Patrick just had to string Martin along long enough for Eric to catch up with them. Or the sheriff, the DEA or the army. Patrick was feeling pretty equal-opportunity about their rescue.
But help would come.
I believe, Lord. Help me do this.
Martin’s guy gave him the grocery bag containing the sweater. Patrick bemoaned the fact he’d never trained Tucker to fake finding a scent. Maybe they should try that. Though, it would be seriously difficult to get a scent dog to do the work under a separate set of commands when there was nothing and he had no idea where to go because he wasn’t following anything. Go in circles? Go for a run?
That was a problem for another time.
“Scent.” He held out the bag.
When Tucker had sniffed the contents enough, Patrick handed back the bag and they set off.
Tucker headed for the building. He circled around, sniffing the wall in a couple of places.
“He isn’t in there.”
Patrick didn’t look back at Martin. “Doesn’t matter. This could take a while. That’s why I wanted to get started. If your man is miles from here, we could be doing this all day.”
“Okay.” The tone was like he’d said “So?”
Patrick tried not to glare at the sarcasm. “I just want to know Nate is all right.”
He followed Tucker away from the highway and into the desert. There wasn’t a road out here. Had the man he was looking for walked out into the middle of nowhere?
He didn’t like the scenarios going through his head.
“Me, too,” Jennie said. “I want to know Nate is okay.”
One glance at Martin, walking behind them, told Patrick the man didn’t much care what Jennie or Patrick intended to do. Patrick said, “You need me. And Tucker. One command and he lays down.”
“One command and your son starts bleeding.”
Patrick pressed his lips together. “Just let me know he’s all right.”
It took Martin a minute to make the call. When it was answered he said, “Yeah. Put the kid on.”
Patrick glanced back.
Jennie held the phone, now on the line with their son.
“Hi.” Relief washed over her face. “You okay?” She listened, her lips pressed into a thin line.
After a minute, Martin snatched the phone back and hung up. “Now you know.”
Patrick set off in a slow jog. Tucker had something.
He picked up his pace for another twenty minutes, until they were almost two miles from the building by his guess. That was when Tucker found the man.
Patrick saw him first. Before anyone else could catch up and see, he tugged on the leash. “Heel.” When Tucker came to him, Patrick said, “Good boy,” and petted his head.
Tucker was confused. He hadn’t sat to let his master know he’d completed the task.
Patrick praised Tucker as if he had, while he tried to figure out what to do.
The truck was nowhere in sight.
“What is it?” Martin picked up his pace and approached.
Jennie didn’t look like she was doing very well. Her face had flushed, and she was breathing hard. He figured she needed to sit, with Nate on her lap.
“Well?” Martin waved at the desert in front of him.
“He’s right there.” Patrick indicated the area where Tucker had stopped. A man lay on the ground, facedown. “Is that your guy?”
He knew the answer to that, even before Martin rolled him over. And then kicked the dead man in the leg while he yelled out his frustration. “Where are my drugs?”
TWENTY
Jennie turned away from the dead man. Bile rose, anyway, and she had to pace a few steps farther to an out-of-the-way spot where she could spit. There was nothing in her stomach to deposit on this middle-of-nowhere land, no matter if she wanted to throw up or not.
He was dead. Really dead. Not that there was a midpoint where someone was partially dead. Especially when they’d very obviously been out here a while given the flies.
“You okay?”
She turned to Patrick. His expression was one of sympathy. He didn’t think less of her for reacting like this to a dead guy?
Jennie managed to nod. “I’m good.” As soon as she could swallow, she would be even better.
There was so much going on, though, the state of her stomach didn’t really rate. A dead guy? That was a little higher on the scale. She wandered to Patrick and leaned down to pet Tucker. “Is he really dead?”
He nodded. “Sorry. It looks like he hit his head, or maybe was struck.”
“So he might have been murdered? Like someone killed him and stole the truck?”
Martin let go of the dead man, done searching the guy’s pockets. And his shoes, for some reason, that were now discarded on the dirt. He strode to her. “This was betrayal, not murder. This man worked for me, and I take his death seriously.”
“Great.” It came out before she could call it back, sarcasm threading through her tone. She couldn’t believe anything about her brother now. Who he was. How he was. All of it churned her insides even more than that dead guy.
She folded her arms over her stomach. “You care about your people’s lives, but not the lives of your own family? Isn’t that just great.”
“Don’t comment on things you know nothing about.”
She shrugged. “People do it all the time online.” Why did he care what she said now? He barely thought about her.
Martin shook his head. “If I don’t get my money, who do you think is going to die?” He slapped his chest. “This part of your precious family.”
“You don’t care about my life, so why should I care about yours?”
She shouldn’t but did. And when did care have anything to do with a person’s worth? That wasn’t how feelings worked.
“Why will you die if you don’t find it?” She was careful to keep her tone even. He was like a bomb about to explode at any moment if she did or said the wrong thing. “Tell me.”
