Chapter 6
Chapter 6
“M y fault. My fault,” Hank muttered.
Well, Adrien thought, it possibly was Hank’s fault—but he understood. The area had been overrun by invasive snakes, and several native species were quickly disappearing to the hungers of the giant reptiles. Their nests were massive, causing many naturalists to speculate there might be as many as a couple hundred thousand boas and pythons now finding a comfortable home in the semitropical wilderness of the Everglades.
They reached the remnants of the one enclosure and found it was empty. There wasn’t much to it; time had taken a natural toll. Tree branches broke through what remained of the roof, and vines crawled through the one window.
Hank was angry with himself, Adrien knew, thinking his shot might have caused their suspect to move on. And it might have—and might not have. Whoever this Carlos was, he’d planned well ahead for any contingency.
“Hank, this guy is going to be constantly moving. But I think we’re heading in the right direction. Someone was here not too long ago.”
He hunkered down, studying the splintered remains of the wooden floor.
“There’s an actual footprint!” Vicky noted.
Adrien nodded, thoughtful. It might have been made by another searcher. It might have been made by the man they were seeking.
He couldn’t help but think that his instincts were right.
He looked at Vicky.
“He was here.”
“And I screwed it!” Hank muttered.
“Hank, maybe not,” Adrien said. “Like I said, he’s going to keep moving, no matter what. And take a step away. There’s a snake on that branch. Don’t shoot it! It’s not even poisonous. It’s just a little rat snake, and without those guys, we’d be entirely consumed by the mosquitoes.”
“Instead of just half-consumed,” Hank asked, swatting at a flying insect. “Then again, we saw—we saw, in the wild—a Florida panther!”
“We did indeed,” Vicky said. “Adrien?”
“We’ve another mile before there’s something else like this. There’s lots of marshland, and we’re still in the rainy season, so I’m glad you got those boots,” he told Vicky.
“Ah, but you’re still wearing cowboy boots!” she told him.
He shrugged. “Damned hard for a sneaking snake to bite into. I’m okay. Hank?”
“Had a chance to plan for the day,” Hank said, lifting his pant leg to show them both the tall and heavy leather boots he was wearing. He laughed. “A little late to ask.”
“True,” Adrien agreed. He looked at Vicky. She was calm, still studying the footprint. She looked over at Adrien. “He isn’t far ahead! Should we let Mike and Lance know we seriously believe he’s heading that way?”
“Instinct tells me yes, but anyone could have made that footprint,” Adrien said. “Other searchers, other cops, agents, rangers. I know Eames is keeping a log of who is where, but out here . . . you’re not always certain what lines you might have crossed. But I will report to Eames.”
Adrien did so. The call took no more than a few seconds. He reported what he believed to Mike, as well, and Mike agreed they wanted to be a little more certain.
“You got the map, Hank, right? We’re heading on out to the next position.”
“Got it.”
When they stepped out of the ruins, Vicky was suddenly dead still, frowning.
“What is it?” Adrien asked her.
She looked at him with deep concern, and that look in her eyes caused a wealth of emotion to suddenly rise in him.
He wanted to take her into his arms, assure her that everything would be all right.
He gave himself a mental shake—not something Detective Victoria Henderson would want at all.
“Someone is out here,” she said in a whisper. “I heard . . . something. Like a moan, or a whisper. That way.”
She pointed ahead. They were in an area some people referred to as a cypress prairie or a sawgrass prairie. The hardwood hammocks only rose a few feet above the water level, and they were usually full of little streams or rivulets of water; but gorgeous wildflowers could also grow, and the brush could be thick in places.
“There!” she said softly.
They were all dead still for a beat.
“Cover me!” Adrien said.
Ducking low, he started to move, ignoring the sawgrass that snagged his clothing. Halfway from the ruins of the shack to the heavy growth of trees and brush, he paused, listening again. Something was moving ahead.
A gator? A bird? An ibis was stalking the ground near him, seeking insects or worms, and an eagle soared overhead.
Another giant python?
No, there was something different about the movement. Something he wouldn’t have been able to explain in words, just something he sensed.
He started moving forward again. It might be the first time he’d worked with them, but he had no trouble trusting his backup to cover his movements.
The sound came again.
This time, he knew it was a moan. It was followed by a whisper he could barely hear.
“Help me!”
