Hunt and Prey (Kelsey's Burden Series Book 8)

by Kaylie Hunter

  I turned my mic on, “Stand by. We have activity on the west side of the building.”

  Wild Card and Maggie turned around in the tall grass, turning off their electronic gadgets.

  “What’s she doing?” Maggie asked.

  I didn’t answer. I pulled the camera from my bag, and after checking to ensure the flash was off, I snapped a few photos of Dodd with the zoom feature. I watched her end her call but she stayed by the door, watching the parking lot.

  “Got something,” Chambers said. “Taking pictures. Sixteen-foot freight truck entered through the back drive off the side road. He’s driving behind the truck stop now. His headlights are off.”

  “Damn it,” I whispered. “If he parks in front of the office, I’m going to lose my visual.”

  “Maggie?” Wild Card whispered. “How long has it been since we scanned the north side of the field?”

  “Ten minutes, maybe?” Maggie answered.

  “Shit. Okay. Whatever. This is my fault, so I’ll fix it.” Wild Card grabbed my camera and veered off into the darkness toward the north.

  “What’s he doing?” I asked Maggie.

  “He’s the one who made you set up here, so I’m guessing he’s moving to where you wanted to be, and he’ll take your pictures for you.”

  I waved a hand at the field. “Idiot. You guys just entertained yourselves for three hours playing guess the animal. And now he’s sneaking through the same field without the thermal camera?”

  “It didn’t feel right taking the thermal from you guys,” Wild Card whispered back over the mic. “You might need it.”

  “We have the rifle scope,” I said.

  “So?” Wild Card said.

  “It’s also got thermal,” Maggie said, giggling.

  “Well, shit,” Wild Card cursed.

  As expected, the truck had pulled alongside the building, blocking my view. I heard the door on the truck open and close. From the gap between the asphalt and the bottom of the truck’s freight container, I watched large sized boots walk beside Dodd’s to the back of the truck. A man rounded the corner and unlocked the overhead door, rolling it upward. Both he and Dodd grabbed a box before disappearing around the side again.

  The boxes were about the size of a case of toilet paper and couldn’t weigh much more based on how easily they lifted and carried them. I watched their feet move toward the building door, disappear, then return for more boxes.

  “Wild Card, can you tell what’s in those boxes?”

  “Working on it,” he answered.

  “Work faster,” Quille complained. “I’ve got a judge on the phone.”

  “Can you tell how many boxes they have in the truck?” I asked Wild Card.

  “Thirty or so. Maybe more. Hang on. They’re coming back again. They’re arguing, but I can’t hear them.”

  “Just focus on the boxes,” Uncle Hank said over the earpiece. “We need to identify what they’re moving.”

  “There’s a picture of a man riding a horse on one of the boxes. The truck driver’s arm is covering the words, though.”

  “Cigarettes. Quille, get me a warrant!”

  “He’s working on it,” Uncle Hank said. “Chambers, get ready to drive to the front of the store to cover the front doors.”

  “We’re ready when you are,” Chambers said.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Maggie said, slipping out of the field and running silently across the parking lot.

  “What the fuck, Maggie?” I whispered to her over the earpiece.

  She flashed her pearly whites my way as she leaned her back against the cab of the truck on the passenger side.

  “Maggie, I’ll count out when they step inside,” Wild Card said over his mic. “But you’ll have only a handful of seconds.”

  She lifted her hand with a thumbs up in his direction.

  “What is she doing?” Uncle Hank asked.

  “Just wait and watch, folks,” Wild Card said. “This ain’t my first rodeo with Maggie. Get ready, girl. Four, three, two, one… now.”

  Maggie turned, reached up for the handle, opened the truck’s door, and jumped up into the seat, closing the door just as fast. I watched her head move around, then duck out of sight.

  “Here they come, stay down,” Wild Card told her.

  “What was the point of that?” I asked.

  “When we move in, the driver will go for his truck. Let him. Maggie either pulled the keys or is disabling the electronics. If he had a gun in the cab, she’s already confiscated it. He’ll be facing the wrong end of a barrel when he tries to flee.”

  “And I thought Kid was crazy,” Quille mumbled. “Judge approved the warrant. Wait for us to move in.”

