Nicked

by Michael Arches

  She realized this was just the start of a long list of sacrifices she’d have to make for Leo. In fact, the list would probably never end, not until they lowered her into a grave.

  Roger dropped by. Athena’s first question was, “How’s Hagrid?”

  “Not at all happy to be separated from you, but he hasn’t ripped my throat out yet. I found a motel that accepts dogs. It’s also close to a pasture where we both can run in the morning. He’s got great stamina for such a big motherfucker.”

  They talked about dogs for a while until Roger asked, “How’re your folks doing?”

  “Calming down—at least until I told them I wanted to continue with the trial. It’s the only chance I have to get the price off my head. After I give my testimony, the cartel won’t have any incentive to shut me up anymore.”

  “That’s a logical way of looking at it,” Roger said, “but Dominique’s father is the most bloodthirsty bastard I’ve ever had to deal with, plus he has a crazy streak. After you testify, he’ll probably want revenge.”

  That thought hadn’t occurred to her. “Still, I want Dominique to pay for what she did to me.”

  “Sure. Has anybody talked to you about changing the trial date? DOJ has already picked a new lead prosecutor, Elijah Montgomery from LA. He’s convicted dozens of gang lords, including several senior Santiago people last year.”

  “I like him already,” Athena said. “It’s a simple case, and I want to get this over with as soon as possible. Why can’t we stick with our current trial date?”

  “Whatever you want. Convicting that bitch just became the department’s highest priority. Elijah can be here tomorrow. But DOJ will only send him if your doctor says you’re fit to testify.”

  She pushed the nurse call button and asked for her lead doctor, the head of the ER department.

  A few minutes later, he entered Athena’s room. Roger explained the government’s plans.

  The gray-haired MD rubbed his temples and stayed silent. Turned to stare out the window. Another windy day in Cheyenne.

  Finally, he turned back to Athena. “Listen, that wouldn’t be my recommendation. You’re coming along so nicely. Why push it?”

  She and Roger explained how they wanted to minimize the chance the cartel would regroup and strike again.

  The doctor shrugged. “Who knows what the future holds? Physically, you should be able to handle the stress of a courtroom proceeding in two days but not before. I still recommend a longer convalescence.”

  “Two days, it is,” Roger said. “I’ll clear it with Elijah. He can rely on Trish’s prep work, and Norma will help get him up to speed. Judge Trujillo is willing to work around whatever schedule you want.”

  “Perfect,” Athena said. “I can’t wait to testify against that Nicaraguan bitch.”

  Chapter 12

  Maude’s farm

  By the time Maude returned from town, Skye’s back was killing her again. The old hag grinned as she took Skye straight to the barn. This time, the pickup was parked inside, next to the tractor.

  “Get busy cleaning the canopy.” Maude pointed at a hose nearby. “A bucket, soap, and a sponge are in the shop. While the cover is drying, you can work on the tractor.”

  Skye nodded. “I’ll need a ladder, and I can’t climb with these shackles.”

  Maude motioned for Skye to follow and walked back into the gloomy barn. She opened the door and pointed. “Grab the ladder. The shackles stay on.”

  Skye had a hell of a time moving the cleaning supplies up the ladder while wearing shackles, but she managed. Anything beat bending over in the greenhouse again.

  Maude watched Skye for a while, but when the woman’s cellphone rang, she stepped away. A few minutes later, she returned, but then left again. Skye tried to look diligent, hoping that would convince Maude to relax her guard.

  After Skye finished cleaning the truck’s canopy, she returned to fixing the tractor. That gave her a great excuse to return to the shop, where she found a mostly empty package of box cutter blades. Two remained unused. She used the masking tape Maude just bought to wrap around one end of a blade. That created a makeshift handle a couple of inches long. Then, she hid it her makeshift knife in her shoe. Her heart went pitter-patter in her chest. She was carrying a potentially lethal weapon.