He moved swiftly then, shoving aside a swath of branches, and falling quickly to the side of the man who lay on the ground. His bloodied uniform gave away the fact he was a park ranger, but while he lay on the ground, there were no visible signs of blood.
“Hey, hey, I’m here,” Adrien said quickly. “Where are you wounded?”
The man appeared to be in his thirties. He blinked, staring at Adrien with hope soaring into his eyes. “Thank God!”
“I’m trying to help you,” Adrien told him. He pulled out the satellite phone, reaching Eames, giving him their location, and explaining there was a ranger down. He didn’t know the extent of his injuries yet, but they needed medical attention as quickly as possible. There were holes in his shirt; bullet holes, scored by powder. But there was no blood on the man.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you . . .”
“I want to help you. You are wearing a vest beneath your uniform,” Adrien surmised. “But he shot you three . . . four times?”
“Ribs . . . I think they’re broken. I was alone out here. I went down in agony,” the young man said, wincing. “I . . . went down. I guess he didn’t reckon on the vest. He kept going. . . I . . . I should have gotten up, somehow. He’s still out there now.”
“Be glad you went down; he would have killed you,” Adrien said flatly. “And I’m impressed you thought to wear a vest when we all knew this was going on.”
Adrien stood. “It’s all right!” he called back to Vicky and Hank.
“All right?” the ranger queried.
“Sorry, no, you’re not all right. You probably have several broken ribs, but you’re alive. Do you have any idea how long you’ve been down?” Adrien asked.
He’d barely finished speaking before Vicky and Hank came running up.
“No!” the ranger cried.
“No, no, they’re detectives on this case. You’re fine!” Adrien assured him quickly.
“No, no,” Vicky murmured, falling to her knees by the downed man. “Are you—”
“He has a vest on, but he still probably has broken ribs,” Adrien explained quickly. “I’ve called for medical. But please, this can help us a lot. Did you see him, and how long ago did he get you?” he persisted.
Vicky was smoothing his hair back and gently pulling a branch from beneath the ranger’s body. He had closed his eyes. He opened them, staring at Vicky.
“Wow! That’s . . . better. Thank you!”
“I’m afraid to do anything more,” she told him. “But,” she added, looking up at Adrien, “help will be here soon!”
“Thank you!” he whispered again. “Um . . . about six feet. He’s in jeans and a denim jacket. Maybe forty-five or so. I was just going to ask him what he was doing, if he knew . . . but he saw me from a distance and started firing. He looked like anybody. Not like a criminal mastermind!”
“How long ago?” Adrien asked patiently. “Twenty . . . twenty-five minutes.”
Adrien looked at Hank and Vicky.
“No man left behind,” Hank said.
“Marines?” Adrien asked.
“Yes, sir. And you?”
“Airborne,” Adrien said. “So—”
“Vicky is the better shot; you may need her expertise. I mean, I’m no slouch, but . . .”
“All right, you wait with the ranger, and I’ll have Mike and Lance come for you. Vicky?”
She was up instantly. “You’re going to be okay, you just may need a few vacation days!” she assured the ranger.
“Go!” Hank said. “Get that son of a bitch who thinks he’s smarter than everyone!”
Adrien nodded and used the satellite phone again to bring Mike and Lance up to speed, to ensure they’d catch up heading south, and they would find Hank and the ranger and follow their path.
“Heads up,” Mike warned. “This guy is shooting first and asking questions later.”
“I’m going to rely on the friends who taught me everything there was to know about this place when I was a kid,” he told Mike.
He could almost see his old friend’s grin.
“We’re moving, south-central,” he said.
“Copy that.”
Adrien was already walking and moving quickly as he spoke. He was a tall man, and his strides were long; he worried Vicky wasn’t going to be able to keep up.
But she was. She glanced at him, arching a brow.
“Just checking.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “I could maybe take you at a sprint,” she said.
He laughed. “I wouldn’t bet against you. Twenty minutes,” he murmured. He put up a hand, stopping, listening.
“No. He’s still far ahead. Let’s keep at it.”
“Easier said than done!”
They had reached another patch of watery marsh. She took a step and started to sink. He quickly caught her arm. “This way. You can see the mangrove roots there; a little balance is needed, but . . .”
“Got it and thanks!”
She smiled at him, not at all resentful of his arm, but rather holding on to it as they made their way around the watery mud pit. “Gator hole up there. We’ll avoid it.”
“I see. We just keep to the side, right?”
