“What do you think?” Clay’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Ricki squinted against the weak sunlight streaming from behind the cloud cover. “I think the door is wide open.”
Clay shifted his position so he could get a better sight angle on the door and softly grunted. “A trap to lure us in, or a quick departure?”
“My vote’s with a departure, but let’s see.” Ricki took a small pair of binoculars out of her pocket while Clay produced a pair of his own. They both began a slow scan of the building. When Ricki lowered hers, she whispered. “I don’t see any breaks in those boarded-up windows upstairs.”
“And no movement downstairs,” Clay responded. “I’ll head to the fallen log, and you cover.”
Since she was the better shot, Ricki nodded and lifted her rifle to her shoulder. She constantly moved the gun sight over the open door, to the upper deck, and then back around again as Clay broke away and made a dash for the log. There was no response from the lighthouse, and Ricki didn’t see or sense any movement from the interior shadows beyond the open door.
When Clay looked back at her, she nodded, waiting until he’d raised his rifle before heading to the stone wall of the lighthouse at a dead run. Still nothing. She waited for Clay to join her, and both of them cautiously went through the door, their gazes darting around the empty space inside.
“Unless he’s upstairs, he’s gone,” Clay said.
Ricki moved so she could look to the top of the curving stairs. “He’s not up there, but we need to check.”
“I’ll do it while you call in the others.” Clay moved toward the stairs while Ricki headed for the door.
When she waved her hand high over her head, her uncle and Hamilton stepped out from the trees and into the overgrown grass surrounding the lighthouse. Since she had no idea where Graham was, Ricki led both men inside before turning to her uncle.
“He’s gone. Probably rabbited as soon as he got word, or spotted us. Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes ago.”
Cy nodded. “Okay. I’ll go take a look.”
“I’ll go with him and watch his back,” Hamilton offered, following Cy out the door.
Ricki waited for Clay to make his way back down the curving set of iron stairs. Once he’d joined her again, they walked outside then split up so they could cover the entire clearing around the lighthouse.
When Cy’s fist shot into the air, Ricki and Clay both trotted over to where he was standing with Hamilton beside him, still watching the tree line. Clay took up a vigil on the other side as Ricki squatted down next to her uncle.
He pointed to the ground in front of him, where the grass was flattened. A boot print was outlined in the mud beyond it. “One nice thing about the rain in Washington. The ground is always soft.” He added a nod. “Those are fresh.” He rose to his feet and Ricki followed suit.
“Can you follow him?” Clay asked.
Cy’s nose wrinkled with the insult. “I’m guessing he has no idea how to cover his tracks. A cub scout could follow him.” His smile was grim. “Let’s go.”
Ricki motioned for Clay and Hamilton to fan out as she slowly walked beside her uncle, her gun raised and her eyes quartering the area through the trees as her feet tested out every step of the ground in front of her. The last thing she needed to do right now was to trip over some hidden rock or small log.
After ten minutes of moving through the trees, Cy stopped and leaned over to whisper in her ear. “You called it. He’s headed back toward the cars.”
Ricki lifted the radio to warn Dan, barely getting two words out before a volley of shots whizzed past them, pinging through the trees. Cy grunted and dropped like a stone, with Ricki sinking down beside him.
“Two o’clock,” Hamilton called out, and Ricki swung her rifle in that direction.
“I need you over here,” she answered back, listening to the heavy breathing coming from her uncle. Without glancing down, she scooted a few inches closer to him. “Where are you hit?”
“Leg,” Cy panted. “Upper thigh. Bastard got lucky with a ricochet.”
“How badly is it bleeding?”
“I’ll check.” Hamilton appeared behind her. There was a minute of Cy biting back a litany of swear words as Hamilton poked and prodded around the wound. “Not bleeding too badly, but I only see an entrance wound, no exit.”
Clay took up a position beside Ricki. “If we don’t move, he’s going to get to the car.”
“He’s right,” Cy said through gritted teeth. “He won’t come back this way. I’ll keep low and you all go get him.”
