Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
JD
“I can pick us up something to eat.”
Janey pads into the house on her socks and sinks down on the couch. She reaches underneath the front of her shirt and her hand resurfaces, clutching the wires of the microphone. Tossing them on the seat beside her, she drops her head back and closes her eyes before answering.
“It’s okay. I’ll whip up something.”
I’m not sure what, because there isn’t a whole lot in the house. Besides, I doubt she’s in any shape to whip up anything. She looks like she’ll be zonked out two seconds after I leave.
“No. I’ll worry about food; you worry about you.”
I bend over the back of the couch and press a kiss to her slack mouth.
“I won’t be long.”
When I pull her truck in behind the barn, I notice only one vehicle is there, and I quickly poke my head into the clinic. The waiting room has undergone a transformation, two large folding tables set up in an L-shape, housing computers and assorted electronic equipment. Agent Wilcox lifts his head from a monitor when I enter, and Ginger crawls out from under the table, her tail wagging in greeting as she approaches me.
“I just wanted to warn you, I’m taking the trailer to pick up a horse. I’ll take the dog with me. Doc Richards is at the house,” I let him know, dropping the wire I pulled off my chest on the way over on one of the tables.
Wilcox doesn’t say anything, just flicks me a salute before he drops his attention back to the monitor. I hesitate for a moment, curious to find out what, if any, progress has been made, but I have a feeling he’ll be redirecting any questions to Stephanie Kramer anyway. I may as well wait until I can ask her.
After letting Ginger have a pee, I briefly contemplate dropping her off with Janey. The likelihood is she’s already dozed off, and I don’t want to disturb her. Let her nap for a bit.
“You up for a car ride, girl?” I mutter at the dog, who still moves with some difficulty on her cast.
She looks quite happy though, with her tongue lolling and her tail wagging. I pick her up and put her in the passenger seat, cranking the window so she can shove her nose out, which she immediately does. Then I quickly hook up the trailer.
“What are you doing?” I ask Jackson when he answers my call.
“What do you need?” he returns.
“Some clean clothes and food from my trailer, and two portions of whatever Ma has cooked up for dinner.”
“Let me guess, you want it delivered to you at Doc’s place.”
“Ideally.”
I hear him mutter something under his breath but can’t quite catch the words, although I have no trouble understanding the gist of it.
“So that’s a yes?” I prompt him.
“We had a visit from the FBI this afternoon,” he says instead of answering my question.
“At High Meadow? Stephanie Kramer?”
“Yes, and yes. Jonas was mighty ticked off he was just finding out what apparently half of his team already knew, and called us all into the office. Drug smuggling. How the fuck did you land in the middle of that?”
I do a mental tally of who was in the know since I only told my father. He obviously shared with Ma, which makes two, and Bo is three, since he was at Janey’s last night playing nurse. I guess maybe Dan heard something through Sloane, which would make four, and I guess I’m number five.
Maybe half the team is more accurate than I thought.
“Not voluntarily,” I clarify before asking a question of my own. “What did Kramer want?”
“Manpower. We’re actually loading up the horses as we speak. Sully already has the Matrice in the air, looking.”
The Matrice is the team’s state-of-the-art drone, which can be helpful on searches. Although, it’s less effective in densely forested areas.
“Looking? For who?”
We found the only missing person I know, and she’s currently at the morgue awaiting an autopsy in the morning.
“One of the drug peddlers has gone missing,” Jackson clarifies. “Guy by the name of John Mackey. He was spotted on the side of Highway 37 about four miles east of the park, near Tub Gulch. The feds think he may be hiding out in the woods on the north side of the highway.”
Mackey missing? That’s the first I hear of it. If Ewing knew, he never mentioned anything this afternoon. Although I’m sure the guy had other pressing things on his mind at the time. Agent Wilcox didn’t mention anything either, but I wouldn’t expect him to volunteer anything.
