Nicked

by Michael Arches

  When she came back down, she whispered, “Maude is watching TV and swearing at someone, probably Kane. But I can’t hear him responding. Maybe she’s talking to him on the phone.”

  Skye and Dawn tried to figure out what that meant without much success.

  Eventually, Maude stopped yelling and turned off the TV. The front door slammed closed. Silence reigned above.

  Skye began to saw the first bar again, and Dawn sat at the top of the stairs, her ears tuned for noise inside the house.

  -o-o-o-

  FBI Denver Field Office

  Athena didn’t get back to Beau, despite him waiting for hours. His worry grew steadily. Everyone knew the Santiago cartel was after her, but the head US Marshal in Denver and Yang had assured him they’d take excellent care of their prize witness.

  When Beau got fed up with complete silence, he sent an email to Bill Powell, the FBI witness he knew was working on the Santiago case. No response from him either.

  An hour later, Yang called. “Listen, I need you to—”

  Beau interrupted him. “First, I’m worried about the people up near Cheyenne—”

  “That’s why I’m calling. Major clusterfuck. The cartel hit the safe house with at least eleven battle-trained soldiers. Three of our guys are dead, in—”

  A cold fist squeezed Beau’s heart. “Oh no! What about Athena?”

  “At last word, still with us. Shot in the arm. Lost a lot of blood, but one of the people with her was a former EMT. Probably saved her life. She’s in critical but stable condition after emergency surgery.”

  Relief flooded through Beau, but he felt guilty while knowing three had died. “Who did we lose?”

  “Bill, in our shop, along with a marshal and the lead prosecutor for the case. We’ve got to drop almost everything and figure out who betrayed the safe house’s location. You keep working on Dunbar, but I need the rest of your team immediately.”

  Beau would’ve preferred to be sent up to Cheyenne where he might have a chance to see Athena, but he couldn’t ask. His relationship with Athena was a secret. “Good luck with finding the traitor.”

  After hanging up, Beau took over visiting each Silverado owner in northeastern Colorado who met specific criteria. They were looking for large men with dark hair who owned a white, second-generation Silverado. They could get that from state records, but they’d have to visit each suspect to determine whether his truck had a red canopy. Laura and Taylor had already eliminated thirty potential suspects, but he was left with sixty-seven others. Too many for him to check alone, so he contacted Lenny Alvarez at CBI and explained his sudden manpower shortage.

  “Jesus Christ,” Lenny said. “Somebody inside DOJ revealed the location for a safe house? That’s unbelievable.”

  “We’re still coming to grips with the implications. The cartel seems to have corrupted at least one Fed. I know most of the people in Denver, and I just can’t believe it. But I know the marshals were particularly careful in setting up this safe house. Someone in the cartel had to have information from inside DOJ.”

  Lenny sighed. “Can’t argue with your logic, but damn. Sure hope you’re wrong. If not, there’s no telling what other information our mole might’ve provided to the cartel. As for our case, I can provide you with two full-time staffers to help with the search for the truck.”

  “Merci beaucoup, mon ami.”

  -o-o-o-

  Our Lady of Salvation Hospital, Cheyenne, Wyoming

  Athena woke up in a dimly lit room. She was incredibly thirsty. Her arm burned, but when she tried to move it, it was immobilized inside some kind of splint. A plastic tube was sticking out of it. She had to be in the hospital. Where’s the nurse call button?

  With her free hand, she felt around for it.

  “How you doing there?” Roger asked. He was sitting in a chair a few feet away.

  “Okay, glad to be alive.” Her throat was sore. “Really need a drink.”

  “Thought you might. I got shot above my left hip once in Iraq. I know how much fun you’re having.” He handed her a cup with a bent straw sticking out of the ice.

  The liquid tasted like watered-down lemonade. Heavenly.

  “The nurse says you must sip slowly, only every few minutes. If you’re wondering, they say you came through the surgery well. They patched you up, but it’ll take months of rehab before you can use your left arm much.”

  Her left arm hadn’t been that useful to begin with because it was controlled by the right side of her brain, the damaged side. “Who knows about our giant fuckup?”

