No Way Home

by Annette Dashofy

  Her sigh carried over the miles. “No one told me his real name. I’ve only heard him called the Wolf.”

  Pete’s brain fogged. The Wolf? Wolf Man? From the Fort? What were the odds of there being two? “Do you have any idea why this guy killed Logan’s girl and wants him dead?”

  “It has something to do with drugs. This Wolf guy wanted Logan to bring drugs with him when he came home for Thanksgiving. He refused.”

  That was it then. There definitely couldn’t be two drug dealers by that name. The man Pete had been after all this time was now after Logan.

  And Zoe.

  A heavy thud thud thud reverberated in his ear followed by Rose’s garbled, “Open the door. Now.”

  “Allison, is there anything else you can tell me?” He didn’t add that she should tell him quick. Before her mother beat down the bathroom door.

  “No.”

  If there was, he was out of time. The next voice in his ear was Sylvia’s. “Did she tell you anything she hasn’t told us?”

  “Maybe.” He didn’t want to panic the Bassi women worse than they already were.

  “Pete, listen to me. I know you’re busy. And I know these county sheriff’s department guys are more than capable, but—”

  “I’ll call you back as soon as I get a flight to Aztec.”

  “Durango. Fly into Durango, Colorado. We’ll pick you up.”

  “What was so urgent that I had to leave the Springfield investigation and drive out here right now?” Baronick stood in the doorway to the Vance Township Police Department’s front office, arms crossed and striking a pose that plainly stated his displeasure at being summoned.

  “Zoe.” Pete left Nancy on the phone, trying to find him the first available seat on the first available flight to Durango. He crooked a finger at the detective and headed to the conference room.

  Baronick dropped the pretense of superiority and followed. “What about Zoe?”

  Pete ran down the bullet points of his phone conversations with Morales and the Bassi women.

  “Our Wolf Man?” Baronick lowered into a chair.

  “Has to be. What are the odds of two drug dealers with connections to Vance Township using the name Wolf?”

  Furrows creased the detective’s brow. “But if it’s the same guy, and he’s bouncing back and forth between here and there, why force someone else to carry his product? Why not transport it himself?”

  “He doesn’t want to risk getting caught if he’d happen to be pulled over on traffic violation. Better to let some disposable kid take the fall for possession.”

  “Good point. So what’s your plan?”

  “I’m flying out as soon as I can. Nate will be in charge here over the weekend. Seth will take over the dayshift next week if I’m not back.” Pete caught and held the detective’s gaze.

  Before Pete had a chance to ask the question, Baronick nodded. “I’ll be here to back them up.”

  “Thanks. And I need an ID on this guy.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to get something for you before your plane lands.”

  Nancy appeared in the doorway. “Chief, I can get you on a flight later this afternoon, leaving Pittsburgh Airport at 4:12, arriving in Durango at 7:54, or I can get you on a cheaper flight leaving at 5:20—”

  “Book the earliest one.” Hours…minutes might make the difference.

  “Will do.” She spun and disappeared down the hall.

  Pete eyed Baronick. As much as the young detective could annoy the hell out of him, Pete knew he could trust him to handle things on this end.

  Pete extended a hand.

  Baronick clasped it. “Go bring Zoe home.”

  Twenty-five

  Pete had forgotten how much he hated to fly. If the crowded seats and resulting leg cramps in the Pittsburgh to Denver portion of the trip hadn’t reminded him, the teeth-rattling, rocky hop into Durango in a propeller-driven hunk of steel sealed the deal. And at night, there weren’t even any views of the mountains below to distract him.

  While the passengers in front of him wrestled with their luggage at the gate, he called Baronick only to learn nothing. Still no ID on the drug-dealing Wolf Man. At least Scott Springfield was cooling his heels in the Washington County jail tonight. One case down.

  Except there was something about Scott that nagged Pete the entire trip west. He shook it off as he descended the metal stairs from the plane. Let Baronick handle the homicide back home. Pete needed to find Zoe, before Wolf Man did.

