“You going to check that?” Tad, the bartender, nodded toward the phone as he brought another pint over. “Could be news.”
Tad was friendly and a good listener—a classic bartender—and Cody had shared what was going on with the man. It was Tad’s tempering influence that kept him from drinking himself into stupidity. Even so, he wasn’t good for much at the moment, other than holding up the bar by leaning against it.
“Could be her mother,” Cody responded.
“And?” Tad waited, and shook his head when Cody didn’t respond. “Way I see it, there’s only one way to find out.”
Cody peered over the rim of the pint glass at the phone’s flashing LED light. He finished a long drink, sighed, and reached for it.
With no small amount of surprise, he saw the text was from Janie’s father. Curious, he tapped open the messaging window and read the enigmatic text.
Why is US 70 closed?
“What the...?” he muttered, typing a reply.
Cop was killed. Where are you?
There was a delay before the response came through.
Elida, NM.
As Cody stared at that information, wondering how—or, more importantly, why—Colton Thomas, Jr., was in New Mexico, a new message appeared.
Tell me my g-daughter is safe.
The phone slipped out of Cody’s hands and clattered to the bar, and he quickly snatched it back up. He didn’t know how to respond, but he knew the man deserved the truth.
No.
When he realized his answer could be misconstrued, he quickly added something.
Can’t, not yet.
Even though he stared at his phone for several minutes, no response came through. After ten minutes, he set the phone back down.
“What’s that then?” Tad asked, nodding at the phone.
“My daughter’s grandfather.” On impulse, he picked up the phone again and called Janie. It rang several times before a quiet male voice answered. It wasn’t Blue, so it had to be Tim. “Where’s Janie?”
“Getting a little sleep,” Tim whispered. “Is there news?”
Cody almost asked him to wake her, but decided against it. He knew she hadn’t slept at all the night before and surely needed the rest. “Tell Mrs. Thomas that Mr. Thomas is in New Mexico, just in case she didn’t know.”
“Hang on.”
There was a brief pause, then Blue came on the line. “Cody?”
“I got a text from your dad a few minutes ago. He’s in New Mexico. Not with me, but apparently on his way. Got stuck behind the roadblock.”
“What roadblock?”
Cody took a minute to give him everything he knew. “I’ve been waiting to hear from Agent Sanderson or Dylan for about three hours, but there’s been no news from their search.”
Just then, an agent he knew as Brown came into the bar, spotted him, and walked up. “Hang on, Blue.” He put the phone on speaker and set it down on the bar as the agent put a hand on his shoulder.
“They found the RV,” Agent Brown said. “It was wrecked, but it’s empty. We’re sending patrols out on foot, and continuing the air search. If you want, I can give you a ride out to the site.”
Cody rose to his feet, a surge of adrenaline counteracting the effects of the alcohol in his system. “Yes, thanks. I’ll be right out. Just need to settle my tab.”
Brown turned to exit the bar. As Cody reached for his wallet, Tad waved him off.
“It’s on the house, man. I hope you find your daughter.”
“Thank you,” he said, then snatched up his phone. “Did you hear that, Blue?”
“Yes, but I don’t know what it means.”
“Neither do I. I’ll keep you posted.”
Outside, Brown ushered him to a white, late-model Lincoln Town Car with tinted windows, and indicated he could sit in the shotgun seat. He buckled himself in as Brown climbed into the driver’s seat and immediately headed out of the hotel’s parking lot.
“What does it mean that the RV is empty?” he asked.
“Unknown. There was also an empty pickup truck on the scene, and no sign of anyone nearby. We have skilled trackers and search dogs en route, but they won’t be there for a while. We have to bring them in from Alamogordo, which means they’re a good two hours behind us. Search parties are converging on the area as we speak and should be organized by the time we get there, which will be about an hour.”
“What about the air search?”
“It continues...cautiously. We have to assume there are hostages, and any move we make has to be with them in mind. We don’t want to push a scenario where they feel like they have to cut their losses.”