  He gave her a mirthless laugh. “Within DOJ, everybody, and they’re rightfully going berserk. What we really need to figure out right away is who betrayed us. I thought about it a lot. Has to be someone within the department. A marshal, FBI, or US Attorney’s Office staffer. I suspect everyone but you and me, and the team DOJ sends to investigate this will check everybody, even you.”

  “Sure, but I mean, does the outside world know? Like, for example, my parents?”

  “It’s all over the news, but I called them as soon as I reached the hospital. Actually, they’ve been here with me for hours now.” He pointed at two empty chairs next to him. “A few minutes ago, I talked them into finding something to eat downstairs in the cafeteria. Your main doctor calmed them down considerably, but they’re still naturally freaked out.”

  Athena warmed inside at the thought of seeing them soon. “Probably best that they’re not around to hear this conversation. What about Special Agent Boudreau? I haven’t told you, but he and I have had a thing going for months.”

  Roger’s forehead furrowed. “Does he know who you really are?”

  “I didn’t tell him, but he and his boss, Stephen Yang, figured it out during the Langer case. They happened to run a blood sample they’d collected at the La Plata County compound and got a hit on me.”

  Roger rubbed his face. “Boudreau could be the problem. Did he know you were coming up here?”

  “Sure, but he didn’t know where, and I doubt he followed us. Plus, if he’d wanted to get rid of me, he’s had countless chances over the last five months. Could’ve done it without anyone being the wiser. No, your leak is somewhere else. Who picked the safe house?”

  “I’m doing a deep anal probe on Boudreau anyway.”

  Athena shrugged, and pain shot up her left arm. “Dammit!”

  Roger sighed. “Given your condition, I’m not going to beat you up for keeping secrets, but I am going to ream out those asshole Feebs for not telling me they’d blown your cover.”

  Athena would let him deal with that. She had plenty of worries of her own. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Who picked the house? I did.”

  She trusted Roger just as much as she trusted Beau. “You being one of the big bosses and all, you must’ve delegated some of the work. Who developed a series of alternatives for you to choose from?”

  He shook his head. “No chance. Harriet has been with the office since before Noah’s flood. She raises disabled foster kids in her spare time. Her husband’s a Methodist minister.”

  Athena understood how he felt. “Listen, some rat bastard betrayed us, and when we find him, we’re all going to be shocked. I’m not safe now, and that’s the bottom line.”

  “I agree. Probably a dozen people locally knew where you’d be today. Hell, six of the dozen were there with us. Plus, because of the visibility of the case, I had to tell my boss in Denver and his boss in DC where we’d be. God only knows who they informed. The same probably goes for Bill and Daniel at the FBI. Then there’s Trish and Norma in the US Attorney’s Office. Their management has been following the case closely because the Santiago cartel is a national scourge. A lot of people are going to be deep-probed up the ass. But in the meantime, I know how to make you safe. We’ll surround your new place with a small army.”

  It was the difference between hiding in plain sight and Fort Knox. �
��Those guys were armed to the teeth, so our guys better be, too.”

  Chapter 11

  Maude’s farm

  As much as Maude preferred to get drunk and destroy things, particularly Kane’s shit, she had to worry about the fucking FBI. They’d published a hazy photo of her truck and a piss-poor colored drawing of her all over the local news. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she needed to get rid of Heather Lloyd’s body. It was still lying on the cement path inside the greenhouse. Why was it her responsibility to take care of the shit that went wrong at the farm? Kane had caused the problem.

  Luckily, when they’d needed to get rid of Isabella’s corpse, Rufus had taken it away and dumped it. He swore he’d driven for an hour, and it hadn’t turned up yet. Maude needed to do the same.

  But then she realized she had another option. After Skye fixed the tractor, Maude could connect the backhoe attachment and dig a hole. No muss or fuss.

  But there was the downside. Heather’s body would remain at the farm. What if the cops showed up and searched with a cadaver dog? Better to get rid of it Rufus’s way.

