Shepherd's Fall

by W. L. Dyson

  As a fortyish-looking woman with glasses and a friendly face came in with a tray, Ramon was plugging a printer into the laptop. As she poured tea for Benedict, the printer whirred away. And when she retreated from the room, Ramon pulled the papers from the printer and walked over to hand them to Nick. “All of Carver's property holdings, as promised. He'll be holding your daughter in one of them.”

  Nick glanced down at the list of addresses and property descriptions. “I thought you were going to tell me her exact location.”

  “We don't know that,” Benedict said. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave that bit of detective work for you.”

  Ramon returned the laptop to Nick. “All done. Thank you.” He handed Nick the laptop and turned to Benedict. “You want me to start?”

  His boss nodded. “Just let me know before you start transferring all Carver's funds.”

  “Will do.” And Ramon left the office.

  Nick stared at the papers for several moments, then stood up. “There are two properties that seem obvious. A farmhouse in Carroll County and a warehouse down at the harbor.”

  But Benedict sipped his tea as if Nick no longer existed. Nick took the hint. The deal was done. “Appreciate the list.”

  As he reached the door, Benedict's guide reached out to open the door for him.

  “Nick,” Benedict called out to him.

  Nick turned around, tensed, waiting for some worst-case scenario to play out.

  “If you need anything, do not hesitate to call me. I can have men down there to help you in a matter of minutes.”

  Nick nodded and left.

  Saturday, 2:45 p.m.

  Orleans Street, Baltimore

  Benedict sipped his tea and waited. When he was sure Nick was gone, he pressed the button to open the hidden door behind the bar. Cutter stepped into the office. Benedict looked over at him. “You heard?”

  “Every word.” Cutter dropped down in a chair and stretched out his legs. “He's going to find a welcoming party he isn't expecting. But why didn't you just tell him the warehouse?”

  “Because Nick Shepherd is a shrewd man. If I'd made it too easy, he'd be wondering how I knew so much and why I was being so cooperative. Make him work for it a little bit, and it'll ease his suspicions.” Benedict set his cup down and leaned back in chair. “The girl is alive?”

  “As ordered.”

  Opening a desk drawer, Benedict pulled out a small box and slid it across the desk. Cutter reached out and picked it up, then opened it. A syringe, fully loaded, was nestled inside. He shut the box and slipped it into his pocket. “And this will do the job?”

  “Give her the full dose and it will be lights out, bye-bye, gone before she knows what hit her.” Benedict narrowed his eyes. “But Thorne, hear me well. I want this done before either of the Carvers, but especially Richie, can touch her. I won't have her tortured or raped by either of those men.”

  “I hear ya.”

  “I'm serious, Thorne. I'm not playing here.”

  “I know, I know.” Cutter stood up. “Any other last-minute orders?”

  “The weapons are all there in the warehouse?”

  “Thirty-six crates. Military-issue fully automatic assault rifles.”

  “Then let's get this done. Now, get back there before you're missed.”

  Saturday, 2:45 p.m.

  En route to a parking lot near Camden Yards, Baltimore

  Benedict and Jon Carver were as different as two men could get. Benedict didn't shove, he didn't yell. There were no thugs standing in the shadows ready to beat you up or shoot you if you didn't agree with him. Class. That's the word Nick was searching for. If it weren't for the many criminal activities Benedict was rumored to be involved in, Nick could easily see him in the boardroom of a law office or a government building. The man was a bureaucrat.

  Nick reached out and hit the speed dial on his phone. “Rafe. I'm on my way. Tell Conner and Steven there's a warehouse at the Dundalk Marine Terminal.” He gave Rafe the exact address. “Have him scour the area. See how easily we can access it.”

  “Will do.”

  Nick hung up. Half an hour later, he pulled into a parking lot a block away from Camden Yards where his team—minus Conner— was waiting for him. Rafe handed him a bag of tacos. “Just thought you might be hungry.”

  “Thanks.” Nick took the bag and pulled out a taco. “Okay, let's go over everything one more time.”

  Rafe leaned against his vehicle. “You really think someone is going to call Carver and let him know you're going in there now?”