  Pete slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and followed the stream of travelers into the small airport through a waiting area and around the deserted TSA checkpoint. A haggard Rose Bassi waited in the hallway, her sullen daughter at her side.

  Rose threw her arms around him. “I’m so glad you’re here.” Her voice sounded raw. “But I feel it’s only fair to warn you. When we find Zoe, I plan to kill her myself.”

  “I consider myself warned.” He released her and looked around. “Where’s Sylvia?”

  “At the hotel. She’s exhausted. Besides worrying herself sick, she’s having a really rough time with jet lag.”

  She must be to miss meeting him at the airport. He faced a brooding Allison.

  “You weren’t supposed to come here,” the girl muttered. “You were supposed to talk Mom and Grandma into going home.”

  “I’m a cop. Not a miracle worker. If you think they’d leave when your brother is still in danger, you don’t know either of them very well.”

  Rose stood a little taller. “Thank you.” She glowered at her daughter. “I don’t know what you told him on the phone earlier, but I’m glad you confided in someone. And you will tell him and Detective Morales where they can find your brother and Zoe.”

  Allison spread both arms wide. “I can’t.”

  Rose let out an exasperated growl and mimed choking the teen.

  Pete stepped between them, a hand on each female’s shoulder, and turned them both toward the exit. “Have you talked to Morales this evening?”

  “Yeah.” Rose nodded toward the doors. “He’s waiting for you out in the parking lot.”

  Wow. Pete hadn’t expected that level of cooperation.

  “He drove us here,” Rose said. “Since our rental car ended up in a ditch.” Her biting tone was clearly aimed at her daughter. “In fact, Pete, you and Allison can go out and talk to him now while I arrange for another car. If they’ll rent to me after what happened to the last one.”

  Rose veered off to handle her vehicle business. Pete tightened his grip on Allison’s shoulder as they stepped through the glass doors into the cool night air.

  At least it was warmer than back home.

  “So why exactly can’t you tell me where Zoe is?” he asked once they were outside. “And don’t give me that old ‘she won’t be safe’ line. Nothing you say or do is going to stop me from going after her and Logan. You know that, don’t you?”

  Allison lowered her head in the classic sulking kid pose. “I guess.”

  A dark-haired man in jeans and a polo shirt leaned against an illegally parked white four-door Ford pickup. He pushed away and approached, extending a hand. “Chief Adams? I’m Detective Miguel Morales, San Juan County Sheriff’s Office.”

  The man had a firm grip. They exchanged pleasantries before Pete asked, “Anything new?”

  Morales raised an eyebrow at Allison. “Not on my end. I understand you have an informant.”

  “An uncooperative one.”

  Both men stared at the girl. She squirmed.

  “Where are they?” Pete asked in his best no-nonsense voice.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  His patience with the girl was starting to fray. Zoe was out there. Somewhere. With a teenaged boy who had a killer after him. “Allison, you will tell us.”

  She b
lew an exasperated breath. “I mean I can’t. Not I won’t. I can’t. Yes, I was there. But we were on and off roads way out where I’d never been before. I was all turned around. I couldn’t tell you how to get there if my life depended on it.”

  Unfortunately, Pete believed her. “Your life may not depend on it. But Logan’s and Zoe’s do.”

  Zoe feared her spine might never recover from a second night on the dilapidated couch. In comparison, the one at the ambulance garage felt like a mattress at a five-star hotel. She tried shifting to one side and slipped a hand between the cushion and the back of the sofa where she’d stashed the revolver. Neither the touch of cold steel nor the position offered any comfort. She flopped onto her back, one arm tucked under her head, and stared into the darkness. What the hell was she doing here? Logan and Allison trusted Billy Yellowhorse implicitly, but what if they were wrong? She never should have agreed to any of this.

