The sound of a boot scuffing against the floor reached into his consciousness and yanked him back to his current situation. He shot to the right, ducking around the corner just as the door squeaked open.
Pressing his back against the building, he strained to hear the telltale signs of detection. But no shouts or zinging bullets or violent attacks followed. He forced himself to count to ten before chancing a peek.
The youngest Harwood strode toward the bronze Ford F-150, keys in hand. His heart pounded in his ears while he waited for the older brother to emerge. Although it only took a few minutes, the time crawled by. When Caleb Harwood finally appeared and drove away, he sent a silent thank-you to the Almighty.
The windowless building only had one entrance/exit and it was located at the front. Exposed to anyone coming down the lane. He’d have to work fast. No telling how often deliveries were made to this facility.
Retrieving a nylon pouch from his back pocket, he selected two long metal instruments before returning the pouch. He inserted the tension wrench into the bottom lock and raked the pick back and forth until all the pins were set. Then he rotated the tension wrench until the dead bolt slid open.
The door swung open, and he slipped inside. He stayed near the entrance, giving his eyes time to adjust to the gloom and his emotions time to shut down.
When objects in the murky depths of the large room began to materialize, he realized his emotions hadn’t yet fully disengaged. His throat closed and bile seared his chest. Crate after crate after crate stacked high in the center of the room.
He moved closer, his steps sluggish. Knowing, dreading what he’d find. The same thing the last two buildings had held. Greed, death, and fear. Yet his body pushed forward, needing the macabre confirmation.
One row of containers stored jars of dried, dark brown tear-drop shaped bear gallbladders. Dozens and dozens of them. The row below held larger containers with black bear paws. Some of the paws were smaller than Dylan’s palm.
“Sonsofbitches.”
How many more of these storage units did Harwood own? Why were they stockpiling all of these bear parts? Who would buy all of…this?
He’d stumbled onto this trafficking ring after a feral-swine hunting trip with a small group of his friends. One of the guys’d had a bit too much to drink and bragged about the amount of money he’d made hunting bear out of season. By the end of the conversation, he’d extracted three vital parts from his drunken friend—bear parts, Harwood, and a codename, Gold Star.
He’d never liked Eli Harwood. Several of the grade schools in the smaller towns had merged into one high school. Even with the merge, their class size remained small. So everyone knew everyone.
Something about Eli had always put him on guard. He’d kept to himself—except at lunchtime, where he followed his older brother around like a lost puppy.
Whispers of animal cruelty had circulated around school, though he’d never heard of any specific incidents. Eli hadn’t been the only oddball in his family. The Harwoods had built strong ties in their small town of Creede, through their involvement on the City Council, Development Committee, and School Board. However, their connections didn’t stop them from being suspicious of anyone who didn’t carry the Harwood name. Which made their trafficking enterprise all the more interesting.
Paranoia no doubt drove them to create an intricate network of hoops for their sellers to hurdle. His hunting buddy had only speculated that the Harwoods were behind the bear trafficking ring. All he’d been given was a codename and drop-off location.
Not long after his friend’s speculation, he’d seen Caleb Harwood leaving a restaurant and decided to follow. When he looked back on that moment, he couldn’t identify the exact reason for his pursuit. Boredom, maybe. Curiosity, possibly. An affinity for bears and anger at the Harwoods for their rumored part in an out-of-season poaching ring, more likely.
Whatever had spurred him to follow, he’d picked the right time to get nosey. Caleb had led him straight to one of their contraband storage sheds. To his surprise, they hadn’t installed an alarm system on the building yet. Using his lock-pick set, he’d gained entrance and found a clipboard with all the other locations listed and which ones were unsecure.
What he still needed to discover was the final destination of all the illegal contraband. He’d hoped to find evidence in one of their storage buildings. But after overhearing the brothers’ conversation, he’d have to set his curiosity aside and focus on proving the Harwoods had set him up for murder.
Why? Had they caught on to his quest to find their buyer? Why not just kill him, rather than Gracie? Why the elaborate scheme when they could have just dumped his body in a deep hole in the woods?
Unable to make out the crazy family’s logic, he strode to the small metal desk shoved against the back wall. He rifled the drawers as quickly and thoroughly as possible, not bothering with stealth. He looked for something, anything that would explain Gold Star or a distribution network.
For all he knew, the name was a simple codename for sellers and nothing else. However, his gut had told him that the reference had a deeper meaning to the Harwoods. He needed to find out what.
Had Deke figured out the clues he’d left in his apartment yet? Would he do anything with the information? Or had he finally flipped his little brother the bird and gone back to Asheville? No, Deke would never turn his back on family. If he’d been capable of doing so, he would’ve done it to him years ago.
All this he understood and even admired about Deke, yet he couldn’t stop the resentment from eating at his thoughts.
Did his brother never screw up? Get in over his head? Make a bad decision?
How could they have the same parents and be so completely opposite? He and Deke had one thing in common—secrets.
