Chapter 14
Grant woke to the sound of his cell phone’s pinging, indicating an incoming text.
Avery lay spooned in his arms, her naked backside against his front, his morning wood, nudging the soft curve of her buttocks. He couldn’t think of a better way to wake.
The ping sounded again, making him regret not setting it to the do-not-disturb mode.
He gently pulled his arm from beneath Avery’s cheek and rolled onto his back, reaching for his cell phone on the nightstand.
The text was from Swede. Grant opened the text and read.
“Who’s texting?” Avery asked, her voice gravelly with sleep. She rolled over to face him as he read Swede’s message.
“He got a match on facial recognition. You were right, the man who attacked us last night goes by the call sign Blade, aka Bobby Mars, aka Robert Martin.”
“Thought that was him,” she said and yawned, stretching her arms over her head. The sheet slipped down, exposing her beautiful breasts.
Grant struggled to focus on the rest of Swede’s message. “His search on the dark web for Talon and Ghost netted additional information. Apparently, Talon returned to his home country of Russia to work for one of the high-ranking oligarchs. Ghost hired on with a cartel out of Colombia.”
“That’s slightly reassuring,” Avery said. “Which means taking Blade off the streets means I’m less likely to be knocked off by a hitman than being run over by a bus.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for runaway buses.” Grant leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“What time is it?”
“Time to touch bases with the rest of the team and see if our guy Bobby is awake and talking. I’m going to hit the shower. Care to join me?”
They spent the next twenty minutes sliding around in soap suds and sex until the water chilled and hunger forced them to find clothes and go in search of food.
By the time they arrived at the sheriff’s office, it was well past ten. They found Sheriff Taylor with Agent Bradley and Bree in the conference room, looking over a map of the county.
Melissa greeted them with, “About time you two showed up.”
Avery’s cheeks heated. “We stopped at the diner for breakfast before coming in.”
Grant filled them in on what Swede had shared.
“So, we might have our killer,” Melissa said. “We still need to find where he held the victims.”
“I take it he hasn’t come to yet,” Grant surmised.
“No. We had a shift change with the deputies,” Sheriff Taylor said. “They’ve been watching him. The doctor said he suffered a concussion when he was flung out of the car. And he broke his leg. I doubt he’ll try to make a run for it when he wakes up.”
“We want to check out a few places today to see if we can find his lair while we wait for him to wake,” Bree said.
“We could divide and conquer to make the search go a little faster,” Avery said.
“Good,” Melissa said, “because the sheriff needs to stay close to the hospital in case Blade, aka Bobby, wakes up.”
Melissa continued. “If you and Avery could take the McElroy, Hornsby and the Stenson place on Cemetery Road, Bree and I will check out Roland Baumgartner’s old place and the Tidwell compound. They’re further out.”
“We can do that,” Avery said. “Let us know when Blade wakes up; we’ll head back as quickly as we can. I want to hear what he has to say.”
“Will do,” the sheriff said. “Be careful out there. I’m sure word is getting around about the murders and making people punchy.”
Grant snorted. “Ran into that with the Smolkas last night. They have quite the hemp operation going out there.”
As they headed out the door, Avery walked ahead with Bree.
Grant tried to eavesdrop on their conversation, but Melissa had other ideas.
“You know, when this case is wrapped up, those two will need to have a long conversation. Finding a long-lost sibling has to be life-changing.”
“Agreed,” Grant said. “They’ll have to figure out if they want to be a part of each other’s lives or be happy just knowing they’re not alone in the world. Are you going to press charges against Bree for impersonating a federal officer?”
Melissa studied the twins walking ahead of them. “What she did was wrong, but she’s a helluva detective and good at what she does. It would ruin her career. But I’ll leave it up to Agent Hart. It was her reputation Bree could’ve damaged.”
Grant nodded. “That’s fair.”
“I don’t think she’ll press charges,” Melissa said. “It’s uncanny how alike they are.”
They were. Grant hoped they’d take the time to get to know one another. Life was short, and Avery had lost all the family she’d known when her mother had been murdered.
Though Grant hoped she’d come back to being part of their family of two, having a sibling was pretty amazing, too.
Outside, Avery headed for the beat-up rental while Bree aimed for Melissa’s red pickup.
They drove off in opposite directions. Grant and Avery decided to go for the furthest destination first. The McElroy place was out on FM 31, four miles from town.
