The Eagle and the Fox (A Snowy Range Mystery, #1)

by Nya Rawlyns

  He smelled it before he saw it, though his brain fought him on the significance. Ducking behind a dense line of pines, he paused as the taste of hell coursed to the back of his throat, leaving him gagging and dropping to the ground. He shimmied under the lower branches, elbows and knees driving him forward until he spied a figure, dark against the yellow and orange backdrop.

  A sharp pop followed an explosion of sound, then yelling, followed by chaos. Marcus rolled, positioned his shotgun, and took aim. The shadowy figure moved, stepping awkwardly.

  Recognizing the limp, Marcus grunted, “Fuck,” and gathered himself, preparing to stand. He glanced at the ground, willing his body to move, move, move, dammit. When he looked up, a smaller man lunged toward Josh, swinging something big and thick, aiming low and hard. Josh went down amid a crack as the weapon connected and dumped him to the ground. He howled in pain, the explosion of agony cut short in a grunt as a boot connected, once, twice.

  Marcus lunged to his feet and bolted toward Josh’s assailant, fighting low-hanging limbs and rough ground and the shock of watching the stranger raise the weapon for a final, killing blow. Tossing the shotgun, Marcus reached for the pistol and emptied the clip. Bullets zinged and ricocheted in all directions.

  Terror, insanity, and despair rocked a world lit in hellfire. Josh’s assailant was panic-running like the devil himself was after him, his body canted left as he dragged his leg toward the van. Doors opened, closed. The engine fired up, tires spun. Marcus ejected the clip, slapped another one in, kept running, circling on the edge of the parking area.

  He had no clue who or what was in the van. The drugs for sure, otherwise why take it? He didn’t give a shit about that. He feared they’d gotten Petilune. He couldn’t allow that.

  The passenger door swung open. Someone yelled, the wounded man jumped in. As the door swung shut, Marcus planted his feet and took aim, hands shaking with the effort. The gun bucked violently, bullets pinging off gravel and metal.

  The van teetered on two wheels, then settled and accelerated toward the tight turn at the corner of the building. It was no longer white, having taken on the garish reflection of his world going up in flames.

  Marcus took a breath, held it, let it out... squeezing the trigger steadily, making adjustments as time slowed to a crawl. He had one and only one chance. Tempted to shut his eyes, he bit his lip instead, drawing blood. Fired.

  The van rocketed into the turn, spraying gravel and dirt as the rear tire exploded, spinning the vehicle on the rim until centrifugal force kicked in. He watched, mesmerized as the van, top heavy and unbalanced, tilted onto its side and spun in a lazy circle until finally coming to rest.

  The back doors had flown open. Marcus gaped at the sight, nearly catatonic with worry.

  A voice, weak and hoarse, barked, “Mar— Marcus,” bringing him up short. He turned to find Josh crawling onto the gravel, his face bloody, body wracked with pain. He mouthed, “She’s... she’s...”

  Nearly sobbing with relief, Marcus raced to Josh and cried, “Where is she, where’s Petilune?”

  Marcus tried helping Josh stand, but a gasp of pain stayed his hand. He barked, “What is it? What can I do?” The heat from the fire reached out, ugly tendrils of sparks and burning debris pinging off his flesh.

  Josh croaked, “Think he broke something in my leg. Fucking hurts like hell.”

  “Can you walk?”

  “Forget about me.” Josh pointed toward the loading dock. “They’re in there.”

  “Who’s in there? Josh?” He looked close to passing out from the pain. “Josh, stay with me.”

  “Pet... Kit... Those assholes threw them in there, locked the doors. They’re trapped. Fucking hell, Marcus, we need to get them out.”

  Without thinking, Marcus raced to the dock and jumped onto the cement slab. The overheard doors were metal and locked from the inside. He couldn’t even touch them from the heat. Ducking toward the exit door to the right, he tried bashing it in with his boot, slamming it until he felt his bones threaten to give way.

  Frantic, Marcus scouted the ground for something to use. Josh had rolled over and somehow propped himself into a sitting position, his bad leg stretched out. He was waving and shouting, the words lost to the roar of the fire. Marcus raced to Josh’s side, gasping, “I can’t budge it. Josh, I can’t—”

  Wrapping a hand around Marcus’ jeans, Josh yanked at the fabric, pulling Marcus close enough to hear. “Get my truck.” A trickle of blood worked its way from the corner of his mouth. He fumbled in his pocket and extracted a set of keys, thrusting them into Marcus’ hand.

