The Lonesome Lawmen Trilogy

by Pauline Baird Jones

  “How is it you always beat me here?” Luke asked, as he crouched to study the vic.

  “I don’t have to tear myself out of the arms of a lovely woman.” Mann crouched down beside him, pointing mutely to the pre-mortem bruises on the vic’s face. “They wanted something.”

  “But did they get it? He looks familiar,” Luke added, trying to see past the bruising. “We got an ID?”

  “Not officially, but the beat cop recognized him. Name’s Roger Rowdy.”

  “Rowdy? Warren Michaels’ brother-in-law?” Mann nodded and Luke frowned. Michaels was a major player in both local and state business and politics. He exported business equipment all over the world. Since 9/11, exporters had come under greater scrutiny. There’d been some rumors of inappropriate exportation of computer chips, but so far nothing solid had emerged against the man.

  Only now his brother-in-law and business partner was dead, apparently tortured to death.

  He pulled out his phone and dialed Bryn’s cell phone. She didn’t start her maternity leave for a month. If she didn’t know if the FBI was investigating the guy, she could find out. When she answered, he said, “Hey, I’m looking at a dead guy you might be interested in. Roger Rowdy?”

  “Rowdy’s dead? Where are you?” She snapped the questions off like bullets. Typical Bryn when she was on the job, so he didn’t take it personally.

  Luke told her, then rang off and looked at his partner. “We might be able to pass this one off to the feds and resume our leisure activities.” He grinned, but then the significance of the address filtered through his satisfaction. He turned and went outside. It was probably a coincidence a murder had happened right next to the hanger his father-in-law used, on the very day he was flying to Phoenix. Then he remembered. Donovan was flying to Phoenix with his mom.

  “What’s wrong,” Mann asked.

  “Everything,” Luke said. “I need to talk to someone in traffic control.”

  * * * *

  “Mayday! Mayday! We have been shot down!” Donovan struggled to control their glide toward the ground. The plane soared over some trees, so close he heard them scrape the bottom of his plane, and then he saw a dirt road below. “We might just survive this. Or you will. I expect your sons will kill me for getting you into trouble.”

  Debra managed a weak chuckle. “If we survive, I promise to protect you.”

  She had guts, but he already knew that. That was all he had time to think as he fought to line his plane up with the dirt track. It was the only relatively clear space around. Quickly, too quickly, the wheels slammed into the ground. The small plane bounced once, hit the ground again then hurtled forward. He tried to slow the plane and it did slow some, but not enough. They were running out of road. It took a turn and they didn’t. Straight into the trees. Wings snapped off. Tree ahead. He tried to turn, but there was no where to go. He grabbed Debra, pushed her face into his shoulder and tried to fold his body around her. The sudden stop flung them both forward against their restraints. A flash of pain as his head connected with the wind screen then the world went dark.

  * * * *

  “What do you mean you’ve lost contact with the chopper?” Pep looked at his phone, gave it a shake, and put it back against his ear.

  “Just what I said. We lost radio and radar contact. It was there then it wasn’t.”

  “And what, exactly, does that mean?”

  “It could have landed.”

  The guy didn’t sound like he thought that’s what happened.

  “Or?”

  “Crashed.”

  “And you think it…” Pep urged.

  “Judging by where it vanished, it’s not likely it landed. Plus, they cussed just before we lost radio contact.”

  “I thought you said it would be easy to shoot the plane down.”

  Pep could almost hear the shrug. “I was wrong.” There was a pause. “Who was flying the plane?”

  Pep didn’t answer the question. His contact wouldn’t like knowing his man had gone up against a former merc with no warning. “What about the plane? Any sign of it?”

  “It went down, too.”

  So there was still a chance to acquire the item. “We’ll be there in an hour.” He looked at his watch. “Here’s what we’ll need.”

  * * * *

  What?” The word started quietly enough inside Luke’s head, but it emerged as a shout. He stared at the airport official.

