FBI Agent Jade Monroe: Live or Die 02-Blood Trail

by Sutter, C M

  “I don’t need a babysitter, Gary!” Claire shot him the middle finger.

  “Actually, you do, and you get five minutes in the bathroom. If you aren’t out by then, I’m coming in to get you.”

  Claire stood, smoothed her hair, and climbed through the opening. “You’re a real prick, Gary.”

  “And you’re a real bitch. Now go.”

  They entered the store. Leon pulled a cart from the rack, and they headed to the hardware section.

  Gary whispered instructions to Leon. “Keep your head down, and don’t look at any cameras. Grab the duct tape, zip ties, booze, and the sleep medication, then head to the bathroom area. We’ll take turns in the bathroom after Claire comes out. After that, we’ll be on our way then stop for the night when we get to Cokeville.”

  They parted ways at the back of the store. Gary and Claire headed to the bathrooms, and Leon disappeared down the hardware aisle.

  “Make it fast.” Gary clenched Claire’s arm.

  She jerked out of his grip and went inside. Gary paced just beyond the hallway that led to the bathrooms but still within sight of the ladies’ room door. He’d seen the Employees Only entrance at the end of the hall that likely went to the offices and lunchroom, and he wasn’t about to let Claire sneak away.

  Obeying the warning Gary gave her, Claire was out in less than five minutes. They lingered until Leon showed up with the items in the cart.

  Gary nodded at Leon. “Hit the bathroom, then I will. We need to get the heck out of here and back on the road.”

  Several minutes later, the three of them walked to the checkout lanes. Gary whispered to Leon that he was taking Claire out to the truck and that he would buy the next round of supplies. Leon got in line, and Gary walked out with a tight grip on Claire’s hand.

  “Sit in the back,” he ordered when Claire climbed into the truck.

  “Why are you so mean to me?”

  “Why were you punching me and slapping me in the head earlier? We could have crashed.”

  “Sorry.”

  Gary huffed. “You’ll definitely be sorry if you ever do that again.”

  Gary kept a watchful eye on the store’s exit. Leon should be out any minute. Through the windshield, flashing lights caught Gary’s attention. Two squad cars had just pulled up to the building. He turned the key in the ignition, drove out the side exit, and parked on a residential street.

  “Did you do something, Claire?” Gary leapt from the seat and raised his fist.

  She cowered and covered her head. “I didn’t do anything. How could I? You took my phone and pitched it out the window. Maybe somebody got caught shoplifting.”

  Gary yanked his phone from his pocket and called Leon. “Leave the building now. Go through the garden center exit and make it fast. I’m parked on Lilac Street just around the corner.”

  Minutes later, Leon reached the truck, tossed the bags inside, and climbed in. “What the hell were the cops there for?”

  “I don’t know, but I wasn’t about to stick around to find out.”

  Leon tipped his head toward the back. “You think she had something to do with it?”

  “She says no, and she better not be lying.”

  “I’m not lying!” Claire yelled. “Somebody probably got caught shoplifting.”

  Leon shot daggers at her with his eyes. “You better hope so.”

  Chapter 28

  We’d spent the last fifteen minutes going over the first responder’s report with the officers at the Evergreen Police Department. They gave us their accounts of Tuesday afternoon when the 911 call came in, and it mirrored what Ted and Pete had told us.

  Two more officers entered the room we were in and joined our conversation. They were the first officers who arrived at Rushing Brook Canyon Road, where Jacquie went over the edge. Other than tire tracks that may or may not have been from the vehicle she was in, they said they hadn’t seen anything in the area that didn’t belong in nature. No cigarette butts, paper scraps, or any other kind of waste was present.

  “Did either of you take pictures of the tire tracks?” I asked.

  They both shook their heads, citing the fact that people drove that road on occasion because two locals owned cabins back in the woods.

  Tommy took his turn. “Did anyone question them?”

