Nicked

by Michael Arches

  But for Curtis, this was what he did all day long without a hint of regret. The guy was the creepiest person she’d ever met.

  She felt a sudden, powerful desire to get out of there before the devil inside him revealed itself. “Thanks so much for your time, sir. We’ll call when we have someone for you. We plan to go hunting soon.”

  “Excellent. We’re like a casino, open twenty-four/seven. Make your deliveries around back, at the door marked Maintenance.”

  He walked with her back to the entrance. As they passed the bar, the bartender slinked over in a pink negligée that hid absolutely nothing. Her stiletto heels were four inches high, and she held a clipboard in one hand.

  “Diesel, sign for the tequila. I already put away the bottles.”

  He stopped long enough to sign then led Maude to the vestibule. As she waved goodbye, she was already regretting having to deal with him again. Unfortunately, she couldn’t trust Kane to split whatever money Curtis paid for a girl.

  Dealing with these pigs is going to be a bitch.

  Chapter 16

  US 34, east of Greeley

  Beau drove east from the only city he’d seen since leaving the metro area. The radio was predicting snow soon, with six inches on the plains and more at higher elevations. Fortunately, Beau had spent one seemingly endless winter in North Dakota. That experience had taught him how to drive on snow and ice. Good thing because the first few snowflakes swirled in the air.

  Eventually, he reached the next organic farm on his list. It was owned by Gerald Gacy. Athena had also sent Beau the man’s driver’s license. He was six-foot-four, and he weighed two hundred and sixty-five pounds. A big mofo.

  Beau patted his hip. The Glock was still there. He relaxed and stopped along a dirt road that passed in front of the farm. The buildings were set back several hundred yards.

  Beau used his binocs to survey the property. No white pickups or lovely young women working the fields.

  Before driving up to the house, he double-checked his information. Beau’s supposed reason for visiting was to find a pickup with missing plates. So far, every person he’d lied to about that had been happy to show him that their truck’s license plates remained right where they belonged.

  In front of him, a white Silverado came around a turn in the road and slowed. It had a white canopy on the back. Rather than turn in, the middle-aged female driver drove past the driveway and stopped next to Beau. His vehicle had FBI decals on the doors and US Government license plates.

  The woman frowned and lowered her window. Snow swirled around her face. “What’s going on?”

  She was a huge lady, with flabby jowls and shoulder-length dark brown hair. Her tanned face was heavily wrinkled. She’d likely spent too much time outdoors in Colorado’s brutal sun.

  Her frown told him she wasn’t interested in any friendly advice about the importance of taking care of her skin. And her truck didn’t have a mottled red shell. This seemed like another dead end, but Beau was puzzled by a couple of things.

  “Hello, ma’am, I’m Special Agent Boudreau with the FBI. We’re investigating a stolen car ring. A witness reported your truck’s license plates on a two-year-old red Corvette. You have any idea how that could have happened?”

  The woman shook her head slowly. “Don’t know anything about stolen cars or Corvettes. We mind our own business in these parts.”

  The truck was registered to Gerald Gacy, so why was she driving it? “Does that vehicle belong to you?”

  “Yep, and it’s paid for. If that’s all, I’m kinda busy.”

  “Well, according to my records, the truck is owned by a Mr. Gerald Gacy. You obviously ain’t him.”

  “It used to be, but he died a year back. I’m his daughter. It’s mine now.”

  “I see,” but Beau really didn’t. “That death was quite a while ago, but the DMV thinks he’s still alive.”

  She hesitated. “I’m Maude Gacy, and in his will, he gave everything here to me.”

  “Actually, you’re going to want to talk to a lawyer. According to county records, everything here still belongs to your father. You mind if I come in and take a look around?”

  “I got no time for FBI bullshit.” Her hands shook, but lots of people acted nervous around Beau when they first met him.

