Smoked Out (David Wolf Book 6)

by Jeff Carson

  Lancaster braked and pulled to the side of the dirt road.

  “What’s going on?” Her heart leaped and she looked down at her phone. Still nothing.

  He skidded to a stop and pulled out his own cell phone. Careful to keep it angled away from her, he stepped out of the SUV and walked to the rear with it to his cheek.

  Turning an ear, she listened hard, but only heard grumblings of his deep voice.

  Keeping one eye out the window, she pressed the button and woke the screen to make sure she hadn’t missed the text.

  Damn it. She opened the window and poured out the rest of her coffee.

  Lancaster got in without a word and drove.

  “Who was that?”

  “A friend.”

  Patterson raised an eyebrow. “You have friends?”

  She put her phone down in the cup holder again and resumed her silent brooding.

  Chapter 36

  “Stop here.” Wolf studied the map printout. “It’s going to be within view after that corner up there. Pull into the trees.”

  MacLean turned off the road and bounced through a dip, then revved the diesel engine as they climbed up a rise, slaloming between the trunks of ponderosa pines.

  At the top of the rise Wolf, MacLean, and Luke got out.

  The wind howled over the ridge, bringing on it the scent of pinesap and an unmistakable odor.

  “If that’s not the Mary Jane, then there’s a family of skunks who got murdered on the other side of this hill,” Luke said.

  They walked to the top of the hill and ducked down. Below them on the valley floor was a house squatting in the trees, surrounded by a cluster of pickup trucks.

  “Down,” Wolf said.

  He recognized the house from the listing on the computer earlier, but it looked to have been renovated on the outside. Four men with automatic rifles slung over their shoulders paced out front between six pickup trucks—all full-sized, all decked out with lift kits and roll bars with halogen lights mounted on top of a few of them.

  “Looks like we found our cartel,” MacLean said pressing his binoculars to his eyes. “M4 rifles on their shoulders and pistols on their hips.”

  He handed the binoculars to Wolf.

  The image bobbed into view. Four men pacing out front. There was a water tank on stilts in the rear with an insulated pipe leading from it into the rear of the house, and two trap doors on the ground with exhaust pipes that spewed blue smoke.

  “Grow house,” Wolf said. “Water comes in from that tank, and electricity from the generators in the ground out back.”

  Wolf pulled the binoculars away and ducked down.

  “That’s a solid motive for killing Sarah,” Luke said gently. “If the cartel converted all those houses she sold them into grow houses, that means that after all was said and done she was a liability.”

  MacLean ducked down. “There’s an SUV pulling up. Shit, it must have been right behind us on the way in.” MacLean surveyed the hillside behind them.

  Wolf watched a black SUV pull in front of the house and three men stepped out. “That was the SUV parked across the valley from my house.”

  “That’s definitely not FBI,” Luke said. “Too much after market crap on it.”

  Three men streamed out of the house to meet the new arrivals.

  Wolf recognized the last man out of the house. “It’s our guy from the storage locker.”

  “What?” Luke reached out. “Give me those.”

  Wolf handed them over.

  “These guys look pretty well armed. I don’t like this.”

  Wolf took back the binoculars. “Ten of them. Could be more inside. Looks like our albino guy with the tattoo is the leader, the way everyone’s acting toward him. I knew we should have killed him.”

  “Can I see?” MacLean asked.

  Wolf ignored him. “He looks pissed.” Albino was pointing at the driver of the SUV. His raised voice drifted up to them on the breeze.

  Wolf raked the magnified image from man to man and then froze. For the first time he noticed a German Shepherd lying down. Its ears were perked and it was staring right at him.

  “Everyone down.”

  A bark echoed up the hill just as they ducked. The dog started going crazy until a man yelled for it to shut up.

  They slid backwards on their stomachs and began walking.

  “Time to go anyway,” Wolf said.

  “Are we going to finally hear about this plan of yours?” Luke asked.

