Revenge (A Travis Mays Novel)

by Mark Young

  He stood in the shadows of the barn, eyeing the meadow outside and the cabin beyond.

  Nothing moved.

  Once outside, he gripped the rifle and edged toward the darkened cabin, again feeling like a moving target as bright moonlight poured upon him. It seemed like an eternity before he crossed the open grassland and neared the cabin. Wood creaked beneath his feet as Travis climbed the stairs to the front porch. He put his ear against the door for a moment.

  Nothing.

  He saw only darkness through the windows. Gingerly, he shouldered the rifle, withdrew his handgun and turned the doorknob. It rotated in his grasp.

  Unlocked.

  He thrust the door open, flashing his light — up and at an angle with his left hand — while griping the pistol in his right.

  Empty.

  He scanned the room as his breathing returned to normal. An unmade bed, a sea chest, and a couple chairs near the fireplace. He saw an oil lantern sitting above the fireplace. He holstered his sidearm and searched until he found some matches. Grasping the lantern, he lit the wick and returned the flickering oil burner to the mantle, its mandarin-orange flame struggled to push away darkness. He lowered the rifle from his shoulder and left it leaning on the wall near the fireplace.

  He continued to use the flashlight in his search for brighter illumination. The sea chest sat at the foot of the bed. He knelt down and undid the clasp, raising the lid to peer inside. Men’s clothing — shirts, underwear, and denim jeans — carefully folded inside. He felt beneath the clothing, grasping a leather binder. He placed the binder on the bed and opened it.

  There was a yellow envelope nestled inside. He opened the envelope and pulled out a half dozen photographs. He began to go through each photo, one after another. Somewhere in the middle of the stack, one photo immediately captured his attention and made the hair on his neck rise.

  It was a photo of himself and Michelle Scarsbourgh taken at Doran Beach in California.

  It felt like someone just punched him in the gut.

  This was Scarsbourgh’s cabin.

  A branch cracked outside. He stopped breathing, trapping air in his lungs as he strained to hear. Slowly, he reached down and quietly upholstered his weapon.

  No more sounds.

  He flicked off the flashlight, doused the lantern, before creeping toward the doorway. He’d left the door standing open. He quickly stepped out on the porch and shifted to one side where he could stand in the protection of darkness

  No sounds. Nothing moved.

  He slowly relaxed. Must be hearing things. Stepping off the porch, he edged his way around the cabin with his back to the wall, searching for any movement.

  Again, nothing.

  After returning to the front porch, Travis went back inside and closed the door. He re-lighted the lantern before kneeling by the bed to go through the photos one by one. The others were Michelle with friends, and one photo of brother and sister. It looked like the photo had been taken at Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco. He could make out the Pier 39 sign in the background.

  Once he examined each of the photos, he left them on the bed and returned to the chest. He removed the clothes and saw a stack of letters bound together at the bottom.

  The letters were written in a woman’s handwriting, and addressed to John Ares using his business address in Seattle. The sender was not identified. He opened the first letter and began reading. A love letter. He turned the letter over to see who signed it.

  The name written on the letter made him clench his teeth.

  He heard a sound outside. The horse gave out another whinny.

  Travis snatched the bundle of letters, his flashlight and crept toward the fireplace. He quickly extinguished the lantern and stood in the dark, listening. Now he had the advantage. It was darker in the cabin than outside. He edged toward the window and peered out.

  The meadow seemed void of life. The forest crept within a few yards of the cabin to his left. Otherwise, an expansive pasture spread outward, giving him a clear view of anything or anyone approaching.

  He scanned outside. Still nothing.

  The only area that made him wary was the edge of the forest to his left. He could not stay here. Once outside, he’d make a dash for the trail and return to the highway. He had the letters. Tomorrow, he’d bring John Steele and the others back here for a better search.

  Right now, he just wanted to make it out alive.

