Wind River Undercover

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Yes. You talked to Roberta last week. Were they going somewhere this week?”

  “She didn’t say anything to me even though I’d asked her about where her sons were.”

  Grunting, he pondered the danger level. “We need to get in there and be sure it’s drugs.”

  “And even if we do?”

  “The Salt Lake City task force for this area will probably want us to keep an eye on them and see if another truck comes in and takes the drugs for distribution. Or if the brothers leave with the drugs. They’ll be followed, but it won’t be by us. We’re to maintain our cover here.”

  “Who’s going to tail the Elson brothers if they go someplace with the drugs?”

  “Salt Lake will alert the task force, give them the GPS, and they’re going to have to follow them and see where and to whom the drugs are distributed. They’ll be compiling lists at this point.”

  “Right,” she said. “Good thing Roberta doesn’t have a dog. That would make this even more dicey to get over there to check out the contents in the barn.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed grimly. “Let me make that call. Are you coming in?”

  “I need to upload the still photos to the cloud. I’ll be in shortly.”

  “Okay,” he said, taking the wooden ladder steps down to the first floor.

  Anna liked the newly built video area. She and Gabe had worked two days to create a small shed that looked more like a toolshed to the casual observer on the second floor. It could be padlocked if they ever left the property and no one was here to keep watch over it. Gabe had installed a silent alarm within the shed that would send a signal to the Salt Lake task force, who would record it and then contact them. Luckily, Anna had synced her Apple Watch with the potential break-in and it would send her a signal, as well. Positioning smaller cameras hidden up on the beams of the barn on the first and second floor, they would get a good look at the perp who broke into the barn. If that happened, their cover was blown and that wasn’t good. The danger was ratcheting up. Whether she wanted to or not, she worried about Gabe getting hurt, even though he was a toughened undercover DEA agent. He knew the drill. Still, in her heart, she worried.

  May 1

  “Ready?” Gabe asked Anna. Ace was in the house and told to guard it. They didn’t need him on this foray. They stood just outside. It was two A.M., a moonless night with some high cloud cover. The wind was inconstant, a front heading their way tomorrow. He always considered wind an added plus because it could muffle their approach.

  “Ready,” Anna said quietly into the mic near her lips. They wore an earpiece and mic so they could converse if necessary. Dressed in black bodysuits, Kevlar vests in place, Glock pistols in holsters with a bullet in the chamber and the safety off, they began a slow approach to the field that yawned between them. There was no cover. And that is when, if the brothers were up and watching, they could be killed. That thought made her reach out, grip Gabe’s hand. He turned, surprise in his eyes, but heat in them, too.

  “I’ll lead,” she told him. Squeezing his hand one more time, she released it.

  Gabe nodded, but said nothing. Anna was the perfect person to lead them. She was used to walking silently through jungles and hunting down her targets. He wasn’t. The eyes of a sniper were unlike others. There could be trip wires, practically invisible to those who weren’t used to knowing what to look for, around the barn.

  He pulled the ski mask down over his face just as she had done. Her hair was tight in a bun at the nape of her neck. They melted into the night, keeping six feet between them. They would walk down their fence line opposite the end of the barn where the drugs were. Then, make their way through the weeds of the pasture and ease behind it.

  The next ten minutes were tense as Anna kept her NVGs, night vision goggles, aimed at the ground at her feet and just ahead of where she was going to step next. The wind came and went, gusts passing them. At times, she halted and knelt down on one knee, intently watching the house for any sign of movement, listening for a voice carried on the wind, or a light going on.

  The house remained dark and quiet.

  Easing slowly upward, she moved again. It was impossible to look down into the weeds until she was on top of them. Anna seriously doubted any wires were out here, but it would be foolish to think that there were none, either. Her heart was thudding slowly in her chest as the rear of the barn loomed before her. She had done this work for so many years that it did not raise her pulse nor did adrenaline start leaking into her veins. This was old-school. Boring, but it could kill her and Gabe just as easily, so her focus was fierce.

