Lethal Target

by Janice Cantore

  “A good friend who would cover for you.”

  “Keep reaching.”

  “We’ll see. Mind your manners, Chief. Don’t leave the area.” He looked down his nose at her and then got back in his car.

  She waited until he was long gone before picking up her gun belt. Before putting it on, she changed her mind. The less threatening she was today, the better. Tess grabbed her coffee mug, headed for her car, and pondered the visit by the sheriff. Why was Belcher so fixated on her? Was it really because he thought a high-profile arrest would help him?

  Tess couldn’t see any scenario where there was enough evidence to convict her of a murder she didn’t commit. She and Jeannie were in all night; time of death wouldn’t help. And both her guns had been cleared.

  All the evidence right now appeared to be in her favor. Still, she had a strong feeling inside that told her she needed to watch her step.

  With that thought, a heavy feeling of foreboding settled on her, and Tess wondered if she’d already become damaged goods as far as the town was concerned. With Cole using her as a campaign issue and even Forest Wild turning against her, did she have any chance of remaining chief?

  Politics could blind people. Was that what had happened to Belcher? Would all the people of Rogue’s Hollow decide she was a bad egg?

  She couldn’t entertain the thought. If she did, she’d fall apart. There was only one thing to do—charge full speed ahead.

  53

  Tess had the address for Howard Delfin and considered what the MADGE lieutenant had said. They were working on getting a warrant, but they were being careful, not rushing the process. She might have a window of opportunity to talk to Delfin, ask him about Eddie Carr. She didn’t want to mess up MADGE’s invest, but her time was running short. And she wouldn’t push; she just wanted to get a feel for the guy. Was he Tim’s killer?

  In her little roadster, she drove out to Shady Cove. The address was about ten minutes away. Tess turned from Highway 62 onto Old Ferry Road and wound up the road for a bit until she reached Delfin’s street, a quiet cul-de-sac. The lots were large here and the area was what Tess liked to call semirural—no sidewalks, no picture-perfect square lawns here; rougher-edged landscaping dominated. Delfin’s address was straight ahead at the end of the street.

  Tess pulled to the side of the street two houses down and parked in the shade of an oak tree. Right away she saw some problems to serving a search warrant. There was no way to sneak up on Howard’s home. The structure backed up to trees and a wild, dry hillside. The neighbors were far enough away, but with the windows and view, Tess would hate to be the one walking up the driveway’s steep incline to the front door with a warrant.

  She wondered if MADGE had the house under surveillance and studied each car she saw parked on the street. None of them were occupied and none looked like plain cars. But police agencies here were peopled with a lot of officers who were experienced hunters and hikers. Someone could be positioned in the forest to watch the house if MADGE was certain Delfin was making opiates.

  It was possible her visit would make waves.

  Oh, well.

  Tess carried a small .380 caliber backup weapon in her car. Steve knew she had the small gun, but neither he nor Belcher had asked for it. And Tess saw no reason to offer it up to Belcher. She’d had nothing to do with Hector’s murder—with a 9mm or a .45 caliber or a .380.

  Wanting to look as nonthreatening as possible—she was already in jeans and a T-shirt—she’d not worn her belt holster, but she still wanted to be safe. So, in the interest of being prepared, she slipped the handgun into the small of her back and climbed out of the car. Tess stayed close to the edge of the street. It was warm but not yet the forecast ninety degrees. Still, sweat started on her brow. It was quiet—pleasantly or eerily, depending on your perspective.

  She passed one car, noted it was empty, touched the hood. Also cool. Then she began the trek up the steep driveway. At the top of the drive there was a small pickup parked in front of the garage door with bricks behind the rear tires. It didn’t look as if it still ran.

  The front door was up a few stairs and across what looked like a large wraparound porch. Tess reached the bottom step at the same time she heard a car coming up the street. Before she could turn and check out the vehicle, a man came running around the corner of the porch to her right.

  Dustin Pelter.

  “Hey!” Tess called.