“Keep to the side. And hope, of course, that her nest is over there and not over here.”
She flashed him a smile, and they kept going. When they reached the next hammock—a tiny island of a hammock—he paused again to listen.
“There is someone ahead,” he murmured. “Keep low, use the trees.”
They kept moving, slowly, pausing, listening.
Again, he heard something—a whisper in the wilderness that was not caused by any creature other than a human being.
Had Carl found yet another victim?
“Careful, careful,” Adrien warned in a whisper.
“Right.”
She indicated she could go around a tangle of brush while he moved forward. He nodded his agreement to the plan.
He dropped low to cross an area of sawgrass prairie, gritted his teeth against the snags of the terrain. He was aware Vicky had moved around and was almost parallel to him.
He heard the moaning again. He kept moving, and he saw Vicky had come around, as well.
This time, it was a woman on the ground. Dark hair splayed around her head. She was curled on her side, crying. She was in dark green pants and a beige shirt with a ranger’s hat at her side, but there was something off . . . the uniform wasn’t that of a park ranger.
Vicky was moving toward her.
He shouted a warning, drew out his Glock, as he realized the woman was turning, and she was smiling.
Because she was armed.
He didn’t need the warning. Vicky hadn’t been taken. She was narrowly shielded by a fallen tree trunk, but her gun was aimed at the woman’s head, and she commanded harshly, “Drop it!”
“I really suggest you do as she says,” Adrien said, striding to stand over the woman, his weapon aimed at her, as well.
The woman dropped the gun, staring up at the two of them. Vicky quickly retrieved the fallen gun, never taking her gaze—or her weapon—off the woman.
She stepped back, looking at Adrien.
“Cuffs?”
He nodded; she covered him while he went to the woman, dragged her up, and commanded she put her hands behind her back.
“No, no, no, you don’t understand. I was scared. I was . . . I heard there was a criminal out here!”
Adrien looked at Vicky, arching a brow, smiling. “Really? There’s nothing wrong with you, and you’re sitting in the bushes moaning, and hmm, someone came to help you, and you pulled your gun out right away.”
“Does seem like there’s something really wrong with that story!” Vicky said, grimacing and looking at him. But then she stood in front of the woman and demanded, “So. He knows we’re after him, knows about where we are, and somehow found you to kill the two of us for him?”
“You don’t understand! He’ll kill my family!” she cried.
“Who are you and how does he know your family?” Adrien asked.
“He . . . I . . . I . . . okay, I’ve sold stuff for him. And once you do that . . .”
“Stuff? What stuff?” Adrien asked.
“Pills . . . nothing deadly, I swear! But I was laid off, and I was desperate. I’m a single mom. My name is Gretchen Merton. He called me earlier today and said he might need me, and if I didn’t show up, he’d make a phone call and my kids would be dead. And I . . . I know he means what he said. He shot and killed that ranger without even talking to him. He’ll kill my kids, please! He can never know I didn’t kill you!”
Adrien glanced at Vicky.
“Easy enough to find out. And easy enough to protect your children. But if you’re here—” Adrien began.
“My children are at school! Teddy is nine, and Veronica is seven. My husband . . . my husband left me about a year ago, and he . . . he isn’t much of a father. I swear, I swear, I swear this is true!”
“But you would have killed me,” Vicky said softly.
“Only for my kids!” Gretchen said, tears slipping down her cheeks.
“She’s telling the truth,” Vicky said. “Call Eames; he can check it out easily enough and get the kids into protective custody. And get someone out here to get her.”
“You’re sure?” he asked Vicky.
She studied the woman, who was not just crying.
“Yes.”
“All right, then.”
He got on the satellite; Eames had someone on it even as they spoke. Their answer came quickly. Yes, there was a Gretchen Merton who lived in the North Miami area, and she did have two children at a local elementary school. Eames was damned good. Even before they ended the call, he had police on the way to bring the kids into protective custody.
“All right, Ms. Merton,” Adrien said. “How long—”
“Ten minutes. He left me here ten minutes ago,” the woman said. “They’ll really have my kids. And what about me? Oh, God. You can’t just leave me here. He might come back. You don’t understand this man. He had connections.”
“If he had the connections here,” Adrien said dryly, “he wouldn’t have had you lying in the grass to try to kill the two of us.”
“You have me handcuffed!” she cried.
Vicky glanced at him. They desperately needed to keep moving. But it was true her life might well be in danger if the man’s “connections” were alerted to determine if Gretchen Merton had carried out her task as ordered.