  “Chambers,” I said over the mic. “You and Gibson come in the front and secure the store. Watch out for the door behind the register. Badges and guns out.”

  “On it.” I could hear Chambers driving, then over his earpiece I heard their car doors opening. A door was slammed shut. “Damn it, Gibson!” Chambers muttered.

  Dodd and the truck driver heard the door slam, too. They both froze near the back of the truck. They briefly argued in a whispered tone. Then Dodd held up a finger, the signal for him to wait. She walked back between the truck and the building.

  “Move!” I yelled as I launched from the field at a fast run.

  Beast ran beside me before jetting past me. By the time the driver turned our way, Beast was barreling toward him at high speed and only a dozen feet away. He jumped onto the tailgate and into the back of the freight truck container. Beast snapped his teeth and growled, but didn’t leap inside. Wild Card ran up, jumped on the tailgate, and grabbed the handle on the pulldown door. Hanging his body weight on the handle, the door slammed shut, and Wild Card’s feet touched the asphalt again.

  I ran past them, between the truck and the building, but didn’t catch the building’s side door before it was slammed shut. Trying the handle, I confirmed it was locked.

  I dropped my shoulder to the side, letting my backpack slide off. Dropping the bag to the ground, I pulled my hammer out of it with my left hand. It wasn’t an ordinary hammer. It was a handheld sledge hammer.

  “Maggie,” Wild Card said. “You can come out of the truck now. The driver is locked in the back.”

  “I never get to have any fun,” Maggie whined, dropping out of the cab as I whacked the door handle with the hammer.

  “Give me that,” Wild Card said, holstering his gun. Using both hands, he slammed the hammer down, causing the handle to explode in flying pieces.

  I pulled the screwdriver from the backpack, used it to fling the throw latch the other direction, and jerked the door open. Taking a quick peek around the corner, I wasn’t surprised to see Sue Dodd holding a gun.

  “You come in here, I’ll blow your head off!” Dodd yelled.

  “I’m coming inside, whether you like it or not,” I yelled from around the corner. “And before you even think of running the other direction, you should know I’ve got four seasoned cops covering the other door.” I glanced over my shoulder to ensure Maggie and Wild Card were standing clear of the doorway before bullets started to fly. “You’ve got nowhere to go, Dodd. And if you discharge that firearm, I guarantee you one of us will shoot you. Your only option is to surrender.”

  “I’m not going to prison,” Dodd screamed.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d heard those words. Far from it. But I’d only heard them said with that level of determination once before. She was prepared to shoot. Either at us, or if necessary, she’d shoot herself. I stepped forward, aimed, and fired.

  Dodd’s scream pierced the air as Wild Card and Maggie moved into the office behind me.

  “Clear!” I yelled loud enough to be heard over the wailing.

  Maggie moved around me. “Damn. That’s gotta hurt.” Maggie kicked Dodd’s gun away, then cuffed the wrist on her good arm, looking around for something to attach the cuff to.

  Chambers, Gibson, Uncle Hank, and Q
uille entered from the door on the opposite end of the room.

  I pointed to Chambers and Gibson and thumbed over my shoulder. “The driver is in the truck.”

  They moved past us. Quille continued to stare at Sue Dodd. Maggie gave up trying to figure out what to do with the handcuffs and let go. Dodd used her now free hand to hold together the pieces of her shattered elbow. She wasn’t going anywhere but to the hospital.

  Quille walked over, whispering in my ear, “I.A. is going to suspend you. You should’ve let someone else shoot her.”

  “If we turn the case over to ATF,” Maggie said, hearing Quille through her earpiece. “It should buy you about a week before I.A. hears about it. But I can’t guarantee the Feds will give your precinct credit for the bust.”

  Quille’s eyes narrowed at me, then Maggie, then back at me.

  I shrugged, trying to hide my grin. “You know if I’m suspended before this weekend, your cruise with Miranda will be put on hold. Your choice is divorce court or losing credit on a tobacco smuggling case.”

  “Fine,” Quille snapped as he stormed toward the back door. “Make the call!”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  KELSEY

  Wednesday, 5:15 a.m.