Cody’s blood ran cold at the thought of Kylie lying dead out there in the desert, and he willed the man to drive faster.
⋘⋆⋙
The chopper landed on the highway again, and Ducharme shut the engines down as Callie headed his way. The blades were still spinning over him when he climbed out and ran to meet her.
“Well?” She had to raise her voice a bit over the last vestiges of motor noise, so he took her elbow and ushered her away from the machine.
“I saw no signs of anyone on foot in the vicinity. However, there are a number of structures they could be using for cover. All in different quadrants, of course.” He pointed due south, then moved his arm in a clockwise rotation as he listed the possibilities. “A trailer home here, a series of wellhead shacks from here to here, another trailer home due north, a watering station with a corral for loading livestock over here—not many places to hide there, but it’s not impossible, either. If you follow the wash to the southeast, there’s a farmhouse there that has several outbuildings.”
“Recommendations?”
He shook his head. “I was always looking for people who wanted to be found.”
“Then we’ll check the farmhouse first, and trailer homes second. At the very least, the residents will need to be warned, and we want to make sure everyone is okay.”
She turned and strode over to the Hamilton County Sheriff’s vehicle—Sheriff Jonas’ brown Bronco was the first ground vehicle to arrive on the scene—which served as a marshalling station and field command center, and spread out a county map for him. “Can you mark approximate locations?”
“I’ll do my best,” Dylan said, and bent over the map. As more searchers arrived on the scene, Callie moved to direct the incoming vehicles. Due to their remote locale, officers and volunteers were coming in from many different locations. It was taking a long time to get the numbers together that they would need for a proper ground search, one that could deal with a hostile situation if one arose.
Nobody yet on site could make any sense of the footprints they’d found at the scene, and the team that could track across this kind of desert was still at least two hours out. They were bringing search dogs, which was good because they’d be pushing the edge of darkness by that time.
Ducharme had just finished marking the map and was showing her what he’d done when a new face showed up. A fraction of her attention followed the newcomer’s arrival, but most of her attention stayed on the map.
“Mr. Thomas?” Ducharme said, his voice reflecting surprise at the man’s appearance. “Where...? How...?”
“Do you know this man?” the state trooper standing just behind Mr. Thomas asked. Callie glanced up to see the new arrival’s hands were pulled behind his back, a clear indicator that he was under arrest. “He ran the barricade north of here. Says he knows the victim.”
“He’s her grandfather,” Dylan confirmed.
Sheriff Jonas approached from the opposite direction. “Was wondering when you’d show up, Colton.”
“Would have been here sooner, if not for the roadblock,” he responded with a sour look at the state trooper.
Callie pulled her attention away from the map. She hated the interruption, but knew the girl’s grandfather was due some respect. “Uncuff him. We need every available body we can get. We’re burning daylight.
”
As soon as the cuffs were off, Mr. Thomas moved toward the RV, ducking under the “Police Line - Do Not Cross” tape without pause.
“That’s a crime scene, sir,” she calmly called out. “It’s been thoroughly searched. Your granddaughter is not inside.” Mr. Thomas stopped, without turning around, and she went on. “My CSI team is minutes away, and they will search for clues without destroying evidence.” She let her tone imply that wrecking her crime scene was a very bad idea.
Mr. Thomas turned to her, his face a stony-eyed mask that was impossible to read. “Reckon I can search for tracks,” he said, his tone so hard and flat, you could roll a penny on it.
Ducharme stepped toward Callie so he could murmur in her ear. “You’d best let him. He knows a thing or two about tracking.”
Without taking her eyes off Mr. Thomas, she said, “Knock yourself out, but if you want to see your granddaughter alive again, you’ll guarantee you won’t wreck any sign. I’ve got a team of trackers due here in less than two hours.”
Mr. Thomas’ gaze flicked toward the lowering sun, and he scowled.
“Ducharme,” he said, and tossed a set of keys at the pilot. “My pickup is back where that jackass cuffed me.”
“Consider it taken care of, sir,” Dylan said.