  He took one last look outside. Maybe his mind was playing tricks. He slipped on his backpack, shoved his handgun into his waistband, and grabbed the rifle. Slowly, he turned the knob and opened the door. He pushed it open with his foot and waited to see what might happen.

  Silence.

  He crept through the doorway and made it halfway across the porch when he saw a red laser beam aimed at his heart. He froze, unable to bring his rifle up in time. The shooter had the advantage.

  “Travis, move slow and easy. I’ll take my letters, thank you.”

  Jean Robinette stepped from the clearing, a rifle leveled at his chest.

  Chapter 73

  Jean Robinette stood only yards away. Moonlight seemed to fill the night with illumination as if breaking from a cloud. Everything became almost as clear as day. She sighted down the bore. “You know I’m an excellent shot, Travis. You’ve seen the trophies. No sudden moves or you’ll join the others.”

  He stood in place, watching her.

  “Now, very slowly, lower that rifle to the ground.”

  He obeyed.

  “Again, slowly pull out that handgun by two fingers and throw it on the ground. Now.”

  Travis bit his lip in frustration. He felt like a rookie cop. Frustrated, he followed her commands, clutching the flashlight in his left hand.

  “Good boy. Now, I’ll take my letters, thank you.”

  Travis clutched them with his right hand, his flashlight still in his left. “You made two mistakes, Jean. The first mistake was Frank. You missed him — he survived.”

  “That’s a mistake I’ll rectify later. Right now, I’ve got you in my sights. And I can’t miss from here.” She squinted at him. “What do you mean two mistakes?”

  “You missed shooting my dog before he attacked your boyfriend.”

  The woman’s face tightened. “I was looking for humans to shoot. The dog surprised me. He attacked before I saw what was happening. But now I can correct everything … starting with you.”

  Travis began to slowly slide to his left, closer to the edge of the cabin. He started talking, trying to distract. “I don’t get it, Jean. You were in love with Scarsbourgh?”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. Yeah, I loved him in my own way. And he was my ticket to freedom.”

  “Freedom? You had everything. A beautiful home, plenty of money. What more did you want?”

  He saw the front sight of the rifle lower slightly as she spoke. “I was trapped. Steve only wanted to show me off like some kind of big game he’d bagged. He never loved me. But Scarsbourgh — Phillip — in his own way loved me. Without any strings attached.”

  “Okay. But why’d you involve McPeters?”

  Jean raised the rifle, pointing it once more at his chest. “McPeters is a drunken fool who thought I might love him. He saw a chance at money and love. He’d have done anything I told him. But in the end, he was just another weak man.”

  Travis nodded. “You have answered another question I had about Phillip taking Jessie.”

  “I never said anything about that.”

  Travis edged a little closer. “I wondered how Phillip could be in two places at once. He kidnapped Jessie from her cabin. At the same time, he left a tape recorder and note in my cabin telling me what I needed to do to get her back. There was no way he could have pulled that off by himself. By the time I got to my cabin with Frank, Phillip was still high up in the mountains with Jessie working his way back to his cabin. Right?”

  Jean shrugged, slowly moved closer. They were now only
a few yards apart. “Took you long enough to figure that out. Too long. Now, I’ll take those letters.”

  “Here they are,” Travis said, slowly raising his right hand toward her.

  “Just put them on the ground and move away. Slowly.”

  He placed them on the ground and began to step back. As Jean reached down Travis flicked the flashlight directly into her eyes and then flicked it off. Just enough to blind. He leaped to the left as he heard the first rifle shot. The bullet slammed into the wall as he dove around the edge of the cabin.

  He scrambled into the woods a few yards away before Jean could round the corner. He heard her running after him. He dove deeper into the tree line, running and stumbling in the dark.

  He had one advantage. At least momentarily, he’d destroyed her night vision with the flashlight. Her sight would quickly return. By then, he hoped to be deep into the forest. Travis circled around until he knew he was the near the trail. He paused, listening. No footsteps followed. Just silence.

