Chapter 11
Wilden had barely had a chance to get the dogs out of the vehicle when he thought he heard a shot in the distance. Swearing, he looked down at Sarge and ushered him along. “Let’s go.”
Sarge took one look at him and bolted as hard and fast as he possibly could, dragging Wilden almost by his own heels through the brush.
He heard the cops pulling up and yelling at him from behind, but they hadn’t been in time to hear the shot.
With Dagger racing alongside him, Wilden knew that somebody had to get there fast, and he would bet on the dogs, not the cops.
By the time Wilden got farther into the brush, he heard only silence. He pulled Sarge to a stop. “Easy, boy. Take it easy. Let’s give it a listen.”
They froze, both listening intently for whatever sound would send them off in the correct direction again. But there was nothing, just an eerie silence, a silence that was both painful and, in some ways, very knowing.
He looked down at Dagger and Sarge. Both had their ears up, their tails waggling. “Okay, boy, it’s up to you.”
Dagger looked at him in confusion, and Wilden looked over at Sarge, who had his nose to the ground.
Suddenly Sarge gave a sharp bark and was off again, running.
Knowing that the cops were just trying to catch up and hoping they could hear him, Wilden called out to them, “We’re heading back on the track. ”
As he raced forward, Dagger held the front of the pack position.
Wilden didn’t know if Dagger was any good for tracking, but he was certainly giving it a hell of a good job.
The question was whether he knew anything or he just had an instinct for it.
It was obvious that Dagger wouldn’t give up, at least not anytime soon.
As soon as they came to a small clearing, they paused briefly.
Then Dagger wanted to go in one direction.
Sarge froze for a moment and then took off in the same direction.
“If the two of you are together on this,” he muttered, “then I’ll go that way too.”
His leg was giving him one hell of a pain every time his prosthetic hit the ground, but he couldn’t stop.
No way, not right now, not when the dogs had caught a scent.
Suddenly they reached a clearing with a small cabin.
It was almost completely hidden by trees, and, even then, he almost didn’t stop in time, with the dogs pulling him heavily forward.
He managed to drag them back under cover as he looked to see if anybody was there—or if it even remotely looked as if they could possibly be in there.
With the dogs quiet and each on a leash, Wilden snuck up around the side where he could take a better look into the windows.
There, he saw Vivian sitting in a chair, twisting and turning, trying to get loose.
The look in her eye was of … not panic but serious intent.
As he looked farther, he noted a body on the floor in front of her, and it was most definitely not moving.
Yet it wasn’t Jackson. Wilden wondered where the hell he was.
As for the man on the floor, Wilden wondered if he was dead, but he sure as hell wasn’t moving at the moment. The other two men sat at a table, off to the side, discussing options.
It was not hard to imagine that the young man on the floor had died over the contents of John Hookman’s bank account.
Wilden didn’t really know where all the money could be or where it should be, but he knew these guys wouldn’t get it—especially not when John had stolen so much from his grandmother to begin with.
Suddenly he heard other people approach and realized it was the cops.
He waved his arms, trying to get their attention.
One of the men stopped, and he pointed at him.
The chief took one look at Wilden, and he pointed inside the cabin.
They didn’t understand everything he was saying, but they got the gist of it.
The chief walked right up to the front of the door and knocked heavily. There was silence inside at first, then both men jumped to their feet and raced over to the window, then bolted backward. They looked at each other.
Wilden knew that panic was setting in.
The chief pounded on the door again. “It’s the chief of police. I just want to talk.”
Wilden snorted. Yeah, sure, just want to talk. Let’s see how that’ll work for these guys.
One of the men headed for the back door, knowing perfectly well that neither one of them would take a chance on opening the front door to the chief of police. By the time Wilden made it to the back door, one of them was already stepping outside.
Wilden immediately clocked him in the face, dropping him to the ground. The second one followed, not even seeing what had happened to the first guy.
Wilden smiled and asked, “You looking for me?”
The man turned, shock on his face as he met Wilden’s right fist, then was dropped where he stood.
Wilden called out to the cops and waited until one of them came around to the back to give him a hand.
