"Will do. See you soon."
"Yeah." He disconnected and tried to corral his splintered thoughts, each one pinging off the next.
Elliott interrupted. "What is it, Graeme?"
"That was Ben. Harlan wants to show me something on the truck."
"What's he found?"
"I'm heading that way to see." He pulled the keys from his pocket. "While I'm gone, y'all keep hashing through what we know, what we don't and what we suspect. Andrew, make a call to Nelson and check in with him. Let him know you're doing better and are considering coming back to work. Pay attention to his response."
"Okay."
"Joe stay in touch with Hub, and Elliott, get Gene out here with all he's gathered."
Both men answered, "Yeah."
Graeme grabbed Gabe's attention. "How'd you like to see the metropolis of McTiernan?"
"Is it still open?"
He didn't take offense at the gibe since Gabe came from an even smaller Texas town. He grinned and said, "Yeah, they don't roll up the sidewalks until six pm."
"Sweet."
Gabe sauntered across the room and waited, his hand on the door knob. Graeme checked his watch and said, "When we get back, we'll put our heads together and formulate our plan." With a thumbs up from Andrew, he and Gabe headed in to town.
Half an hour later, they pulled to a stop next to Ben's patrol car in front of Garrity's Station. Graeme and Gabe walked through the office to the garage work area. Harlan waved them over to the bay where he had Maggie's truck raised on the hydraulic lift. He and Ben stood beneath the frame with a trouble light.
Bracing mentally, he followed the beam of light. "Okay, show me what you found."
Gabe introduced himself to Ben as Harlan shined the light on a specific area toward the front axle. "See this right here?"
"Yeah, it's the steering gear box."
"What else?"
"The box isn't attached to the frame – the bolts are missing." Graeme took the light from Harlan and looked closer.
"Curious, ain't it?" Garrity scratched the outside of his ear.
Graeme felt like he'd blinked and ended up in high school mechanics class again with Old man Garrity, as they'd called him in those days, waiting for them to deduce the problem. Or as Junebug always told them, "Just waiting for the BB to fall in the hole." He held the light at an angle to eliminate shadows. "Gabe look at this."
Hardison ran his fingers around the gear box and the frame. "Do you have the bolts?" Accepting the object Garrity took from the pocket of his bib overalls, he examined it, then tossed it to Graeme. "See those cut marks half-way through the bolt right there?"
"Yeah, the rest finally sheared off from repeated wear."
"Looks like you just went from mystery to possible attempted murder."
* * *
Graeme and Gabe made their way back to the ranch. He saw Maggie, Dinah, and Bridey talking with another woman near the pool area. From what he remembered of barbeque fundraisers of the past, they were more than likely mapping out where the various white tents would be placed. He wondered how Maggie was holding up under the pressure that had become her life in the previous year. More specifically, this past week.
Preceding Gabe up the stairs to the game/storage room above the barn, he opened the door to a blue haze of cigar smoke suspended over the table, giving the place the look of the back room at the Bigger Jigger. Instead of racked pool balls, a platter of sandwiches and bags of chips sat in the center of the table. In spite of the room's disarray, the men had made use of the time since he'd been gone. They'd fleshed out the board, filling in the additional columns.
He grabbed a ham sandwich and a bottled water, then sat down.
Webster spoke first. "What did you find out?"
"It appears someone messed with the steering mechanism on the truck."
"What?" Andrew asked. "Who'd do that and for what reas –"
"How was it done?" Gene interjected.
Graeme shoved the last bite of drying bread crust into his mouth and washed it down with a drink of water. He explained what he saw at Garrity's shop. "Whoever did this, wanted there to be an accident, while at the same time having the wreck to appear random." He took his phone from his pocket, brought up a picture and passed it around. "Take a look at this."
"This doesn't look like an accident, nor does it appear random." The investigator pointed to a specific spot on the picture as he handed the phone to Elliott. "This has been happening for a while. See how the bolt holes are worn?"
"Yeah, they're augured out right here in the middle."
