by Gerri Hill
“That’s not true. If this were Carina, I’d be doing the same damn thing.”
“Oh, well sure, since we’re talking lovers and all. Why don’t we try it with someone you haven’t slept with?”
It was a childish thing to say, she knew, but she hated that Cameron didn’t trust her enough to handle this. She wondered why she didn’t trust any of them enough, since Cameron had sent them off together to what amounted to nothing more than a formality check. She knew from working in Sedona that thirty-four percent was nothing. It might as well have been ten percent.
“You okay?” Eric whispered.
“No. I’m pissed.”
“Get into a little fight, did you?”
“This is bullshit,” she said.
“What? This little trip we’re taking?”
“Yes. We should have gone as a group to Twentynine Palms. Why trust the sheriff’s department as backup?”
Carina turned to look at them, obviously overhearing their conversation.
“Cameron is following procedure,” she said. “In the military, if you have two possible targets, you don’t send all of the elite team to one and grunts to the other. Besides, she is trying to protect you, you know that.”
“Yeah. That’s the part that pisses me off.”
“What does that say for the rest of us?” Eric asked.
Carina smiled. “Andrea and Reynolds are the only two who Cameron really trusts. We are the grunts, unfortunately,” she said with a shrug.
That much was true, Andrea knew. Although she might also lump Rowan in with Reynolds. Cameron had come to rely on him so much. She knew Cameron trusted him. She hadn’t called Jason even once to help with the algorithms, simply letting Rowan do his thing. The rest of them—Jack, Eric, Carina—no, Cameron didn’t trust them. Not that they’d given her any reason not to, she just hadn’t worked with them enough, or recently, in Carina’s case.
She let out a heavy sigh, glancing out the window again. They were passing the old water park, palms still growing and flourishing on the site.
“Crazy idea for a water park, isn’t it?”
She turned to Eric. “What? In the middle of the desert?”
“Not just that. It’s in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the desert. There aren’t enough people living out here. Who were they targeting?”
“Traffic from LA to Vegas,” Jack said.
Eric laughed. “Yeah, right. I’m dreaming of slot machines and show girls, but I stop off for a quick play day on the water slides? I don’t think so.”
“Obviously their plan didn’t work.”
“Here’s the road,” Carina said as she followed the GPS on her phone. “Rowan? You still with us?”
“Yes. The road should dead end at the larger of the two sheds. The second shed is about two hundred feet north.”
“Okay. We can see the first shed,” she said. “I’m taking you off speaker.” She glanced at the others. “Earbuds.”
Andrea turned her phone on, dialing the number Rowan had set up for them. When she was connected, she put one earbud in. “I’m on,” she said.
“Copy that,” Rowan said. “Eric? Jack?”
“I’m on,” Eric said.
“Me too.”
“Okay. As Cameron would say, slow and easy.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Cameron turned down the driveway, the skeletons of long dead palm trees lining the sides. The house was fairly close to the road and in desperate need of repair. The constant wind and blowing sand had taken its toll, leaving the paint nearly stripped. An old, faded For Sale sign leaned haphazardly against the front porch, nearly obscured by a cactus left to grow unchecked.
There was no sign of a vehicle, no evidence that one had been down the driveway, but she knew how quickly tracks would get covered up out here. She stopped and got out, waiting for the four sheriff’s deputies to do the same. Reynolds had his phone on and she nodded at him.
“Let Rowan know we’re here. Find out where the other team is,” she said before walking toward the deputies. “Two with me, two with Reynolds,” she said. “We’re doing a sweep of the house and then the grounds.”
“The other team just checked in,” Reynolds said. “No sign of vehicles. They’re just now checking the sheds.”
“Okay. You take the back,” she said.
The front porch creaked under their weight. She peered in through a broken window, surprised that there was still furniture inside. Maybe someone was living here after all. She motioned for the deputies to stay to the side. She slowly opened the screen door, the old hinges protesting, suggesting they hadn’t been opened in years.
