Ambushed outside Supermarket.” It happened a few hours ago. The agents were not named yet, and Tess wondered if she knew them. Most of the guys she’d worked with on the search warrant were great guys, family men, and it broke her heart to think one had just been killed. The surviving agent was said to be in the hospital in critical condition. And Tess read that there was speculation this was connected to an incident a couple of days earlier where a pipe bomb was found underneath a DEA vehicle.

  Tess hadn’t heard anything about the first incident and wondered what this was all about. Was it related to the raid in Yreka? What did Ledge mean that she might be next? Thankfully, she didn’t have to stay on pins and needles for very long.

  “Sorry about that. Life is off the scale right now.” He sounded harried and more on edge than he’d ever been during the short time Tess had worked with him and Agent Hemmings.

  “What did you mean I might be next?”

  “Didn’t Hemmings call you, warn you about the threats?”

  “No, I haven’t heard from Agent Hemmings since he came up here to ask about Carrington. Is he back here in Oregon?”

  Ledge said something inaudible. “No, he should have called. Chief, I just saw a news report about you. It said they found a dead guy on your porch?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s up with that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not handling the investigation. Not sure why he was there or what he wanted.” She held her breath, wondering where Ledge was going with all of this.

  “Hmm. Well, I have something for you to chew on. We got a lot of threats after that raid in Yreka. Hemmings was supposed to give you a heads-up. I’ll be all over why he didn’t. Seems like the kid who died in the raid, the one who fired at the entry team—he was the Ghost’s little brother. The Mexican mafia put a hit out on all cops and agents associated with the raid.”

  “Threats? A hit?” The words were surreal to Tess.

  “At first, we figured most of the chatter was normal stuff, blowhards angry that we shut their operation down, venting. Vowing to kill agents, cops; threatening to blow us up, yada yada yada. But two things happened: We got a positive ID on the Ghost, José Gonzalez Garcia. The dead kid was Geraldo Herrera Garcia. His mom came in to claim his body and she filled in some blanks. José Garcia is his half brother: same father, different mothers. That made us take the
threats more seriously. And Garcia has more of a rep than we thought. He’s wanted for several homicides in Mexico and is a possible suspect in a dozen this side of the border. Because we had this information, our agents were prepared. That’s a big reason why we didn’t lose both guys.” He paused.

  “The second thing is, you arrested Carrington. The guy’s a bomb maker; his fingerprints are all over a lot of explosives we’ve recovered. It’s obvious now that he was busy before you arrested him. We need to tear his place of employment apart. And it’s possible that the dead guy on your porch surprised a hit man and took a bullet for you. Just a thought.”

  Tess digested this information, mind whirring. After finding Hector dead on her porch and becoming a suspect in the murder, Tess didn’t think anything could cause her jaw to drop, but this info did. She knew Hemmings should have taken a harder line on the Hang Ten.

  Ledge was still talking. “The shooter in custody isn’t talking; neither is Carrington. But I don’t need to tell you everyone in law enforcement will be after Garcia, high priority. I’ll send you everything we have on him that’s been confirmed. If he did miss you and get that other guy, I don’t doubt he’ll try again. There’s an urgency to his moves right now. Scuttlebutt says he’s tying up loose ends to disappear over the border.”

  “But why mess with me all the way up here?”

  “It’s an image thing with him. Even though you only assisted in Yreka, you became high profile because you ran down Alexander; you made the mafia hit parade. Watch your back.”

  “I will,” Tess said as she tried to digest the fact that she might have been the target of an assassin and not Hector. Was that what happened? Did he come to her house for his own reasons and interrupt a killer? Did she owe Hector her life?

  “Should I be concerned about the Hang Ten?”

  “We’re concerned with what’s happening here, now. I’ll have to get back to you on that place.”