  “We received a mayday call about ten minutes ago.” He led Luke to a map spread out under glass on a table. “According to their flight plan, they would have been somewhere around here.” He stabbed at an area on the paper. “I’ve already informed search and rescue, but that it’s a mountainous area and it could take some time to locate the…wreckage.”

  He looked away from Luke then, as if to give him privacy while he absorbed this unacceptable reality. Luke needed the time. He was on his feet, but it didn’t feel like he was. The world had suddenly changed around him. Mom. Amelia. Her father was out there, too.

  “There is something else.” The man hesitated, as if unsure whether to proceed.

  “What?” Luke asked, impatiently.

  He indicated a man standing near him with a tape recorder. He turned it on and Luke heard Donovan’s voice shouting mayday. And then…

  “What was that he said at the end?” Luke asked sharply. “Did he say someone shot them down?”

  Both men shrugged.

  “Play it again.” Luke leaned closer. There was no question. Donovan said they were shot down. And his hanger was right next to the crime scene. If Donovan got his mother mixed up in one of his problems, well, if he wasn’t dead already, Luke would kill him all by himself. If…

  He looked at his phone, wondering who to call first. All three wives were pregnant. Then he knew. He punched the numbers and when he heard her soft hello, his voice broke for the first time. “Louise?”

  “What’s wrong? What do you need?” Dani’s voice breached the distance, wrapping him in warmth and sisterly love.

  “Amelia is going to need you.” He steadied his voice with an effort. “Donovan’s plane…” he hesitated, then softened the news, “…it’s missing.”

  “Oh, my gosh. Debra…”

  “I’ll call Matt and Jake, but I don’t want Amelia to be alone. If you could tell her…I know it’s not fair. You’re pregnant, too—”

  “I’ll take care of it. She and Phoebe are here. You call your brothers.”

  “Thanks, Louise.” His voice cracked again. He pulled it together. “I’ll call again if…when I know more.”

  The call ended, then he took a deep breath and dialed Matt’s number.

  * * * *

  “Donovan?”

  The voice was pleasant and familiar, but far away. He struggled toward it, the darkness around him lightening until he opened his eyes. Debra Kirby’s face was close to his, her blue eyes worried, a streak of something that looked like blood tracking down one side of her face.

  He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair back. It surprised him how soft it felt. His gray hairs were like wire. Her skin was soft, too.

  “You’re bleeding,” he said.

  She managed a shaky smile. “So are you.” She showed him a bloody tissue then returned it to a spot on his forehead.

  He grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  Her smile turned gentle and rueful. “I’m not sure this is your fault.”

  He started to frown, but it hurt so he just asked, “What?”

  She held up something. It looked like a lighter or a key holder, maybe. “I found this in my pocket when I was looking for a tissue. I think the man who bumped into me put it there.”

  It took a lot of resolution not to frown. He had several questions, but all he managed was, “What?” again.

  “While you were getting the luggage out of the car, this man bumped into me.” She frowned then winced and touched her own wound. “I have this feeling I should know who he was, but
anyway, he went on, didn’t even say he was sorry. Then just after that, I saw the two angry guys.”

  Donovan’s head throbbed. His brain didn’t want to think that much. What he really wanted to do, was pull Debra down until her head was resting against his shoulder and go back to sleep.

  “Angry guys?”

  “They looked like twins, except one was shorter. He had these really green eyes.”

  That got his attention. “Green eyes?”

  “Like emeralds. Do you know him?”

  “What is that thing you say isn’t yours?”

  Debra held it up again. “It’s a jump drive, though I’ve heard some people call them a stick. I’ve seen Dani use them with her computer. She stores book files on them. It’s like a tiny hard drive. You plug it into the USB port. They’re so cute, I wanted to get one, but I don’t need it.” She looked sheepish.

  He took it from her and studied it. It did say jump drive on the side. The end came off, exposing a USB plug. It would be a useful way to hand off information. Green eyes. That could only be Pep Griffin and his brother, Pup. If those two were after the drive, they needed to get moving.