  Maude returned as Skye was replacing the tractor’s three spark plugs. The old woman asked questions as she watched. Skye gave her a simple explanation of how the spark plugs made the pistons move up and down in the engine’s cylinders.

  When all the plug wires were reconnected, Skye turned the ignition switch. The old machine roared to life. But it sputtered instead of running smoothly.

  Maude stood next to her and groaned. “What’s wrong now?”

  “I think the timing needs to be adjusted. As the moving parts inside the distributor wear, the plugs stop firing at the exact right instant. I noticed a timing light in the shop. I can use it to correct for the engine wear. With any luck, you won’t need more parts.”

  Skye expected her to be happy at the news, but she frowned. “Nothing is easy for me anymore. Well, get a move on.”

  Skye grabbed the tools she needed and closed the large barn doors so she’d be able to see the timing light as it flashed.

  After a few minutes of adjusting the timing, the tractor settled into a happy purr.

  Maude beamed. “Terrific. You just earned yourself a pork chop for dinner. What else on the tractor needs fixing?”

  Skye beamed back, but not due to the compliment or the chop. Maude was beginning to trust her, and that might increase the chance for Skye and Dawn to escape. “The left rear tire is low on air, but you have an air compressor and a pressure gauge. That fix will only take a few minutes. By then, the canopy should be dry enough to apply the primer coat.”

  -o-o-o-

  Stop-and-Go, Hudson, Colorado

  Beau continued to check each member of the select group of Silverado owners who fit the right criteria. The main problem was finding the pickup with a mottled red shell. He was striking out.

  Beau was pumping gas in a small town along I 76 when someone from the Washington County Sheriff’s Office called.

  “Agent Boudreau? Deputy Walt Barry here. I understand you’re the head of the FBI’s task force investigating the kidnapped young women. Did I hear that right?”

  He had, except for the fact that the FBI’s role had diminished. “Actually, it’s a joint FBI and CBI task force, in conjunction with several local police departments. How can I help you?”

  “I might be able to help you. I’ve been reading those bulletins you’ve been distributing. Terrible situation.”

  Like a lot of small-town cops, Deputy Barry was taking his sweet time about getting to the point. Through long experience, Beau had learned to be patient. “It’s a helluva thing.” The deputy paused as though to reflect on the profoundness of Beau’s comment. “Surely is, and it so happens one of our citizens just discovered a dead body on his property. I believe it’s one of your victims, specifically Isabella Costa. A very pretty young woman, or at least she was based on her driver’s license. We identified her through a single fingerprint.”

  “How’d she get into the system?” Beau asked, before answering his own question. “Oh yeah, she did a stint in the Coast Guard.”

  “Praise the Lord.”

  Beau was already regretting having to notify her next of kin. “Where are her remains?”

  “At the morgue, in Akron. It’s our county seat.”

  Beau had never heard of it. He checked his map app on his phone. Akron was another one of those tiny towns on the Eastern Plains. “Perfect. Where was the woman discovered?”

  “A farm near Last Chance. It’s not really a town, just a small unincorporated community about forty-five minutes due east of Denver.”

  “Can I meet you at the morgue? I’m in Hudson, so I should be able to get to Akron in a half-hour. And I’ll
want to see where she was found.”

  “You betcha. Let me give you directions to the morgue.”

  -o-o-o-

  Maude’s farm

  When Skye finished painting the canopy, she tried to come up with another project, anything to avoid the greenhouse again. But Maude forced her back to her old job filling six-pack cells and watering seedlings with manure tea.

  Kane remained in the recliner, but he talked on the phone instead of watching videos. Maude left.

  The noisy fan continued to roar. Dawn whispered, “Be real careful around the bastard. He’s in a foul mood and half-stoned. On the phone a lot today. Never did that before.”

  Skye was more than happy to stay out of his way. She returned to her work.

  Soon, they ran out of room for more trays in the greenhouse. So, Dawn showed her how to plant seeds at different depths, depending on the type of plant.

  In no time, Skye’s fingers were stained brown, just like Dawn’s.