“I’ll have to stay—” Vicky began, but Adrien lifted a hand again; he felt the vibration on his satellite phone.
Mike was almost there; he had left Lance with Hank while they waited on the EMTs.
“We’re good. Mike is going to hang in while we move on. And Eames has people coming in from the south. We’re going to get him in a pincher movement, no matter what he’s tried to accomplish out here.”
“There’s Mike! Man, can he move!” Vicky said.
“Yes, Mike can move through the wetlands as fast and easily as a bird can fly,” Adrien agreed. “He’ll make it to us in about two minutes.”
“Wait!” Gretchen cried.
“The gentleman coming will see to it that you’re brought in and reunited with your children,” Vicky told her.
“And . . . and you won’t . . . my God, if I go to jail, they’ll have no one!” Gretchen sobbed.
“We’ll have to see. Maybe you can help us, and if you do well, the courts can be lenient,” Vicky told her.
“I can help you, I can help you more!” Gretchen insisted. “I know his real name. It is not Carl or Carlos. His name is Andrei, and he isn’t South American at all. He’s originally from Albania, though he did grow up between Colombia and Nebraska. He’s got an organization, but he put it all together right here in Florida. He keeps control because he’s proven that he’ll do anything if people don’t do what he says. He got rid of some of his people with fentanyl-laced drugs. There . . .”
She broke off, looking hopefully from Vicky to Adrien.
“Andrei—Andrei what?” Adrien asked.
“Hasani,” Gretchen insisted. “Andrei Hasani.” Then she began to cry again. “Oh, my God! If you don’t get him, I’ll never be safe! My poor children.”
“You will be safe! We can see to that,” Vicky promised.
Even as she spoke, a shot rang out, whizzing by very close to Vicky’s face.
Adrien flew to the two of them, encircling them and bringing them down in a pile. He collected himself quickly, rolling to seek out the source of the danger as Vicky did the same.
“Back by that mangrove marsh!” she murmured.
“I see the movement.”
He took aim and fired, barely realizing Vicky had done the same. They instantly heard shouts of pain.
Adrien stared at Vicky, shaking his head.
They’d been on the hunt for one man. Somehow that one man had managed to fill an untenable wilderness with lackeys to see to his safety.
Mike had gone flat at the sound of the bullet exploding; he remained low and rushed over to them.
“What is going on?” he demanded. “You want me here or . . .”
“Yeah, I’ll head over to whoever that is,” Adrien said.
“We’ll head over,” Vicky added firmly.
“They came to kill me, I told you—” Gretchen began.
“No one will kill you with me here,” Mike promised her.
Adrien looked at Vicky. He nodded. Keeping low, they raced the short distance between them and the two who had gone down in the grass. There was no guarantee that whoever they were, they might not still try to shoot them.
But they found the one man with a bleeding shoulder, his gun having flown from his hand about ten feet into the marsh.
The other had been grazed on the side of the head. And he was out cold. Adrien stopped by the first man, the one who was doing the moaning.
“Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, I failed, I’m a dead man!” he moaned.
He looked to be about twenty-five, blond—and bore track marks on his arm. Andrei Hasani had a knack for finding people who would fall under his influence. A junkie was a good bet.
Then again . . .
Junkies weren’t always that great at aiming whatever weapon they’d been given.
Vicky looked over at him. “He’s just grazed. Concussion, I imagine. His pulse is decent; he’s breathing fine. Looks like he’s little more than a kid, Adrien.”
“Yeah. He’s using anyone he can, probably threatening every family out there. He must be stopped.” He had his phone out and reported in again to Eames.
More medical services would be there as quickly as possible.
“Maybe easier than driving through some of our traffic?” Vicky asked, trying to speak lightly.
The man with the broken shoulder murmured, “He’ll come back, now! He’ll come back; he wanted you dead, and he was afraid the woman couldn’t act. He’ll keep coming and coming and . . . my family, he’ll go after my family when he realizes—”
“We need your names. Law enforcement will protect your families,” Adrien told him.
“They can’t, they can’t, they don’t know!” the man argued.
“Don’t know what?” Vicky asked, glancing at Adrien again.
“He isn’t human!”
Vicky gazed at Adrien, and he shook his head and turned to the injured man on the ground.
“Yes. He is human. And he’s not going to get anyone, because we’re going to get him!”