"But if you have no reason to suspect or are untrained to look for signs of sabotage, you'd miss this." Gene handed the phone back to Graeme. "Does your mechanic have the bolts?"
"Here." Graeme fished the bolt out of his front jeans pocket and shoved it across the table. While Gene looked it over, Graeme asked, "What'd you find out about the accident involving Harley Jenkins?"
"The insurance company's report said it was an accident. Obviously, the car's been destroyed, but the adjuster took photos." Gene rolled the bolt between his thumb and forefinger. "The report blamed a broken coupler on the steering column between the shaft and the rack and pinion. Individually, both could be considered accidental, but together . . ."
"Not an accident." Andrew spoke for the first time since Graeme's return.
"Nope," Gene replied. "I'd say somebody's developed a real hard on for Southern Star Airlines and the Benning family."
Joe Webster cleared his throat and took control of the room. "Graeme, while you and Hardison were in town, we hashed over various strategies. With this recent discovery, I believe there's only one available option that makes any sense."
"What's the plan?"
Webster looked at each man in the room. "We need to place someone on the inside at Southern Star."
"I agree," Graeme said speaking in a tone meant to brook no argument. "I'll go."
"No!" Andrew doubled his fist and pounded the table. "I'm not putting another son at risk. The cost is too great."
"That means more to me than you'll ever know, Dad." Graeme used the moniker he'd rarely said in their life together. "But I'm the logical choice. Web's already scrubbed my background."
"He's right," Elliott confirmed Graeme's statement. "I've dropped hints about his gambling debts and dire straits. The fact that he won't ask the family for money.
"Mike's found out Riordon's looking for replacements, since he has no pilots on the inside. The cartel needs this route open again."
"Besides," Graeme added. "If he balks, I'll let him in on what I know about Wyatt's discovery—"
"You can't do that. You'll be more of a target."
"Don't worry, Andrew," Webster told him. "We'll keep control of the operation."
I've heard that statement before. Graeme flashed back to his last mission in Afghanistan when he'd been injured. He knew how fast a situation could go south and made another attempt to ease Andrew's mind. "We've done this type of op before and if it looks like my cover's blown, I'll get out." He picked up a bag of Cheetos and tossed them across the table and grinned. "Besides, I'm dragging your sorry ass with me."
Gabe caught the bag in mid-air. "Well, hell, let the fun begin."
"Good, it's settled." Webster shoved the errant files back into his briefcase. "We'll headquarter out of here."
Andrew stood. "If you'll follow me, we'll get you settled into your rooms for the duration."
"Thank you, we appreciate your hospitality." Webster and Gene followed Andrew out.
Graeme and Elliott moved the easel and the strategy board over to a back wall, then draped both with a plastic table cloth. When they walked toward the door to leave, Elliott stopped them.
"Riordon's nothing if not predictable. Tonight, he'll be at the Bigger Jigger. I plan on being there about nine."
Graeme knew what the answer to his question would be, but he asked it anyway. "Gabe, are you up for a chicken fried stea
k at the Dine-Inn?"
"Big loaded baked potato?"
"Yeah, it comes out on it's own plate."
"I'm in."
As the three left and made their way toward the main house, Graeme saw Maggie again, this time talking with the three women by the pool. He excused himself and walked over to check on her. The closer he got to her, the faster he walked. He realized he'd missed her and longed to be near to her. To his surprise and pleasure, she eased right into his embrace. Her arms circling his waist.
She looked up at him with anxious concern, a worried smile on her lips. "Hey."
"Hey, yourself. How's the planning committee coming along?"
"Really well, I think. Dinah and the event planner, Jenel, seem to be on the same wavelength and Bridey's in her element. How about you? Anything, yet?"
"Nothing, yet. There're some leads we're about to follow up on."
"You will tell me, won't you?"
"Yes, you'll know as soon as I do." And he would include her, he told himself, he'd tell her everything. When this whole situation was over. When she was safe from danger.