  Officer Denning spoke up. “I went to both cabins, but nobody was at either one. The cabins are more of vacation homes rather than permanent residences. The owners don’t live there year-round, and they come and go whenever they feel like hanging out there.”

  “You can’t blame them. This is beautiful country,” I said. “Do you happen to know the owners’ names?”

  “Sure. Bruce Rand owns the cabin on the east side of the road, and farther in is the cabin owned by Darryl Woods—both longtime Evergreen residents.”

  “Remembering back to the tire tracks you saw, would you say the impressions were wider than car tracks?”

  “For sure, but then again, both Bruce and Darryl own trucks. Damn near everyone in mountain country owns some type of four-wheeler because of the volume of snow we get in the winter.”

  “And both men live in town?”

  Denning continued. “Yep, they’re retired old geezers and are usually home. I’ll get their addresses for you.”

  Renz nodded. “We’d appreciate it.”

  I checked the time. “Another hour or so here, then we can head back to Denver or get rooms in the area if we plan to scout around more tomorrow.”

  “Let’s see if either man has anything of value to tell us first,” Tommy said. “We’ll decide after that if it’s worth sticking around or not. In my opinion, Gary and Leon are probably long gone.”

  With the men’s home addresses in hand, we thanked the officers and left the police station. It didn’t take long to find Bruce Rand’s home. Getting from one end of Evergreen to the other was an easy drive, considering the population was under ten thousand people.

  Tommy parked, and we walked up Mr. Rand’s sidewalk. He answered the door immediately, and I assumed it was because the curtains facing the street were open. He must have seen us coming.

  “If you’re trying to preach or sell something, you might as well keep walking,” he said after opening the door.

  “Mr. Rand?” Tommy asked.

  “That’s me, but how would you know my name?”

  “We’re from the FBI, sir, and have a few questions for you.” Tommy pulled out his badge and passed it to Bruce.

  “Is this real?”

  “Yes, sir, and we each have one if you’d like to see them all.”

  Mr. Rand shook his head. “Nah, I believe you. What can I help you with?”

  Bruce invited us in, and Renz took the lead. He asked Mr. Rand when he’d last been at his cabin on Rushing Brook Canyon Road.

  Bruce scratched his chin. “Over the weekend. I guess I came home Monday. Why?”

  “Did you happen to see anyone between your cabin and the main road as you were driving out?”

  We waited as he gave that some thought.

  “It’s very important, sir,” I said. “Any vehicle at all?”

  “Sorry, but I don’t recall seeing anyone.”

  My shoulders slumped. There was no reason to stick around. If he didn’t see anything or anyone out of the ordinary, then that was the way it was. We thanked him, continued on to the house belonging to Mr. Woods, and got the same response. Neither man saw a single person or vehicle on Rushing Brook Canyon Road.

  We returned to the SUV with the consensus that we would drive back to Denver, grab supper, then figure out what our next move would be. I was disappointed that nothing had come of our talks in Evergreen or Central City. I was sure we were on the right track and the buyer had to be near the area where Jacquie was tossed over the mountainside, but maybe I was wrong.

  We were on the outskirts of Evergreen, heading toward Denver, when Renz’s phone rang. He looked at the screen and commented that it was a blocked n
umber.

  “Answer it,” I said. “You know police departments usually block their numbers.”

  Renz picked up and put the call on Speaker. “Agent DeLeon here.”

  “Agent DeLeon, it’s Chief Worth in Buffalo. Are you still in the area?”

  “We’re a half hour west of Denver following up on a lead, so not really. Why? What’s going on?”

  “We got a hit on our nationwide APB for Claire Usher.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me! How did that come about, and where is she?”

  “A call came into the Vernal, Utah, PD about an hour ago. It just alerted on my phone, and I called Vernal and got the information directly from them. A girl who claimed to be Claire used a borrowed phone from someone in the ladies’ room of a big box store and called the local police. They were told that she feared for her life. Her burner phone had been taken away from her, and she, Leon Brady, and Gary Rhodes were in the store buying supplies. She said Hope Daniels had been sold, and she had been threatened with the same fate if she didn’t toe the line. She only had enough time to say they were heading to the area where Utah, Idaho, and Wyoming met. The police said the call abruptly ended after that. They told me two units rushed to the store, but she, the guys, and the truck were nowhere to be found.”