“The men who gave me those drugs expect payment. If I can’t get it from sales, it comes out of the collateral. My life.”
That sounded like a horrible business model. She wished she’d never asked. Jennie could have lived her whole life never knowing that was how the drug business worked. Then again, given her family history, she probably should have put that together. If she’d spent any time at all actually thinking on it—which she hadn’t.
“You were nothing but a memory.” She faced him down. “Now you’re a nightmare come to life.”
She’d tried to get him to realize he was hurting his family. Martin didn’t care about their lives, even just the tiniest bit. He was oblivious to what he was doing to the people he should always care about, no matter what. Martin cared about nothing but himself. And money. He had no conscience, not anymore.
The only person who had always cared about Jennie, no matter what? Patrick. He and Nate were the only people she could say the same about for herself. Unconditional love. That was what they’d given each other.
Jennie paced away from her brother. Patrick held out his arm, so she walked into his embrace, eyes shut tight to try to block everything out and just focus. Pray. Believe in faith for her son.
But she could get no clarity.
Jennie gave him a squeeze and pulled away. She walked farther. Away from the dead man and her evil brother. She kicked at the ground and tried to wrestle through what she wanted to say to God. She was at the point it was tempting to start making demands, but it didn’t work like that. Her Father in Heaven wasn’t going to acquiesce just because she tried to force Him to.
Please.
It was all she could manage.
A spot on the ground caught her attention. Dark colored. Not something she usually saw out in her desert. She didn’t have the time or the h
eart to care, whatever it was. Jennie kept going and stomped on it because that was how much she shouldn’t care. Not at all. Until she saw another spot.
This whole thing had ruined her ever wanting to hike, camp or try practically any other outdoor activity again. Though, when she got Nate back—not if—she’d be happy to do anything he wanted. It didn’t matter how she felt. As long as Patrick came, too, she would be safe.
She glanced back at Patrick, but he was in a hushed conversation with Martin. Strong. He’d been disarmed, but that hadn’t taken much away from his presence.
Neither man looked happy, both faced off with the other, but she didn’t like the tension in Patrick at all. She wanted him to be relaxed. The man she loved should be safe and secure, no worries. Wasn’t that the goal in life? Of course not, because bad things happened anyway.
She blew out a breath, wanting to kick at the ground again. “I want my son back!” She wasn’t ashamed to yell the words to whomever was listening. Her brother. All of them. Who cared about Martin and his stupid drugs? “I want my son back now!”
One of the nearby gunmen snickered.
Great. He thought she was an emotional woman throwing a tantrum. She was, but it was justified.
Jennie stomped toward him. He backed up two paces. “Whoa. Calm down.”
“Jennie!” Her brother snapped the word at her.
She swung around to him and yelled like she would have done when they were kids. “What?”
“We’re closer than we’ve been in weeks. Calm down.” He scrubbed at his head.
Jennie moved to him. There was another spot on the ground, between her and the...deceased man. He’d been out here awhile and she—
Don’t think about that.
She stared at the ground. “What is that?”
Patrick moved closer. “Looks like blood droplets. Probably from the dead guy.” He looked at Martin. “If we follow them, there might be a trail. Maybe he crashed the truck and tried to walk for help. Could be it was an accident.”
Martin studied the ground.
Jennie walked back to where she’d been. “There are more over here. They go this—”
A shot blasted. She froze, too late to avoid it. Dirt had already kicked up from Martin’s shot at the ground faster than she ever could have moved.
“Easy!” Patrick said.
Martin waved the gun. “Jennie, get back here. You wander off too far, you’re as dead as that guy. I’ll leave you out here for the birds.”
* * *
He saw her shiver. Patrick wanted to do the same, but held himself steady as they followed the blood trail. Would it lead to the source?
He wanted this done. No more gunmen pointing weapons at him, or Jennie. Not even to shoot the ground by her feet and scare her. Patrick wanted Nate back in his arms. All this over with already. Please, Lord. He’d been stubborn for so long, it felt freeing to not have to rely on himself for this.
He could simply trust.
Martin studied the ground, content to let his men watch his back. But how long would that last? He was motivated to get his drugs. To save his life. Patrick had thought—from what he’d said—that this was about a nest egg. In a way, it was. But only in the sense that it would keep him alive when the men who’d supplied him with the drugs demanded payment.
“It doesn’t have to be like this, you know.”
Martin eyed the ground as they walked. Tucker thought they were out for a stroll. He’d never been interested in blood before and didn’t seem to be now. He kept turning his head to look back. Making sure Jennie was okay?
Martin said, “This the part where you offer me witness protection?”
“You think you’ve got enough on these guys to warrant that?” Patrick wasn’t afraid of him. Not when God was in control. And no matter what happened, God would still be in control. “Because we can protect you.”
Martin scoffed.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he repeated. “The police can search for this truck much more effectively, especially if it’s out here in the middle of nowhere. We don’t have to walk miles and miles.”