  -o-o-o-

  Our Lady of Salvation Hospital, Cheyenne

  Athena finally caught up on reading her messages, encrypted, and those from well-wishers worried about her safety. And having barely survived the attack, she had to agree—they had every right to be concerned. And there was no reason to think the cartel would stop coming after her.

  But Tony, the retired Denver detective, only knew her as Carol Winter. He had no idea she’d been wounded or faced any ongoing risk. His messages described his lack of progress on his search for the kidnapped victims. Athena compensated him for his expenses and his time and asked him to keep trying.

  Maybe it was wrong to assume Dawn, Isabella, and Skye had been kidnapped for the sex trade. But the only common element Athena could see was that they were all remarkably beautiful. Was some horny, rich guy capturing eye candy to clean his mansion? That didn’t make sense.

  In an encrypted email, she told Tony to focus his searches at whorehouses to those north of Denver.

  When Roger returned to her hospital room, she said, “I assume you’ve come up with a great idea for keeping me and everybody else alive through this trial.”

  “It’s my top priority, particularly since I’m one of the people around you. Step one is stay away from your boyfriend. I have two people looking into him, but I don’t expect their investigation to be complete until after the trial. I do know that, back in New Orleans, he had a reputation for being a wild Cajun.”

  Beau had told her about his time in the Big Easy, but she couldn’t be sure he’d told her the whole story. Roger would find out. “His version is that his boss’s daughter hid the fact she was married. When she came onto Beau in a bar, he didn’t fight her off. Later, when he found out about the hubby, she claimed she was unhappily married and soon would be divorced.”

  Roger shrugged. “We’ll see. One of the marshals in New Orleans is asking questions as we speak. By the way, I did talk to Yang about his failure to inform me that they’d discovered your true identity. He swears only he and Boudreau knew. Like you, the man simply loves the Cajun. I’m reserving judgment.”

  While she was mildly interested in Beau’s past, that wasn’t keeping her awake at night. “Let’s get back to staying alive on the mean streets of Cheyenne. Just how do you plan to keep everybody safe for the next week or so?”

  “I’ve contacted several of the older hotels near the courthouse. We’re looking to rent one, the entire building. That’ll give us room for the prosecution team, witnesses, Judge Trujillo, and our security staff. We’ll sequester the jury in a different place to avoid any risk of contaminating the jury. And, the whole area will be swarming with federal, state, and local cops.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Athena said, “but what do I know about being a marshal? I’m counting on you.”

  “It’s the best solution we can come up with in the short term, and like you, I think it’s better for us to get this trial over with quickly.”

  Athena’s parents showed up again, and Roger took off. Her folks’ faces weren’t quite as pale as before, and Mom’s hands had stopped shaking. After Athena assured them that she was feeling much better, she mentioned that she hadn’t heard any recent updates about Mingus.

  Mom gave her a broken smile. “That’s the only good news I’ve heard lately. He’s improving rapidly, enough so that Erin might get some sleep tonight. My prayers go out to her. What a catastrophe, with her husband so badly hurt and her daughter stolen.”

  Dad leaned forward. “Have you heard anything about Skye through your connections? It doesn’t seem like the cops are doing much to find her.”

  “They are, I promise both of you. Beau is working his ass off, and so are a team of people from the Colorado Bureau of investigation. And I’m helping as much as I can while still dealing with all this trial shit here. We’ve narrowed down the area where Skye has probably been hidden, and they’re working hard to find that truck. I just pray that she can hang tough until we figure out where the hell they’ve taken her.”

  -o-o-o-

  Washington County Coroner’s Office, Akron, Colorado

  The town of seventeen hundred people was the largest in Washington County, and it looked like a vestige of its former self. The coroner’s office happened to be in a funeral home. Beau met Deputy Walt Barry there. He was a tall and gangly man, but young. He probably couldn’t legally buy a beer. The coroner, on the other hand, was short, completely bald, and had a framed picture of him as a young man beside General George Patton. Both were dressed in uniforms in front of an old European cathedral, so the picture had to have been taken during World War II.

