Raven smiled and turned back to look out of the passenger window. At any other time, he would have enjoyed the banter, but today he didn’t feel much like his charming self. It wasn’t because he was exhausted and covered in bruises and cuts from the showdown against Brown Feather. The events of the past five days had changed Raven. The injuries to his body were going to leave scars, and the horror inflicted by the wannabe Water Cannibals would stay with him forever. The stories from his childhood had given him nightmares for years. Seeing them come to life was enough to make him crave a stiff drink.
Too bad he’d quit drinking.
The old Raven would have tried to drown the memories in a bottle, but he didn’t do that anymore. He had a family to protect—hell, thanks to Colton, he now had a whole town to protect. Sandra and Allie, along with the rest of Estes Park, needed him sober. And at the moment, they needed him to track down the junkies who had put Officer Nelson in the hospital.
“You okay over there?” Lindsey asked. “I didn’t hurt your feelings, did I?”
Raven straightened his Seattle Mariners baseball cap and tried to sound convincing. “Lady…” He corrected himself when she glanced in his direction. “I mean, Detective. It takes a whole hell of a lot more than that to hurt my feelings.”
“I’m just giving you shit.” She met his gaze for a moment before looking back to the road. “I heard what you did up on Prospect Mountain, and I’m glad to have you with me. With us, I mean. The Estes Park police force.”
Raven felt his smile return. He wasn’t used to being flattered. Especially by a cop. And never by a pretty cop.
“Creek and I are happy to help.”
“I just wish I’d been up there with y’all. Maybe I could have saved Captain Englewood.”
Raven’s smile folded to a frown. He was sorry for Jake and his family, but the man’s sacrifice had helped save Sandra and Allie. There was no telling what Brown Feather would have done to them if Jake and Nathan hadn’t shown up.
“The Stanley sure is a blessing,” Lindsey said after a long pause.
“Huh?” Raven eyed the red roof of the iconic hotel in the distance. “Oh. Right. How many people are staying there?”
“Hundreds, I think. I’ve lost track. There are over one hundred and fifty rooms, plus there are other buildings on the property, but we still don’t have enough space for everyone. We’ve moved some of the stranded tourists to other hotels and resorts. I can’t imagine how they’re feeling, stuck here and away from their homes and family.”
Raven wanted to ask her about her own family, but this wasn’t the time or the place. He continued to look out the window at the Stanley. It was amazing how things had changed nearly overnight.
“I always thought it would take longer for society to collapse,” he said.
“Without power? Without smartphones?” Lindsey lifted a brow. “I’m surprised we’re not hearing about more shootings.”
“Like the one that Don found? I bet there are more cases like that. We just aren’t hearing about them.”
“Yeah,” Lindsey said. “You’re probably right. And you know what else? I really don’t like the way Don talked to Colton. It’s been a long time coming though, to be honest.”
“How do you mean?”
“Colton and Don have always butted heads, ever since I got hired. Jake was the buffer between the two. Now that he’s gone…” She shrugged, never taking her eyes from the road. “I don’t think Mayor Andrews likes Colton much, either. I wouldn’t be surprised if the administration tries to push Don into the Chief of Police position.”
“I never liked that little prick,” Raven replied. “He wanted to toss me in jail and throw away the key when I got arrested for poaching.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Raven rubbed his forehead and smirked. “Then again, I didn’t really like Colton at first, either. He’s kind of a prick, too.”
Lindsey chuckled and shifted the aviators higher on her freckled nose. “He means well. The man has a big heart, but he’s one of those old-school, hard-ass cops. I hope I never get like that.”
“Really?” Raven said. “Because I already think you’re kind of a hard-ass. You’re definitely a firecracker. Pretty terrible combination, if you ask me.”
“Very charming, Sam.” She laughed and turned onto Devils Gulch Road. The engine rattled as the truck shot down the open road. Fences separated the shoulder from grassy fields, and the houses were fewer and farther between out here on the edge of town.
