“I thought you were arguing in favor of God’s existence.”
“I am. No matter what afflicts us, God’s love is there to help us bear it. That’s what gets me through the hard days.”
There had been a time when he’d wanted, needed God in his life, but God had been busy elsewhere.
“I get myself through the hard days,” he said with a conviction he didn’t feel.
“I guess that is my point,” Mandy said. “You don’t have to do it alone. Our Lord was asked which was the greatest commandment. He replied, ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’
“Church isn’t just about worshipping God. It’s also about caring for each other.”
Garrett fought the pull of her words. To depend on someone. To be loved and cared for by someone. Did she even know what she was offering? How could she? She had no idea what it was like to be alone—to pray for help that never came.
Garrett turned away before she read in his eyes how much he wanted to believe in what she said. Folding up the stroller, he tucked it under his arm. “Is there anything new on Judy’s murder?”
“No. Nothing new.”
“Thanks for everything you’ve done so far.”
“I wish it could have been more.”
That he did believe. With a nod in her direction, he crossed the lawn to the table where the woman with the cash box sat, paid for his purchase and left.
Mandy watched him drive away, then looked down at the clothes she held. She could have given them to Garrett to take home, but she hadn’t. Now, she’d have to drive out and deliver them in person.
As an excuse to see Colin, it might be a bit lame. Just so as long as Garrett didn’t think it was an excuse to see him again.
Even if it was.
He claimed he didn’t need help, but she sensed a loneliness about him that drew her to him as she’d never been drawn to another man.
Had anything she said about faith gotten through to him? Colin deserved to grow up knowing God.
Mandy was willing to let the subject drop for now, but not for long. She paid for the baby clothes in her hands and walked to her truck.
After leaving the yard sale, she had just enough time left to stop at the market and pick up her groceries before she headed home to change.
An hour later, she entered the office to find Benny laying a sheet of paper on her desk. He said, “Here’s the information you asked for on Global Shipping.”
“Anything interesting?” She picked up the paper and gave it a quick scan.
“Not much. It’s a small operation based out of Wichita. Can I ask why you’re interested?”
“Someone mentioned this company had been making a lot of deliveries to the apartment complex on Maple Street. Maybe it’s nothing, but I thought I’d look into it.”
“You don’t really think someone’s shipping meth in or out of town in delivery vans, do you?”
Mandy shook her head as she laid the paper on her desk. “At this point, I’m not ruling out anything. I’m willing to start pulling over carrier pigeons.”
Benny chuckled. “Good luck with that. What’s the plan for this afternoon?”
“I think I’ll go out on patrol. I don’t feel like doing paperwork today.”
Rolling his eyes, Benny said, “Who does?”
Fifteen minutes later, Mandy was cruising down the highway toward the eastern county line. As mile after mile of pastures and farmland slid past, she found herself lulled into a sense of calm. She loved the peace and sense of belonging she’d found among these rolling hills and green countryside. More than ever, she was determined to root out the scum that threatened the people who lived here.
With Your help, Lord, I know it’s possible.
She’d gone about ten miles when she first noticed the semi truck behind her. It was a black rig with a bright chrome grill that glinted in the sunlight and it was coming up fast.
Truckers normally slowed when they saw her vehicle. This one didn’t. He kept coming, closing the gap between them.
Mandy glanced at her speedometer. She was doing the speed limit. When she checked her rearview mirror again, the semi was blowing past her. It was a cattle hauler.
As the gray, hole-filled trailer pulled alongside, she could see it was empty. Whatever the reason for his rush was, it wasn’t because he had a load to deliver. She flipped on her lights and siren.
Okay, buddy, you’re going to get a ticket.
She barely had time to form the thought before she felt the impact as the trailer swung back and sideswiped her. Her SUV veered off the road into the shallow ditch. Mandy fought to keep control as she bounced over the grassy sod and tore through a barbed-wire fence. She gripped the wheel with white-knuckled strength.
Finally, she managed to come to a stop. Her heart hammered in her chest as she drew a shaky breath.
The semi hadn’t even slowed down.
He was not getting away with this!
Her tires spun as she jammed her foot on the accelerator and drove back through the broken fence and onto the blacktop.
She grabbed her radio mic as she headed after her quarry. “Dispatch, this is Sheriff Scott. I’m in pursuit of a hit-and-run tractor-trailer heading east on Highway 56 nearing the Bushong turnoff. Patch me through to the Highway Patrol. I’m gonna need some help stopping this guy.”
“Copy that.” It was Ken’s voice. “Benny’s on his way to you now.”
Gaining on the truck, Mandy quickly relayed information on the make and tag number to the Highway Patrol. Without a unit in her area, the best they could do was to set up a roadblock farther down the highway.
Hanging back, she kept the vehicle in sight, but didn’t try to stop it. One sideswipe had been enough. He could plainly see her red lights and hear her siren. It was clear he had no intention of stopping.
Suddenly, the truck ahead of her slammed on its brakes and tried to turn onto a county road. He didn’t make it. Jackknifing, the weight of the trailer pushed the cab into the ditch in a cloud of dust.
