by Aimée Thurlo
“I get it. You’re thinking that he put the detonators in the grass clipping bag, used the pavers for weight, and dropped the bag into the river,” she said.
Kyle started to answer, then stopped, and signaled her to be quiet. A heartbeat later, he pulled her into the shadows of the building. The gate had rattled, which meant that someone had just climbed over it.
They were no longer alone.
Chapter Eighteen
Kyle remained perfectly still. Someone else had come into the compound. As if to confirm his suspicions, he heard the crunch of gravel somewhere close.
“Focus on me, and do exactly as I say,” he told Erin in a harsh whisper.
They walked quickly down the side of the building to the rear, then jogged across the gap between the office and one of the garages. Trying to lead whoever was following them into an ambush, he made enough noise on the gravel to be heard.
After circling the building, he pulled her down behind a row of sand-filled fifty-five-gallon drums used to create a vehicle barrier for security demonstrations. Looking past her for a second, he pointed to a shovel leaning against the wall of the building.
She reached back and handed it to him.
He then motioned for her to crouch low to the ground. Here, they were screened by the barrels, and wouldn’t be spotted unless they stood, or someone looked right into the gap where they were hiding.
Several minutes went by. Kyle listened, but heard only the distant sounds of traffic and crickets. Then a mosquito came by, buzzing close to his ear. He held back swatting the thing, remaining perfectly motionless. In combat you learned never to give away your position, no matter what.
Glancing back at Erin, he saw her trying to swat it. She looked over and saw him watching her. She shrugged, rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. He had to look away not to laugh.
He could now hear the faint crunch of footsteps inching along the side of the building, getting closer. Seeing the shadow before the person, Kyle stuck out the shovel. The suspect tripped and Kyle jumped out, quickly pinning the man to the ground.
Suddenly a hard kick caught Kyle on the side. “Nice try,” an unfamiliar woman’s voice said.
Realizing he was fighting two people, he rolled away quickly and came up in a fighting stance.
The man jumped up and threw a right jab at him. Kyle blocked the punch and kicked at the man’s groin. He missed his target and struck the man in the thigh, spinning him away.
The woman attacked from the side, swinging her foot around, trying to catch him in the gut. He blocked the blow with his wrist, pain shooting up his arm.
Out of nowhere, he heard a loud, metallic thud, and the woman screamed, grabbing her knee. She collapsed to the ground as Erin brought the shovel back for another blow.
Kyle, crouched low, swung around to block an anticipated strike from the man, but the suspect had whirled around and was running away.
“That’s Mike Bewley!” Erin yelled. “Go, I’ve got Frieda. If she tries to get up, I’ll shovel her again.”
Kyle handed her his backup pistol. “Screw the shovel. If she tries to get up, shoot her in the leg.” He’d said it mostly to warn Frieda, but the look on Erin’s face made him realize that she’d do just that if the woman moved.
Kyle raced after the suspect, knowing he’d be heading for the gate. When he got there, though, all he could see was the tail end of a car disappearing down the street.
He grabbed his phone and called it in to his brother. “Blue sedan, midsize, New Mexico tags too far away to read. That’s all I’ve got. Erin’s pretty sure it was Mike Bewley.”
“I’ve got patrols in the area. Let’s see if we can corner him.”
“We’ll need an ambulance, too,” he said, jogging back to join Erin. “We caught Frieda Martinez, but Erin clocked her hard.”
When he returned to the barrels, Erin was standing just out of Frieda’s reach, pistol aimed at her. Frieda was still on her back, doubled up and groaning in pain.
As Kyle came up, she glared at him. “You attacked me for no reason, and she fractured my kneecap. I need to see a doctor. Are you going to just stand there like an idiot?”
“That all depends,” Kyle said, not telling her help was already on its way. “I’m perfectly willing to wait until you tell me who you’re working for and what you’re after.”
“I’m between jobs. I came here to look for Erin and saw two people sneaking around like thieves. I followed them, and got attacked. Now call an ambulance.”
“We’re not buying your story. What was Mike doing with you and why did you attack us?” Erin demanded.
“Mike who? I came here alone.”
“Give it up, Frieda, or whoever you are,” Kyle said. “You’ve been caught, and the charges are already piling up. Identity theft, terrorism, kidnapping, murder, attempted murder, assault—and that’s just page one.”
“Terrorism? That’s a lot of bull. My name is Frieda Martinez and I’m an American citizen.”
“Stop with the cover story. You’re burned and you’re not going anywhere,” Kyle snapped. “We’re going to find out everything, sooner or later. I guarantee it’ll go easier on you if you cooperate.”
He’d wait her out. Suspects generally hated long stretches of silence and would talk just to fill in the gap. It may have worked, too, but they soon heard the wail of sirens.
“I’m not talking till I get a lawyer. I know my rights,” she said, grabbing her knee and moaning.
“Rights?” Kyle shook his head. “You’re a terrorist, and the only chance you have to avoid a life sentence—or execution—is to spill your guts while you still can. Think about it.”