  “Josh, we don’t have time...”

  “Hitch, use the hitch. Chain in cab.” Eyes rolling back in his head, Josh tilted toward the ground, mumbling, “Just do it.”

  Grasping the keys like a lifeline, Marcus charged toward the truck, keyed it open and fumbled with the ignition, sobbing his frustration as the engine coughed and sputtered. When it finally caught, he drove like a maniac through the trees and screeched to a halt where he’d left his lover.

  Somehow Josh had dragged himself upright using an exposed length of pine trunk. Hands bloody, left leg useless, he still had enough left to direct Marcus, explaining, “If you help me into the cab, I can back it up to the dock. Chain’s behind the driver seat. Use the shackles to attach the chain to the overhead doors.”

  Marcus argued, “I can do all that. You’re in no shape...”

  “I have to. Stop wasting time. You got toxic chemicals, Marcus. Pet and Kit won’t have a chance.” He lunged, forcing Marcus to bear his weight as he struggled toward the truck. “I can’t hardly move. You’re the one who’s got to get in there, get them out.”

  Nodding, Marcus found the strength to power lift Josh’s dead weight onto the seat. He couldn’t look at the man’s face, knowing he’d find unbearable agony. And resolve. With the heavy duty chains and shackles in hand he raced back to the dock, feeling the intense heat eating at his flesh. Using hand signals, he directed Josh to maneuver the truck as close as possible, then affixed the chain to the trailer hitch and prayed it wouldn’t just buckle and give way under the load.

  When he was finished, he waved for Josh to pull forward, using his palm to communicate Josh should go slow and steady instead of a clean and jerk. If the chain gave way, the odds were good it’d become an unpredictable projectile. Crouching low, he listened for the sound of sirens and was rewarded with a distant wail, then a screech of metal giving way.

  When the doors popped free of the runners, Josh gunned the truck and dragged them clear of the cement slab. Marcus jumped onto the dock and peered inside, but the smoke was so dense he could barely penetrate it. Eyes burning, he clamped a hand over his mouth and ducked into the warehouse. The steel siding along one wall had inhibited the spread through the large open space, though fire licked at the exposed rafters. Judging from the unholy din, the interior of the store was fully engulfed. It wouldn’t be long before the fertilizer and grain and toxic chemicals caught, igniting everything with explosive fury.

  If Pet and Kit had been thrown in as an afterthought, it was likely they’d still be near the exit door. Marcus got on his hands and knees, crawling in that direction, screaming Pet’s name.

  A weak voice called out, “Uncle Marcus?” Marcus urged Petilune to keep shouting. For once, her high-pitched screeching didn’t make him cringe. Following her voice, he found the girl crouched over a body, protecting it. Shielding Kit.

  Marcus reached to touch the boy and came away with his hand sticky with blood. There was no way he could carry both of them and, he knew without asking, Petilune wouldn’t leave Kit alone. Whispering, “God forgive me,” he made a fist and popped the girl’s jaw. She went down like a ton of bricks.

  As he bent to pick her up, a hand on his shoulder pulled him back. “We got this, sir. You go with Gabe.” Confused, he fought against the intrusion, knowing only that he had to get Petilune to safety. Strong arms wrapped around his torso, dragging
him backwards until he lost sight of everything except flames and smoke and the end of his dreams.

  ****

  Marcus stared dispassionately as a burn specialist tended to his hands. They’d finally removed the oxygen mask, letting him readjust to breathing unfiltered air. It tasted rusty. The sound of Petilune sobbing in the room next to him penetrated the thin walls. She hadn’t let up since they’d arrived.

  He wished he had a way to explain that it would all be fine, but that wasn’t his call to make. Besides, how could it be fine? Josh was in surgery as orthopedic surgeons battled to save his leg. The medical team had been forced to stabilize Kit before wheeling him to surgery, their faces pinched and worried.

  Becca poked her head in the door. Marcus shut his eyes in relief. She asked, “How are you doing?”