  Behind the barn, they flattened their backs against it, taking a breather. The hardest part was crossing that open field, a quarter of a mile wide.

  Gabe eased away from the barn, moving about six feet outward, looking for another entrance, a window or anything. Anna had pushed her ski mask up and took off her NVGs for a moment. Her eyes glittered, lips compressed, nostrils flared. He was breathing hard, too. It was actually more physically demanding to walk slowly than to run that distance. He pointed to his right.

  “Window.”

  Anna nodded, slipped on the NVGs and pushed away, following him down the weedy area outside the old, unpainted wall of the barn, watching for trip wires or disturbed soil that could have an IED planted beneath it. As much as he wished Ace were present, the dog could present complications to what they wanted to accomplish.

  Gabe halted, eyeing the window. It was dirty and he couldn’t see through it. Running his gloved fingers upward, searching for a latch, he found one. Using one of his tools in his belt, he couldn’t budge the window.

  “Locked from the inside,” he muttered unhappily.

  Anna peered through the gloom. “Can’t see a thing. We have to see if there’s a window at the other end. Last thing I want to do is to try to get in through the sliding barn doors. Anyone in the house, if they were up, could see us out there.”

  “No lights on in the house to indicate that so far,” Gabe said, turning. “Let’s go . . .” he added, and moved ahead.

  There was a second large window. Once more, he ran his fingers over the seam where it opened. The caulking that had been around the window was yellowed with age and cracked, and most of it was gone.

  “Locked from the inside.”

  Anna cursed softly beneath her breath. “Okay, let me lead. They could have a wire or some other device in the front of this shed that could send them a silent alarm inside their home.”

  “Go for it.”

  Anna took the lead and halted at the corner. She knelt down, absorbing the darkened house that was about a hundred feet away from the barn. The tree branches around the house clacked as gusts hit the naked limbs. Everything was quiet. Easing to her feet, she intently watched where she stood. She would stop, look up, look down, searching for any device that might send a warning to the brothers.

  Nothing. At least, not yet. Anna dragged in a deep breath and moved up to the slight slope of a graveled area.

  “Padlock on the door,” she reported, pulling out her locksmith tools.

  Gabe came and stood behind her, placing himself as a target, shielding her from anyone’s view from the house. He had pulled out his pistol and silently watched the home and surrounding area.

  “Open.”

  Music to his ears. He heard the one panel door being eased open, the rust on it making creaking, squeaky noises.

  “I’m in. You’re next . . .”

  Looking over his shoulder, he backed into the barn opening. Once in, Anna shut it as quietly as she could. Turning, she swiftly surveyed the gloom. It was a large area and she could see the piled-up drugs in one corner between the two windows they’d tried to ingress earlier. “Let me search first for any alarm devices,” she told him, holding up her hand in warning.

  “I’m going to open whichever window I can get open after you okay the area,” he told her.

  “Good idea. I’ll count packets, take photos, an
d then we’ll vamoose.”

  “We’ll have to have one of us come around and padlock that door once we’re done,” he said, looking around and up in the cobwebbed, dusty rafters above them.

  “Roger that. I’ll do it.” She pulled a pair of thick, protective latex gloves on her hands and took a protective oxygen mask, unclipped it from her belt, and settled it over her nose and mouth. If fentanyl was present, and if she breathed in a tiny bit of the powder, it could kill her instantly. And if she didn’t wear the gloves, just getting the drug on her fingertips would immediately absorb it into her bloodstream. It, too, could kill her. She made a motion for Gabe to remain far away so he couldn’t be harmed in case one of these packets was that deadly drug. He nodded and stepped far away, next to the door.