Even though he’d been pissed about Deke leaving him behind, he’d also been proud of him for getting out of Rockton. So he’d kept tabs on his brother. Why would he get a Master’s in Wildlife Biology and then become a conservation writer? Where did he go when he disappeared for long periods of time? His trips lasted too long for a writer investigating a story. And some of the people he hung out with were more intense than the Harwoods.
Deke had a secret, one he would unearth, but not until he dealt with the Harwoods’ conspiracy.
Coming up empty in his search, he slammed the desk drawer closed.
“Who the hell are you selling this shit to, Harwood?”
“Hoping for a piece of the pie, Conrad?” a voice behind him asked.
Spinning around, he caught a glimpse of Eli Harwood’s fist slicing through the air. His head snapped to the side, his legs buckled, and the ground lifted to meet his face.
Then nothing.
21
Deke had buried himself in a shit storm.
Seeing Evie at Dylan’s place had thrown him off his game so badly that he was still trying to recover his wits.
Why had she returned to Rockton? How had she found him? What the hell was he going to do about her?
She’d caught enough of his conversation with Matteo to grasp that he was investigating Dylan’s case. With Matteo and Jax. And she thought he had a girlfriend. Believed he could be intimate with her while being involved with someone else.
Shit. Storm.
If she were someone he barely knew, he’d write off the whole incident. But Evie was too enmeshed in his personal life. Sister to his best friend. One comment about this to Britt, and his friend would not only kick his ass, he’d shove his boot into his neck.
Britt’s ability to hand him his ass wasn’t what bothered him the most. The hurt he’d caused Evie sat on his chest like an anchor stuck in the sand. Knowing she’d left believing him capable of such heartless behavior stung.
Did she not understand how much he cared for her? Yearned for her?
He’d wanted nothing more than to kiss the pain from her deep blue eyes. Ask her to trust him. Beg her to stay. The betrayal in her expression still haunted
him.
He could have set her straight, but that would have required more explanation than he could afford. No matter his personal situation, he couldn’t reveal details about SONR. Their work reached across the globe and left a lasting, positive impact on the environment. Every poaching ring they stopped meant thousands of plants and animals saved, which preserved ecological diversity and maintained healthy ecosystems, for everyone—humans, wildlife, and plants.
One word about SONR to the wrong person could sideline their efforts and derail their momentum. Not to mention the devastation that could happen to the wild populations they protected.
Lisa’s warning about keeping his lies to a minimum bubbled to the surface. Staying true to his friendship with Evie while protecting SONR was a damn sight harder task than he’d envisioned.
“You gonna tell me where we’re headed?” Keone asked, breaking through his self-recrimination.
After breakfast, he’d met up with Keone, who’d completed his interview with Scott Orin. Dylan’s friend had proved as enlightening as his ex, which was to say not at all.
“My brother left me a message, at his apartment.”
“What kind of message?”
“Gold Star and Lean-to.”
“Since we’re hiking in the woods, I take it you have a hunch.”
“When things got bad at home, Dylan and I would hike to the far reaches of our parents’ property, to a bluff that overlooked Swins Hollow.”
“Sounds peaceful.”
“It was. We erected a lean-to where the woods met the stone outcropping, so that we could hang there even in bad weather.”
“How long has it been since you last visited?”
“Years. The structure’s probably plummeted over the cliff by now.”
“I’m bringing my internal investigation on the team to a close. I’ve been unable to find any evidence that a member of SONR leaked information to the Distributor.”
“You’ve exhausted all possible scenarios, used every available resource?”
“Yes and yes.”
Some of the tightness left his shoulders. “Then close it.”
“You know what this means.”
“I do.” Someone at headquarters, with knowledge of SONR’s activities, had to be colluding with the Distributor.
They hiked for another ten minutes before the woods thinned and limestone took the place of the forest floor. Pushing through a tangle of vines and brambles, Deke’s chest clenched at the familiar view.
The bluff rose above the trees, revealing undulating waves of green that faded into a brilliant cerulean sky in the distance.
Up here, the wind whisked away every worry, every pain, every mistake. Up here, he could just be—no past, no present, no future. A man in the moment.
“Is that your lean-to?” Keone asked.
He glanced over his shoulder, surprised to find the wooden structure preserved and their sparse furnishings in pretty good shape.
“Looks like your brother still visits.”
Ignoring the pressure building in his chest, he searched the small space with the same methodical precision he’d used in Dylan’s apartment.
“What are we looking for?”
“Anything unusual.”
Keone sent him a how-would-I-know look.
The confined space took only a few minutes to search.
“Got anything?” Keone asked.
“Nothing.” He checked the exterior perimeter. Still nothing. He waved Keone over. “Give me a boost up.”
Keone clasped his hands together and he stepped into his second-in-command’s grip. The extra two feet was enough for him to see the slanted roof was clear, too.
“Dammit.” He hopped down. “I’m going to kill that little pecker.”
“Hold on.” Keone stared inside the scanty lean-to. “He sent you up here because only you would notice if something was out of place.” His gaze caught Deke’s. “So what’s out of place?”