  As Zoe thought back over the last few days and weeks, she tried to pin down where the avalanche of bad choices had begun, and what she should have done differently. From the far end of the trailer came a thud followed by heavy footsteps headed her way. She wouldn’t have needed to look even if she could see.

  “Can’t you sleep either?” Logan asked.

  “Nope.”

  He thumped across the floor to the window. “It’s really dark.”

  No argument there.

  “Wanna go outside? The stars are incredible.”

  Considering the nearest source of man-made illumination had to be ten, fifteen, maybe even twenty miles away, he was probably right. She sat up. “Sure. Why not.”

  Wrapping her blanket around her, she followed Logan out the front door into the lonely night. She’d learned yesterday that the “front” door wasn’t the one she’d entered through the previous evening. The only real difference in the view, though, was the hard-packed but rutted road that led to—and ended at—the trailer, solving the mystery of how the mobile home had gotten there.

  Around them, the breeze rustled the dried weeds. Far off, a coyote yipped, and Zoe pulled the blanket tighter around her. Above, pinpoints of light—billions of stars—crowded the sky.

  “Wow.” There was that word again. Too bad. “Wow,” she repeated in whispered awe.

  “I know.” Logan draped an arm across her shoulders. “We don’t have stuff like this back home.”

  “No, we don’t.” Not even out on the Kroll farm. “Too many little towns too close by.”

  Logan snorted. “No towns, big or little, around here.”

  Zoe gazed toward the horizon—simply one tone of black meeting another—and contemplated his statement. And their current predicament. “Logan, I know you think Billy Yellowhorse hangs some of these stars, but can we really trust him? I mean really?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “You do realize we’re a long way from anywhere. What if he never comes back for us?”

  “He will. Probably tomorrow. He’ll need to bring more food now that there’re two of us.”

  The idea of being stranded in the middle of godforsaken nowhere began to gnaw on her. “But what if something happens to him? We know the people he’s protecting you from are dangerous. What if…” She couldn’t put her fear into words. Not for Logan. He already knew.

  “Nothing will happen to Billy. I told you. He’s scary smart. If I’d trusted him sooner, maybe none of this would’ve happened.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Logan sighed. “He tried to warn me about that bunch. I didn’t believe they were as bad as Billy said. Then after they approached me and I told them where to get off, Billy offered to step in and make them leave me alone. I thought I was tough enough to deal with them on my own. Man, was I wrong.”

  “I just hope he’s as tough as you think he is,” she said.

  Somewhere, not far away, an owl’s hoo-hoo-hoo carved through the stillness and sent a chill down Zoe’s neck. She searched the subtle differences in black and blacker, seeking the shape of the night bird.

  “Damn.” Logan shivered. “We don’t need that.”

  Zoe lifted her gaze to his face, wishing she could see his expression. “What do you mean? I think owls are cool. And that sounds like a Great Horned.”

  “The Natives believe owls are the harbingers of bad omens, even death.”

  Wonderful. “I hope you don’t mind if I hang onto my white woman’s ignorance. I want to keep on liking owls.”

  Logan didn’t answer.

  Far off at what she imagined to be the horizon line, a particularly bright star twinkled. “So tell me something. Do you have any idea where we are? I mean, for all I know we could be in the middle of the Sahara Desert.”

  The comment at least brought a chuckle. “Did Billy drive you across any oceans that I don’t know about?”

  “Well. No.”

  “We’re not in the Sahara.” He fell silent for a moment. “Yeah, I kinda know where we are.”

  The twinkling star appeared to be moving. “So enlighten me.”

  “We’re about ten miles from Navajo Dam.”

  “Which doesn’t tell me a thing.”

  Logan shushed her. She was about to ask him why, but a distant uneven throaty grumble rose above the whisper of the wind.

  Beside her, Logan went rigid. “Someone’s coming.”

  She saw it too. The twinkling star wasn’t a star at all. It was a pair of headlights. “Yellowhorse?”

  “No.” Logan swallowed hard enough that she heard it. “Billy always approaches from the other direction. The way he brought you.”

