I cursed, knowing I had to pass them or blow my cover. I drove on by, rounded a bend in the road and slowed down. Now what? A hundred feet farther I spotted another turnout and I pulled into it, dowsed the headlights and waited. With luck, they’d drive past and I could drop in behind them again. I’d have to be careful though, and leave my headlights off. It was risky but I didn’t know how else to follow them undetected.
A moment later, headlights appeared in my rearview mirror. The SUV neared and I ducked down. It passed by and then screeched to a stop, red brake lights bright in the black. They’d made me!
Without thinking, I flew out of the Subaru and slammed the door shut. I ran around the back end of the car and up into the trees. Behind me, I heard another car door slam and then shouts. I glanced over my shoulder. Gus was running down the road while the SUV backed up and came to a stop right in front of the Subaru.
I crashed through the trees, barely able to see in the gloom. The icy night air burned my lungs and branches scraped my face as I ran up the hillside. I had a good head-start but I had no idea where to go. I came to a huge rock outcropping and I darted off to the right. CRACK!
They’re shooting at me! I thought. A mix of fear and indignation coursed through me. How dare they shoot blindly!
I leaped over a fallen tree and crouched down behind it. My breath came in ragged gasps, and blood thumped in my ears. I glanced over the log. Near the rock outcropping, I thought I saw a shadow moving. I held my breath.
“Where’d he go?” Mick called out.
“I don’t know.” A bulky specter put his hands on his hips, disgusted. Gus. “It’s too damn cold out here.”
“Let’s go back to the car. He’ll have to come back for his car sometime.”
“Yeah.”
They crashed back down the hillside, obviously not caring if I heard them. I started to breathe again, my gasps loud in the silence. They were right. It was freezing cold. And I couldn’t go back to my car. Now what?
I listened for a minute but couldn’t hear them. But I didn’t trust that they weren’t out there, waiting for me to show myself. I slowly moved away from the log, stepping as carefully and quietly as I could. I walked parallel to the highway below, making my way away from the cars. Once I got a little distance between the cars and me, I pulled out my cell phone, but didn’t have reception. I cursed my misfortune and hiked back toward Golden. I started moving faster, but I paid for it when I tripped on a tree root and went sprawling. I landed hard and skidded on my palms. I tried to take a breath, but the air had been forced from my lungs. I finally groaned, got up gingerly and brushed myself off. My side ached but I didn’t have a choice, so I headed on. My toes went numb and I stopped for a moment to tap my feet, working feeling back into my extremities. Then I moved on, hoping I would never get into this kind of predicament again.
That was wishful thinking.
Chapter Seven
After I walked for a bit, I tried my phone again, and this time I got a signal. I thought about calling Willie but her shift didn’t end until eleven, and I didn’t want to worry her, so I nixed that idea. I picked the number of my downstairs neighbor and friend, Ace Smith. He lived with his brother Deuce, and I always thought of them as the Goofball Brothers. They weren’t the brightest bulbs in the chandelier, but they were fun and loyal, and I could always count on them. And I didn’t fear waking them because most likely they’d be playing pool at B 52’s, the neighborhood hangout. I dialed Ace, but he didn’t answer his cell phone, so I tried Deuce.
“Hey, Reed, how are you?” Deuce asked cheerily.
“Hey, buddy,” I said. Loud music blared in the background and I could hear pool balls cracking against each other. Yep, they were at B 52’s. “I’m in a jam. Can you come pick me up?”
“Sure, Reed, where are you?”
“I’m outside of Golden. I was following some guys and they turned the tables on me and ended up chasing me. They’re watching my car now so I’m stuck without wheels.”
“You on another case?” he asked.
“Yes, Deuce. I’m on another case.” Why else would I be doing what I’d just described? “Hey, it’s cold out here, so can you come get me?” My teeth chattered. “I’ll be walking along Golden Gate Canyon Road toward Golden. Call me when you’re at the turn-off from 93.”