There was good sense to that, but she didn’t like the idea of leaving her uncle hurt and alone. But with Graham circling around to his car, the man in the group with the least field experience was the only one down there to stop him. She looked over her shoulder at Hamilton. “Stay here with Cy.” She handed him the radio. “Dan’s closest to the cell tower. Radio him to call for an ambulance to stand by at the bottom of the hill. We’ll be back when it’s all clear.”
Hamilton didn’t waste time arguing. He took the radio and nodded at Ricki. “Good hunting, Agent James. Don’t get shot.”
Her lips curved into a half-smile before she concentrated on studying the trees in front of her. Since Graham had fired from their two o’clock, she calculated the best angle to cut him off and headed in that direction.
She and Clay moved together, making swift, quiet work of getting around any obstacles in their path as they made their way back down the hill. About halfway to the spot where Dan was waiting, Ricki suddenly stopped. Ten feet to her side, Clay did the same, turning his head and raising a questioning brow. She pointed at one ear and then moved to tap her finger against her lips. They both stood motionless, listening.
She heard the faint crackle of twigs. The sound made when something or someone steps on them. It was coming through the trees, off to her left and not too far away. She motioned for Clay to circle more uphill and to the left, which would bring him up on the other side, while she kept to a parallel course, her breathing light as she listened.
Graham was close now, and making enough noise he was easy to follow. She stealthily kept pace, skirting around the random patches of sunlight and making her way from tree to tree as she caught flashes of color moving through the forest.
The dumbass didn’t even wear dark clothing, she thought, even as she gauged the point she’d intercept him. There was a sudden spate of noise a good fifty yards away as a flock of grouse suddenly rose into the sky. Graham immediately swiveled around and aimed his gun in that direction, shooting off several rounds in quick succession.
Not knowing if their suspect had spotted Clay and had him in his crosshairs, Ricki took advantage of the noise, using it as cover to swiftly move up behind Graham, almost getting close enough to drop him. But somehow he sensed her presence and whirled around, aiming his gun at her chest.
Ricki looked down the center of her own rifle and deliberately smiled. The desperation in Graham’s eyes told her the man was already teetering on the edge of a knife, and she wanted to push him even more off-balance. “I guess this is what they used to call a standoff in those old-time movies.”
Graham wet his lips and tried to move sideways, stopping when Ricki matched him step for step. “Lower your gun. I’ll let you walk off, and you let me do the same. How about that?”
“Not my first choice, Graham.”
His face went red, and the hand holding the gun barrel started to shake. “Dunning. When I’m in this town, my name is Dunning. Just like my uncle. I don’t recognize the pig who sired me. He took advantage of my mother, then just walked off as if she meant nothing to him. As if I meant nothing to him. He deserved what he got.”
“And Maxwell Hardy? Did he deserve a bullet in his chest too?” Ricki watched his gun waver and a bead of sweat slowly trickle from his hairline down to his cheek. “What did Maxwell Hardy ever do to you, Graham?”
“Not me. He was asking about the l
and, about that dead ranger. He was making Uncle Ray nervous, so he had to be stopped.”
Ricki spotted Clay slowly moving through the trees behind Graham, so she kept him talking while Clay moved into position. “And what about Amanda Cannady and Anchorman? They weren’t asking any questions about anything.”
“I don’t know any Amanda. And it’s your fault if that cook of yours dies. I wouldn’t have had to come up with something to distract you if you hadn’t been nosing around. Who cared about some guy killed fifty years ago? Why couldn’t you just let it alone?”
Ricki’s anger boiled up from the pit of her stomach. Two people. And he didn’t give a second thought to either of them. “Amanda Cannady. The young woman who died in the car crash you caused.”
“You caused, you mean,” Graham insisted. “I wasn’t driving. And I told you, you should have left everything alone, then no one would have been hurt. It couldn’t be helped.”