They quickly tied up the two on the ground. One was just starting to come to and was about to give Wilden a bit of a fight, but one of the young cops who came with the chief dropped him right back down again, swearing.
“You better take a look at the body inside that cabin,” Wilden suggested, “because it looks to be one of yours.”
The chief stared at him in shock and then bolted inside.
With the dogs carefully in control, knowing that it could get hairy inside, Wilden followed the chief inside and headed straight for Vivian.
She took one look at him and burst into tears.
He dropped down in front of her and just held her tight.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. We got you.” He quickly untied her, and as he turned, the chief bent down beside the body, then turned the body over to see the lifeless eyes of Jimmy Puckman, the young cop he had working for him.
His face worked with emotions as he looked over at Wilden and shook his head.
Wilden nodded. “I’m not surprised. We told you Jimmy was helping his buddies-in-crime.”
Vivian piped up and added, “He shot him. The bigger one of the two, Larry. He just suddenly shot Jimmy out of the blue. He didn’t like something he said, thought he was bringing more trouble to them,” she shared, tears in her eyes as she recounted what happened.
“And he just up and shot Jimmy. Larry didn’t give Jimmy a chance, didn’t care.
The kid didn’t even see what was coming until he was down on the ground. ”
The chief nodded slowly. “I hate to say it, but you never know what can happen when you get into the wrong company, when you believe in the wrong people,” he noted.
“That’s what happened here.” He walked over to Wilden.
“Are you okay to get her out of that?” Just as the words escaped the chief’s mouth, Wilden helped her to stand, and she threw her arms around him.
But she couldn’t get there because Sarge and Dagger were all over her. She dropped down to the floor and held both dogs close.
Wilden added, “They’re the ones that led us here, by the way.”
She looked at him, then hugged both of the dogs again, tears in her eyes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she whispered to them.
The chief looked over at him and nodded. “That was a hell of a good tracking job on their part.”
“Yeah, it was,” Wilden confirmed.
“Are they trackers?”
“What they were and what they’ll be is a different story,” Wilden clarified, “but I’ll be working on their training.”
The chief nodded. “Let me know if you ever want to hire them out to the police department,” he offered, “because we’re always looking for good, trained trackers. This countryside can be a little rough.”
“And that is something we can do.” Wilden looked from her to the chief. “Are you okay if I take her home?”
“Yes, but we need to get her statement.”
“That’s fine,” he noted, “but later. Right now I’ll insist she go to the hospital first and get checked out.” Then he stopped and asked her, “Did they say anything about Jackson? He’s missing.”
She looked at him in shock. “I haven’t seen him.”
Then came a shout from the side, and one of the cops yelled, “He’s in here.” Together, they all raced over, and there Jackson was, lying on a bed, trussed up like a turkey.
He looked over at them, and Sarge bolted toward him, jumping all over him, until Wilden could pull him off and could get the old man upright again.
Jackson groaned as he sat up. “I’m about fed up with this BS,” he declared, glaring at the chief. “If you don’t put a stop to this, I’m going to shoot them myself.”
“I got this,” the chief said. “I understand, and we are more than on top of it. Both kidnappers are in police custody, and unfortunately we have one dead cop,” he added. Then he frowned and corrected himself, “Ex-cop.”
“Yeah, ex-cop is right,” Jackson snapped. “That young punk Jimmy, he’s the one who brought me here.”
The chief stared at him for a long moment, as the color drained from his face. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Ya think?” Jackson snapped, staring at him. “There’s a hell of a lot more needed than sorry to take care of all this crap. They went on and on about some godforsaken money. I don’t know what money they think I’ve got because I don’t have any.”
Wilden interrupted, “They think my father had money. The four of them were in cahoots over something, and he supposedly—and I’m saying supposedly because I don’t know—supposedly John didn’t share the spoils with them.”
The chief looked at him and shook his head. “Isn’t that typical? You get into business with a crook, and, when they do crooked deals, you’re surprised when you get the short end of it.”
Wilden nodded as he watched the cops untie Jackson and help him to sit up more comfortably.
“That would be my take on it entirely,” Jackson agreed, “and they are all over my pension, as if they are owed it.”