“You’re outside?” He sounded incredulous.
“Yes,” I said, striving for patience.
“Why don’t you wait for us in your car? It’d be a lot warmer.”
“If I could use my car, I wouldn’t need a ride,” I said. Did I mention the Goofballs Brothers weren’t too sharp?
“Oh, right.”
“Deuce?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you please hurry?”
“Oh, sure. We’re on our way.”
I ended the call and headed down the hillside to the highway, then struck out toward Golden. I guessed by now the temperature was below zero, and a slight breeze made it even colder. I walked at a brisk pace, but it did little to keep me warm. At this time of night, I figured it would take the Brothers about a half-hour to reach me, maybe a little more. I hoped I wouldn’t freeze to death before they arrived. Wouldn’t that make a headline. Detective freezes to death in bitter cold because he stupidly got caught following the bad guys.
The occasional car passed me, but no one offered to stop. Not that I blamed them. At this time of night, the drivers didn’t know I was an ace detective who’d gotten into a pickle. Okay, maybe not so ‘ace’ right now. But a chance to warm up in a nicely heated vehicle would’ve been nice. I sighed, my breath a little cloud in front of my face. A while later, a muffled voice startled me. “People lose teeth talking like that. If you want to hang around, you'll be polite.” It was my ringtone, a sound bite from The Maltese Falcon, Bogie at his coolest. My numb hands fumbled to pull my cell phone from my pocket.
“We just turned onto Golden Gate Canyon Road,” Deuce said when I answered.
“I’m on the south side of the road.”
“Hey, Bob was playing pool with us, and he offered to drive, so we’re in his truck.”
Bob was the Ace and Deuce’s older brother. I hadn’t even known he existed until he moved from the East Coast back to Denver a few years ago to work as an EMT, but mostly, to help his brothers. A bright guy, he’d taken the best of the Smith gene pool in the first round, leaving his two younger brothers with the leftovers.
I’d met Bob on my very first case and, ironically, he’d had to rescue me then too, driving east of Denver when I’d been unceremoniously dumped in a field by two pseudo-FBI agents who’d taken my cell phone. That time I’d had to walk to a gas station to call for help.
“Bob’s with you? Great,” I muttered, embarrassed that he was privy to my folly yet again.
A few minutes later, a Dodge truck came into view, its headlights a rescue beacon in the dark. I shielded my eyes as it slowed down near me. The driver’s window rolled down.
“You look like you could use a ride,” a deep voice said.
“Hey, Bob.” I hurried across the road. “Am I glad to see you!”
He waved a hand at me. “Get in and warm up.”
I trotted around the front of the truck and Deuce opened the passenger door. I climbed in and immediately put my hands in front of the vent. Hot air blew onto my hands and my fingers soon began to tingle. I made fists, ignoring the pain.
“There’s only room for three of us,” Deuce said, explaining Ace’s absence.
I managed a smile. “Good thinking.”
“Do all detectives get left out in the cold, or just you?” Bob asked, with humor in his tone. He had the same soft gray eyes as Ace and Deuce, only his held a bit more wisdom than theirs.
If I weren’t so cold, I’m sure my cheeks would’ve flushed with embarrassment. “Just me.”
“I’m just kidding,” Bob said. “You’re the best detective I know.”
“I’m the only detective you know.”
“I wouldn’t ask for anyone else.” He glanced over at me with a grateful look. I’d helped get Deuce out of some trouble, and I knew Bob respected me, even if my style wasn’t always smooth. “Let’s get you home.”
“Wait,” I said as I shivered. “Do you have a few extra minutes?”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“Can we drive down the road and see if someone’s still watching my car?”
“No problem.”
He hit the gas and we barreled down the road. A few minutes later, we slowed as we rounded the bend in the road and I spied my rental car. The SUV was parked in front of it.
“They’re still there,” I said.
“You want me to ram them?” Bob asked.