Frustration burned like hot coals beneath his skin. He couldn’t see past the possibility that his brother had sent him on a wild goose chase. While images of him strangling Dylan surfaced, his gaze studied the wooden planks, plastic milk crate that served as a table, lidded plasticware bowl that held cards, dice, and matches, two lawn chairs, a blue one for him and a green one for Dylan, the—
He frowned and refocused on the chairs. Something wasn’t right. Something about—
“They’re switched.”
“Come again?”
“I always sat on the right and Dylan on the left. The blue chair is mine, but it’s been moved to the left side.”
Picking up his chair, he scanned the rocky ground beneath. Keone did the same with the green one. He stomped the ground for good measure.
“What are you doing?” Deke asked.
“Making sure the ground’s solid.”
“Fifty feet solid would be my guess.”
“Wait a second.” Keone pointed to the underside of Deke’s chair. “What’s that?”
Beneath the seat, he found matching colored duct tape holding something in place. “Nice camouflage.”
Separating the item from the chair, he tore away the tape to find the package wrapped in an oilcloth. He peeled back the layers to reveal a clear sealed container. Inside the container rested a smartphone.
“A phone?” Keone asked. “Why would Dylan leave you a phone?”
An image of his brother hovering over Gracie’s body rose in his mind.
“When Evie and I stumbled across Dylan kneeling beside Gracie’s corpse, he appeared to take something of hers before running off.”
They both stared down at the phone.
“Maybe he knew something on this would exonerate him.” He shook his head in frustration. “We won’t know until Jax opens it up.”
“What if Dylan took the phone out of desperation?”
“I don’t know.” He scraped a hand through his hair. “Let’s hope I don’t have to face that decision.”
Before he could take a step, a beloved voice reached him. “Where’s my son?”
He turned to find his mother with a shotgun balanced in her hands.
22
Evie placed two fingers on the patient’s inner wrist, counting in her head while following the second hand on her watch. Never had sixty seconds taken so long.
The replacement nurse practitioner, Rachel Gardner, arrived in Niles the previous day as planned. Having worked with her for a day and a half now, Evie had come to like the new NP. Well into her thirties, Rachel stood a mere five feet two inches tall and sported short, spikey red hair. Freckles covered her face, and she wore a radiant smile all day long.
But it was her self-deprecating humor about her love for sweets and rounded middle that helped take Evie’s mind off her embarrassing display with Deke, two days ago.
Rather than dig deeper into what he’d been doing in his fugitive brother’s apartment, she’d allowed herself to get sidetracked by the possibility of another woman.
Idiot.
How had she let her jealousy overrule everything she’d come to love about Deke Conrad? If he’d been involved with the blonde in the yellow house, he would never have dishonored her by being with another woman.
I’m a one-woman guy.
Humiliation singed up her neck and into her ears.
“Heart rate’s 79 and your blood pressure’s sitting at a healthy 112 over 73.” She transferred the numbers to sixty-year-old patient’s chart. “Well done, Mr. Albany.” Indicating a chair, she said, “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable until Rachel’s free.”
A crack of thunder shook the ground.
“Got a big one coming in,” Mr. Albany said.
“It’s a good thing you’re inside, then.” She threw on her rain jacket. “I’m going to see who else might’ve braved the storm.”
As it turned out, no one.
Other than Mr. Albany’s van and the other patient’s car, the only other vehicle
in the parking lot was an old red truck tucked into a parking stall.
Standing outside the RV, wind whipped her hair into crazy circles around her head. The scent of rain drenched the thick air. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Why would Deke be carrying a weapon? Who was the hot Italian? The perky techno-geek on the phone? From the tenor of their conversation, they knew each other well. They’d obviously done that sort of thing before.
Deke might not be a cheater, but he was definitely something more than a conservation writer. She needed to talk this through with someone who wouldn’t try to ban her from seeing Deke again. Which pretty much ruled out a large portion of the Steele clan.
Sighing, she sifted through her options. Most of her friends were either vacationing or starting new jobs. Lisa seemed the most logical choice, though Evie couldn’t spring this on her while she was trying to get her migraines under control. Mama would listen, sympathize, then tell her to follow her instincts. Not what Evie needed.
She couldn’t bug Brynne, Carlie Beth, or Randi, because they might say something to her brothers. Britt would kill Deke or reject him for as long as his anger lasted. Grif would figure out a way to bankrupt the guy. Jonah would locate incriminating college pictures and blast them all over social media. Micki would—good grief, she didn’t want to think about what kind of whoop-ass her sister would rain down on Deke.
That left her with Reid. Her Green Beret brother.
Dear God.
The more she considered Reid, the more the choice seemed right. He was trained to keep secrets. Of course, he’d bluster and come up with a dozen ways to cut off Deke’s privates, but eventually his strategic mind would kick in and he’d help her figure this thing out with Deke.
She hoped.
She prayed.
Sweet baby Jesus, she was screwed.
23
Dylan awoke in a cage.
Awareness came to him by slow degrees, as if he were clawing his way out of a thick fog. His eyelids stuck to his eyeballs, clicking as he tried to keep them open for more than a second. His tongue felt like a raisin forgotten on the desert floor.
Roaming Wild (Steele Ridge Book 6) Page 13
