“I was gonna mention something about your weight, but I didn’t want to get my ass kicked.”
“Tell you what. You help me take this dickhead out and you can make all the fat jokes you want.”
“Deal.”
They climbed the stairs to the house, keeping a wary eye out for Shane as they ascended.
#
Shane darted around the lake house collecting last minute things before getting the hell out of Benton County. He’d already loaded the Navigator in the garage with several days’ worth of clothes and a stash of cash hidden in the spare tire in the back. Just needed some extra guns he kept around the house along with bags of product before he hit the road. He called in his backup on the way over, but didn’t know if they’d have time to navigate the dark, winding roads before his internal escape clock ticked to zero. At least he put his insurance provision in place. He’d have to give Brad at the dealership a little bonus for his vigilance.
Bear closed the noose around his neck the second he nabbed Howie and found the cook house. With the coke found at his warehouse, it was a matter of time before Bear looped in the Feds and had him in a bind he couldn’t get out of. Should have killed that fat Boy Scout long ago. But how in the hell had the cops found the blue house? He’d bought it through a double-blind realty association a year ago and only a handful of people knew the location. Had to be Willie or someone from his dumbass crew who either rolled over for the Feds or led them there.
His stupid decision to bring the girl unnecessarily raised the stakes. He didn’t make stupid decisions. He should've ordered Dexter to whack the girl at the cook house and burn the place to the ground. Mistake number one. Number two? Trusting Willie and his incompetent hillbilly crew with the Devil Ice. When Shane got out of this, Willie would die a horrible fucking death. He hoped his plan of adding extra insurance to the mix wasn’t a mistake as well.
Shane grabbed his Winchester hunting rifle and a 9 millimeter from the den, and paused at the rumbling of an approaching boat. He killed the lights and looked out the window to the cove. The bright moon reflected off the water, revealing a Watercraft angling into the dock and two figures climbing out. He couldn’t make out features, but from the size of the first guy it had to be Bear. The second character must be the stranger he was about to drop when the Feds busted through the front door. A second later, it clicked. Caldwell. Matched the description Brad gave him from the dealership and the subsequent plate search on his truck. But why in the hell would Caldwell be after him? Did he know about Nicky?
Shane made his way across the darkened den to the sliding glass door leading to a large, wood deck overlooking the water. The door opened noiselessly. Shane went to the railing closest to the staircase, laid his arms across the top board and trained the rifle on the approaching men. He lined up Bear, clicked the safety off and fingered the trigger, grinning at the prospect of shooting the long-time thorn in his side. Unfortunately for Bear, Shane was a good shot.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
“Jesus God.” Bear hung on to the railing like it was a lifeline as they reached the halfway point. Jake trailed behind, amped up and ready to storm the house despite the oncoming headache from getting his head pummeled and bounced against the hardwood floor by Antonio. Still, his powerful leg muscles burned with the adrenaline to run.
“Keep going,” Jake whispered. “Almost there.”
The house lights went out the second they pulled to the dock; someone knew they were there. Jake kept an eye on the deck as he patted Bear on the shoulder for encouragement. By the light of the moon, a figure crossed over to the railing and leveled something in their direction.
“Move!” Jake yelled, pushing Bear forward. The crack of a rifle blast echoed through the cove sending sleeping birds flying and squawking. Bear cried out and spun around, falling to the steps. Jake raised his Glock and fired six rapid shots in the direction of the deck. The figure darted back inside. Jake dropped to a knee on the stairs.
“I’m okay. Get his ass,” Bear said, groaning in between words.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, he just caught me in the shoulder. Sumbitch, that hurts.”
Jake patted Bear on the leg and ran up the stairs towards the house, slapping a fresh mag into the Glock.
#
Shane darted through the house toward the garage, heart racing with adrenaline and anger. He missed his head shot. The way Bear spun around, he’d at least hit him. That should at least slow the pursuit long enough for him to get away. His cell phone vibrated as he got to the garage. Shane hit the door opener. He checked the number on the display and answered his phone as he hopped into the black Navigator.