Mandy quickly stopped and reported her location. She tried to get out, but her smashed door was jammed. She had to scramble across the seat to the passenger’s side.
A man in a red T-shirt, jeans and a dark ball cap jumped out of the cab and took off across the field toward a stand of trees before she could get out. Thrusting open the door, she jumped out and drew her gun. A second man stumbled out of the rig with his hands in the air. He sank to his knees.
“Get on the ground. Hands behind your back,” she yelled at him. When he complied, she quickly cuffed him.
“It was an accident,” he snarled.
“Save it,” she muttered as she checked for weapons. Finding none, she hauled her captive to his feet and pushed him toward her vehicle.
One look at her smashed rear door and broken window made it clear she couldn’t leave him in the Bronco while she pursued his buddy.
Blowing out a breath of pure frustration, she began to read him his rights while she waited for backup to arrive.
Five minutes later, Benny came speeding down the highway and screeched to a halt in his cruiser. Jumping out he hurried toward her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
Mandy pushed her prisoner toward him. “Keep this one and take his statement. I’m going after the driver.”
Benny grabbed the man’s arm and shoved him toward the car. “I’ll take care of him.”
Nodding her thanks, Mandy took off at a lope, following the trail of crushed grass through the knee-high blue stem until she reached the edge of the woods.
Stepping under the thick canopy of hackberry, oak and walnut trees hugging the edge of a tiny creek, Mandy crouched to make herself a smaller target and paused to listen. She heard nothing but the sounds of birds, insects and her own breathing.
The
damp ground was littered with decomposing leaves and fallen limbs. Thick clumps of grass and thorny bushes were scattered throughout the grove wherever enough light filtered in to sustain them.
She studied the ground and quickly spotted the direction her quarry had taken. Hoping she could save herself the trouble of tramping through the thorn bushes, she called out. “This is the Morrison County sheriff. Come out with your hands where I can see them.”
No response.
Of course not. Why didn’t they ever make it easy?
Moving forward but keeping an eye out for an ambush, Mandy pressed deeper into the timber and followed the course of the creek.
She knew the area. A quarter of a mile ahead, the waterway fed out into a pond in a pasture. After that, the only cover her fugitive would have would be grass and the occasional cow for the next two miles.
The man in front of her had four options. Fight, give up, hide in this strip of trees or try and circle back to the highway and flag down a ride. How smart was he? How desperate?
She had to assume the worst.
Fallen leaves and twigs crackled underfoot as she moved forward. The wind had all the trees in motion, causing shadows to dance and limbs to creak.
She lost the trail once, but picked it up again where he’d slid down the bank into the water and scrambled up the other side. Mandy followed. The water was only ankle deep; it didn’t slow her down but pulling herself up the far bank did.
She holstered her gun. Grabbing a pair of protruding roots, she hauled herself up, scrambling for toeholds with her boots. She finally gained enough purchase to hoist herself up and over.
He was waiting for her.
She had a split second to throw herself to the side as he swung a hefty club. It thudded into the dirt beside her head.
Latching on to the wood with one arm to keep him from swinging again, Mandy kicked out hard, catching him in the knee. He grunted in pain but didn’t go down. Twisting the club out of her grasp, he raised it again. Mandy rolled away and surged to her feet, her hand going to her holster. It was empty.
Startled, she looked down. The gun had fallen out and lay between them in the leaves.
Her attacker grinned as he advanced a step. Mandy judged the distance to her firearm, calculating her chances of getting to it before he struck. She took a step to the left. He raised the limb overhead and rushed at her.
Ducking low, she threw herself into his midsection in a flying tackle. They both went down. Scrambling away from him, she reached for her gun, but he gabbed her leg and pulled her back.
Rolling over, Mandy kicked his face with her free foot. His head snapped back and his grip loosened. She launched herself at her weapon and felt her fingers close over the familiar grip.
Surging to her feet, she leveled her gun at him. “Hold it right there.”
He had regained his feet, but there was blood pouring from his nose. Rage filled his eyes. Raising the barrel a fraction so he could look into it, she said, “Think you’re faster than a speeding bullet? Go ahead and try.”
Slowly the fight drained out of him. He raised his hands.
“Good choice. Turn around and start walking toward the highway.”
Staying a few steps behind him, Mandy followed, her gun trained on his back. After they’d covered a hundred yards, Mandy heard Benny calling her name. She answered and in another minute he appeared through the trees.
He grinned from ear to ear when he caught sight of her. “I see you found your stray. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Highway Patrol just arrived.”
“Better late than never.”
Pulling her suspect’s hands behind his back, Benny slapped on his pair of handcuffs. Eyeing the suspect’s bloody face, Benny said, “Looks like he gave you some trouble.”
“He tried to walk softly and carry a big stick, but I followed my dad’s advice.”
“What was that?”
“Forget the stick. Use a gun.”
After her prisoner had been Mirandized, Mandy guided him to Benny’s squad car. Depositing him with his buddy, she closed the door, then leaned against the rear fender as the draining adrenaline left her feeling weak-kneed and shaken.
Benny, hands on his hips, still had a smile on his face. Some guys just liked the rush.
