Cold Aim

by Janice Cantore

  He cursed. Being rushed was never a good thing. He pulled his handgun from behind his back. He’d already constructed a homemade suppressor from a soda bottle and, with his gloved hands, attached it to the barrel of his gun. He always used a revolver so as not to leave any brass lying around. The cop would hear something—a suppressor never completely muffled all sound—but the shot would be dampened. Ice knew their procedures. They’d step back a minute or two to try to determine what they’d heard, giving him time to flee.

  He put the gun to the betrayer’s head and fired. The girl stirred, but she was probably too drugged to have any clue about what was happening.

  He discarded the bottle, grabbed his bag, and headed for the back door. At this point the girl would only slow him down. He’d cleaned up the mess; that would soften the blow of losing her. It was too hot for him here now. Time to leave the state for Nevada, maybe Oregon.

  5

  Dusty, smoky, sweaty, and tired, Tess climbed out of her SUV sometime after 10 p.m. She’d fought the fire beside Harp and then fought Harp about letting the firefighters onto her property to ensure all the hot spots were out.

  “You can’t stay awake forever,” Tess had argued, “and you have a big piece of property. Suppose the wind kicks up again and ignites an ember somewhere. You’d have no chance.”

  Harp relented but insisted Tess stay as long as the firefighters were on her land and escort them off. They’d covered all the ground the fire incident commander thought was at risk, and thankfully, it looked like, with the weather cooperating, Harp would be just fine.

  Tess was as surprised as anyone when Harp thanked her. “Chief, I’ve heard good things about you, and I’m glad they all proved true. While I wish the circumstances were different, I appreciate your help, and I’m glad I got this chance to work with you.”

  Shocked, all Tess could think to say was “You’re welcome. There are a lot of good people in town. I hope you’ll see fit to be a little less closed off.”

  With the fire around Harp’s place beaten back, the immediate threat to Rogue’s Hollow was also ended. When the road reopened and Tess drove back to town, she felt as if she could finally relax.

  A large tent had been set up in the parking lot of the church as part of the command post for the fire. She’d come to debrief with the fire incident commander and find out how the battle was progressing overall. To her surprise and delight, Oliver was still there waiting for her. He stepped forward and grabbed her in a hug, lifting her off her feet.

  A tidal wave of emotions swirled through her exhausted soul. She and Oliver had been an unofficial item for a couple of months. And she was happy with the way things were going. But this was the first public display of affection on either of their parts. Tess closed her eyes and relished the hug and Oliver’s comforting strength. Would this take their relationship to another level?

  After a minute, he set her down and she opened her eyes, recognizing they were creating a spectacle in front of volunteers and the other emergency personnel hydrating and debriefing after a tough couple of days.

  Stepping back, she smiled. “Hey, I’m a mess, and I just got you all dirty.”

  “Doesn’t bother me at all. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He leaned back and looked her over, his eyes warm and full of sparkle, and for a minute Tess thought he’d kiss her. A combination of fear, embarrassment, and excitement twisted up inside her like a tornado. Then he said, “Things got a little close out there, didn’t they?”

  “Yes and no.” She pushed back some hair that had fallen over what she was certain was a sooty forehead, disappointed and relieved at the same time that the moment had passed. “Livie Harp is stubborn and completely prepared for any and all contingencies.”

  “I bet. And I want to hear all about it. But first, there’s sandwiches and drinks over here.”

  “Great. I’m famished.” Tess followed him to a large table set up with food and drinks for all the first responders. She washed her hands and then grabbed a sandwich, some chips, and a drink. Firefighters, cops, and volunteers ringed the tables, and Oliver found them a place to sit.

  Tess munched her food and between bites told him about her interaction with Livie Harp, in the back of her mind wondering about the forward movement of their relationship. It was a good thing, right?