I’m curious to know how the FBI came to the conclusion he must be hiding in the woods, or he was even on the run to begin with. Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to drive or hitch a ride instead of walking, to get as far away as he could?
Maybe Kramer will be at the clinic by the time I get back so I can pick her brain.
“So you guys are heading out soon?”
“Within the hour. But I was going to drive myself anyway, so I can pick up your shit and drop it off at Doc’s place. It won’t take me that long, it’s all on the way.”
“Appreciate it. Grab me a couple of changes of clothes—there should be bags under the kitchen sink—and take my cooler from the front closet and throw in what’s edible from my fridge.”
“Little soon to be moving in, isn’t it?” he goads me with a chuckle.
“You’re fucking hilarious,” I snarl, not in the mood for jokes. “I’ll meet you at Janey’s in twenty.”
“10-4.”
Janey
Shit .
I must’ve dozed off.
I put a hand at the nape of my neck and try to stretch the kinks out. I had my head back in an awkward position. Turning my eyes to the clock on the kitchen wall, I check the time. I only slept for about twenty minutes, which means JD will probably be back soon. I can still smell myself and it’s not pleasant, I should grab a quick shower before he gets here.
But as I get to my feet, my eyes catch on the empty dog bed. Ginger . I forgot all about her, she has to be hungry by now. Feeling guilty for forgetting about her, I head for the front door, shove my feet back in my dirty boots, grab my keys, and head outside.
Sundown isn’t until about ten in the summer months, but the sky is looking dark. It must be that rain they were promising overnight. Thunderstorms, more likely, given the high temperatures of the past few days. The weather can be unpredictable, especially in the mountains.
I love summer thunderstorms, it’s a break from the stifling heat and there’s nothing better than sitting on the porch, witnessing the force of nature at work. Everything feels and smells so fresh afterward.
Unfortunately, not all animals share my appreciation, which is why I’m rushing to get Ginger before the storm hits. I’m not sure how she feels about thunder, but I’d rather err on the side of caution. I’ll poke in to the barn to check Red is secure. Come to think of it, I should make sure there’s a stall ready for the pinto. JD could be back with her any minute.
Ignoring my aching muscles, I duck my head against the wind, which is suddenly picking up, and head for the barn. Halfway there, I can feel the first drops of rain falling.
Wonderful .
I jog the rest of the way, and rather than heading around the back to go in through the clinic, I opt for the big barn door, which is closer. I quickly shove my key into the lock, keeping the latch closed, and slip inside, making sure to pull the door shut behind me.
It’s pretty dark in here; the two small windows in the front and two at the back hardly let in enough light with those storm skies outside. I hear Red moving about restlessly in his stall—the rustle of straw gives him away—but I head for the light switches first, which are located near the door to the clinic first.
The barn stays dark when I flick the first switch. Odd. The second one is for the light in the small hallway to the bedroom and bathroom at the back, but that doesn’t come on either. Just then lightning flashes in the windows, briefly lighting up the barn, and it’s almost immediately followed by a harsh crack of thunder overhead.
That moved in fast, and I wonder if the power is off due to the storm. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve lost power, which is why we keep flashlights and a camping lantern in the clinic just in case.
I open the connecting door and poke in my head.
“It’s just me. I think the power is out.”
I fully expect a response, or at the very least hear Ginger’s approach as she comes to greet me, but it stays silent. Maybe whatever agent stayed here took her out for a pee in the back. Although, right at that moment I can hear the rain start coming down in earnest, so I don’t think they’ll be out for very long.
I head straight for the treatment room across from me, where I keep the lantern. It gives off a wider spread of light and, in a pinch, I can still see what I’m doing if I happen to be treating an animal when the power is off. There’s a nail in the wall next to Red’s stall for ropes or a halter, I can hang it up there and have my hands free. I just hope it has full batteries.