The highway patrol officer, who had been searching the inside of the truck cab, came over to Mandy. He held up a large thermos. “Nice work, Sheriff. This is quite a haul.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You want to bust them for bad coffee?”
The trooper didn’t even crack a smile. Unscrewing the lid, he shook some of the contents into it and held it toward her.
Stepping closer, Mandy saw a dozen small plastic bags filled with pink crystals. “Meth!”
“There are six more of these inside the cab. You’re looking at a street value of close to twenty thousand dollars here.”
“Wow.” Benny strode toward the cab.
Mandy glanced toward the prisoners in the back of the squad car. “That explains why they tried to run, but it doesn’t explain why they tried to kill me.”
The officer replaced the cap of the thermos. “According to your first suspect, it was an accident. When they realized they’d hit a police car, they panicked.”
Mandy shook her head. “I don’t buy it.”
“The truck belongs to a firm in Oklahoma City. We’re running your suspects’ licenses now. From their log, it appears they were on their way to pick up a load of cattle from a ranch near Kansas City.”
Mandy raked her hands through her hair, pulling out several clinging twigs. “The real question is, where did they stop for coffee?”
A big score of meth had been on its way to Kansas City via her county. Her instincts said it was no coincidence, but she needed proof.
She walked toward the cab. “Benny, I want the whole cab dusted for prints. See if you can track where this rig has traveled in the past twenty-four hours. Look for receipts, fast food trash, anything that will tell us where they’ve been. I’m not trusting their log books.”
Benny, sitting in the driver’s seat, bent forward and pulled a clipboard full of papers toward him. Looking down at her, he said, “I can tell you one place they stopped.”
“Where?”
He handed the clipboard to her. “They fueled up in Timber Wells less than an hour ago.”
NINE
Garrett stood inside the convenience area of Turner’s as he waited for Mike to finish welding a bigger hitch on the back of his pickup. The rank odors of old coffee, pine cleaner and the occasional whiff of gasoline from the pumps outside made him wish Mike would hurry up.
Once his truck was finished, he’d be able to pick up the larger, secondhand stock trailer he had purchased the week before. Currently, he had to split his commission with another hauler when his orders were too big for the small trailer he owned. This way, he could haul more cattle and keep more of his profits in his own pockets.
He shifted from one foot to the other as he waited and watched through the window. Mike, in a welding helmet and gloves, worked at the back of Garrett’s truck amid a shower of sparks. Two big rigs sat idling in a parking area behind the building. There was nothing unusual in the sight. The truck stop always did a booming business.
Garrett glanced toward the four red vinyl booths at the back of the room. A pair of rough-looking characters occupied the last booth. Sporting black ball caps and black T-shirts with grinning skulls, both men were red-eyed, hollow-cheeked and unshaven.
Garrett recognized the tall one as Spike Carver. Judy and Spike had moved in the same unsavory circles when she was doing drugs. Garrett didn’t know the smaller man.
Spike’s buddy shook a pill into his palm from a small vial and popped it in his mouth. He offered the vial to Spike, but Spike pushed his hand aside. “Cool it, J. J.”
Spike had noticed Garrett watching them. J. J. followed his gaze. The pit bull glare he leveled at Garrett
was pure malice. It was clear J. J. was amped up on speed and spoiling for a fight.
Spike, on the other hand, was nervous as a cat, glancing about frequently in a paranoid fashion.
Garrett turned his back on them. He didn’t want trouble with a couple of junkies. Picking up a copy of Kansas Ranch, he began to leaf through it.
The bell over the door jangled. Garrett glanced that way just as Mandy walked in. She was dressed in her uniform, but it was grimy and stained.
Pulling off her sunglasses, she hooked one earpiece in her shirt pocket and surveyed the room. Her eyes settled on Garrett for a long second, then moved to the man behind the counter. She looked like a woman on a mission.
Aaron Turner frowned and leaned his forearms on the countertop. “Sheriff Scott, what happened to you?”
“A minor scuffle. You should see the other guy. I need to ask you a few questions about a cattle hauler that was here this morning.”
From the corner of his eye, Garrett saw the men in the booth tense. They exchanged pointed, wide-eyed glances. J. J. leaned down and slipped something from his boot. Garrett caught the glint of a knife blade as the man transferred it to his pants pocket.
At the counter, Aaron said, “A lot of cattle trucks stop here. Could you be more specific?”
“Yellow Weaver cab, potbelly trailer, Oklahoma tags.” Mandy, intent on describing the vehicle, appeared not to notice as Spike and J. J. slid out of their booth.
Aaron straightened and spread his hands wide. “I don’t recall it. Sorry.”
“They have a receipt for diesel fuel from your pump time-stamped eleven thirty-five today.”
His eyebrows rose a fraction. “They do? Then they must have been here. Are they in some kind of trouble? Has there been an accident?”
“I need to know if they spoke to anyone or met with anyone while they were here.”
Aaron rubbed his jaw. “Let me get Mike. I think he was manning the counter then. Maybe he can be more helpful.”
Spike and his buddy moved past Garrett as they headed for the front door where Mandy stood with her back to them. Both men pulled their hats low and kept their heads down.
Speed Trap Page 11