  –––

  Two days later, the smell of smoke still hung in the air. There were still a couple of hot spots here and there, but the fire danger to residents was finally over. Oliver looked forward to the day all the smoke would be gone, and he’d see his beautiful Oregon blue sky again. Because of the fire emergency, he’d missed a couple of regular appointments. Now that the worst had passed and the fire was on its way to being completely extinguished, he was able to reschedule one of the important ones. This meeting brought him to the Jackson County Jail, where he was led to an attorney-client room to meet with a convicted felon awaiting trial on new charges.

  Oliver had met Don Cherry a couple of months ago, when the man had ostensibly been in the employ of a local pot farm. In reality, he worked for a drug lord, a man who was out to kill Tess O’Rourke. Thinking about that order still gave Oliver the shivers. The drug lord was eventually captured after a shoot-out at a local residence, and now he was in custody in a federal prison in California. But long before the shoot-out, Cherry had been paying Oliver visits for questions and conversations. At the time, Oliver believed Cherry was struggling with fully trusting in God; he wanted to have faith, but a hard life, including time in prison and an affiliation with a violent street gang, had clouded and stunted his ability to believe.

  In spite of Cherry’s gang tattoos and scary demeanor—an FBI agent once made the comment, “One glare from that guy could scare the white off rice”—Oliver saw good in the man who’d been hardened over time. His insight proved golden when Cherry actually saved his life. The drug lord had ordered Cherry to kill Oliver and two other people, but instead, Cherry hid them and saved them all.

  After the shoot-out, when Cherry was taken into custody along with the drug lord, Oliver didn’t end his relationship with the man; rather, he made a point to try to visit him at least once a week. Since that time he’d had many interesting conversations with Don, including one where Cherry confessed faith in Christ and a desire to lead a Spirit-filled life.

  Cherry was cooperating with federal and state authorities and had been placed in protective custody until his day in court because there was a bounty on his head, courtesy of the Mexican mafia. Plus, the drug lord he once worked for had issued many threats to kill Cherry. The threats seemed to not faze Don at all. He was calm, full of questions about the Bible, and clearly at peace with all the life decisions he was currently making. He would eventually be transferred to federal custody, but until that happened, Oliver was committed to doing all that he could to help the man.

  “Good morning, Don,” Oliver said as deputies brought the large man into the room. Cherry, broad and strongly muscled, towered over Oliver. He nodded to Oliver and sat still while the deputies shackled the belly belt he wore to the floor. They unshackled his hands, a concession to Oliver because Cherry brought with him his Bible and a notebook.

  How could they do a Bible study if his hands remained shackled? Oliver had argued. The sheriff had eventually relented, and for the past month, they’d had many productive study sessions.

  Once he was settled, the deputies left the room and Oliver opened in prayer.

  “Father, we ask for your presence in this room as we study your Word. Open our eyes and hearts to your truth.”

  “Amen,” Cherry said. “I missed our visit. Glad you could reschedule.”

  “It’s been a rough few days.” Oliver gave him a sketch of the brief but destructive fire in the Hollow.

  “Everyone okay?”

  “No lives lost, but a lot of destruction. Tess handled the crisis well.”

  At the mention of Tess, Cherry showed the hint of a smile, all the emotion he ever rev
ealed, Oliver had learned.

  “That chief, your lady, she’s a tough cookie. Is she too tough for you?”

  “I don’t know that I’d use the word tough, but she is dedicated.”

  “I wouldn’t have said that a cop and a padre would mix.” Then he grinned. “One is all about putting people in jail, and the other is all about setting people free. Justice and mercy—ain’t that opposite ends of the spectrum?”

  Oliver couldn’t suppress his own grin. Don had a point. “Not really opposite. All fair justice is dispensed with some mercy, I think. And, uh, we mix fine. We both help people, just in different ways.”

  The big man considered this. “I guess you could say that. I never thought of arresting people as helping them. But in my case, you two were a great tag team. Her arresting me and you explaining God to me . . . well, you needed a captive audience, and you got it.”

  Oliver laughed. “God will use whatever it takes, Don.” He switched the subject away from his personal life to the portion of Scripture they were set to study. But it was hard to concentrate on 1 Samuel. Cherry hit a nerve, as he often did. Was Tess, the dedicated and courageous chief of police, too tough for him to handle? “Opposite ends of the spectrum”?