I looked at him askance, surprised at his suggestion. Then I saw his sly expression and realized he was joking. I guess my brain hadn’t thawed out yet.
The truck passed by the cars and Bob sped up. “I’ll go down a ways and turn around.” He hesitated, then said, “You don’t think they’ll be suspicious if they see the truck again, and follow us?”
I shook my head. “I doubt they’ll notice, but we can stop and wait for another car and follow it, to throw them off.”
“Good idea.” Bob pulled a U-turn and parked on the side of the road. A minute later, a Lexus shot past us. Bob got back on the road and caught up to it. The truck stayed close behind it when we passed the SUV and my rental. I watched the passenger door mirror, but no headlights appeared in it.
“I think we’re okay,” I said, then relaxed for the first time in hours. The heat finally soaked into me and my teeth stopped chattering.
It was after eleven when I got home. I thanked Deuce and Bob and plodded up the stairs to my place. The living room and kitchen were dark when I let myself in. I tiptoed down the hall to the bedroom, but I didn’t need to be quiet because Willie was tucked in bed, reading.
“Not tired?” I asked as I came into the room.
She closed the book and put it on the nightstand. “It’s pretty late for you to be out working, and I was a little worried.”
“About moi?” I grinned.
“Yes.” She held up a hand. “I know, you tell me I shouldn’t worry, but I can’t help it.” It was true. Her father had been a cop, and she’d told me one time how she always worried that when he left for work, that he might not return home. That same concern carried over to me and my chosen profession, although we seemed to be at a place in our relationship where she tolerated the worry.
“I’m fine,” I reassured her.
She studied me closely. “Want to tell me what happened?”
I peeled off my clothes, hopped into the bed and snuggled next to her. “Keep me warm,” I murmured, then nuzzled her neck. I gave her a long and lingering kiss.
“Oh, my,” she murmured as she turned to face me. “Again?”
I did tell her about my evening…eventually.
Chapter Eight
“I’ve got a problem,” I announced the next morning as Willie and I ate breakfast.
“What’s that?” she asked, then took a bite of scrambled eggs.
“I have the license plate for Gus’s SUV and I need to trace it and see if I can find out more about him.”
“And you have another problem.”
“What’s that?”
“You have to get your car back first.” She grinned and ate some bacon.
I groaned. “That, too.”
“But back to your initial problem.” She raised an eyebrow. “You’ll trace the license plate?”
It was my turn to smile. “Okay, Cal will trace it.”
“I’m sure he’ll thank you for giving him credit.”
“Anyway,” I said. “Assuming Trevor Welch has a job, I also need to find out where that is, and if he’s been there recently, maybe talk to his coworkers to see if they can shed any light on what’s going on with him and why Farrell was investigating him. But I also need to see if he eventually returns to his house.”
“You can’t be three places at once,” she observed wryly.
“Exactly.” I finished off a biscuit, then sighed. “And before I can visit his work, I need to find where he works.” Her eyebrow inched up again and I held up a hand to stop her. “I know, Cal will do that, not me. But while he’s sitting safe and warm in his home office, I’ll be the one who’ll be traipsing about town trying to find Gus. Or watching Welch’s house. If I can figure out a way to clone myself.”
“What about sending one of the Goofballs to watch Trevor’s house and I’ll go to his work?”
I stared at her. “Really?” Willie had helped on my very first case, disguising herself and serving as a decoy so I could sneak my client out of a house. Willie had enjoyed that, but she had made it clear on my second case that surveillance was not an exciting part of detective work.
“Sure.”
“But you think surveillance is boring.” And I had to give her that…it was.
She pursed her lips and her eyes grew soft. “You cleared my name when the police thought I burned my house down, remember? I think I owe you one.”