  “Yep. I sure do.” Nick chewed a bite of food. What he didn't know one hundred percent was who was calling Carver and cluing him in to Nick's plans, but he was ninety-nine percent sure. And he'd deal with that after he got Krystal out of that warehouse.

  19

  Saturday, 3:35 p.m.

  En route to Dundalk Marine Terminal, Baltimore

  Marti's fingers tapped out an impatient tune on the steering wheel of Jessica's car as she watched Carver's Mercedes and the Navigator following him turn at the light and head east. Next to her, Jessica sat in the passenger seat with her hands clutching the laptop computer. Ignoring her ex-sister-in-law, Marti concentrated on the drive. After a few turns, they drove onto Key Highway. “Looks like we're headed for the harbor.”

  Marti watched as the SUVs split off at the next intersection; the Navigator was going straight, the Mercedes turning southeast. She followed the Mercedes.

  Jessica took a deep breath and then looked over at Marti. “I'm glad you talked me into this.”

  “I didn't. I just asked to use your car. You're the one that insisted on coming along.”

  “You don't like me very much, do you?”

  Marti kept her eyes on the road, concentrating on staying far enough back that the Carvers wouldn't see the tail, but close enough not to lose them. “You don't want to get into ancient history now, do you?”

  “Might as well. It'll keep my mind off what we're doing.”

  “Then no, I don't like you very much. I'm sure you are a very nice person, but you and Nick didn't work. You were so needy and clingy. Desperate for attention. Nick had enough on his plate without killing himself to reassure you every five minutes that he loved you.” Marti glanced over at her for a quick second and then went back to watching the road. “But I guess he stopped reassuring you every five minutes because you divorced him.”

  “Wow,” Jessica said. “Brutal.”

  “Honest.”

  “That too. And you were right. I was needy. And I did demand too much of him. Took me two years to finally figure out I wasn't any happier being divorced and another year to figure out why.”

  Marti slowed down as the Mercedes moved into the left-turn lane at the intersection to wait out the red light. “You telling me you're all grown up now?”

  “I wish I could say I was, but I can say that I'm working on it.”

  The light changed, and the Mercedes made his turn. She followed him. Then she noticed the Lincoln Town Car behind her with windows tinted dark. Far darker than was legal in the state of Maryland.

  “Call Rafe.”

  “What?”

  “Call Rafe. Tell him there's a Town Car tailing us. Blacked-out windows.”

  Saturday, 4:02 p.m.

  Dundalk Marine Terminal warehouse, Baltimore

  Cutter was back in the warehouse, watching the girl and Ira. He felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out and read a text message. Then he slipped it back in his pocket and stood up. “Get out.”

  “What?” Ira said.

  “Get out.” Cutter started unbuttoning his shirt.

  Ira shifted his weight, as if getting ready to attack or be attacked, and then a slow, evil grin slid across his face. “Oh, I get it. Like 'em young, do you?”

  “I'm not going to tell you again.”

  “You do this and Richie will kill you.”

  Saturday, late afternoonish

  A warehouse n
ear the docks

  As the two men stared each other down, Krystal began to figure out what they were talking about. No. No. No. As she started to scoot backward, the white-haired man grabbed her arm so hard she thought it might come off.

  The other man laughed and, with a casual shrug, headed for the door.

  Shivering with fear, Krystal tried to twist herself out of his grip. It was like wrestling with a wall. As soon as the door closed behind the other man, the white-haired man pulled her close. “Do you want to live?”

  She could survive this, right? She just had to hold on. Survive.

  God, please help me get through this. Please, help me.

  “I asked you a question, girl. Do you want to live?”

  Biting her lip, she nodded as tears stung her eyes.

  “I'm going to tell you exactly what I want you to do, and you're going to do it. You got me?”

  Swallowing hard, she nodded again.

  “It's going to hurt a little. But you're a tough girl, aren't you?”

  20

  Saturday, 4:10 p.m.

  Dundalk Marine Terminal, Baltimore

  Nick parked half a block from the warehouse. He turned to Annie as he unbuckled his seat belt. “You ready?”