  The bottom line remained that the truck didn’t have the mottled red canopy, and he didn’t have any grounds to obtain a search warrant. He got out of his vehicle and handed her a card. “If you see anyone suspicious hanging around or that red Corvette, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

  “Don’t think that’s likely.” But she accepted the card, backed up, and drove into the driveway. Beau waited while more snow fell until she disappeared into the house’s front door. Then, he drove back to US 34 and headed east to the next organic farm on his list.

  -o-o-o-

  Maude locked the front door and suppressed a scream. She peeked out the front parlor window until that FBI bastard took off. Took several deep breaths to steady herself.

  How had they found her so quickly? He’d pretended to be after stolen cars, but she wasn’t fooled. She, Kane, and the girls had to get the hell out—before the son of a bitch came back with a SWAT team.

  She heard the TV playing in the living room. Thankfully, Kane had brought the girls in from the fields. If the fucking Fed had seen them, she already would’ve been arrested.

  Kane sat in the old living room with Skye and Dawn, watching a house remodeling show with a couple perky blondes on it. He started to explain why they weren’t working, but Maude held up her hand to cut him off.

  “You two,” she pointed at the girls, “get your asses downstairs. Now.”

  When they stood, she pushed them toward the basement door. Because of their shackles, they almost fell over. Maude took them off but not the collars. They headed downstairs meek as mice, and she locked the door behind them.

  Kane had followed them through the house. “What’s going on?”

  Maude walked into the kitchen, motioned him to follow, and told him about meeting Special Agent Boudreau.

  Kane’s face turned white. “Shit!”

  “As best I can tell, they’re searching for the truck and canopy, but I don’t expect painting the cover will help us for long. We gotta get out of here.”

  Kane chewed his lip. “Listen, I know somebody in Longmont who owns a cabin near Winter Park. It’s real nice and secluded. He uses it during the ski season, but that’s almost over. Yesterday guy just sent around an email asking if anyone wants to rent his place for the summer. I could call him.”

  She didn’t have any better ideas and hadn’t stayed in touch with hardly anyone except a few customers who bought her organic food. “How far is the cabin from here?”

  “A couple of hours. On the plus side, the windows are already covered with metal bars to keep the bears out.”

  “How much does he want?”

  “Three grand a month and a security deposit.”

  The cost seemed ridiculously high, but they didn’t have any alternatives. “That’ll do. We can sell Dawn first to get enough money to stay hidden for a while. Once we leave here and have new identities, the fact that she knows who we are won’t matter anymore.”

  Kane beamed at her. Probably had the wrong idea.

  “I’ll deal with Curtis,” Maude said. “Because you didn’t take any risks in grabbing Dawn, I’ll only pay you a ten percent commission for finding a buyer.”

  That wiped the greedy grin off his face. “Thirty percent. You had no clue who would buy her until I spoke up. Actually, I came up with this whole damned scheme.”

  What a selfish prick! I ought to shoot him right on the spot. Why do I need him anymore now that I’m going to abandon the farm?

  But in that same instant, she answered her own question. He also had found them a new hiding place, and he knew where to get fake IDs. “Fifteen percent. That’s my best offer. I can
manage fine on my own once I leave this farm.”

  He snorted. “You won’t last a day without me. The FBI’s already hot on your ass. Twenty-five percent, or I walk, right now. And don’t make a move for your pistol.”

  He was too close for her to reach her gun before he could grab her. She tamped down her anger. Getting away safely was worth $7,500. And if she was patient, she could shoot him later and steal her money back. “Deal.”

  -o-o-o-

  Cow Palace Public House

  Athena was writing an email to Beau commiserating about his lack of progress when someone knocked on her door. She wasn’t expecting anyone, but with the trial getting started, there was always a chance one of the prosecutors might need to discuss a last-minute issue with her.

  Again, she grabbed her Glock and hobbled to the door to check the peephole. She didn’t recognize the middle-aged man in a suit, but he held up an FBI photo ID to where she could clearly see his name and photo. Special Agent Stanley Tabor.

  “Athena Kazan?” he yelled through the door. “I’m Stan Tabor, an FBI Special Agent. Elijah asked me to run a few things by you. Won’t take ten minutes.”