The wall she’d carefully constructed around her emotions broke down, sending a hot boiling wall of fury flooding through her system. Her eyes narrowed on her target, and she waited until his wavering gun drifted off to the right. Before he could jerk it back into place, Ricki took a quick step to the left while she dropped her barrel, putting off a shot right into his foot. He screamed in pain and his finger reflexively jerked against the trigger, sending a bullet in her direction. It screamed past her shoulder with an inch to spare as Ricki leaped over the remaining space and kicked Graham’s gun well out of his reach before pivoting on one foot and bringing down her other right on top of his private parts, applying enough pressure that it forced him to go still, even as he kept whimpering with pain.
“I’m shot, I need help.” He glared up at her through his tears, all color leaving his face when she deliberately set the end of her rifle right against the center of his chest.
“Couldn’t be helped?” she repeated softly. “You robbed a twenty-year-old of the rest of her life, and you think it couldn’t be helped?” She used more pressure to push the barrel harder against his chest. “You put someone who’s like family to me into a hospital bed, fighting for his life, and you claim it couldn’t be helped?” Her mouth pulled back and she bared her teeth at him. “What do you think can’t be helped if you aim a weapon at a government agent?” She poked him again with the barrel of her gun. “Answer me that, Graham? What do you think happens then?”
“Ricki.” Clay’s quiet voice penetrated her haze. “He’s down. You need to let up now.”
She continued to stare at John Graham, holding his terrified gaze captive with her hardened one until her breathing began to slow.
“Ricki?”
Finally lifting her gun a couple of inches, she took a step back. “I heard you.”
“Okay.” Clay reached down and grabbed the back of Graham’s belt, hauling him to his feet. “Up you go. Neither one of us are carrying you down that hill.”
“Have you got hold of him?” Ricki asked mildly, setting her rifle down on the ground.
“Yeah,” Clay said. “Just let me get some cuffs on him.”
“You do that,” Ricki said, before she reared back and put a fist right into Graham’s whining face. Clay swore and let go, jumping back as Graham crumpled to the ground once more. This time he was out cold.
Pain shuddered its way from Ricki’s wrist all the way up her shoulder and into the back of her neck. She grinned at an exasperated Clay. She’d probably have to make another trip to the hospital, and sit through a lecture from TK, but it was definitely worth it.
Chapter Forty-Two
The sky was overcast, barely allowing a soft gray light to thread its way through the trees. Ricki walked along the deserted trail with the solid rush of the river on one side and the sound of branches swaying in the wind on the other. She wasn’t dawdling, but wasn’t in any rush either. The forest was peaceful, going about its daily business without any concern for the worries of a two-legged visitor.
Forty minutes in, Ricki rounded a curve, but instead of continuing on the path, stepped off to the side, following the faint line of footprints in the patches of soft ground that veered off toward the river. Beyond a low set of rocks, she could barely make out the top of a head, covered in a light-blue wool cap with a burst of white from a pom-pom sprouting from its top. The lone figure was sitting on a long, flat rock, his back curved in a relaxed slump, the fingers of both hands curled around the end of a fishing pole.
“Used to be that I could hold on to this thing with one hand and eat a sandwich with the other.” The raspy voice floated back to Ricki as she steadily closed the gap between herself and the edge of the water. When she stopped a few feet behind him, Ray turned his head and smiled. “Hello, Special Agent Ricki James.”
Ricki didn’t say anything, only watched as he slowly reeled in his line and shook his head at the empty hook.
“Fishing isn’t what it used to be around here,” Ray said. “But then, things have a tendency to change, don’t they?”
As he set his pole aside, Ricki walked over and sat down next to him. Bending her legs and drawing her knees up to her chest, she folded her arms on top of them and waited, watching the water roll by as the silence dragged on.
Ray finally sighed, but he kept his gaze on the river. “This spot hasn’t changed much. It looked exactly this way when I used to bring Jenny up here for a bit of fishing and maybe steal a kiss or two.” He reached up and slid the wool cap off his head, holding it to his cheek for a moment before setting it down beside him. “Blue was her favorite color. She wore it all the time.” He heaved another sigh and looked over at Ricki. “I loved her, you know. Still do, for that matter. I would have done anything to see her happy.” He smiled. “Jenny wasn’t my sister, but I’m sure you’ve already figured that out by now.”