  “Yeah. But I'm scared.”

  “You'll be okay, I know you will. Now let's go take this creep down.”

  “I love it when you talk tough.” Annie opened her door and slid out.

  An odd time for flirtation…but then, some women used humor when they were afraid, others froze up, and some made inappropriate comments. Apparently, Annie flirted.

  Nick locked the SUV, pocketed his keys, and took a deep breath. Annie circled the vehicle and sidled up next to him. “Tell me again you're going to have these guys begging for mercy.”

  “No more than half an hour, tops.”

  As they approached the warehouse, Annie slowed down, staying almost completely behind Nick. He stopped and eyed a door next to the bay.

  “How are we supposed to get in?”

  “Jon will let us in.”

  One of Jon's men was standing in front of the traffic door, looking a little put out. Just then, the Mercedes that Nick had noticed following them pulled up to the curb and the Carver brothers climbed out. When the man at the door saw Jon, he stiffened but stayed where he was.

  “Richie!” Nick smiled and threw his arms open wide. “You're turning yourself in. Wonderful.”

  Jon folded his arms across his chest as he ignored the man at the door and concentrated on Nick. “Right on time.” Then he smirked. “Hi, Zeena, baby. Where's my laptop?”

  Nick cut in. “Where's my daughter?”

  “Ah, we have what they used to call a Mexican standoff.” Jon jerked his head toward the car. Scott and Lester climbed out.

  “Lester. Hey, buddy,” Nick said. “I've been looking for you. I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you in. You and Richie in one day. I have to say, I'm a lucky man.”

  Lester laughed. “Funny.”

  “Check the backpack,” Jon instructed Lester.

  Lester pulled the backpack off Annie and unzipped it. Then he pulled the laptop out and handed it to Jon.

  Scott pulled out a gun and pressed it to Nick's temple. He searched Nick, finding the gun in Nick's ankle holster and tossing it to Richie. “He's wearing a vest.”

  “And I'm not taking it off,” Nick said.

  “If I need to kill you, I'll just shoot you in the head,” Jon said.

  “As for you, Zeena. You should never have taken my property. Unfortunately, you can consider that the biggest mistake you ever made.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Inside.”

  Nick jerked his arm away from Scott. “Where is my daughter?”

  A black panel van pulled up to the curb, and the driver leaned out the window. “We found the bounty hunter's men. You want us to secure them?”

  “Absolutely,” Richie replied.

  In spite of all his plans, Nick was starting to have a bad feeling.

  Suddenly he saw Scott's fist heading toward his face. It connected with his chin and brought him up short as black dots danced across his vision.

  Nick's arms were yanked behind his back and cuffed, and the pressure on his shoulder felt like a hot blade through the wound.

  The man at the door nodded at Jon. “Hey, Boss.”

  “What are you doing out here?” Jon asked him. “I thought I ordered you to stay inside.”

  “Cutter wanted a little time alone with the girl.” The man winked. “If you know what I mean.”

  In a blind rage, Nick lunged forward. He was brought up short by Scott yanking on his cuffs. The pain in his shoulder drove him to his knees.

  Suddenly there was a shout from inside the building. “Ow! That hurt, you little witch! I warned you!” And then a gunshot echoed out of the building.

  Nick's heart stilled in his chest as he stumbled to his feet. “No. No!”

  Jon shoved open the door, and everyone ran into the warehouse behind him. Nick half ran, half hobbled while Scott dragged him along.

  When they walked in, Nick saw Krystal, crumpled on the floor, her shirt torn, her pants unbuckled. Blood seeped slowly out from under her head. It took about an hour for the next few minutes to go by. Nick struggled to stay on his feet as his knees became liquid and his heart twisted, jumped.

  She was so still. Limp. And there was so much blood. It was in her hair, on her shirt, crawling across the floor. The only sign of life in her, slowly draining away. He couldn't breathe. It hurt too much.

  Cutter tossed a blanket over Krystal, and just that quickly, the devastation was hidden from view. Nick couldn't tear his eyes away. His feisty, beautiful daughter was dead.