  Sleeping with one ear open, I heard multiple vehicles pull into the driveway. I reached for my phone and waited. Seconds later, I read Tyler’s text: Charlie and crew. All home and safe.

  I sighed, throwing my head back on the pillow. Charlie was going to be the death of me. It didn’t matter how old she was, or how good at her job she was, I couldn’t stop worrying about her.

  Curious as to why they were returning so late, I rolled to the right, off the bed, and stood. Already wearing a sports bra and sweatpants, I pulled a lightweight sweatshirt over my head, added a shoulder holster, and snapped in my gun.

  Exiting my assigned bedroom, I paused at the door of the bunkroom, peeking in on the kids. They were sound asleep on their top bunks. Carl was snoring loudly from one of the bottom bunks. Trigger opened one eye and looked at me from the other bottom bunk. He gave a thumbs up. I walked away.

  I took my time walking down the three flights of stairs. After only a few hours of sleep, I didn’t have the energy to move any faster. At the bottom, I rounded the corner into the kitchen and froze at the chaos.

  Hattie and Aunt Suzanne were already up and, it appeared, struggling to find their rightful place in the pecking order of the house. Aunt Suzanne had almost every pan, bowl, and glass dish full of food. Hattie was filling a coffee carafe and snapped at Aunt Suzanne when she stirred Hattie’s pan of eggs.

  I looked over and saw Charlie standing between the living room and the dining room table. She raised an eyebrow at me as we both walked to the table and sat. Hattie rushed over with a cup of coffee, scrambled eggs, two pieces of bacon, and a bowl of fruit for me. As she returned to the kitchen, Aunt Suzanne rushed to Charlie, setting an overflowing plate of salt, grease, and syrup. I looked over at Whiskey at the other end of the table. He winked at me before taking another bite of his breakfast. Crowded in front of him, he had two plates of breakfast, a bowl of fruit, a cup of coffee, a glass of milk, a glass of orange juice, and a glass of something else that looked disturbingly like tomato juice.

  I watched the women as I ate my eggs.

  Aunt Suzanne reached for the spatula and Hattie snapped, “Don’t even think about it!” with a pointy finger aimed at Aunt Suzanne.

  “You’re overcooking the eggs,” Aunt Suzanne argued.

  “I’m cooking them exactly how my family likes them,” Hattie snapped again as she retrieved a plate and filled it with the eggs. By the time she turned around, Bones had walked into the kitchen and Hattie set the plate and a cup of coffee in front of him.

  “Maybe he wanted my pancakes or some fried potatoes,” Aunt Suzanne said to Hattie.

  “He doesn’t,” Hattie replied, setting a glass of juice down for Bones.

  “I’m a little scared,” Bones said to me in a low voice as he watched the women.

  “You should do something,” Charlie whispered, elbowing me.

  “Like what?” I asked. “Call SWAT?”

  “I have no idea,” Charlie whispered, “but if this goes on much longer, we may need SWAT to separate them.”

  “If they start throwing punches,” Whiskey whispered, “My money’s on Hattie.”

  “I don’t know,” Charlie said. “That’s a tough one. Aunt Suzanne fights dirty. I watched her get mugged once. She beat the snot out of the mugger before calling into the precinct for a black and white to transport him to booking. Then, she said we needed to hurry up or we’d miss our nail appointment. She’s scrappy.”

  “Hattie’s old school, though,” I said, grinning. “She’d go straight for the biggest fry pan.”

  “And Hattie wouldn’t warn Suzanne first. She’d wait until Suzanne’s back was turned,” Whiskey added.

  “We can hear you!” Hattie scolded from the other side of the kitchen island, narrowing her eyes at me.

  “And we’re not fighting,” Aunt Suzanne said with one hand on her hip. “We’re merely developing a system in which we can both share such a small space.”

  We all glanced from one end of the kitchen to the other. It was the largest, longest, kitchen I’d ever seen. There was enough square footage for three professional chefs.

  “Sun’s coming up,” Bones said, grabbing his plate. “I think I’ll eat on the veranda.”

  “Good idea,” Charlie said, loading her hands.

  “I’m in,” I said as I rushed to follow them.