She turned the knob. Locked. She was about to step back and kick it in when one of the deputies stopped her.
“I’ll do it, ma’am.”
She stepped away, then paused. “Don’t ever call me ma’am again.”
“Yes, ma’am...I mean, no, ma’am...no, I won’t, ma’am.”
“Jesus,” she murmured, rolling her eyes. “Just do your thing.”
One powerful kick and the doorjamb shattered, splintering the wood. He pushed the door open, then let Cameron go in first. Her weapon out and ready, she entered the small room which was indeed still furnished. The thick layer of dust indicated it was unused.
“Back here,” Reynolds called. “Kitchen.”
They headed for the sound of his voice, stopping up short. Burke was tied to a chair, one side of his head missing from a large caliber gunshot wound.
“Damn,” one of the deputies murmured behind her. “So much for brotherly love.”
Cameron flicked her eyes to Reynolds, then turned to the deputies. “Sweep the house.”
“His service weapon is missing,” Reynolds said, pointing to his empty holster.
“Judging by the hole in his head, I’d say it was used to kill him.”
“Yeah. And we can assume Baskin has it.”
The larger shed, while obviously abandoned, was in decent shape. Andrea guessed it was twenty-by-thirty. There were no windows and only a double door that was securely padlocked.
“Can I shoot it off?” Eric asked.
“How about we use bolt cutters,” Jack said. He raised his eyebrows at one of the two sheriff’s deputies who had accompanied them. “You got some?”
“Yes sir.”
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here recently,” Carina said as she walked around the side, her gaze fixed on the rocks and sand that surrounded the building. “No tracks.”
“You can’t go by that out here,” Andrea said. “The wind moves the sand around all the time.”
“Here you go,” the deputy said, handing the bolt cutters to Jack.
They all stood back as Jack pulled the double doors open. A swoosh of hot air hit them, then nothing. The place was entirely empty. Using their flashlights, they went inside, inspecting the floor and walls but there was nothing other than the stifling heat. Andrea felt sweat trickle between her breasts and a lone stream fell down her cheek. She wiped it away impatiently, then turned to go back outside into the somewhat cooler temperature.
“Were we really expecting anything?” Eric asked.
“No.”
“Come on,” Carina said. “Let’s check the small one.”
Andrea holstered her weapon, then wiped again at the sweat on her face, seeing Eric do the same. Jack and the two deputies followed Carina to the shed.
“You guys copy?” Rowan’s voice sounded in her ear.
“What’s up?” Andrea asked as she and Eric followed the others.
“Reynolds checked in. They found Burke. Dead.”
Eric turned and their gazes locked.
“Copy that,” Andrea said. “Nothing here in the large shed. Checking the smaller one now.”
“Keep me posted. I’ll pass this along to Cameron.”
“Yeah. Sure.” She shrugged. “I guess that answers whether Burke was helping him or not.”
“Got bloo
d,” Carina called.
Andrea and Eric turned, watching as Carina and Jack stood opposite the door, this one without a padlock. They had their weapons drawn, the two deputies beside them.
“Wonder why that one doesn’t have a lock,” she murmured out loud.
“Really. This one was locked up like it held gold or something. Yet empty. That one—”
But his sentence was cut off as an explosion literally blew the small shed apart. Andrea saw it all in slow motion—after all, she’d seen it before—her team consumed by the blast. In a blink of an eye, her breath was knocked from her as the force of the explosion blew Eric off his feet and square into her body.
It was déjà vu—the blast, the fire, the pain. Only this time, it wasn’t her lover, Erin. It wasn’t her best friend, Mark. No, but still, it didn’t lessen the sting, the agony of it all.
She felt the hard desert ground beneath her, rocks cutting into her back. Eric lay sprawled on top of her, shielding her, his dead weight heavy on her chest. She let her head fall back, unable to fight the inevitable, her eyes closing as blackness enveloped her.
“There’s nothing else,” Reynolds said as they finished a sweep of the outside perimeter of the house.