  “What did you do?” demanded Richie. “I told you that I wanted him to see it. Why didn't you wait?”

  “Close enough,” Cutter said lazily as he buttoned his shirt.

  Nick lifted his eyes from Krystal to the man who had so casually attacked and murdered her. It felt like there was nothing left in him but cold. “I will kill you.”

  “I doubt it,” Cutter said lightly as he tucked his shirt back down in his jeans. Then he turned his attention back to Jon. “We ready or not?”

  “She was just a baby!” Nick screamed.

  “Grown up enough for me,” Cutter replied. “And sweet enough in spite of that nasty temper of hers.” He twisted his wrist, looked at it with a frown. “Little witch bit me.”

  “Too bad she didn't have rabies,” Nick told him.

  Cutter pulled out his weapon, a 9mm, and looked over at Jon again. “I grow weary of this man. Are we ready or not?”

  “We have other business first.” Jon replied and nodded at Richie.

  Grinning, Richie walked over to Nick and slowly began to circle him. “I've waited a long time for this, bounty hunter. Every day, in that cell, I thought of you.”

  “Oh yeah? I didn't give you a thought.”

  Richie grinned at him as he continued his stroll. “Well, I thought about how I'd make you suffer.”

  “That's always been your problem, Richie. You always thought small.”

  Richie pulled his arm back and then punched Nick in the stomach. Nick doubled over.

  “Did that feel small? Huh, bounty hunter?”

  Nick slowly straightened. “Does it make you feel big and tough to beat on a man in handcuffs? Yeah, big man.”

  Richie looked over at Scott. “Take off his cuffs.”

  Scott looked over at Jon, but Richie yelled at him, drawing his attention back. “I didn't tell you to ask my brother for permission. Do what I say!”

  As soon as Nick's handcuffs were removed, Richie hit him again. Nick knew Richie was just trying to get an edge, but it was a waste of effort. How could Richie lose when he was surrounded by four armed men and his brother? And why would Nick care at this point? His daughter was dead. Whether he won this fight or lost it, he'd still lost this war.

  As Richie came in for another punc
h, Nick swept low, avoiding the hit. He came up on Richie's left and elbowed Richie in the ear. When Richie staggered sideways, Nick shifted his balance to send out a side kick that caught Richie in the ribs. Before he could recover, Nick came in close with four rapid blows in succession. Richie folded to the ground. Nick was about to strike again when something struck him on the back of the head.

  Staggering, he went down to his knees.

  “I can't let you kill him, Shepherd.” Jon jerked his head toward two of his men.

  Lester and Cutter lifted Richie up and moved him over to a crate and set him down. Nick couldn't help the whimper that escaped his mouth.

  “Well, I must say, this is enjoyable. You really are suffering, aren't you?”

  Nick slowly forced himself to look back over at Jon. “You will pay for this.”

  Jon laughed. “You are amusing. I think I may even miss you.” His cell phone rang. He turned and walked a few feet away, answering it.

  Nick tuned Jon out as he looked over once again at his daughter's crumpled form. What was he going to tell Jessica? How was he going to live with himself? He felt something touch his hand and then realized that Annie was squeezing it. Whether it was sympathy or fear, he didn't know. It didn't matter. He owed it to her to at least get her out alive. He'd already failed Krystal and her mother.

  Annie squeezed his hand again, and he suddenly realized that Jon was talking to him.

  “You should have taken me up on my offer, bounty hunter. We could have avoided all of this.”

  “We could have avoided all this if you weren't a criminal.”

  Jon laughed as he poked a finger at Nick's wounded shoulder. “I may be a criminal, but you're a dead man.”

  Nick felt the pain but used it to gain an advantage. He pretended to stagger back from the pain, then came up on the ball of his left foot and spun around, kicking out with his right foot, catching Jon in his chest. Jon's feet came up off the ground by an inch or so as he flew backward and hit the ground. Nick moved forward to deliver another blow. Scott stepped in front of him, pointing his gun into Nick's face. “Don't do it, bounty hunter.”