  6

  Tess’s throat was still sore from all the smoke she’d inhaled two days ago, and her muscles protested vehemently after the work she’d put them through in the smoky heat of the fire. Her mind had worked as hard as her muscles that day. Livie Harp was as big an enigma as anyone Tess had ever met. She was still trying to wrap her brain around the woman. She didn’t remember ever meeting anyone so stubborn or evasive. Of course, her first thought was that Harp was a fugitive from justice—why else would she be so fiercely protective of her privacy? But as she observed Harp over the few hours she worked with her, Tess’s instincts didn’t ping criminal. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it seemed as if there was more hurt in Harp, not criminality or meanness. And there was nothing on her property to indicate criminal activity, only a perfectly self-contained setup, and here in this part of Oregon, that was not uncommon or illegal.

  In any event, Harp’s defensible space helped the firefighting effort. Tess saw the clear line of demarcation at the edge of her property, and that enabled them to do battle, jumping from dry tree to dry tree just outside the property boundary. Then, when she feared she was at the end of her strength, help came in the form of a C-130 dropping fire retardant. It was almost as scary as the fire, watching the huge plane deliver a load of fire retardant a scant few feet away, but it saved the Harp property, and Rogue’s Hollow, from further devastation and protected the recluse’s house from flames. As it dropped a cloud of reddish retardant, Tess could only gape in awe. The landscape looked otherworldly, engulfed in a reddish, smoky haze. Two more drops and they were winning. The fact that the wind had died also aided the fight.

  In the end, Livie Harp lost a couple of pine trees and some perimeter brush. Tess had tried to engage the woman in conversation, but it was obvious that she played everything close to the vest.

  “How do you support yourself out here, all alone?”

  “I do Internet security. I test secure banking websites for flaws, find them, then tell companies how to make their sites more secure. I work from home. No need to travel anywhere.”

  “Aren’t you lonely out here by yourself?” Tess had asked.

  Harp offered the vaguest of smiles. “Life is easiest and safest when I’m around people I trust. I trust Livie Harp.”

  That was the extent of what Tess learned, along with Harp’s website. It was something Tess wanted to look into as soon as possible.

  Now, two days later, with the fires largely out, damage was being assessed. Since the fire had impacted the most rural segment of Rogue’s Hollow, it looked as if only four homes were lost—no people or livestock had died, thank goodness—along with the old logging camp behind Arthur’s home. But his home was spared, as was the vacant property next door. Not all evacuation orders had been lifted, as firefighters were still working hard to put out random hot spots on BLM property, but the capricious weather was turning cool. Rain was in the forecast, and Tess expected that sometime today everyone would be let back into their neighborhoods and homes.

  She bought a cup of coffee from the Hollow Grind, nodding and talking to people here and there. After a year she’d come to know a lot of the coffee shop regulars and felt welcome and at home. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits despite the ordeal of the last few days. The emergency served to bring people together, she noticed. She even saw some neighbors who’d been torn apart by the contentious issue of recreational pot sitting and enjoying coffee together.

  Oliver would be happy to see that, she thought. Oliver and his church were working overtime to help everyone they could.

  Thinking of Oliver made her smile. His unrestrained bear hug when she returned to the command post after the odd encounter with Livie Harp still made Tess flush warm. True, they’d been seeing each other for a couple of months, ever since the gunfight at Arthur’s home, when Tess had faced off against a wanted drug dealer, but they hadn’t been at all demonstrative in public. It was an adjustment to be together, for him because he’d been widowed only the year before and for Tess because the idea of trusting God and stepping back into a lifestyle she’d abandoned years ago was still very new. But he’d whisked her up into his arms before she could say a word, and she hadn’t protested. It felt good to be in his arms and wonderful to know how much he cared.

  In her heart of hearts, Tess knew her feelings for him were just as strong.