* * *
KYLE STOOD WITH Preston as an officer climbed into the back of the ambulance next to Frieda.
“Don’t worry. Perez is one of my best officers,” Preston said. “Any chance Frieda will accept a deal and turn in the others?”
“That depends on who she really is, but there’s always a chance, providing we make her a good enough offer. You might want to have a federal prosecutor on call for this one,” Kyle said.
“You’ll be coming in to question her?”
“Not right away. I’m going for a swim. I think Hank may have dropped those detonators in the river off the old highway bridge. Any idea where I can get some scuba gear?”
“Yeah, sure, the fire department has some they use for rescue operations. They’ll loan it to the P.D. if I ask. You’re guessing that Leland did that the night he came back?” Seeing Kyle nod, he added, “That river’s cold, swift and pretty murky this time of year, you know.”
“I’ve been trained for underwater recovery. Get the right gear, rope and a light. If it’s there, I’ll find it.”
“Give me ten minutes to get things set up and I’ll have one of our officers meet you at the bridge. Bill Walters is a former navy diver who works with the fire department on water-rescue situations. He can’t dive for you right now, he broke a rib during one of our training ops, but he’ll be able to guide you better than anyone else I know.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Kyle went to join Erin. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah, by now I’m getting used to surprises,” she said, “but I’m starting to scare myself. I think I really would have shot Frieda if she’d tried to run.”
“Had you told me you were ready to kill her, I would have worried, too, but you’re talking about a nonlethal response. Why does that bother you?” he asked, leading her back to the SUV.
“I’m not a violent person. I don’t even like to watch violent TV shows. Yet here I am accepting that the only way to communicate with these people is through violence.”
“With terrorists, it’s often all they understand.”
“I can�
��t accept that and still be me,” she said. “The world needs warriors like you, but there’s also a place for people like me.”
“You’ll go back to what’s familiar to you soon, but until this is over and these people are behind bars, you’ll have to keeping tapping into your warrior side.”
He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “When I was growing up, I got through the tough times by reminding myself that life goes on and things change,” he said. “Some of the foster homes I stayed in were great, others, not so much, but either way, I never stayed at one for long.”
“Was it the foster parents who’d make or break it for you?”
“Not always. Sometimes I was the only Indian kid at the home, and when you’re in the minority, problems often follow.”
“So you’ve always been a warrior.”
“Yeah, but I’m better trained now,” he answered with a grin.
* * *
TWENTY MINUTES LATER Kyle turned off the old highway onto a dirt road, then came upon an open gate with a sign that read Conservancy Access Only. Passing through, he drove downhill into the bosque. Seeing a police SUV parked below and to the right of a concrete bridge pier, he continued on and parked to one side.
A uniformed officer stepped out of his department vehicle and Kyle went to meet him. “Officer Walters?”
“That’s me. You ready to go for a swim?” the short, barrel-chested deputy asked.
“You bet,” Kyle answered. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Walters opened the back of the SUV and gestured inside. “Everything you need—except the wet suit might be a little tight. I’ll attach a secure line to my vehicle and keep you from drifting during the search. The depth of the water here maxes out at about 10 feet this time of year, and the current is probably less than 2 mph, so you won’t have to struggle to stay in one place,” he said. “While you’re below, I’ll keep an eye on the witness.”
“One minute.” Kyle called Preston, took a quick photo of the officer and mailed it to him. “This is the guy, right?”
“That’s him. You can trust Bill, he’s one of our best.”
“Anything new on Frieda yet?”
“She says she’ll cooperate once the deal’s in writing. What she wants is a guarantee that she won’t be extradited, or sent to an overseas detention center. She also wants protection and a new identity,” Preston said. “Since we’re still trying to verify who she really is, we can’t sign off on it yet.”
Kyle went behind the SUV to put on the wet suit, which fit well except for the short length. Better than nothing, it would help retain his body heat and protect him from getting scraped by any drifting plant debris or submerged branches. After checking his equipment carefully, including a small but powerful LED lantern, he went to the river’s edge and put on his fins.
“Stay with Officer Walters,” he told Erin, and as he met Walters’s gaze, saw him nod.
Kyle confirmed his intended search pattern and the emergency signal to haul him back to shore as he attached the line around his waist.
Ready, he stepped into cold water up to his knees, adjusted his mask and regulator, turned on the lamp, then eased forward into the river.
* * *
ERIN WATCHED KYLE disappear beneath the water, her heart beating overtime. Everything was so jumbled in her mind! She wanted this nightmare to end, but when it did, she’d lose Kyle.
What she’d felt when Frieda had attacked him, that overpowering need to protect him, had made her realize one thing. Kyle was her once-in-a-lifetime love. He was the soul mate her mother had told her about—her opposite who would complete her in every way that mattered.
Since Kyle willingly faced danger daily—a choice she found baffling—instinct assured her that he’d also need a counterpoint to that in his life. She wanted to be there for him and give him a place he could always retreat to and gather his strength.
As the minutes ticked by, she began to worry. Instinctively, she stepped closer to the water’s edge.