  “How long have I been out?” He explored the sore spot on his forehead.

  “Not long.” A bit of red tinted her pale cheeks. “Thank you.”

  “For what? Almost killing you?”

  “For protecting me during the crash. You took quite a whack to the head for me.” She looked charmingly worried as she gently touched the spot. Her fingers were cool and soothing against his skin. The tight band of pain circling his head eased some. He wondered if the Kirby boys realized how lucky they were to have Debra in their lives. He had another thought.

  “My phone. I wonder…” He felt his jacket pocket and pulled it out in two pieces. “Looks like it took some of the impact, too.” Well, he’d been in worse situations.

  “They’ll be worried,” Debra said. “I left mine at home. Wanted to be free of distractions.” She looked annoyed with herself.

  “We’ll find a way to let them know we’re all right,” Donovan said. He took a breath then made himself sit up straight. It hurt like hell. “But first, we need to get away from the plane.”

  Debra looked surprised. “Shouldn’t we stay with the plane?”

  “Normally, that would be good policy, but we were shot down. Your green-eyed bad guy doesn’t give up that easily. I’m betting he wasn’t the one in the chopper, but will be along as soon as he gets another one.” And he could smell fuel in the air.

  He tried the door, found it jammed. He got his feet against it and kicked hard. The pain in his head almost put his lights out again. He gritted his teeth and tried again. This time the door gave a little. One more kick popped it open. He scrambled out and turned. Debra grabbed her rather large purse, then climbed into his seat and slid into the doorway. He reached up, grabbed her by the waist and lifted her down. For a moment they were chest to chest then she flushed and stepped away from him. He felt a bit flushed and a bit bereft. He wasn’t used to it.

  She looked around. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

  “We’re not that far from your cabin. Stand back from the plane. I can smell fuel.” She hastily obeyed. He looked at his plane. She’d been a good craft and got them safely down, but she was done for. He patted her fuselage then pushed through the underbrush to the rear. A big hole in the side gave him access to their luggage. He pulled it out and dragged it to where Debra watched. “Anything in this you can’t live without? I’d like to travel light and fast as possible. We need to get under cover.” She shook her head. He looked around, noted the landmarks, and stowed the bags in the underbrush.

  He turned and studied her clothes. She’d dressed right for hiking, though she hadn’t known it. Trim jeans and a red tee shirt with a red sweater layered over the top. Comfortable shoes. Red was her color, though it would be easy to spot from the air.

  He drew her away from the plane, wondering how long he’d been in love with her and just not realized it. As if to mark the moment, the plane behind them exploded.

  FOUR

  While Luke waited for his brothers, he glared at the map as if it could give up his mom’s location if it really wanted to. He told himself that Donovan was a good pilot, a survivor. He cursed himself for not stopping her going with him. He—

  Wait a minute. He leaned in closer, actually seeing the map, not just glaring at it. The indicated flight path and possible location of where the plane went down, wasn’t that far from the cabin. Donovan would know it, too. If someone had shot them down, he’d be looking for cover, going to ground.

  His contact in flight control cleared his throat. Luke realized he didn’t know the man’s name.

  “Forest Service is reporting a smoke column, Detective.” He stepped up to the map. “About here, I think. Search and rescue is going in.”

  “I want to get there, too.” Luke’s voice was hard and tight. “How do I make that happen?”

  The man’s eyes were kind. “I’ll make some calls.”

  “Thanks.” Luke studied the map again.

  “Luke?”

  He turned and faced his brothers. The ranks closed then, typically, Matt pulled back. “What’s going on?”

  * * * *

  Donovan decided it was safe to stay on the dirt road for the time being, but he kept a weather eye out and his ears tuned to any sounds from the sky or the road ahead of them. Unfortunately, that meant they couldn’t trust any help that would inevitably come.