I blow out a relieved breath when the lantern casts a decent glow. Enough to light my way as I walk toward the back door to poke my head outside and see if someone is out there with my dog. The rain is teeming, and I have to squint to see anything. One of the FBI SUVs is still parked in the back but there is no sign of life out here.
Confused, I retrace my steps back to the barn, where I make an immediate right to check the bedroom. Maybe someone is having a nap and took Ginger with them. But the bedroom is empty, as is the small bathroom next door.
This is weird.
Maybe I should try and get a hold of Stephanie Kramer, see if she knows what’s going on. I wish I’d thought to bring my cell phone, which I tossed on the small table by the front door when I walked into the house. I picked up my keys, but left the phone. The clinic has a landline, but my phones won’t work with the power out.
Another one of those loud booming cracks thunders, this time in sync with the bright flash of lightning. It’s right over top of us. I can hear Red’s restless snorts as he shuffles around his stall. Clearly, he’s not enjoying the storm, and at this point, neither am I. I’m a little worried about Ginger, wondering if maybe she somehow got out and took off—although I’m not so sure she’d get far with that cast—and the agent went after her in the storm.
All I can do is speculate at this point, and that gets me nowhere. So I focus my attention on Red as I approach his stall. I hang the lantern on the nail and peer over the stall door.
The horse is huddled in the far corner, his alert eyes are turned toward me. There’s a slight tremble visible in the skin on his flank.
“Easy, boy,” I mumble soothingly. “You’ll be okay.”
If JD or Logan were here, I’d risk slipping into the stall to try and calm him. Horses can be unpredictable when scared, and I don’t know this guy that well. More importantly, he doesn’t know me well, and may not welcome my attention.
Abruptly he snorts, jerking his head up at the same time I hear movement behind me.
“Tell me where it is…”
It takes me a moment to recognize John Mackey when I swing around at the sound of his voice. He looks like someone worked him over with a baseball bat. His bruised and battered face is what catches my eye first, but a close second is the gun in his shaking hand. My own hands come up automatically, a useless defense against a bullet.
“I promise, I don’t have your cow.”
He looks jittery, almost panicked as his eyes seem to dart around at shadows. At my words his eyes slam back to me.
“Bullshit.” He gestures with his gun hand toward the clinic. “Why else would the feds be here?” Then he aims it back at me. “You found the drugs.”
I could feign ignorance, but I’m not a very good liar, and I can’t really come up with a valid excuse why the FBI would be here, so I opt to say nothing. Anything out of my mouth would probably only agitate him more.
I try to hang on to the hope maybe the agent is around somewhere, waiting for the right moment to take control of the situation, but I have a bad feeling.
Suddenly he swings his arm around and backhands me with the gun, knocking me to the ground. My hand instantly comes up to the side of my face where a sharp pain blooms and brings tears to my eyes. But I barely have a chance to assess the damage, when he bends over me and shoves the gun against my temple.
“I need those packages,” he hisses, his spit hitting my face. “Whatever it fucking takes. I’ll start by shooting that fucking horse, piece by piece. See how long your bleeding heart can hold out. And when there’s nothing left, I’ll move on with you.”
Bile rises from my stomach, burning a raw path through my chest on its way up. I wouldn’t be able to withstand any harm he puts on Red, I’d rather he focus on me, and the only way to accomplish that is to tell him the truth.
“I don’t have them, I swear.” My voice sounds funny and my face hurts with every word. “I handed them over to the FBI. Please, they’ll be here any minute.”
“You think I’m scared of the feds?” he scoffs harshly. “They’re the least of my worries. I’m already a fucking dead man if I can’t come up with the missing cargo.”
He grinds the barrel of the gun into my scalp, pressing my head hard against the concrete barn floor.
“And I won’t need you anymore.”
I hold my breath, waiting for the inevitable, when a bright flash outside lights up the windows. Lightning?
But a moment later, instead of the rumble of thunder, I hear the crunch of tires driving up to the barn.