  “Yes.”

  MacLean and Luke looked at each other.

  “And is part of your plan informing the FBI about all of this?” MacLean asked.

  “And then what?” Wolf opened the passenger door. “Sit in some interrogation room in Denver while these guys carry out whatever they’ve got planned? No. The safety of my son’s not up for grabs. We’ll turn ourselves in after these guys are neutralized.”

  Wolf climbed in the passenger side and closed the door.

  MacLean and Luke followed in silence.

  “Where to?” MacLean asked.

  “Back the way we came.”

  Chapter 37

  “Wolf is here,” Fabian’s voice said through Burton’s radio. “Wolf is here.”

  Those who were sitting on their camp chairs stood, those who were standing gravitated to Burton and his blaring radio.

  Rachette’s pulse jumped, because he knew action followed Wolf closely, and at the same time he felt the comfort of knowing the quarterback was here.

  Munford stepped close. “Holy crap, is that MacLean? What’s going on?”

  Rachette shook his head as he watched the big diesel pickup lumber toward them. “I have no idea.”

  They parked and Wolf, Luke, and MacLean stepped out.

  “There he is.” Burton’s voice boomed.

  Wolf smiled sheepishly and shook hands all around.

  MacLean ignored the cold reception from Burton and stepped to Munford and Wilson. “Aren’t you two supposed to be at work?”

  Munford’s face went red.

  “Sorry, sir,” Wilson said. “Duty called.”

  Rachette looked past MacLean to Wolf as he approached Jack. They all knew Wolf and Jack’s relationship had run up on rocky ground, and Jack’s earlier comments had revealed just how rocky things had gotten.

  Silence descended as they watched the greeting out of the corners of their eyes.

  Munford turned to Rachette and smiled wide when Wolf and Jack embraced.

  “Baine and Yates are here,” Fabian’s voice scratched through the radio.

  A beat up SUV rocked side to side up the road and parked. Baine and Yates stepped out and hesitated at the sight of MacLean.

  “Christ,” MacLean said, “is anyone even at the station today? Who’s next? Are the cafeteria workers coming too?”

  Baine and Yates looked like they’d been caught stealing, then relaxed when MacLean shook his head and smiled. “You Wolf boys are popular.”

  “All right. Everyone gather around, please.” Wolf raised his arms.

  They walked to Wolf while Burton and Jack slipped away to Burton’s truck.

  “Where are they going?” Baine asked.

  “They’re getting out of harm’s way.”

  Baine frowned. “Somewhere safer than here?”

  “The abandoned fire house, where there’s not going to be a shootout,” Rachette said. “Now shut up.”

  “The group of individuals who killed my wife are just to the east of us right now. About eleven miles down that road.” Wolf pointed at the back of Burton’s vehicle as it drove away. “They’re heavily armed. But so are we. And if we play this right, we won’t fire a single shot, and you guys will be bringing in a whole bunch of cartel members along with me into the station.”

  “Not a bad day’s work,” Wilson said with a smile.

  “Sir,” Yates said, “the FBI went mobile this morning. Something big is going down for them.”

  Wolf paused. “W
hat do you mean?”

  Yates looked at Baine.

  “They just flew out of the station,” Baine said with a shrug.

  Wolf looked at them each in turn. “Then we don’t worry about them. We would be involving the FBI, but Special Agent Luke here has some inside information about their investigation, and I’m afraid we don’t have time for lengthy discussions with them. The timing is perfect right now, and we have to move. If anyone feels too nervous to continue, please feel free to leave right now.”

  Wolf glanced at Munford.

  She stood like a steel tower. Nobody else moved a muscle.

  Wolf nodded. “The plan is simple.”

  Chapter 38

  Patterson and Lancaster stood on the front porch of the Muller residence and rang the doorbell again.

  Patterson peered inside the window next to the front door. The morning light hitting the other side of the house illuminated within, and there was no sign of movement inside Sarah’s parents’ house.