To the west, bluffs dotted with Douglas firs, aspens, and ponderosa pines separated civilization from the wilderness. There were a few stalled cars ahead, but the only person Raven saw was a guy walking his dog along the shoulder. They were lucky the radiation had mostly passed them by up here, and people could go outside without fear of being poisoned.
“Any idea where we should start?” Lindsey asked.
“I say we canvass some more folks,” Raven said. He pointed to the man walking his dog. “Starting with the guy in the Estes Park hoodie.”
“That’s Allen Dixon. He’s a retired school teacher and a pretty nice guy,” she said, bringing the vehicle to a stop.
Creek jumped up in the bed of the pickup and barked at Allen’s Golden Retriever. Raven rolled down his window and told Creek to be quiet.
“Afternoon, Mr. Dixon,” Lindsey called out.
Allen strode over to the vehicle and pulled down the hood of his sweatshirt, revealing a weathered, bearded face.
“Afternoon, Officer Plymouth and… I’m afraid I don’t know your name, son.”
“Raven Spears, sir.” He stuck his hand out the window to shake.
“Nice to meet you,” Allen said. “What brings you this way?”
“We’re looking for three people who assaulted an officer,” Raven said.
“Two men and a woman,” Lindsey said. “Guys were both around forty years old and between five-ten and six feet tall. The larger man was wearing an Old Navy sweatshirt, and the thinner man had on a red poncho. The woman is probably five-five or shorter and about one hundred pounds. She had on a flannel shirt when she was last seen.”
“They’re all tweakers,” Raven added.
“Tweakers?” Allen asked.
“Addicts,” Lindsey corrected.
Raven nodded. “Yeah, addicts would be the fancy terminology. You seen anyone like that?”
Allen scanned the road like he was looking for them. As he turned, Raven spotted the grip of a pistol holstered under his sweatshirt.
“I heard about them, but I haven’t seen anyone matching that description,” Allen said. “Do you think they came this way?”
“Possibly,” Lindsey replied. “We’re encouraging everyone to use caution. Don’t approach these people yourself.”
“I’ll walk into town if I hear or see anything,” Allen said. He patted the door. “Sorry to hear about Captain Englewood. He was a good man and an old friend.”
Lindsey nodded. “We’re all taking it hard.”
Allen started to walk away and then paused. “You know, I haven’t heard anything from the Whites for a few days. I thought it was odd, but figured they were just keeping to themselves after all that’s happened.”
“Where do they live?” Raven asked.
Lindsey looked through the windshield. “Just three houses up. Right, Allen?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We’ll check it out. Stay safe out here,” she said with a smile.
Creek barked at the Golden Retriever again as Lindsey pulled back onto the road. This time Raven let it go. He was fine with his Akita telling the other dogs who the boss was in Estes Park.
“The Whites have one hell of a house,” Lindsey said. “Makes sense our suspects went there.”
“Lots of these folks have nice houses.”
“True, but the Whites’ is one of the biggest.”
“Maybe we should go get some backup, like the Chief said…”
Linds
ey rolled her eyes. “Really?”
“Hey, I’m just trying to follow the rules for the first time in my life.”
She laughed at that. “I think we can handle this.”
“You’re the boss.”
“Don’t forget it.” Her dimpled smile was hard not to admire, but Raven forced his gaze back to the terrain.
Lindsey steered around a brand-new Dodge Ram with oversized wheels stalled in the middle lane. The next hill provided a view of the valley for several miles. A stone fortress was tucked inside the forest, overlooking the magnificent panorama.
“I’m assuming that’s the house?” Raven asked.
“Yup. I’m going to drive past and park near the trees on the east side.”
Raven pulled his Glock 22 and checked the ammo. He wasn’t taking any more chances, especially if he was going to be raiding houses. A crossbow against an armed chase in close quarters was not his idea of a fair fight.
Lindsey tucked the truck behind a wall of ponderosas a quarter-mile from the border of the property. After killing the engine, she checked the magazine in her Beretta 92F and then tucked it back in the holster.