  He looked at Debra, picking her way down the steeply rutted incline of the dirt track. She had to be tired, sore, and they were short on water and food. She’d stuck some breakfast bars and water in her purse, but it wouldn’t last long. Periodically, she looked up, scanning the horizon ahead, but not a word of complaint escaped her. The track cut through the trees in a zig-zag that switched back and forth to minimize that incline, but it was still brutal. His legs strained with the digging into the ground that prevented sliding.

  Good thing it wasn’t too hot, but the cool, evergreen scented air could only do so much. Their exertions inevitably heated them up. Worry didn’t help. The protection of nightfall was distant this time of year. He hated feeling so exposed. It went against his instincts, but going off road would be even harder on Debra.

  She stopped. “Should we be on the road like this? I mean, I know you’re the expert and all—” She stiffened. “You’re doing it for me, aren’t you?” She put her hands on her hips, her expression severe and cute. “I’m not that old, you know.”

  He couldn’t help himself. He grinned down at her, aware his eyes were saying things to her they shouldn’t. He hadn’t the right. “I don’t think you’re old.”

  Color ran up her face, but she didn’t look away. “Well, I am.”

  His grin deepened. “You may have noticed I’m not exactly young either.”

  She gave this cute little grimace, as if to say sort of, then gave him a sassy smile. “I might not have noticed, of course, but those girls you date. The contrast, it isn’t pretty.”

  “They served their purpose,” he said, holding her gaze with his. “I didn’t want your sons to notice who I was really interested in.”

  Her eyes widened, but she didn’t look away. Neither of them really had time to be coy.

  “Or you,” he added. “The last time I…” he hesitated, not because he wasn’t sure, he just needed the right words. “The last time I fell in love, it didn’t go so well.”

  Her eyes widened more, but he noticed that they softened, too. Mischief curved her mouth. “I’m not married. Or able to get pregnant. I think you’ll be all right.”

  Something inside him eased. He didn’t know how tight he’d been holding himself in until this moment. He smiled as his fingers found and followed the tender curve of her jaw.

  “But you do have those sons…” He gave a mock shudder.

  “Yeah, well, I can’t help you there,” she said, smiling like she
had at the barbeque last week. If her sons hadn’t all been there, he’d have grabbed her then.

  But they were alone now. He slid his hand to the back of her neck and started to pull her toward him. She didn’t fight him. She didn’t look away. There was curiosity in her blue eyes. The laugh lines around those eyes were creased with humor and something more. He hoped it was love. He’d been such a jerk, she should kick his ass…

  At first he thought the sound was his own heart thumping, but it wasn’t. Just before the long desired contact with her mouth, he looked up. The intrusive noise was coming in from the south. No way to tell if it was friend or foe. He looked at Debra, letting the regret show in his eyes. “Chopper coming. We should get off the road.”

  Instead of moving, she looked at him with a look that made him uneasy.

  “If I weren’t with you, what would you do?” Her hands settled on her hips and for the first time he believed she could take on her sons and win.

  He looked away. “We should get off the road.”

  “You wouldn’t try to run and hide if it weren’t for me.” She hesitated. “They shot us down. They ruined your plane!”

  He felt her willing him to look at her. “Yes, but—”

  “We can take these guys, Donovan. You’ve got a gun.”

  “They’ll expect that.”

  “They won’t expect me to have a gun.”

  He opened his mouth, closed it, considered her words. It did go against the grain to cut and run.

  “I know how to use a gun. My husband made sure of that.” She paused. “You know you want to.”

  He smiled reluctantly. “Yeah, I do, but…”

  “No buts, how do we do this?”

  He looked around. “Not here. We need to hold the high ground.”

  “Right.” She rubbed her dirty face. “Then we go up.”

  “We go up.” He met her gaze. “And we have to do it off road.”

  Debra grimaced, but her look was determined. Dang, she was cute as she started toward the trees. Donovan shook his head and followed her. As they passed under cover of the trees, he pulled out his piece and checked his clip. It was full and he’d dug a spare out of his suitcase, but a couple of clips might not be enough. They’d need to be clever. And lucky.