Suddenly the need to have her, to have some part of himself inside her, consumed him. He lowered his head, covered her mouth, and delved his tongue deeply in an effort to claim and possess her. She met him with eagerness, giving him a promise of things to come. Regaining a margin of control, he reeled his tongue back in, kissed her lips lightly, then the tip of her nose and her forehead.
She pulled away. "Graeme?"
"Trust me, honey. I'll see you tonight."
Maggie watched him jog to the house and the group of men gathered there. She recognized all but two of them and briefly wondered who they were, but honestly, that kiss she'd just shared with Graeme had left her wanting more. Her nerve endings pinged off each other in rapid bursts. Pulling herself together, she rejoined the women when Dinah waved her over.
"I'm sure Maggie remembers where they're kept." Bridey patted Maggie's arm. "I was just telling the girls that you could show them where we keep the extra supplies for parties and pool area. They're going to need them when we get the tents put up."
"Sure. I'll show you now, then you'll know where they are when you're ready for them."
"Perfect, "Jenel said. "There's so much whirling around in my head, one less thing to think about is helpful."
Maggie led them upstairs to the large room above the barn. The air inside remained cool, but the layer of cigar smoke made lingering here for very long doubtful. Quickly, she pointed to the areas where the things they'd need were stored.
"These cabinets beneath the windows hold all the linens you'll need, and the tables, chairs and a few other odd pieces of furniture are in the large closet in the corner." She opened doors on the short cabinets, then jumped at a loud crash behind her.
She hurried to where Jenel lay sprawled on the floor beneath multiple objects. After they'd pulled Jenel out from under the debris, and she'd collapsed onto a nearby chair, Dinah righted the easel. Maggie helped lift the board and, as they set it back onto it's perch, Dinah gasped.
"Holy shit."
"What is it?" Maggie settled her corner of the board firmly onto the easel and joined Dinah. She read the entries and realized they were a summary of events listed on a grid similar to an excel document. She read across from left to right.
1. Wyatt's crash/NTSB report/no mechanical error
2. Wyatt's overdose/coroner's report/morphine overdose
3. Maggie charged with morphine theft/Maggie cleared/ nurse charged = cartel connection??
4. Listening devices/at Maggie's house and ranch/who placed and why??
5. Maggie's truck/broken bolt/sabotaged??
6. Wyatt's Encrypted files/suspects for smuggling and Harley Jenkins' death/Riordon and one other involved??
7. Voice mail from Wyatt to Graeme
8. Letter for Maggie and Andy to Graeme/Elliott
Maggie stared at the board. What the hell, Graeme? She'd believed him when he told her he'd be honest with her. "Trust me," he'd said. Everything clicked up to the encrypted files and their contents, and ok, maybe she didn't need to know what they contained. But voice mails and letters? Had he purposely not told her about them? Did they contain something Graeme didn't want her to hear? Was he trying to protect her? Well, she didn't need protecting, something she thought he'd understood.
Trust him? She had with blind faith and now he had some explaining to do. Believe him? Not likely. She had a lot of thinking to do before they could move toward where ever they were headed.
Chapter 17
After dinner, Graeme led Gabe from the daylight of the Dine-Inn to the dark, smoky atmosphere of the Bigger Jigger. His eyes took a minute to adjust, but, when they did, he spotted Elliott by one of the pool tables in the embrace of a dark haired woman. If her face was anything like her body, she must be a real stunner.
He and Gabe headed to an empty table at the back of the bar, and he acknowledged Elliott's wave with a nod. The sultry brunette pouted at the interruption, her cleavage very much on display. Standing between his thighs, her hand rested on the vee of his crotch. Elliott's left hand cupped her ass, while his right hand disappeared beneath her western shirt. She turned back to him when he spoke, smiled and kissed him again.
A short time later, Elliott joined them at the table, his eye still on the voluptuous and apparently, very willing woman leaning forward to the middle of the pool table.
"Hey." Graeme waved his hand in front of his brother's face to gain his attention. "Later, you can take her home or get a room. Right now, I need your head in the game."