  He saw her and screeched to a stop like a cartoon, eyes like saucers, reeking of fear.

  “I didn’t do it!” He turned to run back the way he came, slipping but catching his balance enough to disappear around the corner of the house as Tess hit the top step. She accelerated after him, reaching the corner, pausing briefly in case he’d set a trap. He hadn’t. He was sprinting along the side of the house.

  Glad she’d put on her trail runners, Tess went after him, getting good traction as she raced up the dusty path. Dustin didn’t turn when he reached the back of the house; he kept running up the hillside behind the house and Tess continued after him.

  Arms pumping, adrenaline fueling her, Tess closed the distance. Dustin was a junkie, after all. She doubted he’d be able to run far.

  He was grabbing trees, bushes, trying to pull himself up the hill.

  Breath coming hard, sweat stinging her eyes, Tess yelled, “Stop, Dustin! You’ve nowhere to go.” The trail was hard packed, and she bounded up as Dustin slipped to his knees. She could hear him crying.

  “It wasn’t me.” He whined breathlessly as he pulled himself up, went another couple feet, and fell again.

  “I just want to talk to you.” Tess was close enough to smell him, and she slowed, wanting her breathing to steady. “Stop. There’s nowhere to run.”

  He was crawling now, and in three long strides, Tess reached him.

  Quivering and breathing hard, Dustin kept repeating, “It wasn’t me.”

  “All right.” Tess placed her right hand on an oak tree, leaning in, and wiped sweat from her brow with her left hand. “It wasn’t you. Turn around and talk to me.”

  He started to cough and Tess feared soon he’d be dry heaving. He coughed and squirmed into the dust. She waited, taking stock of their location. She had a view of Shady Cove and the house below.

  After a moment, Dustin calmed and sat up. His face was streaked with sweat, dirt, and tears. He wiped his hands on his knees and leaned forward, now hiccuping. “I just found him like that, that’s all.”

  Tess frowned. She’d initially thought he was talking about Tim. “Who?”

  He looked up, thin body quivering as hiccups ripped through him. “He—” His voice died in his throat, silenced by the crack of a rifle shot.

  Tess ducked instinctively and slipped, falling facedown as two more shots rang out and bark exploded from the tree next to her.

  Cover.

  The word screamed in her brain—she had to find cover. Staying as flat as possible, Tess scrambled up the hill as two more shots hit the tree. She felt bits of bark cut her face. Dragging herself behind the tree, she pulled her gun from behind her, feeling like she’d brought a cap gun to a firefight.

  “Dustin,” she hissed and got no response.

  Tess stuck her hand around the tree, pointing the gun toward the house below and violating training that told her not to fire until she knew what her target was. She just wanted whoever was shooting at her to know she was not unarmed.

  She fired twice and waited. The day returned to the quiet she’d noted before the shooting started—now definitely eerie. Then she heard a car door slam and a car burn rubber out of the cul-de-sac. Pushing herself to her feet, she stood, trying to get a glimpse of the car.

  She saw it turn right onto Old Ferry Road, heading toward Highway 62. She couldn’t tell the make, just that it was a dark sedan. Frustrated, she shoved the gun behind her and pulled out her phone. Only to stop in shock when she looked down at Dustin. He’d been hit, blood blossoming across his dirty white T-s
hirt.

  54

  Oliver drove up to the Hang Ten. He’d had to convince Tilly to stay behind, but it hadn’t been easy. She was really frightened.

  The pot farm gate was locked, and from his spot in front of it, Oliver could see no movement at the Hang Ten. It was 9 a.m. on Thursday; he expected someone would be awake. The tight security didn’t surprise him. He knew about the robbery here, and of many others at different farms. Back in October during the pot harvest several farms had been the victims of invasion-style robberies. The farmers took precautions now. But Oliver did wonder if things were more secure because of Hector’s murder.

  He punched the button on the intercom several times before someone answered with an angry “What?”

  “It’s Oliver Macpherson. I’d like to talk to Bryce.”