“Where the hell are you?” Shane asked, cranking the engine.
“Almost there. They’re organizing roadblocks. If you want to get out, it has to be now.”
Shane yanked the gear shift into drive and burned rubber out of the garage. He scraped the front of the Nav on the sharply ascending driveway. He hit the edge of the road when the driver’s side window exploded and pings of bullets rained into the side of the SUV. He lost control, mashed the gas, and crashed head first into a tree on the opposite side of the road. The airbag deployed and he fought his way around it as he climbed out the door. The shooter ran up the darkened driveway, loading another magazine into his pistol. Caldwell.
Shane’s vision shimmered as he tried to shake off the crash. As he staggered up the road, a Benton County Sheriff’s patrol screeched to a halt in a blazing display of flashing blue and white lights. Shane pulled out his pistol. The cop jumped from the car as Caldwell hit the top of the driveway with his gun trained on Shane.
“Drop the gun,” the cop yelled. “Drop it now or you’re done.”
Shane swayed unsteadily on his feet. He dropped the pistol on the ground and Caldwell drew closer. The cop’s footsteps pounded down the hill on the asphalt.
“Gotcha, dickhead,” Caldwell said. The cop clipped two shots from behind Shane, and Caldwell dropped like a stone on to his back and didn’t move. Shane reeled toward the cop.
“Took you long enough.” He bent over and picked up his gun.
“You got me running all over the county chasing license plate numbers and kidnapping people,” the cop said, heading back toward the squad car. “You’re lucky I got here at all. We gotta move.”
Shane walked the twenty yards to the car. The cop opened the back door and Shane slid in beside the woman and pointed his pistol at her.
“Maggie Holden, I presume?” The terrified woman leaned back against the window with her hands cuffed in her lap.
“Where to now?” the cop asked.
“One last stop,” Shane said. “Back to Poor Boy Road, Sad Dog. To the red house.”
Deputy Randy Daniels spun the car around and sped off into the night.
#
Jake clawed his way through the fog clouding his brain and tried to sit up. Pain erupted in his chest, and he settled back on the warm asphalt. His breath came in quick hitches; the bullets that struck the vest knocked the wind out of him. He turned his head to the right, the squad car was gone. Slow footsteps sounded to the left. Bear hobbled up the driveway, his shot shoulder drooped low and face crumpled in a mask of pain and concern.
“You okay?” Bear asked, dropping to a knee.
“Just thought I’d take a rest after this excitement,” Jake gasped, drawing in pain laden breaths. Man that hurt.
“You always were lazy,” Bear said. Jake started to laugh but it hurt too much. Bear reached with his good arm and helped Jake to a sitting position. Jake growled with pain.
Bear pointed to the crashed SUV across the road. “Please tell me the douche bag flew through the windshield and impaled himself on a fence post.”
“I had him in my sights. He pulled his gun out and I was about to drop him when one of your squad cars came barreling up. Cop gets out with his piece drawn, starts walking toward us. Tells Shane to drop the gun. Shane does and I lower mi
ne. Cop turns the gun on me and fires off two rounds.”
“What the hell…” Bear whispered.
“Not quite the words running through my head, but about the same sentiment. Impact knocked me back and I cracked my noggin on the ground. Pretty sure I have a concussion.”
“It was one of mine? You sure?”
Jake climbed to his feet slowly, like a football player who got his bell rung. “Said Benton County Sheriff on the side. Didn’t see exactly what the cop looked like. I was focused on Shane.”
“How long ago?”
“No tellin’ how long I was out. However long it took you to get your fat ass up here.”
“I’d punch you but it’d hurt too much. I was still on the steps when I heard the gunshots. Took me a few minutes to get up the rest of the steps through the house. I ain’t feelin’ too good about now.”
“That makes two of us,” Jake said. “You were worried you had an insider. Looks like you were right.”
“I’d rather be wrong. Just got to figure out who it was.”