"She is the game."
Gabe made a growling sound and flashed a thumbs up. "Let your brother be, man," he said to Graeme. "You ever do it on felt?" He shared a look with Elliott.
"No, and—"
"Everything stays put. You don't have to chase—"
"Gabe, shit, focus." Graeme had learned through their history that keeping Gabe on track was, at times, like herding cats. But he always managed to be in the right place when you needed him.
Elliott grinned briefly, then shook his head and cleared his throat. "What I mean is, she's the ticket to Riordon. Reina's connected to him in some way."
"She's the one from the other morning?"
"Yeah."
"Watch your back."
"I figure she's—"
Suddenly, as he watched her, Graeme had a sinking thought. He grabbed a napkin and the pen off the tray of the waitress who'd just stopped at their table. Hastily he scribbled a note which he shared with Elliott and Gabe. "Turn off your cell phone." While he followed his own advice, Elliott passed the note back with "?????" scrawled beneath. Graeme wrote a one word response, "Look".
He directed Elliott and Gabe's glance toward the Mexican beauty where they comprehended the message. Reina, still at the pool table, cell phone at her ear, smiled at them. Gabe turned his off, but Elliott waited. Before the waitress walked away, they each ordered a beer.
Elliott smiled, shut down his phone and winked at Reina. Covertly he asked, "What makes you think she's tracking our conversation?"
"The fact that she's been holding the phone to her ear, but hasn't said anything the entire time we've been sitting here." He glanced at Gabe with chagrin. "Sometimes it takes a two-by-four to get my attention."
"You're talking about turning a cell phone into a listening device?" Gabe asked while placing money on the table for the beers.
"Yeah, the technology's been out there a few years now, but not many people are aware of it." Graeme glanced toward the entrance as the door opened revealing the deep red and purple dusk outside. "There's our man now, right on time."
Trevor Riordon entered the bar with a confident-looking swagger. The beer soured on Graeme's stomach at the thought of joining forces with the sorry bastard. Unfortunately, that appeared to be their only recourse if they were to find out who had it in for the Benning family.
Slowly, he made his way to the
back. He ordered and paid for a drink, stopped to talk with several regulars, and made a song selection at the jukebox. When he finally reached the table, Graeme pushed an empty chair back with the toe of his boot. Riordon nodded in greeting, sat and downed the dark brown liquid in one swallow. He held the glass mid-air requesting another from the waitress.
Reina wandered over and, just as she sat on Elliott's lap, Riordon motioned her away with a barely visible move of his head. He lit a cigarette, then dismissed the waitress after she set his drink on the table.
"So, McAlister," he began, white-gray smoke clinging to his words. "I'm sorry to hear of your most recent unfortunate development. Your family has encountered some tough storms of late."
Graeme imagined punching Riordon's face until his features were flat and non-descript. "I appreciate your concern."
"It's my understanding I might be of some assistance to you."
"And how is that?"
"You're in need of a job and Southern Star Airlines is finally ready to hire. I've heard you're an experienced pilot like Wyatt. Are you as good as your brother?"
"I am."
"Are your credentials in order?"
"Yes." One of the things Webster didn't have to fabricate for his background was his pilot's license.
"Good. Come to the offices in the morning. I'll set you up with HR and get you on the payroll." He extinguished the cigarette in the small metal disc that served as an ashtray. "Nelson likes to meet with all new employees and you should be able to do that in the afternoon. We could have you on the schedule in a few days."
"Well, that's a plan." He felt Elliott's nudge against his foot at his less than grateful response. He'd rather chew glass than appear contrite or humble to this man. He didn't want to wait any longer than necessary to get on the inside. Elliott's second forceful nudge reminded him to stay on track. "Thanks, Riordon, for your more than generous offer. I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to Andrew."
"Understood."
"One more thing," Graeme said as Riordon pushed away from the table.
"Sure."
9 Ways to Fall in Love Page 44