  Gabe watched her move in total silence. Fortunately, the floor of the barn was swept, but everything else in it was filthy. It felt like an eternity, but it was only five minutes before Anna had reached the drugs and then checked out both window areas. Sometimes, druggies put silent alarms or baby cams up so that anyone entering would trigger it. This was not the case with the Elson brothers. They obviously felt safe enough here that no one in their right mind would try to come into their barn. They more than likely were counting on their dangerous reputation in the valley. A tight grin came to his mouth. Over the years, he’d found gaping holes in druggies’ understanding of stealth. And, like Anna, he had acquired a lot of training and on-the-job experience looking for these holes. Drug soldier laxness was their gain as far as he was concerned.

  Anna knew from experience not to open any of the packets. She had an instrument that, once it was placed on the packet, would identify what drug was within it. As she thought, watching her monitor, there was not only heroin and cocaine, but also packets of pure fentanyl. That scared her even more. It was so lethal. And druggies weren’t pharmacists or doctors who knew what amount to give a person so that it didn’t kill them. She was very careful not to move anything on the pile, preferring to take photos from the sides and top.

  She counted the packets, fifty in total. They’d all been heavily taped and cord had been tied around each one. Taking photos with a special, small camera, she had everything she needed in five minutes. Looking up, she saw that Gabe had quietly eased open one of the rear windows. It was large enough for them to escape out of and not be seen on their exit. Dust fell in a cloud down below it as he gently eased it open, trying to minimize any sounds. She saw him pick up and carry over a plastic egg crate they could use to step up on and escape more easily. Moving toward him, she made a hand signal that she was ready to go. They had the evidence. That was all that mattered.

  “I’ll go around front and lock that barn door,” he told her.

  “No . . . let me,” Anna said, tucking away her instrument and camera into pockets on her belt. “I don’t trust that they couldn’t have laid trip wires. I want to take my time getting to those doors.” She couldn’t tell much from his expression with NVGs and an oxygen mask on. She made the decision for him, stepping up on the egg crate. “Help me out.”

  In moments, she had pushed across the sill of the window and ended up on the ground on the other side. Scrambling to her feet, she turned, watching Gabe quietly maneuver through it. He was larger, wider, and longer than she was, and she held out her hands to help him. He gripped them, then made a quick push with his boots and launched forward. In moments, Anna had guided him out and to the grass.

  As Gabe got to his feet and removed his mask, she said, “I’ll go back into the barn and lock that window so they don’t suspect we were in there. Then, I’ll come out and padlock the doors shut. I’ll meet you at the corner and then we’ll leave.”

  “Copy that,” he grunted, getting to his feet and pulling the window closed. “Be careful, Anna.”

  “Oh,” she said, “always.” She slipped away, trotting toward the other end of the barn, and made a turn around the corner, heading for the other side. Breathing through her mouth, she crouched at the corner that would take her to the front of the barn. The lights were still out in the house. Nothing moved. The wind gusted and then quieted. Like a shadow, she crouched and made her way around to the front door that they’d slid open. In no time, she’d entered it and locked the rear window and turned. Her boot caught on something. In seconds, she fell. The sound scared her. She felt immediate pain in her ankle.

  Dammit!

  Remaining on the floor, she told Gabe, “Boot tangled in something. I fell. I’m all right.” That would keep Gabe where he was. Getting to her feet, she tested her left ankle. It was tender and complained. But she could walk on it. Looking around, she saw she’d tangled with a gunnysack that had been thrown across the floor that they hadn’t seen earlier.

  Hurrying to the door, she quickly slid it shut without a sound, leaving just enough room for her to slide between it. In her gloved hand, she held the padlock. Peeking out, she made sure all was quiet and dark.

  It was. Good! Slipping out, she quickly slid the padlock into place and locked it.

  Done!

  She swiftly moved with a slight limp toward the end of the barn. Turning, she met Gabe.

  “Are you okay?” he demanded, gripping her upper arm.

  “Fine. Probably sprained my left ankle.” She pulled off her oxygen mask, stuffing it in a pocket and so did Gabe. “Let’s go!” she said, and she pulled out of his grip, heading toward the field behind the barn, which would hide their exit. Luckily, the weeds were fairly beaten down, and unless the brothers were expert trackers, they would never find their trail. This time, they headed in another direction, just in case the Elsons could track, not taking the same one they’d used to reach the barn. It took more time, but Anna knew how to discourage trackers and by the time they reached the fence to their property, a good thirty minutes had elapsed.