  Memories of the shoot-out at Arthur Goding’s house with a corrupt DEA agent and a wanted drug lord surfaced. She knew Oliver had a morning meeting at the jail with one of the main players in the incident from a couple months ago. She didn’t see Don Cherry the same way Oliver did. Oliver saw him as a soul to save, and while Tess didn’t think that would hurt, she’d never get as comfortable with the man as Oliver had. Even after Oliver jumped Cherry and punched him out to save Tess, the two men called each other friends.

  The memory brought on a happy hum as she continued down the street and stepped into the station. But the sound died in her throat when she saw what was awaiting her in the lobby.

  Sheila nodded her way. “This gentleman has been waiting to speak with you.”

  The man stood. He was tall and fit, with a bearing that said cop or military. Wearing cargo pants and a dark T-shirt under a light jacket, he was either undercover or off duty.

  “Chief O’Rourke?”

  “That’s me.”

  He held up his ID. “Agent Alonzo Bass, FBI, out of Phoenix, Arizona.”

  Tess studied the ID for a moment. “Hello, Agent Bass, you’re a long way from home. How can I help you?”

  “It’s Lon, and I have a situation to bring to your attention. Is there a place we can talk?”

  “Sure.” Tess nodded and pointed the way to her office. Once they were inside, she closed the door. “Does this have anything to do with the incident here in July?”

  “Yes and no. It has to do with a case wrapping up in Mesa, Arizona. It’s not big news yet, but it will hit tomorrow.” He opened the briefcase he had with him and pulled out a standard FBI press release. “As to what happened here three months ago, I know Marcus Ledge. I’ve talked at length about the incident you two were involved in and done my own study of the area here. He says you’re to be trusted, that you’re good at what you do. That goes a long way with me.”

  “Hmm.” Tess studied him for a moment, remembering DEA Agent Ledge and his corrupt partner. Then she directed her attention to the press release, which concerned a sting operation and the shutting down of a child trafficking ring based out of a mansion in Mesa. Four minor girls and one adult female were liberated, and eight adults arrested.

  “Wow. But what does this have to do with me?”

  “One of the rescued girls, the eighteen-year-old, is going to be our star witness. She was
closest to our target, and she acquired an iPad with information implicating a high-powered person involved in this ring. There’s a lot of money tangled up in the case and possibly a lot of politics. My partner and I have been tasked with keeping the girl safe.”

  “You? Wouldn’t that normally fall to the US Marshals?”

  “Ordinarily, yes. But when this hits the media and you see who our main target is, you’ll understand why we’re going outside channels.” He stood, hands in pockets, jiggling keys and change. “Chief, my research of Jackson County in general and Rogue’s Hollow in particular turned up a few things besides sterling endorsements of you and the way you work. There’s a battered women’s shelter here in town, correct?”

  Tess bit back a response. The shelter was supposed to be a secret, but she’d quickly learned that in a small valley, it was impossible to keep any secrets, especially a big one. While it was irritating that this outsider had easily discovered the place, she knew there wasn’t a lot she could do, short of moving the shelter, and that wouldn’t happen.

  “Yes, we do.”

  “With your permission, I’d like to contact the couple who run the place and ask if they’re willing to provide shelter for the girl, our witness, while we provide security.”

  “Why do you need my permission?”

  He took a photo and slid it across her desk. Tess picked it up. She recognized the man but said nothing.

  “This is the man we believe headed up the trafficking ring. The man I want to bring down.”

  Tess brought a hand to her mouth, hoping she controlled the shock that she felt. To say that Cyrus Beck was a well-known public figure was an understatement. He was middle-aged, sixty at most, but his face was smooth and unlined. In the picture, he was wearing casual clothes and still appeared trim and fit. At least six feet tall, with his sandy-brown hair perfectly trimmed, Beck might be considered a handsome man by some, Tess supposed. But to her, his eyes were insolent, and there was a cruel smirk to the turn of his lips. Maybe she read what she knew about him into her perusal, but she’d never be attracted in any way to a man like Cyrus Beck.