McNeil’s beam of light crossed over the seats to pinpoint Tandy’s friend. She laid there relaxed enough to be a corpse except for the rhythmic puffs of breath that escaped her lips. “Yeah, she looks like she needs help. Is she capable of hiking down to the dock to I.D. the criminals before you leave?”
Marissa popped up like a Jack-in-the-box. “I don’t know that I can I.D. them because it was so dark, but I want to give my statement so the men you caught don’t get away. Who are they?”
“We arrested a couple of farm hands from The Farmstead.”
Connor smacked the steering wheel with his palm. “I knew it!”
“Well, now you can prove it.” McNeil’s flashlight beam roved from Marissa’s face to Connor’s then dropped as he moved to open the rear door. “I’ll need your statement too, sir. I’ll have you all come down to my vehicle while I make the report.”
Now that Tandy could relax, exhaustion hit like a weighted blanket. She wanted to curl up in her bed and sleep for days. They were so close. Only a few more lose ends to tie up.
She tugged on the door handle and stepped into the frigid air. “Greg borrowed his partner’s car and is coming down too. He’ll want to know if you think the farmhands are also the ones who killed George.”
McNeil led the way down a trail. “That’s my guess. They probably knew about Derrick Snodgrass’s chop shop, so when they got caught with the Corvette, they killed George to cover it up and pinned it on his brother.”
Tandy’s chest tightened, and her eyes burned with unshed tears. She was sad for George, but she was also angry. At least Marissa had survived, and these men would never be able to kill again. She needed to thank McNeil for that. “How long have you known about the smuggling ring?”
McNeil tromped through the snow into the parking area where his Suburban sat next to Connor’s mom’s Porsche. “It was the tip on stolen keys that brought me here a week ago. When Derrick Snodgrass turned out to be doing nothing more than selling parts, I left to let local law enforcement handle the issue. Then Vic Whitaker arrived in town. That seemed to be a little too convenient to be coincidental.”
Tandy’s chin jerked up. “He had nothing to do with this. He came to see me.”
McNeil smirked. “Oh, I know that now.”
Tandy didn’t like his tone, but she wasn’t going to let it rile her. She’d found closure with Vic, and she’d worked things out with Greg. “Well, Greg will be thrilled to hear you say his client is not a killer.”
Connor and Marissa joined them, slower and more subdued. Connor nodded toward the Porsche. “And Mom will be thrilled her car is still in the country.”
McNeil tilted his head toward the large metal building on the other side of the loading dock. “It looks like they were planning to drive her Porsche right into a freight container then cover it with corn like you girls suspected. In fact, we found Randon’s Corvette already in one.”
Tandy raised her eyebrows at Marissa. She’d been absolutely right.
Marissa didn’t seem proud over the revelation. No “I told you so” or victory dance. She only peeked at Connor who was too busy pulling out his phone.
“I need to call my dad and tell him about this.”
“Sure.” McNeil waved them forward. “Why don’t you come see first so you can tell him exactly what’s going on?”
Tandy looked for Greg’s headlights. He wasn’t there yet, which meant she still had time. “We can do that?”
McNeil scowled. “I hate to admit it, but you ladies solved another case.”
She grinned. It was nice working with a law enforcement officer who didn’t have any problems with giving her credit. If Randon was as grateful as McNeil, then maybe she could persuade him to create a phone app for their café as a thank you gift.
She pulled her phone from her back pocket. While she could call Randon now, he’d be even more excited if she could send him a photo of the car. “Can I take a picture?”
McNeil took off toward the building. “Yeah. My crew will be doing that all, as well, but since you’re here now…”
Tandy jogged after him and called over her shoulder. “Come on, guys.”
Marissa’s teeth chattered. She did have bare legs.
“There won’t be any wind inside.” Tandy beckoned them forward.
Marissa hugged herself and followed. Connor put his arm around Marissa, probably torn between seeing what had been going on with their farm shipments and making sure Marissa was okay.