  It was 3:30 A.M. when they got to their barn. Quickly shucking out of their gear, they hid it in a nearby trunk against the wall and padlocked it shut. Using their NVGs, it was easy to get to the house. Inside, they kept the lights off. They moved to the one bedroom, shut the door, and turned on the light.

  Gabe’s face was sweaty and tight. Anna could see the worry in his eyes as she sat down on a nearby chair.

  “You’re limping more,” he growled, coming over, kneeling down, and looking at her left boot. “What happened?”

  “Tripped on a gunnysack under my feet,” she said, shaking her head. “Rookie mistake. I should have looked more closely where I was standing. I need to get these photos uploaded, Gabe. Will you write up a report so I can send it with them?”

  “I want to check your ankle first.”

  “Later,” she said, standing. “I’m okay.” She watched him unwind to his full height, no more than a foot away from her. Reaching out, she squeezed the upper arm of his black one-piece suit. “I’m fine. I’ll check it out as soon as we get this intel into the DEA.”

  “Yes,” he muttered, giving her a dark look, “we will.”

  Anna nodded, liking the “we” he’d said, hiding a smile as she brushed past him and out the door. She had to get out to the barn to unload the camera card, hook it up, and send the photos. “You can fax that report to them.”

  “I’m on it.”

  She could tell he didn’t want to leave her side, that protectiveness on full display. Halting momentarily at the open door, she turned and said, “Really, I’m fine, Gabe. Don’t mother hen me. It’s just a sprain. I’ll take care of it when I come back in.”

  “Okay,” he said, halting, staring down at her.

  “I’ll be back in about ten minutes. See you then . . .” she said, and she turned carefully, not wanting to stress that ankle any more than she had to. As she hurried down the hall to the back door that would lead to the barn, she absorbed his care and concern. In a tense situation, Gabe had acted appropriately, and that served to tell her one more good thing about him as a partner. She’d been alone all her professional life and having someone at her side
was entirely new to her. Never mind she was teased daily by his masculine presence. What was she going to do about it?

  Chapter Eight

  “You need to take your boot off so we can look at your ankle,” Gabe said as she reentered the house fifteen minutes later. Ace had greeted them, wagging his tail, glad to see them once more. He ordered the dog to lie down near the table so he could examine Anna’s injury.

  “Yes,” Anna said, shutting the door. She shrugged out of her coat, hanging it on a nearby hook. “I got the video and photos loaded up on the cloud.”

  “And I took your numbers and info on the packets and faxed it to Salt Lake City task force and DEA La Mesa. Now, we sit back and wait to see what they want to do with this intel.” He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “Take a seat. I want to examine your ankle.”

  “Okay, Doc,” she teased, sitting and leaning down, unlacing her boot. “Stop being a helicopter mother, okay?” She lifted her chin as he knelt down in front of her. “If I had a nickel for every scratch or injury I had out in the jungle, I’d be rich, Gabe.”

  “Well, it’s different now,” he said, resting his hands on his thighs as she unlaced the boot. “We’re partners.”

  It was more than that, but Anna wasn’t going there. Not now. “You’re right. I’m not used to working in tandem.” She grinned a little and lifted her head, meeting his narrowed gaze that clearly showed his worry over her injury. “Are you like this out in the field, too?”

  “No. When I was undercover, I had no partner. I was on my own, like you were.”

  Grunting, Anna eased the boot off. She hid her grimace and took off her heavy sock, pulling up her trouser leg. “Crap.”

  Gabe saw the bluish-purple swelling around her ankle. In part, the high-top boot had given her ankle the support it needed. He watched the flesh swell now that the walls of the boot were removed. “I wonder if you’ve torn something,” he muttered, and he cupped her heel in the palm of his hand and ran his fingers knowingly over the injury. “It’s pretty swollen.”