I nodded and thought about how our relationship had changed since then. Willie owns a Victorian house across the street that had been converted into three apartments, and she had lived in one unit and rented out the other two. A while back, I had indeed tracked down the person who had burned the building down and murdered one of her tenants in the process. Willie had lived with me since then, and even though her house had been repaired, we’d decided that she would stay with me. Subsequently, she’d rented out her unit. And although it was certainly different living with someone – learning to tidy up more, fighting over the remote – I thought it was working out fine. And for all the little sacrifices, I loved coming home to her.
“Now it’s time for me to return the favor,” she said. “I’ve got the day off so I can go to Trevor Welch’s work. I can watch for him, and if the opportunity presents itself, I can go in and question his coworkers to see when he was around Besides, wouldn’t you rather have me do that than Ace or Deuce?”
“Good Lord, can you see a Goofball Brother trying to get Welch’s coworkers to tell him where Welch is?” I laughed. “Actually, you’d be a big help.”
“It’s settled, then.” She got up and cleared her dishes. “Let me get ready and I’ll head to his work.” She glanced at the clock on the microwave. “It’s nine now. Where does he work? Oh right, you have to ask Cal.”
“I could figure it out,” I said defensively. “It’d just take me longer and I’d have to pay some online service for the information.”
“I know, sweetie.” As she walked by me, she pecked me on the cheek, then put her arms around me and squeezed. “And time is what we don’t have.”
“Not unless you want to visit me in jail.”
“I might make a good prison wife,” she said.
“But my mother would be mortified.” I stood up, put my dishes in the dishwasher, took my coffee cup and headed for my office.
I sat down at my desk and called Cal.
“Hey, how’s the great detective,” he said.
“Do you have time for a couple of things?”
“I was up all night finishing this project and I was about to crash for a while, but for you, sure.”
“Thanks,” I said. “First, can you look up a license plate for me?”
“Piece of cake.”
I gave him the plate number and in a flash he had the information.
“That vehicle is registered to U.S. International Realty,” he said. “And before you ask, let me see where they’re located.”
I took a sip of coffee and waited.
“It’s downtown, on 16th and Market,” he said. “Is this that Trevor Welch guy’s car?”
“No, the car belongs to the thugs who beat me up. Or maybe they don’t own the car, but they were driving it last night.”
“What happened last night?”
I
told him about my adventure outside of Golden.
“You’re lucky you didn’t have to spend the night out in the woods,” he said when I finished.
“You’re telling me,” I said. “It was freezing.”
“Now you can track them down, but a word of advice, stay in your car this time.”
“Uh-huh. Hey, while you’re checking on U.S. International, does a Gus or Mick work there?”
A pause. “Doesn’t look like it. There’s just a couple of realtors listed.”
“Hm,” I said.
“And the second thing you needed?” he asked.
“I do need information about Trevor Welch.”
“Did you narrow it down to one individual?”
“Yes.” I rattled off the address. “Can you find out where he works and anything else pertinent?”
“Hang on.” The usual clatter of his fingers hitting the keyboard came through the phone. “He works in Broomfield at a place called TechVision.”
“Great.” I wrote down the address. It was near Interstate 25 and Federal Boulevard.
“It’ll take a little longer to do a thorough background check,” he said.
“Why don’t you get some sleep and then do it?” I suggested. “Call me later with whatever you find.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Oh wait.”
He sighed but it was mostly show; I could tell he wanted to help me clear my name. “What else?”
“I don’t know what Welch looks like. Does he have a driver’s license? That would have a photo of him.”
“Let me check.” More typing. “Yes. Let me just…” he paused. “Okay, I’m emailing you a picture now.”
“Does he have a car registered?”
“Hold on…yes, a Dodge truck. I’ll email the plate number, too.”
“Awesome. I owe you.”
“One of these days, I need to cash in your debt.” With that, he hung up.
I laughed as I called Ace.
“Hey, buddy, are you at home?”
“Yeah, I don’t start my training until tomorrow.”
The Reed Ferguson Mystery series Box Set 3 Page 22