They entered through big sliding doors to find a variety of crates that looked like train cars and equipment designed to lift and move the crates as well as a conveyor belt to fill them with corn. The air smelled sweet and earthy like a maze at Halloween.
A shipping container with a blue tarp inside caught her attention. “Is that it?” Of course, the smugglers would have to cover the car for protection before dumping corn all over it, though a photo of the tarp wouldn’t be as exciting for Randon.
McNeil nodded.
“Unbelievable.” Connor’s forehead wrinkled. “Dad is going to freak.”
Tandy strode closer to get a better angle with her camera. Maybe Randon would recognize a tire.
Connor joined her then walked past into the container, his footsteps clanging. He’d probably seen all this before, apart from the car smuggling.
Tandy looked back at McNeil. “Can I go in?”
McNeil crossed his arms like a bouncer, nodding her through. She stepped up into the metal box and dropped low to really show off the tires.
Connor lifted a corner of the tarp. Sure enough, the polo white vintage sports car could only belong to Randon.
“Hold that there,” she said.
Marissa stepped in hesitantly. “You guys, it’s really cold. We should go wait in the Jeep.”
Tandy snapped her photo then stood. “Yeah, Greg will be here any moment.”
Footsteps drew her attention toward the warehouse entrance. “I’m here now.” He stopped outside the container and frowned from Tandy to McNeil and back. “What are you guys doing in there? You’re contaminating evidence.”
McNeil drew his gun and aimed at Greg. “No, they’re helping me get rid of the evidence. Particularly, the witnesses. Join them inside, Greg, then everyone toss your phones out here.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Marissa’s heart drummed against her chest. McNeil was the smuggler. Was he also the one who had killed George?
She wanted to scream “No!” and charge him, but he had a gun, and though she’d outrun a car earlier, she couldn’t outrun a bullet.
She could pull out her phone and hurl it at McNeil’s head. But what was the worst a phone could do? Possibly distract him for a moment? That wasn’t nearly enough to outweigh the dangers of it angering him enough that he’d shoot her.
Greg held up his hands like he was under arrest. If he, a guy who’d just arrived and was probably still warm from his ride, didn’t think he had a chance against an FBI agent with a gun, then it was even less likely that she could do anything in her state of being frozen—both literally and in fear.
She sucked in an icy breath and turned to Connor for help.
Connor widened his eyes her way. That had to mean something. But what?
He nodded at his phone before tossing it into the dirt outside the container. Tandy and Greg did the same with the phones in their hands. Marissa was struggling to even compute McNeil’s request. But now that she was the only one left with a phone in her possession, she was their only hope. Maybe that’s what Connor had been trying to tell her.
“My jacket doesn’t have any pockets to hold a phone,” she said. That was the truth, so hopefully she wouldn’t look guilty. She lifted trembling palms. “See? No phone.”
McNeil’s facial expression didn’t change. It didn’t twist into an evil scowl or turn crazed or fearful. It was as if threatening to kill innocent citizens was as routine for him as arresting a murderer. “You could be telling the truth, M
iss Alexander. But in case you’re not, I’m going to shoot your boyfriend here if you don’t throw a phone on the ground in the next five seconds.”
The barrel of the gun swung Connor’s direction. Connor took a step backward, deeper into the freight container. So much for the possibility that they could gang up on their enemy.
Connor’s jaw hardened but the look he shot Marissa was as soft and warm as a caress. Was he saying he was willing to take a bullet so that she would later have the opportunity to call for help? Would she even get such an opportunity? McNeil had the power to shoot them all right there.
If McNeil was only planning to lock them up in the shipping container and let them freeze to death so he could claim they died of natural causes, that would give her a chance to text Griffin for help. In such a scenario, hanging onto her phone gave the rest of them a chance to get away, but she didn’t want to live in a world without Connor.
The gun clicked.
Marissa jumped.
Thankfully, McNeil had only been taking the safety off his weapon, not shooting anyone.