  Still no answer.

  She exhaled, feeling lethargic as her caffeine buzz wore off and the lack of sleep from the night before began to take its toll.

  “He’s not here, either. Let’s try back in town, I guess.”

  Lancaster stepped off the front porch and she followed.

  When her cell phone vibrated in her pocket she almost grunted with surprise. Slipping it out she checked the screen.

  Hello Patty.

  She’d been activated.

  Howdy. She typed into the phone, and then waited to press send.

  She checked her watch. It was 8:49 am and 32 seconds.

  They reached the car and Lancaster got into the driver’s seat at 40 seconds, and she pressed the send button and watched the progress bar.

  Come on, come on.

  “You coming?” Lancaster asked.

  She stood outside her open door and looked back toward the house, as if she was thinking about something.

  Glancing down at the phone again, she saw the message had gone out. Her watch said 8:49 am and 46 seconds.

  One minute and counting.

  Despite her electrified body, she climbed in and sighed, lazily setting the phone in the center console.

  Lancaster started the engine and shifted into drive.

  “You know what?” She said. “Ah, I feel like an idiot, but I have to pee so bad.” She pushed open the door. “I’m going to go around the back of their house. No one’s home. They won’t care.”

  With no show of emotion whatsoever Lancaster shifted into park and put both hands on his knees.

  “So … I’ll be back.”

  Leaving the phone, she stepped out and walked away down the driveway. With a discreet glance she saw her watch said 8:50 and 07 seconds.

  At 8:50 and 46 seconds, exactly one minute after her reply had gone out, her phone was going to chime as a message lit up her screen. The center console of the SUV was going to vibrate, drawing Lancaster’s eye, and a message was going to act as a huge sheet of fly paper that was going to catch him and his co-conspirators.

  She stopped dead in her tracks. Her phone was still on silent mode.

  Oh my God.

  With shaky steps she continued walking, wondering if Lancaster had seen her.

  It would still vibrate. It would still catch his attention.

  She stepped around the side of the house and out of sight of the squad SUV.

  “Damn it,” she hissed, clenching her fists.

  She took a deep breath. There was nothing she could do about it now. What was she going to do? Sprint back there, open the door, flip the switch, and then leave the phone and walk away again?

  Ten seconds to go.

  Idiot!

  Her heart hammered, the blood rushed in her ears. Realizing she actually had to pee, she relieved herself, which helped her kill more time, and then she stood at the side of the house for another few seconds for good measure.

  At 8:52 and 15 seconds, just about at suspiciously-long-pee time, she took a hard breath to steel her mind and marched back around the corner to the idling SUV.

  Eyes glued to the ground, halfway there she peeked up and saw Lancaster was on the phone inside.

  Was it working? She stopped and tied her shoe, giving Lancaster a little more time.

  Lancaster ended his call just as she climbed inside.

  “All right. All better now.”

  He shifted into drive and turned around.

  Feigning disinterest, she picked up her phone and gave it a nonchalant glance.

  When the screen woke from sleep mode she read the words.

  Hey, don’t worry, me, Burton, Wilson, and Munford have Jack at 1483 Star Ridge Road. Keep it quiet until further notice. Come after work if you want. Still no sign of Wolf here. Keep us posted.”

  It was all there, clear as day. She had made sure her phone settings would make the entire message display on screen even if the phone was locked.

  The message had been from Thomas Rachette, a contact she had added last night for the cell phone number she’d been given. The real McCoy contact in her phone was Tom Rachette.

  She looked over at Lancaster.

  He was a statue.

  She told herself he must have seen. It was human nature. A person’s phone is sitting right in front of you, it vibrates, you look at the screen and read it if you can.

  It was probably how most cheating husbands and wives got nabbed by their significant others these days.

  Lancaster drove in typical silence, revealing nothing on his World Series of Poker Champion face.

  She smiled inwardly. Because he had been on the phone.