  There was a long pause. Then a different voice answered—Oliver was certain—and it wasn’t Haywood. “Bryce isn’t here.”

  “When will he be back?”

  “He won’t. He left. Went home.”

  “What? He still had fines to pay and one more court date.”

  “Hey, pal, not my problem. He’s gone.” The intercom clicked off.

  Oliver hit the button again, hoping to reconnect and ask for Don, but to no avail.

  He frowned. He didn’t know Bryce well, but the young man he’d talked to was adamant about keeping his court dates and clearing up all his legal problems. Bryce did want to leave the valley, but not before he was in the clear with the justice system. Oliver didn’t believe that would have changed.

  Was he afraid because Hector had been murdered? That put a whole new light on things. Now he didn’t know what he was going to tell Tilly. On top of everything else, Drake Harper still hadn’t turned up. Put that together with the odd visit from Cherry after Hector was killed, and fear began to knot in his stomach.

  But he did know what he was going to tell Tess. Something was wrong at the Hang Ten. Very wrong.

  – – –

  “The chief isn’t here,” Sheila said. “But you look wigged-out. Is it an emergency?”

  Oliver hit his head with his palm. “That’s right—she’s on vacation.” He reconsidered Bryce. The thing was, he needed Tess’s thinking here. Was he being too suspicious or not suspicious enough? “I’m not certain. I’d just like to speak to her. Who is on duty?”

  “We’re thin. It’s Officer Bender now, but he’s been helping Jackson County with their murder investigation. Del is covering on overtime. Do you want me to call him in?”

  Oliver shook his head. “No, I’m not sure what’s going on. I don’t want to interrupt him.” Slowly he turned to leave, then turned back. “Has there been any word on Drake?”

  “Not a peep. Poor Eva. How’s she holding up?”

  “Last I heard, she was staying with the Peabodys for a while.”

  “I hope Drake is okay.”

  “Me too. I’ll leave a message for the chief and, on second thought, go find Del. Thanks, Sheila.”

  55

  Tess had a nasty cut on her cheek from tree bark. Paramedics arrived and gave her a Band-Aid before screaming off to the hospital with Dustin, who was alive, but just barely.

  The once-quiet cul-de-sac had filled with sheriff vehicles and state police cars in short order. Tess followed the medics down the hill to face Steve Logan, who was part of the crew of deputies flooding the street. There had been no sign that anyone was in Delfin’s house. The gunshots hadn’t brought the occupant out, if he was even home.

  “You okay?” he asked, gesturing to her cheek.

  “I’m fine,” Tess said with more force than she meant to.

  Anger darkened Steve’s brow and Tess knew she needed to relax. None of this was Steve’s fault. “I’ve got Medford calling, asking what we have here. What happened?”

  Tess told him. “I never even knocked at the front door. All I planned to do was size Delfin up.”

  “MADGE was handling this,” he cut her off. “Why were you meddling?”

  “I’m not meddling. It’s my name I’m trying to clear.” Her voice rose, anger that he couldn’t see why she needed to do something seeping out.

  “You’re not the only competent cop in the valley.” He folded his arms and shot her an arrogant cop glare.

  “I know that. I also know someone is trying to frame me for murder and your boss seems gleeful about it. I’m not under arrest, so I’m out of here.” She stomped away.

  “Tess, wait.”

  She stopped. Something in his voice made her turn back.

  He sighed and threw his hands up. “Can we start over? I didn’t mean to come off like I did.” Contrite, he walked to where she stood. “Look, I understand why you’re here, but . . . well, you could have been killed. Maybe we’re not together anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still care what happens to you.”

  The anger and tension in her melted away, and she fought to control a tumble of emotions. She had almost been killed, and the thought still made her knees weak. And in spite of all the bad stuff between them lately, Steve could still be an ally, a friend.

  “Thanks, Steve. A do-over is in order.” Collecting her thoughts, she gave him the whole story and he listened without interrupting.

  “Get a good look at the shooter or the car that peeled out?” he asked when she finished.

  She shook her head. “We need to check out the house, determine what Dustin was doing here.”