  Beau understood small-town life. He’d grown up in a tiny parish in the Louisiana bayou. Its public officials were just as interesting and varied.

  After spending a few minutes getting to know them, Beau asked, “What can you tell me about Isabella Costa?”

  The coroner motioned Beau and Walt into a small room. The corpse was lying on an embalming table. She was little more than a skeleton stretched out on her back.

  The smell of decay was intense. Poor Isabella had lost most of her skin and soft tissues. Even most of her clothing was missing. Her boots had been chewed on, but they protected her feet.

  “She was probably killed a few days ago,” the coroner said, “in the prime of her life. Unfortunately, because predators managed to reduce her mostly to bones, I can’t comment on cause of death.”

  Beau turned to Walt. “Do you know whether she was killed where you found her?”

  “Could be, some blood had soaked into the soil at the site. She was found in a culvert underneath a private road at a farm near Last Chance. Because of the drought, the owner had decided to let the fields go fallow this year. The farmhouse on the property is vacant, but the farmer said he drives out to the house every week or so to keep an eye on the place. This morning, he spotted a pack of coyotes dashing in and out of the culvert. He thought they’d moved in, so he grabbed a shotgun.”

  Beau couldn’t help but say, “The universal solution to every country boy’s troubles is to grab the shotgun.”

  Both men nodded as though that was holy writ.

  “Anyway,” Walt said, “the coyotes took off before he could shoot any, but even from a good distance away, he smelled something dead. Inched closer and spotted the body. He swears he didn’t disturb the crime scene, and I confirmed from his footprints he didn’t get any closer than twenty feet away from the body. I also checked for any evidence in the area, including bullets. Used a metal detector but didn’t find anything.”

  Oddly enough, her long thin fingers had remained mostly intact. Even stranger, the fingertips on her right hand had been stained by something dark, like used motor oil. Beau pointed. “What do you make of that?”

  The coroner leaned in. “Both hands are heavily calloused, which suggests she worked with them quite a bit. There is the distinct scent of cow manure on the right one, in addition to the normal odors fr
om decomposition. I’ve scraped some material from under her fingernails, and it appears to be soil or compost. She might’ve worked at a farm or in a nursery.”

  Beau didn’t learn anything more from the body or the coroner. After accepting the scrapings from Isabella’s nails, Beau asked Walt, “Would you mind taking me out to the dump site? If we hurry, I hope we can get there before dark.”

  His face was pale and drawn. “Happy to do it. Anything you need to find Isabella’s killer. She’s my first murder victim.”

  Chapter 13

  Our Lady of Salvation Hospital

  Athena rested in her hospital room alone. Her parents had left for Cody, but not before asking her once more to refuse to testify against Dominique Santiago. Athena had to disappoint them. She’d been on the opposite side of that argument too many times back when she was a prosecutor. She’d often begged witnesses to testify against extremely dangerous criminals so she could put them away and protect everybody. No, Dominique was going to pay for attempting to kill a witness to a felony.

  After dinner, Roger returned.

  “The security arrangements came together smoothly. We rented the Cow Palace, a small, old hotel only a few blocks from the courthouse. The owners had closed it last year for a complete remodel. Lucky for us, most of that work has been finished because they hope to reopen for Cheyenne’s Frontier Days.”

  That was one of the most famous rodeos in the West. “I’m sure they wouldn’t want to miss this town’s biggest tourist draw for the year.”

  “Yep, anyway we’d like to move you there right away, before the cartel figures out where you are and launches another attack.”

  “If my doctor agrees, I’m ready to go.”

  Her doctor came and listened to Roger’s pitch. Then he said, “Call me old-fashioned, but Athena seems to be recovering quite well here. Why press your luck by moving her?”

  Athena sighed. “I thank you for looking out for me, but remember, I am a danger to the hospital’s staff and the other patients. Too many people have already been killed as collateral damage.”