Ricki kept her gaze on the water flowing past. “There never was a husband named Dunning, was there?”
His expression took on a wistful look. “Nope. No Dunning. Her parents insisted on making up a husband to save face.” A smile ghosted over his thin lips. “Most of our lives it was just Jimmy and Jenny. People always said it that way, almost like it was one word. We were supposed to be together forever.”
Ricki shifted her gaze away from the river to Ray’s face. He looked at peace, with none of the upset or anger she’d expected to see. “She would have been happy with you, Ray. Any woman would be,” she said slowly, drawing a smile from him.
“Maybe. But she wanted that ranger. And I loved her enough to try to make that happen for her.” Now a hint of the anger she’d been expecting crept into Ray’s voice. “But he wanted nothing to do with her. Got her with child and then was just going to walk away like she and the baby were some kind of minor inconvenience.” He barked out a short laugh that ended on a cough. “Hell’s bells. To him, that’s all she was. An inconvenience.”
When he abruptly stopped, Ricki waited until his breathing slowed before quietly asking, “What happened, Ray? Why did you shoot him?”
“Because he deserved it,” Ray said simply, then ran bony fingers through his thinning white hair. “He laughed, Ricki. When I met him outside of town that night and told him he needed to do right by her, he laughed.” Ray’s legs moved, his knee joints giving off slight creaks as he shifted them to a more comfortable position. “All that money, driving up in that fancy-schmancy car of his, talking to me as if I were a dim-witted servant. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said. ‘I’ll make some provisions so she and her child can get by.’” Ray’s chin quivered and his hands balled into fists. “Get by. That’s what he said, as if barely managing to keep body and soul together was good enough for her. I don’t even know why I brought along the gun. I guess I had a reason, but all I remember is that suddenly it was there in my hand and it was pointed at him. He was so sure of himself, so smug, that I don’t even think he saw it.” Ray’s shoulders slumped over again. “He looked so surprised at first, I thought maybe I’d missed. And then I saw the blood coming o
ut of his chest. He had on a white shirt, and it started to turn red. The blood just kept coming, and coming, and then he just fell to the ground.”
Ray turned wide, haunted eyes on Ricki. “And that was it. That was all there was. He fell down and then there was silence. At first, I didn’t know what to do. And then I just started doing things. I put him in the back of my truck and drove him up to that lighthouse. I knew he owned that land. He told me he was going to give it to Jenny and the baby, so I figured if I left him there, his people would eventually find him. But I hoped not too quick. Jenny would need some time to heal. So I took his uniform and drove that fancy car of his back through town and then out south. I knew someone would see me, think I was him, and tell anyone who came along asking that he’d left town, and his friends would look down that way for a while. I was buying Jenny that time she’d need. That’s all. When I sent that car into the canal, I figured someone would find it eventually and keep on looking for him, and then they’d search his land and find him.” He returned his gaze to the river. “At least, that’s what I thought would happen. I didn’t think it would take fifty years.”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew an object that he held out to Ricki. It was a watch, with a heavy gold band and small diamonds encrusted around the dial. “I always meant to return this. He’d told me his grandfather had given it to him. I didn’t have any problem putting that car of his into the canal, but I couldn’t see leaving this behind. I guess I should have left it with him up at the lighthouse, but I always meant to return it. Maybe there was someone else in the family who should have it. Trouble was, no one ever came looking for him except another ranger. And he didn’t look very long. Made me wonder if Graham had any family left until that private investigator came nosing around a few years ago.”
“Maxwell Hardy. The one John killed?” Ricki asked softly.
A single tear escaped and rolled down Ray’s cheek. “I told him not to do it. I told the boy it was all right if everything came out now. What can they do? Put an old man in jail? I’ve already been in jail for thirty years.”
One Last Scream (Special Agent Ricki James Book 2) Page 31