It was cold, and the January wind whipped at his face. Soon enough they’d all have red cheeks and chapped lips. Not devastating, but so unnecessary.
Most of this could have been avoided. Patrick tried not to get angry, but it was there.
“These people don’t have to threaten your life. We can get the drugs off the streets. We’ll protect you, and maybe even try to talk the army into not putting you in prison for deserting your obligation and disappearing. If you testify against whomever you got the drugs from, we can make sure they stop. Cut off the drug trade and get more of those substances off the streets.”
It was poison, and it killed every day while it sucked in yet more people to the tangled web of addiction. No one wanted that. But Martin, following in his father’s footsteps, could be a whole other story. Maybe he didn’t care. He was just out to make money.
“That’s how you think you’ll talk me down?” Martin asked. “Offer me a minimum wage life under a new name, some nobody in some nowhere town? Stop me from hurting any more people.” Those last few words were said in a high, whiny voice.
Patrick bit down on his molars. “It’s the right thing. After what you’ve done? I doubt you’ll be free even a year before you die. And here you are, racking up even more charges. Digging your hole deeper.” Anger got the better of him. “I hope you fall in it.”
This guy was going straight to military prison when the army caught up and he finally had to explain what those incidents in Afghanistan were about. Patrick figured they had charges in the works and Martin had essentially slipped bail.
Then there were the civilian charges. He could’ve disappeared. Instead, he’d resurrected a legacy of crime and death just to make a buck.
Guys like him were the kind of people Tucker flushed out every day. People with no regard for others, only themselves.
Patrick leaned down and petted his dog’s flank.
Tucker barked.
Patrick looked at him, then at the expanse of land in front of them. “What is it, buddy?”
He thought he saw something up ahead. Probably just a critter Tucker smelled, but he walked faster. Shrub brushes collected together, as though congregation was more important than height. A bundle of sand shinnery oak stood together. The dirt behind looked like it might be a path, or some kind of fire road.
Old. Abandoned.
“The truck!” Jennie moved to his left, staying out of Martin’s arm reach. He didn’t blame her for that.
They all circled the bushes and saw the truck, on its side. Patrick looked in the front windshield and said, “There’s blood on the window.”
The open door at the top was the passenger side. Was that how the dead man had climbed out? The driver’s door was smashed against the dirt.
“I think he hit a rut and flipped over. Hit his head.” And still managed to climb out and walk or crawl to where he now lay? That was some determination. Patrick almost admired the man.
“Check inside.” Martin waved his gun from pointing to Patrick’s torso to the truck.
“Secret compartment, like the old bootleg days?”
“Get in there.”
Patrick walked to Jennie instead, leading Tucker. “Can you please hold the leash?”
The frown on her face indicated she was about as excited about this as he was. Patrick handed over the leash, then leaned down and quickly touched his lips to hers. He whispered, “It’ll be okay.”
She shot him a wry look, but it was soft.
Patrick went back to Martin. Before he climbed to the open door and got in, he wanted all the information. “Any guesses on where this stash is hidden?”
Martin clearly didn’t want to answer but he said, “Under the fl
oorboard behind the front seat.”
Patrick looked at the sky and sighed. When he retrieved the drugs, would Martin simply shoot them and walk off with his stash? Patrick didn’t like the idea that they would be left for dead out here. I’ll raise your son as my own. The thought of that made him want to throw up as Jennie had done when confronted with the dead body.
“Let’s go, cop.”
Patrick pressed his lips in a thin line. “You don’t have to try bargaining with these guys. It can end differently...with you doing the right thing.”
No more loss of life. No more threat.
“Your nephew doesn’t need to be an orphan.”
He heard Jennie’s soft gasp but couldn’t comfort her right now. Patrick needed to eliminate the threat here first. Otherwise it was all over.
Martin said, “As long as I’m alive, what do I care?”
“If that guy is hurting him—”
“Get in the truck and get my drugs.” Martin pointed the gun at Patrick’s face. He realized then that it was his gun.
“He’s right,” Jennie called out. “You don’t have to do this.” To Nate. She didn’t say it, but he heard the words anyway. They made his chest hurt in a way it never had before. “It’s not right. You’re only causing more pain. Don’t do this.”
One final plea for her brother to do the right thing. But it fell on deaf ears. Or stubborn ones.
Martin shifted the gun from Patrick to her. His own sister.
Patrick realized what was about to happen. He moved, instinct firing his muscles. He ran for Jennie and Tucker, determined to protect them.
The gunshot cracked like a firework. Without thinking, Patrick tackled Jennie.
Pain shot through his shoulder as he fell toward her. Tucker yelped at them. Jennie screamed as the two of them hit the ground together.
TWENTY-ONE
It took Jennie a second to realize she was screaming. She sucked in a breath—which caused the noise to cease for a second—and blew it out the way she had when she’d birthed Nate. Everything that had just happened rushed back in one go.
Desert Rescue (K-9 Search and Rescue) Page 16