“Wait!” She yelled.
One corner of McNeil’s lips curled. He might have been a handsome man if not for his black, black heart.
Connor sent her a warning look.
She frowned and shook her head. Should they somehow survive this, he may still leave her, but she wasn’t going to let him die for her.
Tipping over, she dug in the pocket of her snow boot and pulled out the phone with its sparkly pink case then tossed it in the dirt. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t still call for help. She had it set to audible dialing. Once McNeil locked them up and left, she might be able to yell, “Call Griffin,” loud enough for her phone to dial the sheriff.
McNeil grunted his approval. “That’s what I thought.” He kept the gun trained on Connor but looked past the freight container. “Felipe, Bruno, come on out.”
Who?
The farmhands that McNeil had claimed to have in custody walked out to join him. They were his accomplices. They’d tried to kill her once, and now, with McNeil’s direction, they could succeed.
“You won’t get away with this.” Greg spoke with the authority of a defense attorney.
Tandy’s fists balled. “You killed George, didn’t you, McNeil?”
McNeil kept the gun trained on them, but even if he didn’t, his henchmen probably had guns too. “I didn’t want to kill George. I’d only been planning to pin the thefts on him and his brother, and I used the excuse of investigating them as a way to get out here and run the operation. Then these geniuses got the Corvette stuck in the snow and left the relay attack unit behind. I thought I’d cleaned up their mess, but George must have found the device and stuck it in the coveralls for you to find.”
Marissa’s heart surged with awareness. George had purposely entrusted the device to her. Had he been suspicious that Randon’s car had been stolen? If so, he might have suspected his brother, and getting rid of the device could have been a way for him to force Derrick to stop stealing. The part that made her stomach turn was how McNeil considered ending someone’s life the way to clean up a mess.
The farmhands avoided eye contact as they swung one of the container doors closed and locked it into place. The bolt clanged a death toll.
The frosty grip of fear surrounded Marissa the way Lake Erie pushed mountains of ice to shore in winter. She pushed through the cold to face McNeil on the other side of the open doorway. “How many people are you going to kill to keep your smuggling operation in business?”
McNeil lifted a shoulder. “You should have left the investigating to the law.”
“Some law,” she bit back.
Connor stormed past her toward their only escape route. “I’m not going to let you lock us—”
A gun fired. Lead pinged off metal.
Marissa ducked instinctively. Her pulse halted as if her brain thought she might be dead, but when no pain followed, she jerked back to life, looking for Connor.
He’d jumped away from the door, as well. No red spots of blood revealed a wound, so he was okay too, but a little more hesitant to attempt escape without a plan.
She gripped his arm to hold him back in case he changed his mind.
Connor twisted to lean his forehead against hers. “You should have kept your phone. Then I would have known I wasn’t dying in vain.”
She gripped even tighter and whispered. “My phone has voice dial activation. Once these guys close the doors and leave, I can call for Griffin.”
The idea of waiting to call felt as reliable as calling for a lifeguard when drowning, but what other choices did they have? McNeil had made it clear he wasn’t afraid to shoot.
“Hey.” Greg huddled with them. “McNeil is okay with hurting us, but he doesn’t want to hurt the car. What if we put it in neutral, get behind, and push? We can use it as a shield and maybe even block the door open with it.”
Tandy ran to the vehicle and ripped off the tarp, revealing a black convertible top. She pulled at the door handle, but it didn’t budge.
Without pause, Connor strode to the car, whipped a hammer from his toolbelt, and smashed the corner of the window. Shards of glass rained down. “Hurry, before they close the second door.”
“Hey, boss,” a Hispanic accent rose from outside the container. “They’re breaking into the car.”
The dude spoke English. Probably even wrote the note on Abigail’s car.
McNeil growled. “Another mess I’ll have to clean up. Just keep going.”
Connor pulled the driver’s side door open and bent inside to shift and disable the parking brake.