  The sun was less than a speck of light on the horizon this early in the morning, but the veranda was well lit. Uncle Hank sat at a long table with Pops, who was drinking his coffee and reading a paper.

  “They still at it?” Pops asked from behind his paper.

  “If you mean Hattie and Aunt Suzanne, then yes,” I answered, sitting beside him.

  “You going to handle it?” Pops asked.

  “I think you’re more suited to handle this situation.”

  Pops folded his paper and narrowed his eyes at me. “Baby girl, if you think I’m willing to risk losing the newlywed phase of my marriage with Hattie over this BS—you’re sorely mistaken.”

  I looked over at Uncle Hank. “Hell, no,” he said, holding up his hands. “I’ve been married long enough to know better.”

  I looked sideways at Charlie. “No way,” she said, shaking her head. “But if you go back inside, try to steal me a bowl of fruit without Aunt Suzanne seeing.”

  “That’s too much butter!” Hattie yelled from inside the house.

  “Mind your own beeswax!” Aunt Suzanne yelled back.

  I forced myself up from my chair, squared my shoulders, and marched back inside. I found Whiskey had left his place at the table and had moved to stand between them. Both women were beyond mad, and ready to do battle.

  “All right,” I said, holding up my hand. “I love you both, but obviously you two have an issue sharing a kitchen. So… You both have ten minutes to finish cooking breakfast, then you need to walk away. Everyone will eat buffet style and serve themselves.”

  “But—” Hattie started to say.

  “No, buts. As for future meals – Aunt Suzanne, you’ll get lunch shift today. Hattie, you’ll get dinner. All meals will rotate from there.”

  “I have a wedding shower to attend this afternoon, so I’d prefer the dinner shift,” Aunt Suzanne said.

  “Lunch works better for me anyway,” Hattie agreed. “Alex is taking me shopping this afternoon. I’m not sure what time we’ll get back. Besides,” Hattie smirked over at Aunt Suzanne, “that will mean I get breakfast tomorrow.”

  Aunt Suzanne narrowed her eyes at Hattie, but Whiskey raised an arm between them, preventing Aunt Suzanne from reaching her.

  “Ten minutes,” I reminded them.

  They both blinked at me before turning back to their pans and various dishes and rushing around. I looked at Whiskey and he ga
ve me the nod, letting me know he was staying put for the time being.

  I returned to the veranda.

  “Settled?” Pops asked.

  “Doubt it. But Whiskey’s playing bouncer.” I took a sip of my coffee, but the air had already cooled it. It wasn’t worth going to the kitchen for the coffee carafe, though. “Both of them plan to leave the house today. I didn’t tell them they’d have to take bodyguards. I’m leaving that up to their husbands to handle.”

  Pops and Uncle Hank sighed.

  I turned to Charlie. “Why were you guys so late getting back? And why didn’t you warn me you were skipping the dentist office job.”

  “I had to prioritize my schedule.” She crumpled a slice of bacon into her mouth before continuing. “We set up a stakeout on the truck stop where Roseline had worked. Busted a cigarette smuggling ring.”

  “How does that fit in with your murder cases?” I asked.

  “The manager, Sue Dodd, was the ringleader of the smuggling from what we can tell. She was selling the cigarettes to the truckers on the side. She even had fake state stickers to add to the packs. She’s also the one who hired someone to kill Roseline.”

  “Did she give up a name?” Bones asked.

  “She gave up an email address used to contact the hitman, and the location where she dropped the drugs and money. That’s the majority of what I squeezed out of her before they had to sedate her.”

  Pops, Bones, and I looked at each other, then back at Charlie.

  Uncle Hank chuckled. “Charlie shot off the woman’s elbow.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Dodd was ready to shoot her way out of the situation, so I opted to disable her shooting arm,” Charlie answered with a shrug. “It was good thing Quille already had an ambulance down the road on standby. The whole room was peppered in blood. Her elbow exploded.”

  “But everyone was safe on our side?” I asked.

  “Yup. Quille went home. Maggie stayed to work with ATF. And everyone else is camped out in the living room. And don’t give me any crap about Gibson and Chambers being inside the house. I trust them. Chambers is a solid cop. And Gibson… Well, let’s just say he doesn’t know enough about being a cop to double cross anyone.”