  She started to unchain the door then stopped. Roger had hammered her on security procedures. “Sorry, but Marshal Conway told me not to open the door for anyone but him or one of his marshals.”

  Tabor shook his head. “Just talked to him over at the courthouse, not ten minutes ago. He told me he and everybody else on his team was tied up with security for the new jurors.”

  Yeah, no, that’s bullshit. Although Tabor’s story was plausible, she knew Roger too well to believe he’d change his own rules without informing her. “Really? Let me call him.”

  Tabor was bouncing back and forth on his feet like he was in a huge hurry. “You can’t. He’s in court. No cellphones.”

  Again, the FBI guy’s story was plausible, but she tried anyway. Got Roger’s voicemail, and said, “Special Agent Tabor is here at my door. Wants to ask me a few questions, but you said not to open the door. Something about Elijah asking blah blah blah. Tabor says you know the rest. Call me back.”

  She yelled through the door, “You’re right, I can’t reach him. Sorry, you’ll have to find another marshal to come back with you.”

  Tabor blew out a deep breath. “Okay, but it could be a while. Everybody’s really busy making sure everybody at court is safe.”

  That was the first clearly wrong note. Roger would’ve left at least one or two marshals at the hotel to keep an eye on Athena. She didn’t apologize for giving Tabor a hard time. And if Roger had screwed up, he could do the apologizing instead of her.

  Athena returned to the table and her email for Beau. Unfortunately, he and the CBI agents weren’t having any luck after visiting the long list of organic farms she’d given them.

  She tried to think up a better search approach, but her phone rang. The caller ID said Roger.

  “You did good,” he said. “I told all the FBI guys they’d have to go through me or one of the other marshals. No one except—”

  “Wait,” she interrupted. “Tabor just told me he spoke to you a few minutes ago and said you told him I should let him in here.”

  Roger paused. “Whoa! Something’s wrong. I haven’t talked to him all day. Stay inside, away from the door. Keep your pistol close. Let nobody but me in. On my way.”

  He hung up before Athena could ask any questions. Her stomach churned. Had the cartel gotten to Tabor? Those fucking Nicaraguans seemed to have connections everywhere in Colorado and Wyoming.

  -o-o-o-

  Maude’s farm

  Skye sat with Dawn in the cellar whispering about what the hell was going on. They tried to eavesdrop on Maude and Kane through the air ducts, but that trick hadn’t worked this time. Plus, the furnace was running almost continuously because of the frigid weather outside.

  Dawn said the obvious. “Maude’s freaked out.”

  Skye nodded. “At least we don’t have to work the fields while it’s snowing. My coat isn’t nearly warm enough.”

  They continued chatting until Maude opened the cellar door. “Get your asses up here! And bring all your stuff wrapped in a bedsheet. You’ve got two minutes.”

  Skye and Dawn scrambled to collect as much stuff as they could. Obviously, they were leaving soon. Skye hid the broken hacksaw blade and the makeshift knife in a spare pair of boots.

  “Time’s up,” Maude yelled.

  Skye and Dawn dragged their stuff upstairs and into the hallway.

  “Drag your things to the front door for now,” Maude said. When they did, she put the shackles back on. “I’ll show you what you bitches need to box up.”

  They entered the kitchen. A dozen dusty boxes had been scattered across the floor. Maude helped them pack kitchenware, but they left a lot of things behind. When each box was full, they stacked it by the front door. They were definitely going somewhere soon.

  Kane filled the back of the pickup while the others gathered more of Maude’s belongings.

  -o-o-o-

  CO 52, near Fort Morgan, Colorado

  Beau reached the last organic farm on his list. It had a white Silverado for sure, parked out by the mailbox. Unfortunately, its front end looked like it’d hit a telephone pole at high speed. Part of the engine was sticking up through the rear of the hood. Someone must’ve towed it back to this farm and dumped it next to the driveway. Based on all the rust visible, and the amount of dirt that had settled on it, the truck had to have been parked there all winter.