  “Like I need to give up smoking.” The doctor patted his thigh and mumbled something about the nurse coming in shortly. Marcus held up his hands. “Stings a little, but it’s not bad.”

  “Cal called me, told me Josh is in surgery and that you were hurt.” She hitched a breath. “I had to take the girls to Reverend Allen’s place. They’ll watch them as long as necessary. I’m sorry it took so long.” She sat on the edge of the examination table and demanded, “Tell me what happened, Marcus. From the beginning.”

  By the time he finished, Becca had turned white as a sheet and was gripping the edge of the table hard enough to leave nail marks on the vinyl surface.

  A nurse popped in, asking, “Does anybody know where we can find that child’s mother? We need to sedate her.” She was clearly exasperated.

  Becca said, “We don’t know. She hasn’t been seen for days.”

  The nurse huffed, “Well, has anyone reported her missing?” Becca shrugged. She was of the same mind as Marcus: good riddance to bad rubbish.

  Det. Calhoun eased around the agitated nurse and said, “I think I can be of some help, ma’am.” He gave Becca and Marcus a weary nod and pulled the woman into the hallway, their voices gradually diminishing.

  Marcus sighed. “I’ll go see her. Maybe she’ll stop crying if somebody she knows is with her. These are all strangers. I’ll bet the poor kid is terrified.”

  Becca said, “I’ll come with you.”

  Marcus gripped her arm and shook his head no. “I want you to go up to the waiting room. I have no idea how long Josh will be in surgery... or Kit. It would be good if you were there when the doctors come out.”

  Smiling kindly, Becca agreed and went to the main desk to ask for directions. Marcus watched her disappear down the hall. With a feeling of dread, he knocked on the examination room door and entered to find Petilune curled into a ball in the corner of the room. She was hoarse from crying, her eyes swollen and nearly glued shut from ash and debris. A woman in her late fifties was crouched on her heels, keeping a wary eye on the girl. When she looked up and saw him, she asked, “Are you the father?”

  “No.”

  The woman grimaced. Since she was dressed in civilian clothes, Marcus figured she was from social services and had announced that fact to Petilune. No wonder the child was nearly catatonic and curled in a fetal position.

  Marcus extended his hand to help the woman up and said, “I’m her, um, employer and guardian.” He gave the woman a weak smile and hoped his face didn’t give him away.

  Brightening, the woman introduced herself as Jennifer Waters and smiled with relief. “So, you’re her stepfather.”

  Tongue-tied, Marcus had no idea how to respond to that. He was about to explain when Petilune demanded, “I want to see Kit, Daddy. I want to see him now.” She uncurled her tiny frame and stood, wobbling slightly, but the expression on her face was resolute. And haughty. Definitely haughty.

  Marcus picked a spot on the ceiling and murmured, “Um, Kit. That’s the boyfriend.” He rolled his eyes as the woman “ah’d” and brushed at her tailored pant suit. He leaned close as if not wanting Petilune to overhear. “The boyfriend and her brother were injured. Terrible fire. They’re both lucky, don’t you think?”

  The woman nodded and muttered something about checking back later. Marcus hoped he’d have Petilune long gone before that happened, though he was sure neither of them was going anywhere until Josh and Kit were out of the woods.

  Petilune gently took his hand and gave him an angelic smile. He teased, “That was pretty fast thinking, girl.” She simply bobbed her head and went to that special place that helped her cope with an ugly world.

  Marcus wished with all his heart he could join her in that cave of peace and solitude. But for now, the best he could do was wait.

  And try to forget.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ghosts

  Marcus accepted the offer of decent coffee from Det. Calhoun and scooted over to make space for the burly cop. The man looked rumpled and completely beat.

  “You don’t have to watch over us, detective. Becca’s organized a damn hit squad in case anybody tries to get at Josh or Kit.”

  Calhoun gave Marcus a lopsided grin. “Why do you think I’m here instead of home, sleeping?” He sipped his coffee, eyes following Becca’s movements about the waiting area. “She’s really something, isn’t she?”

  Marcus ducked his chin and looked away. He might not be much of a romantic at heart, but the good detective was clearly smitten, and though he didn’t know Josh’s sister all that well, it didn’t take a mind reader to see she was also interested.

  And relentless, God the woman didn’t leave anything to chance.