Mr. Thomas turned on his heel and strode toward the RV again, but within moments, he dropped to his haunches to peer at the ground. When he resumed his course, he tread cautiously, his head down, gaze on the shifting sands before him.
“Explain, Mr. Ducharme.” Callie kept her voice calm, but her tone conveyed that she wouldn’t take kindly to any prevarication on his part.
“Mr. Thomas was an Army Ranger, Agent Sanderson. Served in Vietnam.” Callie turned to look at him, fitting another piece into the picture that was the girl’s family. “He doesn’t talk about it.”
“I bet he doesn’t,” she said. “Well, you’d best fetch his pickup then.”
Dylan gave her a tight smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
Callie beckoned to the cop who had brought Mr. Thomas out. “Take this man back to Mr. Thomas’ pickup, then escort him back here with it.”
⋘⋆⋙
Janie woke to the buzz of voices around her and sat up, rubbing her eyes. It took only a minute to remember why she’d been sleeping at the café, and her gaze flew to where Blue and Momma stood talking.
“What’s happened?” she asked, afraid and excited at the same time.
Blue came to sit across from her in the booth. “Daddy’s in New Mexico.” Momma joined him, nudging him to scoot over. Wayne and Mandy looked on from the lunch counter.
“And?” Janie held her breath, hoping there was more news than this.
“They’ve found the RV...,” Blue began. Judging by the helpless glance he shot at Momma, it didn’t sound like it was such good news.
Tim placed his arm around her shoulders. “It was empty, Janie, and wrecked. They have to search the desert.”
It took her a moment to process his words. “Wrecked, but empty. No dead bodies?”
Blue nodded. “No bodies.”
She inhaled sharply. “But that could be good, right? Like they....” She threw out her hands, as if trying to search out something positive from this turn of events.
“They’re not getting any closer to Mexico,” Tim said. “That’s something.”
“Yes! And Daddy is there. He’ll find them, won’t he?” She turned pleading eyes on Momma.
Maddy reached across the table and took her hand. “If anyone can, your daddy can, baby.”
Chapter Twelve
“Did you hear that?” Kylie whispered. When the others shook their heads, she moved to the door and cracked it open. When the wind shifted again, they all caught the faint sound of a helicopter off in the distance, back the way they’d come.
A fierce sense of hope lifted her spirits as she scanned the sky, looking for the aircraft. When she finally caught sight of it, she was dismayed to see it was moving in the opposite direction, too far away to have any chance of seeing them if they tried to signal it.
“Is it searching?” Jax asked, looking as though he wished he could get up and look himself.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “It was just hovering, then it looked like it moved away.”
“Could be there for any number of reasons,” Jax said, drawing on the dusty floor with his finger. “Surveyors, electric company, gas or oil company.... Could be something to do with that smoke you saw earlier. Firefighters or something.”
“It wasn’t in the same direction, and was a lot closer than the smoke,” Kylie said. “But until and unless it comes closer, it’s of no use to us. I mean, short of us starting a fire to get its attention, we’re too far away. And a fire could also draw the wrong sort of attention.”
“How long until dark do you reckon?” Vera asked.
“A couple hours yet,” Kylie guessed. She left the door cracked for the breeze that blew in, already noticeably cooler as the day progressed toward evening. “I think we should go at twilight so we can still see a little. It’s bound to be black as pitch out there until the moon comes up.”
She motioned for Vera to come and keep watch, then came back to check on Jax. She knelt in front of him and tilted his face up, noting that he looked alert, although his face was turning a beautiful shade of purple.
“How do you feel?”
“Kinda like that time I thought I wanted to be a rodeo bullfighter. You remember that?”
Kylie laughed. “I remember. You got into the barrel and that bull pushed you around the ring for twenty minutes before the guys decided to have mercy on you and distract it so you could get out.”
“They made their point. Bullfighting isn’t an occupation for a scrawny fifteen-year-old. I was bruised head to heel.”
“You scared me to death. I thought they were going to let you get trampled. I never understood why you wanted to do it in the first place.”