  “I guess it’s asking too much to assume she gave them a plate number?”

  “That would be asking too much, so no, she didn’t offer a plate number.”

  “Damn it. We don’t actually know if that was a crank call or a legitimate one, then.”

  “I doubt it was a crank call, Agent DeLeon. She had information that hasn’t been released on any news broadcasts.”

  “Okay, thanks for the heads-up. We’ll get roadblocks in place and hopefully catch those lunatics before they snatch more girls. I appreciate your call.” Renz hung up. “Jesus! They sold Hope!”

  I squeezed my temples. “I’m not surprised. She obviously sneaked out and ended up paying the price for doing that. Why she didn’t go into her parents’ house is beyond me, but in hindsight, wherever she is now, I’m sure she regrets that decision. The question is, do we call Mr. and Mrs. Daniels and tell them what we’ve heard or wait until it’s absolutely one hundred percent confirmed that Hope is gone?”

  “We have to wait,” Renz said. “It would be reckless to tell them something that devastating on hearsay.”

  “I have to agree,” Tommy said.

  I blew out a sigh but knew they were right. “We’ve got to find out where the drop-off location is. Once those girls are sold, the chances of ever finding them again is about as close to zero as you can get.”

  Fay spoke up. “I’ll try to locate the company where they rented the truck they’re using. We have to be proactive, and getting a plate number is imperative. If they’re traveling on any interstate and pass a tollbooth or plate reader, the state patrol would be right there to apprehend them.”

  “You’re right,” Tommy said, “but so far they’ve proven smarter than that.”

  Chapter 29

  They still had a two-hour drive ahead of them before they would reach Cokeville, Wyoming, where they would stay overnight. Gary pulled off the road to get a coffee and fill the fuel tank. He ordered Claire to remain in the truck and keep quiet.

  Leon exited the passenger side and joined Gary at the pump. He stared at the ground with his hands buried deep in his pockets.

  Gary’s forehead wrinkled. “Something on your mind?”

  Leon pointed a thumb at the truck’s box area, where Claire sat only feet away. “What are we going to do with her?”

  “Get rid of her, what else? There’s no love lost on my end. Hell, I’ve never even considered the thing she and I had as love. I rolled in the sheets with her once in a while, and she helped out—sort of—but now she’s nothing but a pain in the ass.”

  Leon sighed. “Just like Hope became.”

  Gary swatted the air. “Don’t worry about her. We’re just lucky she never stopped at her parents’ house after she sneaked out. Nobody other than us will ever know that less than seven hours after she made that stupid decision, she was in Colorado and sold to Charlie, and what he does—or did—with her isn’t our concern.”

  “I know, but damn, that’s brutal.”

  “You going soft on me and growing a conscience?” Gary stared at Leon, waiting for a response.

  “No, just stating a fact.”

  “Here’s a tip you might want to remember. Keep your facts to yourself.” Gary put forty dollars of diesel fuel in the truck and returned the hose to the holder. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, grabbed two twenties, told Leon to go inside and pay for the gas, then to grab a coffee for each of them. Gary climbed back into the truck and focused on Leon through the gas station’s wall of glass.

  “What are you going to do with me?” Claire asked from behind him.

  “That depends on you. You turn on us, and things will go sideways fast.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’ll leave that to your imagination. We’ve got two more hours before we’re there. I’d suggest you shut up and relax.”

  “Where is there?”

  “Cokeville.”

  “Cokeville, Colorado?”

  “No, idiot, Cokeville, Wyoming.”

  Leon climbed back into the truck with the coffees, and Gary was on his way. They would stop once more to pick up food when they got to Cokeville.