Bear opened the GPS tracking app on his phone and scrolled through a couple of screens.
“You got that on your squad cars too?”
“Yup. They don’t know it though. Helps me keep tabs on whether they’re out doing what they’re supposed to be. Let’s see…four cars are out. Howard is parked at the Casey’s. Go figure. Smajda is by Fristoe. Kuhlmann out at the dam. And…damn it.”
Bear dropped the phone to his side. He took a few steps up the road and stopped, shoulders slumped and head dropped. Rubbing his forehead as he turned, Jake’s heart sunk at the anguish pasted on his friend’s face.
“Randy Daniels is moving west. About five miles from here at a high rate of speed. Sad Dog, you piece of shit.”
Jake hadn’t met the man. Bear’s scowl told him it was about the worst possible news he could receive.
“I don’t believe this,” Bear said. “I vouched for him, trained him, brought him up through the ranks. Our fucking kids play Little League together on the weekends. What in the holy hell is he thinking?”
“Call it in,” Jake said. “The other cops or the Feds can nab him up.”
“Can’t do it. Sad Dog would hear the call and they’d abandon ship. We’d never find ‘em. And the Feds are tied up at Shane’s house.”
Jake hobbled over to the Nav. He struggled into the driver’s seat, moved the deflated air bag out of the way and put the still running SUV in reverse. Metal screeched and resisted the mold it formed around the tree, but came free. He backed it up to Bear.
“Climb in,” he said. “Let’s go catch us some bad guys and end this thing.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Deputy Daniels drove into Fraction Point Estates, a well-to-do subdivision off Poor Boy Road. The lights glowing through the broad windows of the multi-story family homes made them shine in comparison to the tiny ranch he crammed his wife and two boys into, a giant reminder of the life he’d never be able to provide. At least working for Shane gave him a sniff of that life, a flicker of what pleasures life could hold with a little infusion of cold, hard cash.
They rolled down the asphalt to what Shane titled the “Red House,” no more red in color than Shane’s blue house was blue. Shane thought it clever to name them by need. He chilled at the blue house, reserving the red house for emergencies. In the two years since he’d been on Shane’s payroll, they’d never needed to use it before tonight.
“What are we doing here?” Maggie asked, the first words she’d spoken since Shane got in the car.
“Ah, she does speak with that pretty mouth,” Shane said, his voice carrying through the partition opening. “We’re picking up a few things I’m going to need before we leave town.”
“We?” Daniels asked, checking Shane in the rearview mirror.
“I meant Maggie and me. Since I shot the big bad Bear and you shot Halle’s would-be rescuer dead in the street, there’s nobody to chase you, Randy. Relax.”
“Halle? Is she…” Maggie asked.
“She’s fine,” Daniels said. “DEA has her at Shane’s house.”
Maggie heaved a cry of relief, leaning forward and resting her head against the protective glass. “What about Bear?”
“Probably okay,” Shane said. “I tried to kill him, don’t get me wrong, but the other guy, Caldwell, he jerked Bear out of the way when he saw me aiming at them from the porch. I missed. Lucky for Bear because it doesn’t happen often.”
“But Jake?”
“Dead in the street on Cooney Creek Road with two bullets in the chest courtesy of your local law enforcement.”
They pulled to the end of the lane in front of a lone house hiding among a grove of trees. Daniels stopped in front of a detached garage and killed the lights. In the rearview mirror Maggie closed her eyes and bowed her head. Daniels got out and opened the door for Shane. He shut the door, trapping Maggie inside, the beautiful design feature of a police cruiser. The two walked toward the garage.
“I still don’t get why you had me nab her,” Daniels said. Maggie added complications they didn’t need and things were pretty complicated already.
“Insurance, Sad Dog. We already had her daughter. I knew Bear would make the connection between the cook house, the missing girl and eventually me. How’d she know Caldwell’s first name?”
“Think they were high school sweethearts or something. His sister works at the Sheriff’s office for Bear.”