Jax gave her a smile that was surprisingly shy. “I was trying to impress you. At the time, all you talked about was that pro bullfighter. You had posters of him on your wall, and you got all dreamy-eyed when you’d talk about how brave and strong he was.”
“‘Mad’ Mark Caulfield?” Just the mention of that name filled Kylie with memories of her adolescent crush. “Oh, Jax. That was just a phase. I was only thirteen.”
“Yeah, but you were over the moon about him, and....” His voice trailed off, and his gaze drifted away from her face.
“What?” she asked, afraid he was feeling the effects of the concussion.
He brought his gaze back to hers, and she saw a kind of fiery resolve there. “That was when I realized how much I...how much I cared about you. I saw that look in your eyes, and I wanted you to look at me like that.” He took a deep breath. “I love you, Kylie Thomas. I always have. I know you don’t love me back, but...I can’t go on without saying it. Not when I may never get another chance.”
Kylie felt an unexpected sting as tears filled her eyes, and her hands moved to gently frame his face. “Jackson Belamy,” she said, and her voice caught so hard, she had to start again. “Jax, I have been a stubborn fool. You’ve always been such a good friend, but I just told myself you’d grow out of the way you felt about me. After what happened between my mom and dad.... I thought I was protecting myself from heartache if I ignored you.”
Jax moved one hand to cover hers and leaned into her caress. His other hand reached behind the fall of her hair to cup the back of her neck and, for the first time, he made a definite move to pull her toward him.
Once, years ago, he had tried to kiss her, a clumsy move she’d easily brushed off. But this time, he held her gaze as he drew her close with confidence. When his lips met hers, she closed her eyes and leaned into him, feeling the rightness of it.
Why had it taken this circumstance to make her see that her best friend could be so much more?
⋘⋆⋙
As they drove up t
o the field command post, Cody scanned the crowd of people standing around various law enforcement vehicles, looking for Dylan or Agent Sanderson. As he watched, a group of five officers in tactical gear peeled off and headed across the road at a trot. Two of the men carried tactical rifles, the others had sidearms in holsters, and all looked like they meant business.
The agent driving was forced to park a short distance away from the main cluster of people, and Cody jumped out as soon as the vehicle stopped rolling. He spotted Dylan near Mr. Thomas’ pickup, and headed over.
“Hey, Cody,” Dylan said.
“Hey. What’s the scoop? Have they found anything new? Where are they going?” He waved in the general direction of the group that just left.
“Those guys are going to a farmhouse down that way to warn the residents to sit tight, and also to see if anything is amiss. Mr. Thomas is down by the RV looking for tracks, but he hasn’t reported finding anything yet.”
“And you didn’t see anything from the air?”
“Just the RV and some buildings. Sanderson has been organizing searchers to recon the various structures, but she has to be smart about this. Those kids could be hurt. They’re probably hostages. If she makes the wrong move—”
“I get it.” Cody inhaled sharply, then let the breath go. “I don’t like it, but she can’t rush into a situation she doesn’t understand or, more to the point, can’t find.”
“Right. Search and rescue is never straightforward, but you add in a criminal element and the rules change.”
Cody saw movement coming from the direction of the RV and turned to see Mr. Thomas marching toward them, a fierce expression on his face.
“Mr. Thomas.” Agent Sanderson had spotted him, too. “What did you find?”
The old vet didn’t answer, just opened the door to his pickup and retrieved the rifle from the gun rack behind the seat. It was his old Winchester .44-40, a vintage weapon that had never been far from his hands as long as Cody had known him.
“Mr. Thomas,” Sanderson said sharply. Cody reached out to grasp his shoulder, intent on encouraging him to answer the agent’s question.
Almost before he saw it coming, he felt a blinding flash of pain in his jaw as Mr. Thomas’ fist connected with his chin, knocking him off balance. He staggered and fell to one knee, dimly registering the sounds of a scuffle, then Sanderson’s raised voice. “Stop right there, or I’ll have you restrained again.”
One Last Song (A Thomas Family Novel Book 3) Page 9