  “Kids out joyriding?” she offered hopefully.

  “Not likely.” Logan slipped his arm from her shoulders, catching her wrist instead. “We need to get outta here.”

  The words didn’t frighten Zoe half as much as the terror in his voice. “To where?”

  “Anywhere but here.” He moved, tugging her with him. “Come on.”

  The approaching vehicle was closing in. Fast.

  Zoe stumbled in the direction Logan led. But the tug intensified. “Run,” he hissed and dragged her into the darkness.

  Her heart rate rocketed as she launched after him. The blanket slipped from her shoulders. She grabbed for it. Missed. No time to stop and pick it up. Two…maybe three strides…her sneaker caught a rock. She flailed, but Logan’s grasp on her wrist jerked her, staggering, forward.

  They pounded. Tripped. Lurched away from the trailer. Away from the headlights. Into total darkness.

  She guessed they’d somehow made it almost thirty yards when Logan cried out. His hold on her broke. And he went down with a thud. Zoe’s momentum carried her forward and down, landing on top of him.

  She rolled off him and onto her knees. “Are you okay?” she asked in a ragged whisper.

  He groaned. “No. Dammit. My ankle.” She heard, felt him scrape and scramble halfway up before he gave a low yelp. “I don’t know if it’s broken or just sprained.”

  Neither was good for running, especially in the dark. She put a hand on his shoulder, holding him from trying to get up. Reached for his leg, hoping she could palpate the ankle and perhaps determine by feel how badly it was damaged.

  But a deafening rat-a-tat-tat-tat cut through the night. Zoe dove on top of Logan, flattening them both against the rocky ground. Tinny pings and the whine of ricochets layered with the rapid fire of an automatic weapon. She lifted her head enough to check out what the hell was going on.

  The vehicle, which she could now tell was an open-top Jeep, had its headlights aimed at the mobile home. A shadowy figure stood in the vehicle and pumped rounds into the trailer, slicing it to shreds in a fireworks display of sparks and flying debris.

  Holy crap. If they had been asleep in there…

  But the gunman—or men—thought they were. They didn’t kn
ow Logan and Zoe had made it clear. As long as they lay there in the dark and stayed quiet…

  Unless the men the in Jeep went inside afterwards and didn’t find a body. And then started aiming those headlights into the surrounding terrain.

  “We have to get out of here,” she whispered.

  “I know. Help me up.”

  She planted one sneaker, hooked arms with Logan, and heaved. With a grunt and a hop, he made it to his feet. “Let’s go,” Zoe whispered.

  The gunfire fell silent behind them. A man’s harsh voice shouted orders to search the wreckage. Zoe tucked herself under Logan’s arm. A human crutch. Moving much slower than before, they tottered across the uneven ground, picking their way. Each agonizing step carrying them away from the danger.

  But not fast enough. Zoe’s heart echoed in her ears. In only a matter of minutes—seconds—the gunman would learn the trailer was empty. He’d know they couldn’t have gotten far. Faster. They needed to move faster.

  Dread raised beads of panic sweat on her forehead in spite of the chill. No matter how fast they could or couldn’t travel, where were they going? She’d looked out over the landscape all day. Enough to know how barren it was. No trees or bushes thick enough to hide behind. Not even a boulder.

  Still, they staggered on into the night. Being a fleeing duck was better than a sitting one.

  In the blackness, Zoe couldn’t see anything in their path. But somehow she sensed someone…something…lurking directly in front of them. She froze. Put a hand on Logan’s chest to stop him too. What was it? Coyote? A figment of her imagination?

  “What’s wrong?” Logan whispered.

  She listened for breathing. A rustle of movement.

  There was nothing.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  She was about to start forward again when something—someone—loomed in front of her. A hand pressed to her mouth.

  And a voice rasped in her ear. “Don’t move.”

  Twenty-six

  “At least give us a starting point,” Detective Morales said to Allison. “Where were you before you got turned around?”