  He’d seen it. He’d relayed the message to his murdering cartel cronies, and they were on their way to getting taken down by half the Denver FBI Field Office.

  Now she just had to lure this freak back to the station where they were waiting to take him down, too. Where she’d be free from the creepy interior of this SUV once and for all.

  “Hey, I was—”

  Her phone vibrated in her hand, cutting her off.

  It was an incoming call from Tom Rachette.

  She stared dumbfounded for a second. What? A second and third time she read the contact name. It was … the real McCoy.

  Silencing the call, she flipped the screen down and looked out the window.

  “Aren’t you going to answer it?” Lancaster said. There was a hint of a smirk on his lips.

  Had he read who the call was from as she sat staring at it like an idiot?

  With a red face and alarm bells drowning out her thoughts, she pressed the green button.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, don’t say my name, but it’s me, Wolf.”

  Patterson took a deep breath. “Mmhmm.”

  Had Lancaster seen the subtle difference in the names? Had he seen at all?

  “… my instructions exactly, okay?”

  Patterson nodded.

  “Patterson? Are you there?”

  “Yes,” she said in an annoyed tone. “Go ahead.”

  “Good. Now when I hang up, I want you to act distraught, and then really worried, and then tell Lancaster that it was me.”

  Patterson kept silent.

  “When I hang up, he’s going to ask who this was. Be cagey, and then admit that it was me, and you know where I am. Tell him I’m with Jack and Rachette, and you want to go meet us. Say you’re worried.

  “He’ll refuse and say that the official channels need to be notified, and he’ll make the phone calls. Let him, because he’s going to send some men to come eliminate us, and he can’t be anywhere near when it happens. The address is 138 Wildflower Road. We’re texting you the address now.”

  Wolf paused, and Patterson’s phone vibrated against her ear. She checked and the address was there.

  “Are you still there?”

  “Mmhmm.” Patterson changed phone hands and glanced at Lancaster. He definitely seemed interested.

  “Tell him the addres
s, show it to him, and then let him call the shots from there. Lancaster is dangerous, Patterson. He’s working for a drug cartel from inside the sheriff’s department and has for years in Byron County. You’re going to lure the cartel to us and we’re going to take them down. We’re waiting here and we’re prepared to do it.”

  “Good plan.” She sighed loud like she was bored with the conversation. “Not necessary, but good plan.”

  “What? Patterson, do you copy? Do you need me to repeat?”

  “No.” She scratched absently at her pant leg, as if she were a teen having a conversation with her friend.

  “We’re counting on you,” Wolf said. “Please text us back to confirm it’s in motion. Can you do this?”

  Patterson nodded. “Listen, dad. I have to go. Just get her out, all right?”

  “Good girl.” Wolf hung up.

  She pocketed her phone and gazed out the window, resisting the urge to scream out the window.

  They had virtually the exact same plan! And they would be surprised when it was a complete dud, but they would be pleasantly surprised, and they would all have a laugh in a couple hours, after the FBI was done doing the dirty work.

  “Who was that?” Lancaster asked.

  “My dad. He’s trying to get my mom out. I’m afraid he’s going to try dynamite pretty soon. Listen, do you mind if we go back to the station so I can see them?”

  Lancaster nodded.

  Patterson leaned back. “Thanks.”

  Game. Set. Match.

  Chapter 39

  Wolf hung up and stared at the phone for a second.

  “What?” Rachette asked.

  He shook his head, recalling the single strange words Patterson had said—Good plan. Not necessary, but good plan. What had that meant?

  “What? What?” Rachette was wide eyed, looking like he was going to strangle him.

  “Nothing. Let’s get ready, people. Let’s put the trucks in the trees around back except for MacLean’s and Baine’s, which will stay where they are. Everyone into cover positions.”

  Baine wiped his forehead. “Shit.”

  Rachette slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I bet we won’t even fire a shot. And what are you worried about? I’m the bullet magnet here.”