  Calhoun said, “Not sure I understand why she thinks her brother has to be under constant surveillance. I can see it with the Giniw kid, but neither you or Foxglove were directly involved. Other than the obvious, I mean.” He gulped the hot coffee and sighed with satisfaction.

  Conflicted about bringing the cop up to speed on exactly how he was so wrong about their involvement and what it meant for Petilune’s future, Marcus deflected that for another time by asking, “What’s the status of Dee and Joey Goggles?”

  The cop shrugged. “About the same. Got them under guard. The Giniw kid also.”

  Marcus grimaced. The last time he’d been allowed a quick visit with Josh in ICU, it looked like a cop convention with uniforms parked in chairs in front of every curtain. He asked, “How’d you manage to score that many bodies? It’s not like Laramie PD’s got personnel to spare.”

  Calhoun chuckled. “It’s an election year. My superior’s got some political aspirations. Us bringing in a haul worth five mil on the street upped his profile. There’s been national coverage on this drug bust. To say we’re golden right now wouldn’t be putting too fine a point on it.”

  Marcus grinned. “Yeah, that’ll do wonders for shaking the tree for overtime.”

  “Exactly. Just wish we’d been able to bring in the others.” He tossed the empty coffee cup into a trash can and stretched his arms above his head. Tendons and joints popped loud in the enclosed space. When he’d made himself fractionally more comfortable, he said, “Never seen anything like it. The SUV just disappeared. Whoosh, gone in a puff of smoke. And thing is, it’s not like there are a lot of places to hide in that neck of the woods.”

  Marcus studied the patterning of the floor tiles. He remembered Josh saying it was odd they’d never been able to pin down anything about the driver. They had so little, in fact, that Josh hadn’t been sure there was a fourth man involved from the get go. Yet, the only way they’d been able to vanish into thin air so consistently almost required a fourth man on their team, someone who knew the area intimately. Someone with superior driving skills, who could handle just about any kind of vehicle on rough roads, at speed.

  Marcus asked, “What about Jackie? I heard he took off on an ATV.” His brother, Joey, had come in with a busted arm, head trauma and a bad attitude. The doctors had fixed him up enough for the cops to take him in and lock him up until Calhoun could sort through who did what.

  Shaking his head in exasperation, Calhoun replied, �
��According to one of my guys, he headed up into the Snowys. It’s single track trail without many branches, so I’m guessing he’ll either run out of trail or run out of fuel eventually. I put a call in for some dogs, just in case he’s trying to make it on foot.”

  Marcus observed, “Not a lot of snow this year. It’s possible he could sneak over to Riverside, maybe head into Colorado.”

  Calhoun disagreed. “Guys like him don’t do well on their own. The pattern is they tend to stick with what’s familiar. He’ll need supplies, cash, and wheels—not necessarily in that order.”

  “So you think he’ll go home?”

  “I’m counting on it. We have the house under surveillance. There’s an old jalopy behind the house—keys still in it. If I was him, it’s what I’d do.”

  Becca came over with Petilune in tow. “We’re going on home for a bit. I need to see my girls and make sure the horses are still in one piece.” She held up her cell phone. “Marcus, you be sure to call me if anything changes with Josiah or Kit.”

  Calhoun interrupted. “I need to talk with the girl...”

  “No you don’t, detective. Petilune’s been through enough for one lifetime.”

  “But...”

  Marcus smirked. The man was digging himself a hole he wouldn’t crawl out of anytime soon.

  Glowering, Becca growled, “This child will give a statement if and when I decide she’s ready.” Calhoun stared, mesmerized, his mouth open in shock.

  To Marcus, she softened her expression and said, “You’ll be staying at the house, dear. I’ll see if we can rustle up some changes of clothes for you.” Patting his hand, the petite woman whispered, “He’ll be fine, Marcus. We’re all here to make sure of that.” She handed him the keys for Josh’s truck. “You have one more hour, then you come home and rest. Polly takes the next shift.”

  They watched Josh’s sister herd the mob into the hallway. Before turning the corner, Petilune nodded at Marcus and gave him a smile, as if assuring him it would all be fine. Then the two men turned to Polly who was on her phone, reading off a list to whoever was on the other end. When she finished and clicked the phone shut, she stood and approached them.