“No shooting unless I give you the order,” Lindsey said.
“All due respect, but I was fighting in Iraq when you were still in grade school.”
She crinkled her freckled nose. “And all due respect to you, but I’m the police officer. You’re here to assist me.”
Raven dipped his head and opened the door. Walking to the back of the truck, he grabbed his bow and then let the tailgate down for Creek to hop out.
“You okay, boy?” Raven asked, crouching beside his dog.
Creek wagged his tail and licked Raven’s face. He seemed just fine, despite being tossed into a tree the day before.
Raven loaded a bolt in the groove of his bow and scanned the property while Creek relieved himself on a bush. The main house was two stories high with windows along the east side. A carriage house and a barn were positioned on the south side of the land.
“You take Creek around back. I’ll take the front,” Lindsey said. “I’m going to do this the old-fashioned way and knock. You keep out of sight unless you see something, got it?”
“Hold up,” Raven said. “What do you know about the Whites? Does Mrs. White sit at home and knit while Mr. White reads? Or are they card-carrying members of the NRA who would have no problem taking a pot shot at a handsome American Indian?”
Lindsey shook her head and smirked. “Laurel and Steve are both retired lawyers from Denver. They’re quiet and keep to themselves. I don’t think you need to worry about getting shot, especially if you stay out of sight.” She paused and added, “That’s what you did in the Marines, right?”
“Very funny,” Raven said. He tucked his pistol into the holster at his back. This time he wasn’t carrying his hatchets. One of them was still jammed in Brown Feather’s head up on Prospect Mountain, and the other was in his gear bag.
“Come here, boy,” Raven said. He bent down to give Creek a sniff of a hat one of the suspects had dropped when fleeing the Safeway parking lot. The dog took in the smell and sat on his haunches, tail wagging, ready to hunt.
“Good luck,” Lindsey said.
“You too.”
Raven followed Creek through the woods on the eastern edge of the property. He cradled his crossbow comfortably as he crept over the beds of fallen pine needles. Through the gaps in the trees, he watched Lindsey approach the circular drive. When she was halfway there, he emerged from the protection of the woods and ran toward the house. He stayed low, keeping out of view from the windows.
Creek followed him, sniffing the air. The dog took off for the backyard, but Raven didn’t call after him. His furry best friend was smart enough not to walk into a trap.
Raven hugged the side of the house and crept under the large windows. A crow cawed in the distance, but otherwise it was quiet.
In the Marines, he had been connected to his squad by a comm link and a variety of other modes of communication. That had all changed after the EMP attack. Raven had gone back to what he learned growing up on the Rez. That meant trusting nobody but Creek, and relying on nothing but his own senses.
The rap of Lindsey’s hand on the front door sounded far too loud in the silence.
Raven stopped and waited for voices, but there was only Lindsey’s as she asked, “Mr. White, Mrs. White. Is anyone home?”
Overhead, the sun peeked out of the clouds, illuminating the meticulously groomed backyard. There were stone paths, a fire pit and a fountain, and shrubs pruned into the shapes of animals. It put Raven’s humble abode to shame, but he still liked his house better.
He took another moment to listen and then peered around the back corner at a pair of French doors. Drapes blocked his view of the inside. A staircase led up to the deck on the back of the house. There was another set of doors at the top. Creek was already there, sitting on his haunches.
Raven scanned the sprawling backyard one more time before heading up the steps. Although his dog thought the coast was clear, Raven still kept his finger along the trigger guard of his bow.
At the top of the stairs, he slung the weapon over his back and drew his pistol. He waved Creek away from the door and approached slowly, careful not to make too much noise on the creaky decking. Past the gauzy drapes, he could just make out the kitchen. The surfaces were all clean of dirty dishes and food, which told Raven his chases likely hadn’t been here. Drug addicts weren’t exactly known for cleaning up after themselves.