  “Merde!” he said to nobody. The organic farm angle had seemed like such a great lead but no hits. Even worse, the two CBI agents were reporting a similar lack of success, but one hadn’t completed his list yet. If that didn’t pan out, they had to go back to square one.

  Beau drove back toward Denver, and he mentally reviewed all of the potential suspects he’d met. None had looked anything like the giant, dark-haired guy Athena had seen on the CDOT video. Actually, the person who’d come closest in size to that driver was the woman he’d seen that afternoon, Maude Gacy. But something about her was familiar.

  Beau pulled to the side of the road and looked her driver’s license info up on his tablet. According to the DMV database, her hair was black, but the picture on her license showed her hair to be salt-and-pepper. And that photo had been taken eight years ago.

  It seemed fair to assume that her hair had continued to turn grayer since. So, when Mingus Dunbar had said that a woman with gray hair was sitting next to Skye when she was kidnapped, he could have been describing Gacy. Except that Beau had seen for himself earlier that her hair was dark brown. Had she dyed it to avoid being recognized?

  Unsure whether he was onto something or not, he dug out the police artist’s colored drawing. The woman’s face was wrinkled like Gacy’s, but otherwise, the drawing didn’t look much like the woman he’d seen.

  Beau returned to the road. Then, he remembered that Mingus had suffered a helluva whack to his head. Maybe his initial recall hadn’t been the best. According to Athena, it took a while for people who’d suffered traumatic head injuries to unscramble their thoughts again. It would be relatively easy to put together a photo lineup for Mingus that included Maude Gacy’s driver’s license photo and see whether he could pick her out.

  Beau called Lenny, his CBI contact, and explained his idea about the photo array. “I’d do it myself,” Beau said, “but I’m way northeast.”

  “No problem, it’s a terrific idea. I’m happy to put it together and show it to the poor guy.” Lenny laughed. “If we get a hit, I’m so stealing the credit.”

  “If it works,” Beau chuckled, “you can have the credit. And because I think we’re onto something, I’m going to head back to the Gacy farm. It’d be a damned shame if she took off before we can get a warrant.”

  “Perfect,” Lenny said. “Give me an hour or so to get back to you.”

  The snow was falling harder
, so Beau needed to be beaucoup careful heading west.

  Chapter 17

  Maude’s farm

  The old hag’s truck was almost full. Skye’s breath caught in her throat. The moment of truth had arrived. If she was lucky, she’d be ordered to climb into the back with Dawn. Otherwise, either Maude or Kade would kill Skye damned soon. Dawn was the valuable one, so she was surely safe, at least from the two monsters at the farm.

  Maude looked Skye up and down as though judging her worth. “Both of you bitches, stick your stuff into the back of the pickup. Then, climb on top. We haven’t got all day.”

  Skye didn’t need to be told twice. God only knew where they were going, but at least, she remained alive for a while.

  After Dawn and Skye were locked inside the canopy, they sat there speechless. And the vehicle remained parked. Skye couldn’t imagine what the bloody hell they were waiting for. Maude had been in such a giant hurry.

  The answer came when a lorry about twenty meters long drove into the long driveway. The canopy’s windows were clean, so the giant truck was clearly visible as soon as it turned off the county road.

  When it stopped, Maude walked over to the truck’s driver and spoke for a moment. The two of them then walked over to the greenhouse. When they returned, the gangly older man gave her something to sign, dug into his pocket, and pulled out a thick stack of bills.

  The old woman counted it and nodded. Then she jumped behind the wheel of her pickup and drove away, leaving her farm behind. Kane followed in his car. Skye doubted she would miss the place, not one bit. Everything that had happened there was awful, but a sense of dread filled her as she imagined what would come next.

  -o-o-o-

  Cow Palace Public House

  Silence filled Athena’s suite, and she took comfort from petting Hagrid. Once again, it appeared as though the cartel was after her. She’d obviously frustrated some very insane mobsters, but this was getting ridiculous. Particularly if they’d gotten to Tabor. How many people in law enforcement had been corrupted by drug money? The truth that was beginning to dawn upon her was that she might not be safe anywhere in the country.