“Rowan called in CSI?”
“Yes. They’re on their way.”
She put her hands on her hips, surveying the land around them, wondering where in the hell Baskin had slithered off to. “You think he’s still on a motorcycle?”
“Pros and cons with that,” Reynolds said as he wiped his brow. “He’s a sitting duck if he is. Exposed. Yet he would be able to escape tight situations, much better than in a car.” He shrugged. “What does your gut tell you?”
Cameron stared at him, shaking her head. “Still with the tie, Reynolds? It’s a hundred and ten.”
He wiped the sweat from his face again. “Tie or not, it’s still fucking hot.”
She laughed out loud, seeing the sheen of perspiration on his dark skin. “I do believe that’s the first time you’ve dropped the f-bomb, Reynolds. Am I wearing off on you?”
“Hardly.”
She looked back at the house, the desolate landscape surrounding it, the four deputies talking quietly among themselves. “My gut says he’s on a motorcycle.”
Reynolds nodded. “Mine too. I think perhaps—” He tilted his head, holding the earpiece tightly to his ear. “Hang on. What?”
Cameron frowned, trying to read Reynolds’s expression. Suddenly the deputies were a flurry of activity as they all reached for their radios at once. Reynolds turned to her. “Get your phone.”
“What is it?”
“It’s Rowan. Get your phone.”
A sense of dread settled over her as she fished out her phone. Her hand was trembling and she wanted to throw the phone down to the desert floor, not wanting to hear what Rowan had to say.
“Yeah. It’s me.”
“There was an explosion, Cameron. I’ve lost communication with the team.”
Cameron’s eyes flew to Reynolds, their gazes locking. “What do you mean you’ve lost communication? No one is answering you?”
“Not just that. There’s no signal. I’m assuming the blast...well, it would have disabled the phones, obviously, if...”
Cameron was having a hard time breathing, the tightness in her chest sucking the air out of her. She cleared her throat, trying to focus. “Sheriff’s department?”
“I’ve notified them, yes. They are already en route.”
“Good. We’re on our way.” She paused. “You find out what the hell is going on, Rowan.”
She strode purposefully to the deputies, them just getting the news too of the explosion.
“Do you know anything?” one of them asked.
She shook her head, wondering if her face gave away her nervousness. “No. But I need you four to stay here.” She pointed at the house. “Secure the scene until the CSI team gets here.”
“We know the drill.”
Any other day, Cameron would have come back with a biting retort, but not today. She simply spun on her heels and headed for her truck. Reynolds intercepted her.
“Let me drive.”
“Like hell,” she spat out, trying to open the door.
“You’re in no condition. Let me drive.”
She glared at him, wanting to tell him to get his ass in the passenger’s seat, but the look in his eyes was genuine, not condescending. She nodded.
“Fine,” she said, hurrying around to the other side of the truck. “But I expect you to break every traffic law there is.”
“Will do.”
True to his word, Reynolds spun out of the driveway, sending rocks flying in all directions as he skidded around the corner and sped out onto the highway. Cameron held on, barely getting her seatbelt fastened as she was flung against the door.
She said nothing, her eyes staring straight ahead. She didn’t dare think of what she might find. She couldn’t bear it. All she could see was Andrea’s face, her beautiful face trying to hide her anger that morning. Despite her pleadings, Cameron had sent her to the property which barely registered on the algorithm. They both knew it was pointless. That’s probably why Andi was so mad at her.
“You’re treating me like a child.”
Cameron squeezed her eyes shut. No, not like a child. She was treating her like her lover. She was. She was doing anything she could to protect her. She slammed her fist on the dash.
“Goddamn it,” she yelled. “There was supposed to be nothing there. Thirty-four percent is nothing,” she said. “Nothing.”
“Quit blaming yourself.”
“Who the hell else should I blame?”
“How about Baskin?”