  Maude went to check on the corpse. It was as stiff as a board. Maude was much bigger than Heather but wasn’t strong enough to carry a body far. Plus, blood was splattered everywhere. So, Maude headed to the barn and found an old canvas tarp. She slid the body onto that, rolled her up, and dragged the whole mess out of the greenhouse.

  After backing up the truck, Maude managed to lift both Heather and the tarp into the pickup’s bed. Then she drove west on US 34, the main highway just south of the river.

  Eventually, it took her past Greeley and Loveland. The highway led to Rocky Mountain National Park, but when Maude reached the foothills, she picked a dirt road at random and followed it. A few miles back in the trees, she came to a falling-down cabin. The place looked like it hadn’t been visited for years, except maybe by wild predators.

  The cabin seemed to have solid walls and a strong door. That would slow down any hungry critters on the prowl. But not her. Door was held closed by a flimsy padlock, and Maude had no trouble popping it open by smacking it with a nearby rock.

  She backed up the truck and slid the stiff—still wrapped in the tarp and beginning to stink—inside the cabin. Maude used the damaged padlock to hold the latch closed, but anybody who came by would be able to open the door. At least the wild predators wouldn’t be able to feed upon the body.

  On the way back, her mood improved considerably. She smoked a joint, and there was nothing like taking care of the nasty business to improve her mood.

  But her mind kept going back to the photograph of her truck and that disgusting drawing of her. Did she really look that old? Her hair had once been a lovely black, but it had long-since turned gray. She could fix that. On the way home, she could drop by a grocery store and pick up a couple boxes of mocha brunette hair color.

  As for the truck’s canopy, Dad had taught her how to paint. The new bitch was good with her hands, so she could do it. That would be her first priority tomorrow.

  -o-o-o-

  Skye was listening at the top of the stairs when someone returned. This time, no voices. The person made a limited amount of noise in the kitchen, but no speaking. Whoever it was closed a door, probably a bedroom door, and silence reigned again.

  Skye and Dawn could continue to work through the night but only when the heater kicked on.

  They kept at it, but it was frustratingly warm outside. Their opportunities to work came few and far between.

  -o-o-o-

  As usual, Maude rose early. But instead of rousting out the girls to make breakfast, she settled for a cup of coffee and a new look. Mocha brunette was her color. Too bad she’d waited so many years to try it.

  When she finished, she returned to town and grabbed breakfast by driving through a fast food place. Then she picked up Kane.

  He wore a big, white patch over his nose, like Jack Nicholson in Chinatown. That was going to take some getting used to. He didn’t comment on her new hair color. In fact, he didn’t talk at all. Probably a blessing.

  -o-o-o-

  Skye and Dawn made good use of the early morning hours to finish cutting through the first bar. They were working on the second when Maude and Kane both returned. Maude opened the cellar door and beckoned Skye and Dawn upstairs in a calm voice.

  Thankfully, the hag’s attitude had improved overnight, but Skye got a shock. The woman had colored her hair dark brown. Even dyed her eyebrows. She looked completely fake because of all her wrinkles.

  After the girls made breakfast for everyone, Kane took Dawn to the greenhouse. He wore a large white bandage over his nose and snapped whenever he spoke. His voice slurred like he was stoned. Skye fought a grin and hoped the son of a bitch was in agony, despite whatever pain meds he was taking.

  Maude took Skye to the barn. “Before you finish fixing the tractor, I need you to paint the pickup’s canopy white.”

  Skye tried to hide her surprise. The cops had obviously figured out what Maude’s truck looked like. Law enforcement would be looking for it and her. Hallelujah!

  The last thing she wanted to do was to make it harder for the police to find her. “I don’t know much about painting.”

  “I do,” Maude said. “It’s a several step process. First, you’ll need to clean the canopy. Otherwise, the paint won’t stick.”

  Playing dumb wasn’t going to work this time. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We have fine grade sandpaper in the shop,” Maude said. “I’ll buy several cans of primer, the paint itself, and a roll of masking tape. And while I’m in town, I’ll pick up what you need for the tractor.”