“Well, the plot thickens, doesn’t it?”
They reached the garage and Shane opened the door with a key, raising it overhead.
“I still don’t get it,” Daniels said. “We had the drugs, we had the money. All you had to do was take care of the kid and there was enough for us to go our separate ways.”
Shane flipped on a light switch. A dark blue van, covered with a thin film of dust waited inside.
“So I wanted two in case something happened to the other one. I needed leverage against Bear and you told me he looked after Maggie and the girl. You’d already picked her up when everything went down at the blue house. You see the beauty of it? I lost one and I still have one. Leverage, Sad Dog.”
“She knows me, Shane. She knows I’m involved with you.”
“And she won’t see the light of day again. Trust me. As soon as I’m clear of your little town, I’m going to take care of her. Don’t worry, you’re going to be a rich man soon.”
Shane told Daniels to wait outside and keep an eye on Maggie, then he disappeared into the house. Daniels spent the time pacing and smoking. He could shoot Shane and Maggie and end this whole thing. He knew where Shane kept his money stashes. He could be the hero who took down the bad guy. Shit. There were a million ways this could go wrong and put his ass in a sling. When a good ten minutes passed, Shane came out with two large black leather bags and threw them into the back of the van. He told Daniels to get Maggie out of the squad car.
Daniels was unconvinced he would get out of this unscathed. All he wanted was a little extra cash to help pay the bills and get his kids’ college funds started. Maybe pay off the house a little early and get a boat. But, in a short time, Shane’s requests grew from running plate numbers of suspicious cars cruising around his property to more nefarious acts. As the risk rose, so did the payoffs. Trapped by the money with no way out. He didn’t sign up for kidnapping, drugs and murder, though. If he got out of this mess, he’d have to figure out a way to get out from under Shane’s thumb. He opened the back door to the car and hauled Maggie out by the chain of the handcuffs. Guilt sagged his features. He liked her.
“I’m sorry, Maggie,” he said. “This isn’t what I planned.”
“What about Becky and the kids?” she spat. “How are you going to look them in the eyes after this? Think what you’re doing, Randy.”
“I know what I’m doing. So, shut up and come on.” He led her back toward the garage like a dog on a leash. Shane emerged and met them at the entrance. He opened his mout
h to speak, then stopped and squinted into the darkness up the road. Impossible. Jake Caldwell emerged from behind the squad car with a gun trained on them.
#
Bear tracked Daniels’ squad car with his smart phone while Jake drove the Navigator. They were both surprised to be back at Poor Boy Road. Jake figured Langston would hightail it out of town and they’d be chasing him to Kansas City or St. Louis, somewhere where it would be harder to find him. But he’d need a car. Must have one stashed somewhere close. Bear was familiar with the subdivision. Based on where the GPS unit read on the screen, he even described the house where the squad car was parked long before they reached it.
“Sits at the end of the road. Small, brown house. Detached garage. Never seen anybody in it or really wondered much about it. We’re almost in the line of sight. Kill the lights.”
Jake fumbled along the dash and found the switch for the headlights and a dimmer knob for the electronic displays. Thank God, because the crash lit the dashboard up like a pinball machine of warning lights. Now, the sole illumination came from Bear’s phone, which he held low by his knees. Jake eased off the gas and they coasted forward until a light shined in the distance. In seconds, the outline of the house and the garage developed in the darkness. The light came from the detached garage where a lone figure milled in front of it. Bear raised the binoculars.
“There’s the miserable turd sniffer,” he said.
“Which one?”
“Mine. Where the hell is Langston?”
Bear scanned the area, contemplating the best course of action. Jake’s head thumped from his repeated head trauma of the evening and his chest still viciously ached from the gun shots. He twirled the gold ring on his finger, ready for some measure of retribution.
“How good a shot are you with that rifle?” Jake asked.
“With this scope on it? I could shoot the ass out of a fly at a hundred yards. What do you have in mind?”
Poor Boy Road (Jake Caldwell #1) Page 23