“I sent them there, Reynolds. I sent her there.” She grabbed her chest as she felt her heart breaking. “I can’t lose her,” she whispered, cursing the tears that had started to fall. “Goddamn it,” she said again, wiping angrily at her face.
Reynolds glanced at her but said nothing. He was literally flying down the highway and through her tears the desert was but a blur as they raced back to Barstow.
Andrea blinked her eyes several times, conscious of the body on top of her. Eric. She could smell the smoke of the burning shed and she tried to guess how long she’d been out. Not long, judging by the flames.
She pulled an arm free, reaching up to touch Eric, his skin warm against her hand. She nearly gasped when she felt a pulse in his neck.
“Eric...God, you’re alive.” She was afraid to move him but knew she must. Off in a distance she thought she heard sirens, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. “Eric,” she said again. “I’m going to roll you.”
He moaned as she did, moving him enough to sit up. She got him on his back and slid her legs out from under him. She immediately knelt by his side, gently patting his face.
“Eric, can you hear me?” There was a nasty cut on his head and an obvious knot forming. She leaned closer, speaking directly into his ear. “Eric? Come on, buddy, open your eyes.”
Another moan and she saw his eyelids flutter. She squeezed his hand, waiting, but they never opened.
She finally looked around, seeing what was left of the shed. She spotted the bodies, all four mangled and burned. For an instant, her mind flashed back to LA, back to the ambush, back to her team, back to Erin and Mark. She shook the vision away, turning again to Eric whose hand was squeezing hers painfully.
“Can you open your eyes?”
“My...my ears are ringing,” he whispered.
She nearly laughed, bending down close to his face. “So are mine.”
The sirens were louder now and she knew they were coming for them. She reached for her phone, finding the facing shattered. She turned it on but got nothing. She patted Eric’s pockets, looking for his.
“Stop that. I don’t want Cameron to shoot me.”
She glanced up, her smile turning into a grin as his warm eyes met hers. “Phone?”
“I had it clippe
d on.”
She looked around them, but found no phone. She needed to contact Cameron. Rowan would have heard the blast and reported it. No doubt Cameron was frantic by now.
“The others?” Eric asked, trying to sit up. “Jack? Carina?”
She shook her head. “No. Just us. Now lie still. You have a nasty cut on your head.”
He closed his eyes again. “It happened so fast.”
“Yeah. They...they didn’t know what hit them.”
“I hear sirens,” he murmured.
“Yes. They’re almost here,” she said, still holding tightly to his hand, so thankful he appeared to be okay. So thankful she wasn’t left all alone again, the only one left alive to carry the guilt. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. No, she wouldn’t go down that road again. But God, she wished Cameron was here. She needed her. She needed her strength. She needed to look into her eyes and know that everything was going to be okay.
She smiled ruefully. Even if she did get a phone, she had no way of contacting her. Cameron’s cell number was locked away in her phone. She’d had no reason to memorize it. And Rowan’s temporary community number, as he called it, was there as well.
She sighed with relief as flashing emergency lights finally came into view, signaling her that help was on its way. Help for Eric, certainly. But for Jack and Carina? For the two innocent deputies who just happened to get assigned to them today? No. There would be no help for them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Cameron snatched her phone up, seeing Rowan’s ID. Her hand trembled and she was nearly afraid to answer. She finally took a deep breath, then nodded at Reynolds before answering.
“Ross,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “What do you have?”
“I don’t know much, Cameron. All I’ve learned is from their radio communications.”
“Okay.” She swallowed. “How bad?”
“Cameron...there were four casualties. Two survivors.”
She felt her breath leave her and she squeezed her eyes tight. “Andrea?” She brushed at the tears that fell again. “I need to know if Andrea is okay,” she said hoarsely. “Please Rowan. I need to know.”
“I don’t know, Cameron. I’m just repeating what came over the radio. I don’t know the extent of the injuries. I’ve been trying to get someone to patch me through but it’s a little chaotic, I’m sure. They had two of their own there too,” he reminded her.