  Then he heard the horse from the stable. A short time later he heard hoof beats through the meadow. Jean was riding away. A sense of relief swept over him for a moment. Then panic struck.

  He remembered Jean’s last warning about Frank. A mistake to be rectified. She was on her way to kill Frank and Jessie.

  He used the flashlight to find the path down the mountain, running and crashing through brush. He knew he’d never beat her to the highway.

  The horse gave Jean a significant head start.

  Travis finally burst out of the forest and began dashing along the highway toward his truck. He flicked off the flashlight, moonlight giving him enough light to find his way. He’d left the cell phone locked inside. He kept looking over his shoulder looking for the woman.

  Jean Robinette seemed to have vanished.

  He anticipated horse and rider might bear down at any time, but he saw nothing at the moment. Maybe she stashed a vehicle nearby, already on her way to Spokane.

  Travis raced toward his truck twenty yards ahead. He took a deep breath and slid behind the steering wheel, groping along the seat until he found where he’d tossed the cell phone. He activated the phone, starting the engine while waiting for the phone’s signal to reach a cell tower. Once the display announced service, he punched in Steele’s cell phone number.

  Placing the truck in gear, he started down the highway just as a horse and rider cleared the forest directly in his path.

  Jean Robinette.

  He floored the accelerator and leaned over to use the dash as a shield. He peered over the dash, keeping his right foot on the gas pedal and tossing the cell phone onto the seat, still activated. He heard Steele’s voice calling out.

  No time for phone calls.

  Jean aimed her rifle at his windshield,

  She fired once. Glass began to spider across the front window from a single rifle shot, the bullet whizzing past and smashing the rear window behind his head. Another shot cracked the glass further as he swept past. A third shot shattered the forward window, passing through the rear broken window and narrowly missing his raised head. The last shot passed through the broken rear window and zipped past his raised head.

  He sat up once out of range, glancing for the phone’s glow. He snatched the phone up and heard Steele yelling.

  “What the heck is going on there, Travis? That gunfire?”

  Travis glanced in his rearview, Jean Robinette no longer in sight. “We got the wrong Robinette, pal. Jean is the shooter. Just took out the windows of my pickup.”

  “You alright?”

  “A little glass in my hair. Otherwise, fine.”

  “I’ll start sending units now.”

  “She’ll be long gone before they arrive. I think she’ll be going for Jessie and Frank. I’m heading up to Spokane right now. Can you get Spokane PD to sit on them until we set up?”

  “Sure. I’ve got three deputies with them right now. Just to be safe, I’ll ask for reinforcements until we can shut down that part of the hospital.”

  “Great. I’ll fill you in on the details later. At some point, we need to get some people up to that cabin I told you about. I’ll give you the 10-20 later. I suspect you’ll find more evidence.”

  “We’re stretched thin right now, but I’ll see what I can do. My priority right now is to make sure our friends at the hospital survive.”

  Travis started breathing easier. “Thanks, John. I don’t think she’s crazy enough to take on the cops. But I’d feel better knowing there’s security around them until we can get our hands on her.”

  He heard Steele chuckle. “Two of a kind, huh? Jean and Scarsbourgh. Bonnie and Clyde.”

  “Yeah. Let’s get her in custody.”

  “I’ll start working on that right now.” Steele hung up.

  Chapter 74

  Spokane, Washington

  Travis reached the hospital several hours later. Steele kept his word. His men stood locked and loaded, one inside Frank’s room and two others outside. A field supervisor from Spokane PD dropped by and added more security.

  Jessie was sitting by Frank’s side when he entered. “Willie boy has been busy.” She smiled, her eyes retaining the sparkle he remembered the first time they met.

  He laughed.

  Frank gave him a weak grin. “Man, I pull your bacon out of one fire, and you turn around and jump right back in. What’s it with you and women?” Frank winced. “Sorry. Must be the drugs.”

  “Or a case of stupid,” Jessie said, putting her arms around Travis’ waist, hugging him. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Thanks. And Frank, don’t sweat it. I’ll never be able to repay you for saving our butts. You can spout off whatever you want.”