He readied his Glock with one hand and grabbed the sliding glass door with his other hand. The door was unlocked. While it was possible the Whites would leave their expensive house unlocked, it wasn’t likely. Raven listened for Lindsey’s voice, but heard nothing. The silence was disturbing. Where the hell was she?
He kept to the side of the door, out of sight, as he waited for her to come to the backyard, but the minutes ticked by. Eventually, he decided to move.
Raising his gun, he swept the muzzle over one of the biggest kitchens he had ever seen and slowly crossed the room with Creek by his side. The space opened into a living area with vaulted ceilings, a stone fireplace, and oak bookshelves lining the walls between the large windows.
The white couches and carpet were all immaculate—no sign of squatters here. To his right, French doors led to a study. Inside, he found a gun cabinet. His heart hammered when he saw the shattered glass forming a skirt around the base.
The weapons were gone.
Raven slowly stepped back into the living room to look for Lindsey. Something was wrong. She should have showed up by now.
He motioned for Creek to follow him toward the front door. Halfway there, a gunshot cracked outside the house. The sound sent his heart hammering even harder against his ribs.
Lindsey!
He rushed over to the front door, swung it open, and raised his Glock. A flurry of movement in the woods caught his attention. He holstered his gun and pulled his crossbow instead. As he brought the scope up, the red Chevy pickup screeched out onto the road. The truck backfired with another crack.
The noise he had heard inside wasn’t a gunshot after all—it was just the damn muffler. He stood there staring, shocked that Lindsey would leave him. Then he saw she wasn’t driving. She was in the bed of the truck, flanked by two men who were holding her down.
There was only one thing Raven could do. He aimed his bow at one of the tires and let a bolt fly.
***
Dressed in a CBRN suit, Colton sat in the back of Raven’s Jeep Cherokee, pressing down on the dressing covering the woman’s gunshot wound while Don raced toward the hospital. The wound wasn’t fresh, but blood still seeped out.
“Hang in there, ma’am,” Colton whispered. Her head was on his lap with her knees up against the other side of the Jeep. She squinted up at him like she was trying to see his face. She hadn’t said a word since Don had picked Colton up at the barrier on Highway 7.
She moaned, and the whites of her eyes showed as they rolled up into her skull.
“Stay with me,” Colton said.
The woman was about his age, with strands of silver in her hair and crow’s feet around her eyes. Plastic garbage bags held together by tape covered her clothing, but he’d removed her scarf and goggles now that they were inside the safe zone. The bags had apparently saved her from the radiation, but dehydration and blood loss were slowly killing her.
“Where did you find her?” Colton asked.
“About thirty-two miles south. I almost ran her over, for Christ’s sake. She was crawling down the road.” Don looked up in the rearview mirror. “She’s not the only one out there, Chief. You know that, right?”
Colton knitted his brows. “I thought you said you didn’t find any other survivors.”
“I didn’t, but there were more gunshot victims. You’ve heard about the violence on Highway 34 over the radio. That’s going to hit us eventually. We can’t save everyone.”
“I’m not leaving people to die out there if we can help them. I won’t do it.”
Don grunted and turned his attention back to the road. “She’s probably contaminated, so we just risked the integrity of the vehicle by bringing her back.”
“I’ll have it hosed down and scrubbed.” Colton touched her wrist to feel for a pulse. It was weak and irregular.
“Faster,” Colton said. “She’s hanging on by a thread.”
The engine hummed as Don raced toward Estes Park, passing the lake and the first of the hotels that surrounded the town. He honked the horn at several teenagers walking in the middle of the road. One of them threw a pop can at the Jeep.
“Damn kids,” Don muttered.
“Help,” croaked the woman.
Colton glanced back down at her. “We’re going to help you, ma’am. Just hold on.”
“Where…where am I?” she said in a strangled voice.
“Estes Park. You’re on the way to our medical center.”
Don squealed down another street, jarring Colton so that his hand slipped off the dressing. The woman grabbed his arm tightly and mumbled something incoherent. He had to keep her talking before she slipped back unconscious.
Trackers Omnibus [Books 1-4] Page 30