  On that subject, Skye was standing on firmer ground. “It’s hard to say what else might be broke. As soon as I replace the spark plugs, I’ll try to start the tractor again. If it doesn’t fire up, I’ll have to figure out the next problem.”

  Maude frowned but nodded.

  Skye didn’t care about her being annoyed, as long as she didn’t get shocked. “Here’s the new spark plug I found in the shop. Take it to an auto parts store or a farm supply store and get two more exactly like this one. And while you’re at it, get a liter of 10-40 motor oil. Just in case.”

  “Fine. While I’m gone, you can work with Dawn.” The old woman took Skye back to the greenhouse where Kane sat in his recliner. Fortunately, he didn’t look nearly as comfortable as he had the day before. Heather’s body was gone, and someone, probably Dawn, had scrubbed away most of the blood. A reddish-brown spot remained on the concrete.

  Dawn was planting more seeds in plastic cells. Skye returned to the backbreaking work of filling the cells with potting soil.

  Maude asked for the keys to Kane’s old coupe. The old bitch was definitely worried about driving her pickup with the red canopy. With any luck, the police will recognize her despite her new hair color, and Dawn and I will both be saved.

  -o-o-o-

  FBI Denver Field Office

  Beau called every hospital in Cheyenne to track down Athena, but no use. Nobody would admit she was there. In hindsight he realized that was probably a blessing. There was no doubt that the cartel would try again.

  DOJ’s latest fiasco was all over the news websites, both in Denver and nationally. Three experienced law enforcement officers had been killed in one attack, and their star witness had been so seriously injured that she’d been transported by helicopter to an emergency room. No official word had been released about her condition.

  Beau had left a dozen messages on her secured email system, but with the new day, he decided to leave another. It was his only chance to communicate with her.

  Again, no response. He also left a voice message for Yang, asking about Athena’s condition, but didn’t get an answer to that question, either.

  Beau’s heart wouldn’t stop pounding. Who else could he contact? He’d met two of Athena’s closest girlfriends, Jackie Humphrey, and Cici Brodie. Jackie lived in the De
nver suburbs, and Cici was Hollywood’s newest reality star. Because Cici was famous for getting whatever the hell she wanted, including phone calls with the President, Beau called her first.

  To his surprise, she answered her phone personally.

  Before she could hang up, he said, “Sorry to bother you, but this is Beau Boudreau, the FBI guy you met last fall in Utah. I’m calling about Athena. Actually, I’m worried sick about her. Have you heard anything?”

  “No, and I’m pulling my hair out,” she said. “Was about to call you. She must be in terrible shape. She always calls me back within a few hours. I’m getting on my jet and flying to Cheyenne.”

  He knew the feeling well. “I’m closer, but I’m swamped on a high-priority investigation.”

  “I told her a dozen times,” Cici said, “to leave those fucking Santiago people alone. They’ve got connections inside police departments all over. How else do you think they keep their drug business growing?”

  “I agree and suspect cops somewhere betrayed Athena. I’m worried sick, just want to make sure she’s safe.”

  His laptop beeped. “Hey, wait a second…something coming in from her secured email!”

  “Really?” Cici gasped. “Read it to me!”

  Beau caught his breath. “She says, ‘Sorry to worry you for so long. I’m okay. Got shot in the arm. I’m beginning to feel better. They kicked me out of intensive care and gave me back my phone a few minutes ago. Beau, watch out for Roger. He thinks you might be dirty. I told him he was crazy, but if you’ve tricked me, there’s no place on Earth you’ll be able to hide from me. Love, Athena.”

  Cici laughed out loud. “That’s her, all right. Can’t be too hurtin’ too bad if she’s makin’ jokes.”

  Beau agreed, and his heart rate slowed. “Okay, we can both chill out. I’ll message her back, but there’s little chance either one of us can visit with her. The Feds will be extra-careful to protect her this time.”

  -o-o-o-

  Our Lady of Salvation Hospital, Cheyenne

  Athena was remembering how to ignore pain. Her doctor only allowed her ibuprofen, because of the baby.