  “Okay. How about this? What’s your intentions toward my daughter?”

  Jessie gasped. “Dad. Please.”

  Frank gave Travis a stern look, and then broke into a grin. “I guess that crack on my head did more damage than I thought. Just couldn’t resist.” He pointed to a chair near him. “Now, let’s get down to business. What’s this stuff about Jean Robinette? I have to confess, I didn’t see that one coming.”

  Travis circled the bed. “Me either, Frank. One thing bugged me after you shot Scarsbourgh. Everyone thought McPeters was the killer’s go-to guy. I just didn’t see him as backing Scarsbourgh’s play. Too stupid, if you ask me. I would have put money on Steve Robinette.”

  Frank nodded. “So where do you think Jean’s hiding?”

  “She could be anywhere. I just want to make sure she’s not lurking around here.”

  Frank waved his hand. “She’d be stupid to try anything here. If she had any brains, she’d be in Canada by now.”

  Travis nodded, drawing up a chair and sitting down next to Jessie. “Well, we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  The hospital door opened and John Steele emerged. He smiled at Travis and Jessie, turning to Frank. “Good to see you sitting up and talking, Chief. You had us worried.”

  “Thanks. Any word on the woman?”

  Steele shook his head. “We found her car abandoned along the river. She just vamoosed. We put a BOLO to everyone, and gave her photo out in a press release. It should be plastered all over the news in the next few hours. She won’t be able to go anywhere without people spotting her.”

  Travis thought of his encounter with Jean at Scarsbourgh’s cabin. “I don’t think she’ll run, Steele. She’s got another agenda.”

  “Like what?” The detective glanced at Travis with curiosity. “She’d be crazy to stick around if everyone is hunting for her.”

  “Something drew her to that cabin. I think it was letters or memories.”

  “She thought they might reveal her involvement?”

  “Nah. I think it was more than that. Her feelings for Scarsbourgh ran deep. She risked everything to return to that cabin. To get those letters. They represented the only thing left of Scarsbourgh. That and her memories.”

  Jessie leaned over and
hugged her father. “I just want this woman caught and have this whole mess behind us so we can get back to normal.”

  A frown furrowed Jessie’s brow. Travis guessed she was thinking of Tommy. He knew it would be a long time before anything seemed normal again. He would watch over these two as if his life depended upon it.

  Until they nailed Jean Robinette.

  Two weeks passed as law enforcement searched for Jean Robinette. She simply vanished without a trace. Travis hovered around the hospital until Frank received permission to return home to recuperate. “I’d like the two of you to stay at my place until this thing blows over. Easier to protect you there until she’s found,” Travis said, already seeing Frank starting to protest. “Come on, Frank. It’s the least I can do after what you did for me.”

  He glanced over at Jessie and her father as the doctor approached. “And I’ve got a little surprise. A friend of mine — from one of the surveillance companies I’ve worked with in the past — loaned me some state-of-the-art stuff. We’ll have 360-degree coverage around my place. You can relax and get well without any worry.”

  Frank finally gave him a scowling consent just as Travis wheeled him from the hospital. Officers trailed behind them while others took point as they passed through the corridors and out into the parking lot. Temperatures hovered in the low 80s, as warm breezes gusted through the parking structure. Jessie entered the truck cab first, followed by Frank. Travis swung himself behind the steering wheel after placing Frank’s luggage in the bed of the truck. He’d replaced the damaged windows since his run-in with Jean Robinette and swept up the broken glass.

  Steele arranged for an escort back to the Clearwater. Travis followed one of the patrol vehicles from the parking lot, while another deputy followed behind. “Sort of like a presidential convoy, Frank. They must like you down there.”

  Frank shrugged. “Nah, they just want to prevent one more shooting case. They’ve got enough to handle right now.”

  “Steele said they’re stretched thin, but he still coughed up enough guys to baby-sit you. Nice touch, this escort.”