It hadn’t been one of the places Swede had identified as having a spike in the electrical usage.
From what Cook had said, the place had been abandoned when McElroy’s daughter had passed a decade before.
They arrived to find an old building with a sagging front porch, busted windows and an overgrown yard.
The front door hung slightly ajar, making it easy to enter and look around.
The house had a basement leading off the kitchen.
The steps down into the lower level were draped in cobwebs.
They had to knock them down to descend all the way to the bottom.
Grant took a quick look around. “This place hasn’t been disturbed for a while, and it’s too small to house a still.”
After a quick look upstairs, where the roof had partially caved in, they left the house and went out to the barn.
Avery touched Grant’s arm. “I don’t know if it’s safe to go inside.”
He was of the same opinion. The barn leaned heavily to the east like a good gust of wind would send it crashing down.
At that moment, a breeze caught Avery’s dark hair and whipped it around her face.
Grant fought a grin. “I’ll hurry in and out. You can stand guard. If the building falls, you can go for help.” He winked.
Avery frowned. “Not even funny.” She handed him the flashlight. “Just shine a light inside. That should be good enough. Even a serial killer wouldn’t go inside that building.”
Grant took the flashlight. Despite Avery’s advice, he didn’t just shine the light inside, he ducked through the open doorway and made a quick pass, emerging less than a minute later to find Avery chewing on her fingernail.
“No basement,” he reported.
She let out a sigh and shook her head. “You just had to go in, didn’t you?”
“And I lived to tell about it.” He chuckled as he slipped an arm around her waist and walked with her back to the car.
Next stop was the Hornsby place. They headed back toward town and then out Oak Trace Road, where a subdivision of ranch-style, one-story brick homes had been built, probably back in the nineteen seventies.
At the backside of the subdivision, a two-story blue-gray wooden house stood out like it didn’t belong.
From what Cook had said and what they’d learned at the courthouse, Pete Hornsby owned the property his grandfather had built back in the early nineteen hundreds.
Grant parked in the driveway. He and Avery climbed the quaint front porch with its neatly kept porch swing and knocked on the bright blue front door.
A middle-aged woman dressed in jeans and a white blouse answered the door with a smile. “Can I help you?”
Avery held out her hand. “I’m Agent Avery Hart with the FBI. This is Grant Hayes. We’re conducting an investigation of buildings that might once have been used in the production of alcohol in the not-so-near past.”
The woman’s lips quirked up on one side. “Good grief. Then you’ve come to the right place. I’m Donna Hornsby. My husband Pete’s grandfather was a bootlegger back in the prohibition era. Everyone in the family is insanely proud of his legacy.” She shook her head. “What exactly are you looking for?”
“Does this house have a basement his grandfather might have used to produce beer or whiskey?” Grant asked.
“Yes, of course. He had an entire operation running in the basement way back then.”
“Do you mind if we have a look?” Avery asked.
“Not at all. Pete’s made something of a shrine out of the old still. Personally, I’d like to send it all to a scrap yard and convert the space into a craft room. But it’s Pete’s family legacy. I just married into it.”
She led the way through the house to the kitchen and down the steps.
She flipped on a light at the bottom of the steps, illuminating a spacious basement with a complex-looking combination of caldrons, vats and pipes that took up most of the space.
Donna waved to the monstrosity. “See? Who cares to have a twist of metal taking up space in their basement? It’s not like we’re going to fire it up and make beer to sell. ”
She turned to Grant and Avery. “Once a year, Pete spends a weekend polishing the copper kettles and pipes and sweeping up the cobwebs that accumulate. If I could get him to do the same for any other room in the house, it would be a miracle. But no. It’s all about that damned still.
I even suggested he donate it to a brewery or a museum. He won’t part with it.”
Grant smiled at the woman. “Are there any outbuildings on the property that have a basement?”
Donna frowned. “The only outbuilding is the shed out back. No basement there.”
“Did anyone cook beer or whiskey in it?”
“It’s used for garden tools and is much too small for a still this size. Though I wish it was bigger and Pete could move his precious still into it.” She sighed. “I don’t suppose you’re interested in buying a well-maintained still?” she asked hopefully.
“No, ma’am,” Avery said with a smile.
Donna led the way up the stairs, through the house and back out on the front porch. “Is there anything else you want to look at?”