“It’s hard to see anything in that murky river,” Walters said, as if reading her mind. “Visibility is probably five feet or less. I lost track of the glow from his lamp almost immediately. He’ll have to work his way across to the opposite bank, and it’s impossible to know what kind of junk might be down there in his way—car parts, cans, bottles and whatnot,” he said. “But he’s smart to begin with the downstream side. Even a dropped rock is carried by the current on its fall to the river bottom.”
“He’s convinced that what he’s looking for is there, and he’ll keep this up all night if he has to. No way he’ll give up.”
He smiled at her. “Good cops seldom do. It’s not in our nature to back off or do a job halfway.”
As she stared at the surface of the water, trying to spot the bubbles in the ripples of current or the glow from Kyle’s lantern, she realized how much Kyle had changed her. She’d always seen herself as married to the land, but the truth was that would never be enough for her again. No matter what happened from now on, her heart belonged to him.
“Two quick tugs on the rope,” the officer suddenly acknowledged. “He’s coming back. I’ll take up the slack and lead him in.”
It wasn’t long before Erin saw the glow of the light in the water, then Kyle’s head appeared at the surface. As he approached the bank, she could see he was cradling a canvas bag in his arms. It was tied at the top.
Erin took hold of the rope as Officer Walters stepped to the river’s edge and took the bag from Kyle’s outstretched hands.
Kyle pulled back his mask and removed his mouthpiece. “Set it down gently, I don’t want to crush the contents. There are concrete pavers in there, and if I’m right, electrical detonators that need to remain intact.”
“Not pressure detonators?” Walters asked quickly, now holding the bag a little farther from his body as he stepped over to dry sand. “We can’t set them off, right?”
Kyle laughed. “No, not unless you get struck by lightning. Set the bag down on the sand so I can open it up.”
He brought out a sturdy diver’s knife from the belt at his waist, then cut off the top of the canvas bag. Walters kneeled down beside him and held the fabric steady as Kyle continued to cut it away.
“Just what I expected,” Kyle said. “Officer Walters, could you call my brother? Tell him I have what we needed and ask that he meet us at Daniel’s office.”
Glancing back at Erin as Walters stepped away, Kyle grinned. “Miss me?”
Erin smiled, then turned off the lantern and set it on the ground. “More than you know.”
Surprised, he held her gaze a moment longer than usual. “Wait—what did I miss?”
He started to reach for her, then stopped, realizing he was dripping wet and wearing fins. “Duty calls. We’ll pick this up later. Count on it.”
Chapter Nineteen
“The detonators are the same make and model as the one you found in the box at Secure Construction. I’ve also got the cell-phone SIM card you recovered along with them buried in rice,” Daniel said. “That’ll dry it out and then we can see what made it so special that Leland wanted to make sure it was ruined.”
“You really think you can restore it?” Kyle asked.
“No guarantees, but I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve and some equipment that’s nothing short of awesome,” Daniel said. “As for the detonators, who knows if they still work? I certainly wouldn’t want to try to use one of them now.”
“I’m thinking Hank came home, saw the detonators, and not knowing when they’d come to claim them, decided to sink the lot on the way home,” Kyle said. “If the terrorists showed up before we did, he could tell them the package hadn’t arrived. Once he threw away the boxes in his office, who’d know otherwise?”
“I still d
on’t understand how Frieda’s connected to all this,” Erin said.
“I’ve got the answer to that,” Preston said, coming into the room.
“About time you got here,” Kyle said with a quick half grin.
“While you were playing in the river, I was working,” Preston shot back, barely able to keep a straight face. “Frieda’s a Mexican national and her real name is Evelyn Santeiro. She does wet work for one of the Mexican cartels. The bartender at the Quarter Horse Bar, Ed Huff, found out who she really was, and offered her a chance to work for him as a mercenary. Huff, by the way, is an alias, too, but we haven’t identified him yet.”
“What’s wet work?” Erin asked, confused.
“She was a hired assassin,” Kyle answered.
Erin stared at him in shock.
“After her last hit—the competitor of the man she worked for—she was given forged papers and sent to the States to lay low,” Preston said. “Then Evelyn met Huff, who, as it turned out, did some legitimate business with Mexican beer distributors. One of the salesmen recognized Evelyn and warned Huff to watch his back. Huff decided to use Evelyn’s skills instead. He hooked her up with Bruce, so she’d have a family connection that would get her in close to Hank—Huff’s objective. She didn’t waste any time, and before long had Hank exactly where she wanted him.”
“Poor Hank,” Erin said.
“They were both manipulated, Hank and Bruce,” Preston said. “The money Evelyn loaned Bruce came from Huff, and Evelyn thinks that Bruce is still under Huff’s thumb. Bruce is being blackmailed and that money used as evidence to connect him to their operation and Hank’s death.”
“There are still some missing pieces to this puzzle,” Kyle said, looking at Daniel. “I need to know what’s on that SIM card.”
“That’s not something I can rush,” Daniel said. “If I try to access it too soon, we risk losing everything that might still be on it. At least it wasn’t crushed by those pavers.”