  Gary jerked his head toward Leon. “Check for cheap motels in that area. Look for something off the beaten path that will probably accept cash.”

  Claire spoke up. “I have my credit card.”

  Gary snickered. “Trying to offer a peace treaty? I know damn well your mom monitors the use on that card, and you better not be doing anything with it behind my back.”

  “I’m not. I just thought I’d offer.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. We’ll pay with greenbacks.”

  “I think I found something. It’s a shithole called Hideaway Rentals, but they have openings and take cash. You can rent rooms by the day or by the week for a ten percent discount.”

  Gary’s grumble said he wasn’t happy. “A fitting name, but you’d think with the money we’re making we could stay in swanky places.”

  “We could if we weren’t doing something illegal, and swanky means credit cards, not cash.”

  “Yeah, yeah. How much is it?”

  “Two double beds are fifty-nine bucks a night or three hundred seventy-one bucks for a week.”

  “Plus tax, right?”

  “Yeah, plus tax.”

  “Nah, we’ve got to keep moving. We’ll stay one night, pick up three girls over the next two days, then head back to Central City.” Gary cleared his throat to get Leon’s attention.

  Leon looked over and saw Gary indicate with four fingers then point over his shoulder. They would deliver four girls to Charlie in a few days, and one of them would definitely be Claire.

  Chapter 30

  We didn’t know if Taft had been updated yet with the information about the ABP hit on Claire. I needed to call her, even though she had probably gone home already.

  “Should I go ahead and call Maureen’s cell phone, or aren’t we allowed?”

  “She won’t mind,” Fay said. “It’s an emergency, and if she already knew about Claire’s 911 call, she would have contacted us.”

  “Good point.” I dialed our boss and waited as her phone rang. “She isn’t picking up.”

  Renz looked over his shoulder at me. “Leave her a message anyway and try again in fifteen minutes. She could be taking a shower, for all we know.”

  I watched as Fay searched rental companies within fifty miles of Casper, Wyoming, on her phone.

  “I can help speed up the process by taking on some of those companies.”

  Fay shook her head. “I’m not getting anywhere. It seems like most have already closed their offices for the day.”

  “Damn it. Let’s see exactly
how many there are then pick it up again first thing in the morning.”

  Fay began counting while I asked my phone what the distance was from Evergreen to Vernal, Utah. It was a daunting five and a half hours. We needed to know if we should continue in the opposite direction, toward Denver, or turn around and head northwest instead.

  “Try Taft again,” Tommy said.

  I pressed the recent calls tab and tapped her number. That time I got lucky. Taft answered right away.

  “Maureen, it’s Jade. I tried you fifteen minutes ago but didn’t get an answer.”

  “Sorry, that must have been when I took out the trash. Do you have an update for me?”

  “So you haven’t heard?”

  “I guess not. What’s going on?”

  “The police chief in Buffalo was notified that the APB was hit on Claire. She called from a borrowed phone in a big box store in Vernal, Utah, saying something about heading to the tristate corridor of Utah, Wyoming, and Idaho. We’re making our way back to Denver, but that’s taking us in the opposite direction. Should we turn around, get state troopers in force out on the interstates, put up roadblocks at off-ramps, or what?”

  “All of the above, and I’ll arrange it. What’s the closest interstate that heads in that direction?”

  I looked at Fay, and she already had a map up on her phone.

  “Going due north out of Vernal, you’d take Highway 191, which would land you on I-80 between Rock Springs and Green River. They left Vernal about an hour ago, to the best of our knowledge. Troopers could intercept them as soon as they reach the interstate since it’s two hours between Vernal and Green River, where they’d start heading west.”

  “That’s all speculation, of course. We don’t know if they’re taking that route at all.”

  “You’re right,” I said, “but it’s the best idea I can come up with at the moment. According to the map we’re looking at, the tristate area falls pretty close to Cokeville, Wyoming. The interstate starts leaning south about twenty miles west of Green River, but State Highway 30 would take them northwest, and that’s exactly where they want to go.”