  Steve folded his arms. “We? Tess, as I recall, you’re on vacation.”

  Too tired and frazzled to even argue, Tess waved her hand. “Fine, you check. Is Delfin even home?”

  “We got two 911 calls from—” he pointed—“that house and a house on Old Ferry Road, but no call from this house.”

  “Was anyone able to give a description of the shooter so far?”

  “Nothing clear. Wait here.”

  Tess leaned against a sheriff’s car while Steve went to talk to a state cop. The car was parked some distance from the driveway and yellow tape was strung across the area. They’d found the shooter’s brass. He’d been firing a rifle, and Tess guessed this was where the shooter’s car had stopped. He’d shot at her at least once from here. And then he’d run up the side of the house to shoot again.

  She looked up the hillside, realizing that the guy knew what he was doing to hit Dustin from this distance. She was lucky he’d missed her. Straightening, she walked to the edge of the tape, noting the yellow evidence markers where the brass was.

  There were officers up where she and Dustin had been when they were shot at, collecting evidence, and there were officers canvassing the street, trying to determine if anyone had seen clearly who shot at her. Tess was a bit numb; she recognized a little shock setting in. But even through the cloud of shock, she felt there were answers here, with Delfin. Delfin could be the out-of-place partygoer. But what was his connection to Tim?

  Steve and the state cop had an animated conversation before they both walked up the driveway to Delfin’s house. They banged on the front door and got no response. After a few minutes, they walked around toward the back of the house.

  Tess started to feel life flowing back into her limbs as the shock wore off. She took a swig of water from the bottle the medics had given her. She’d barely put the bottle down when Steve came striding down the steps with purpose toward her.

  “Did you go in the house?” he asked.

  “No, I told you. I didn’t even knock on the door. Why?”

  “Back door is open. We went in. There’s a male subject inside with a bullet in his head.”

  – – –

  Murder and shooting investigations were the most complex and time-consuming investigations cops engaged in, and it was getting dark when Tess left for Rogue’s Hollow after the MADGE lieutenant had spoken to her. He was not a happy camper. If Delfin had been making opioids, all of his stuff was gone. Officers cleared the house, found some drug residue, possible signs of drug manufacture, but that was
it. The male subject was positively identified as Howard Delfin, and he’d only been dead for hours.

  No one on the cul-de-sac could describe the car that sped away, but they’d all heard the shots. Tess mentally reviewed the incident over and over as she drove home, tired, sore, and hungry. The weight of defeat burdened her. Delfin was the last lead. The only bright spot was that at last report, Dustin was still alive. She could hope that if he lived, he would fill in some gaps. She was so preoccupied, she forgot she was on vacation and drove to the station instead of home.

  “Are you okay, Chief?” Sheila, who should have been home an hour ago, was still there. She stood, face white with worry as Tess walked inside. “We’ve been listening to the shooting on the scanner. Del wanted to go down there, but the state police called him off.”

  Tess looked at her shirt and arms and realized she was a mess. Dusty, dirty, and a little bloody from Dustin and her own superficial cuts, she felt clammy and sticky.

  “I’m okay, just a couple of scratches.”

  Del had stopped what he was doing and stepped toward her. “Someone took a potshot at you?”

  “Not sure if it was me they were shooting at or Dustin Pelter.” She told him what had happened.

  “Been looking all over for that guy. What a way to find him.”

  Tess headed for the bathroom, needing a pit stop. She stopped because it looked like Del had more to say. “Is there something else?”

  “Yeah, there is.” He frowned. “I had a talk with Pastor Mac a couple of hours ago.” He told Tess about Bryce being missing and the pastor’s visit to the pot farm.

  “Pastor Mac went up there looking for Bryce?” Tess grimaced, irritated that Oliver had done something potentially dangerous.

  “He didn’t make it past the gate.”

  “Did you go up there and ask about the guy?”

  He shook his head. “I got no cause. If they want to slam the door in my face, they could, and I hate it when that happens.”