Marissa rushed behind the bumper and prepared to push. Her heart ticked out the milliseconds of time left before the second crate door would swing shut and leave them to either freeze or suffocate.
Except the men didn’t swing the door shut. They slid a panel of wood inside the opening, leaving only a foot of space left at the top and blocking out much of the light.
Tandy and Greg flanked her, hands planted against the trunk. They would have to ram the panel.
“I got it,” Connor called from where he’d bent inside the car. “Start pushing.” He stood up to race and join them, but the sight of the plank stopped him in his tracks. “Oh no.”
“Come on,” Greg prompted as if Connor was being lazy.
But Marissa knew better. If Connor had stopped, then something was seriously wrong. “What?”
His answer was interrupted by the rumble of hydraulics, and the front of the container rose higher, rocking them all on their heels. The traction on Marissa’s boots kept her in place, but both Tandy and Greg tipped backwards and smashed into the far wall.
“What’s happening?” Tandy yelled.
Connor held onto the car for balance and looked around as if seeing their surroundings for the first time. “They are lifting us up to pour corn in from the conveyor belt.”
Marissa gasped at the air. She really was going to drown. Unless she called Griffin now.
She turned to walk sideways uphill toward the small opening like people did when wearing skis. “Call Griffin. Call Griffin!” she yelled. Would the phone be able to hear her voice over the noise of the machinery?
Connor joined her, pressing one palm into the wall to hold himself against gravity while he pushed her forward with the other.
The incline continued to rise. There was no way to keep herself from toppling backwards.
“Grab onto the bulkhead,” Connor instructed, then before she could even fathom what he meant, he scooped her into the air high enough for her to reach the top of the plank blocking their exit.
She curled her fingers over the rough wood moments before Connor dropped out from underneath her. Her feet dangled. But as this was as close to freedom as she might possibly get ever again, she strained through her shoulders and biceps to pull herself closer to the opening. It took much grunting and wiggling, but at the same time her mouth reached the opening, the
machinery stopped lifting her, and only silence rang in her ears.
“Call Griffin!” she yelled.
Derisive laughter rose from the ground below. “I’m pretty sure you’re not talking to me, princess,” McNeil mocked her. “But if you’re trying to get your phone to dial the sheriff, you should know that your cell battery is dead.”
Dread punched her in the gut. She dropped out of her pullup, and the sudden shift of weight pried her fingers from the wood. She screamed as gravity tugged. Her stomach fluttered, wind lifted her hair, and the back of the freight car rushed up to meet her. Strong arms caught her then both she and Connor sank to the ground.
“Oof.”
They sat there motionless, her insides trying to catch up with her outsides. Connor’s body heat felt nice, but the heat of Tandy’s gaze not so much.
“You didn’t charge your phone?” Tandy deadpanned.
Marissa hadn’t known the mistake was going to cost them their lives. Guilt weighed down her shoulders. All she could do for an excuse was reach into her boot pocket and pull out her portable charger.
Connor tugged a flashlight from his toolbelt and highlighted what was now a useless cord.
Tandy’s mouth fell open. “You had that in there too? You could have been charging your phone this whole time.”
Marissa had planned to get around to it, but she’d been too distracted by thoughts of Connor. She looked up at him with regret. Yeah, she was in his arms now, but they’d wasted not being together because they’d failed to communicate. “I’m sorry,” she said, lowering the cord to the ground.
His sad smile offered forgiveness. “Unless you have another phone in your Mary Poppins boots, don’t worry about it.”
If only.
A memory nibbled at her thoughts. What was it? Surely, she didn’t have another cell phone that she’d forgotten about. So what good could her charger possibly do?
Marissa narrowed her eyes and scanned the area as if she’d find the thought that evaded her. All she saw was Randon’s car, shining in the spotlight of Connor’s flashlight beam. It was very pretty, but Randon was never going to enjoy it again simply because he hadn’t charged his tracking device.
A Cuppa Trouble Page 21
