Chapter 28
Gypsy made her rounds to each of the rooms in the assisted living facility, obediently following Grace’s instructions.
“Oh, there’s my pretty girl,” one woman cooed, patting the dog’s head as Gypsy sat still by the wheelchair.
“Mrs. McDougal, she really loves you,” Grace said, smiling at the older woman.
“Oh, it must be because I had a lot of dogs myself over the years.”
“That, or the fact that you’re slipping her treats,” Bethany laughed.
Mrs. McDougal grinned as she looked up. “Well, the fact that I know to have treats is because my dogs trained me well.”
Moving down the hall, they rang the buzzer to enter the memory care facility. Glancing over at Bethany, Grace noticed her friend’s eyes were not as bright as usual.
“Is everything okay with your Gram?”
Bethany did not answer for a moment, sucking in her lips as she blinked back tears. Shaking her head, she replied, “No, not really. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Gypsy’s visits, I don’t know that she would respond too much. She’s gone downhill so quickly. It was just a year ago that she was living in the cabins. Granted,” she admitted, “not doing so great there, but still, with some help, we were okay.”
The two women stopped in the hallway, Gypsy sitting obediently at Grace’s feet, and embraced.
“I’m glad Gypsy and I can help a little,” Grace said.
“Oh, you do!” Bethany enthused. “When Gypsy comes, Gram seems to wake up and knows there is a dog there. She doesn’t do that with people much anymore.”
“Well, then come on, Gypsy. Let’s go wake up Gram,” Grace said, smiling at Bethany.
An hour later, leaving Gram’s room, the two women hugged goodbye.
“I’m going to stay for a bit,” Bethany said. “But, as always, thank you.”
Stepping out of the building, Gypsy began prancing around, excited to be getting back into the truck. Grinning, Grace unlocked the door and opened it for the dog to jump in first. Reaching back into her purse, she searched for her sunglasses.
Gypsy barked just as a hard object poked Grace’s back and a voice by her ear commanded, “Get in the truck and secure your dog, or else your dog dies. Right here. Right now.”
Whirling around, she looked up in fright at the tall man standing behind her. Dark hair, slicked back. Reflector sunglasses hiding his eyes from her view. Unknown…but familiar. Dropping her gaze she saw the gun pointing at her, but as Gypsy barked again, she watched in horror as he pointed the gun at her dog.
Swallowing deeply, while barely breathing, she stammered, “Wh…who…”
“Shut up and do as I say.”
Her mind rushing, she could not think of what to do, other than obey. “Quiet,” she spoke, her eyes pleading Gypsy to obey. She did not disappoint. The large dog immediately stopped barking and sat down on the truck seat, staring at her mistress.
“Put her in the back,” the man ordered, his gun never wavering from the dog, as he indicated the covered truck bed.
“I…can’t. It’s locked. I don…don’t have the key.” Working to calm her breathing, she held up the one truck key for him to see.
“Then tie her leash behind the seat and I’ll keep my gun on her. One move…one mistake on your part and you’ll watch your dog die.”
With shaking hands, she ordered Gypsy to jump over the bench seat and secured her leash to the seat belt. “Stay,” she said softly. Glancing up, she saw the man climb into the passenger seat and twist to the side facing her, keeping his weapon trained on Gypsy.
“Now drive.”
*
Mitch shook his head, frustration pouring off him as he said, “Finally got someone at DEA to tell me what they had on the Savine farm. Looks like they’ve made a connection with a branch of the Sinaloa cartel. What they’re following is a trace from planes in Mexico flying into the United States…passing inspections…then flying to smaller airstrips where they unload the drugs. Smaller planes can then fly between the small, private, unregulated airstrips to distribute along the pipeline.”
Rearing back, Blaise growled, “So what the fuck are they waiting on? They could go in anytime.”
“They’ve been working on this for over a year and don’t want to move too fast. Getting Savine will only shut down his little part. They are after the cartel.”
“So we sit around with drug runners one county over and do nothing,” Jude bit out, his frustration matching everyone else’s.
“You got a name for me to check?” Luke said. “Give me something…anything that I can possibly link to the vehicle that ran Grace off the road.”
“Ricardo Guzman has legally entered the country, under the guise of managing a trading company. He’s a cousin in the Guzman family cartel and has been watched since arriving here. He has been known to fly in and out of Virginia and he has been seen at the Savine farm. So far, he’s the highest one on the totem pole.”
“What else does the DEA need on these guys to step in?” Cam asked, back on the job for the first day since becoming a father. Fear pierced his heart at the idea of any of the cartel operating near where his wife and baby girl rested.
Luke, popping antacids into his mouth like candy, looked down as his computer indicated a message. Grinning, he knew who was there. Several months ago, a mystery tech genius contacted him, offering help with a case. He had not been able to ascertain their name, location, or how they knew what he was working on.
He wanted to meet one day, but his mystery helper always said it was too dangerous. Knowing how many persons worked freelance for the government…or criminals…he did not want to endanger them any more.
Looking at his messages, he read:
Check connection between Guzman, Martinez car rental.
“Bingo,” Luke said under his breath, typing out a quick thank you.
No problem.
Deciding to approach something more personal, he typed: How are you? Safe?
For now.
You always help me. Seems like a one-sided friendship.
For a long minute, there was no response and Luke assumed his helper was unable…or choosing not…to respond. Finally, one more message came in.
When I need you, I’ll let you know.
Anytime, anyplace Luke promised.
After another minute, one last message pinged.
Maybe soon.
Before he had time to process the ramifications of that message, Jack walked into the room. “What have you got?” Jack asked, looking over Luke’s shoulder at what he was pulling up.
“Should be a hit between this Guzman and a car rental place nearby. Whatever it is, won’t be immediately visible…let me do some digging.”
“According to the DEA, Guzman doesn’t drive a rental while here,” Mitch said, interested in what Luke was finding.
“Maybe it’s not for him,” Bart speculated. “Maybe it’s for someone else around here who does his bidding.”
“Got it!” Luke declared, excitement pouring off him. “Guzman uses an alias but keeps a vehicle at Martinez Auto Rental. A white Range Rover. Fuji White Range Rover.”
Within a few minutes, Luke’s magic fingers tapped into the security video feed for the rental facility.
“Go back. Go back to the night Grace was hit,” Blaise called out, filled with renewed vigor.
It took a while, but the Saints and Mitch looked on expectantly as the video feed ran across the screen.
“Holy fuck,” Blaise shouted, shock running through his system. His sentiments were felt around the room. Grabbing his phone, his call went to Grace’s voice mail. Glancing at the time, he looked up quickly. “Jack, call Bethany. Grace was with her this afternoon at the nursing home.”
Jack immediately complied, nodding when he got hold of his wife. “Hey, babe. Is Grace still with you? No? When did she leave? Okay. No, no. I’ll talk to you when you get here.” Disconnecting, he pinned Blaise with his gaze. “Bethany is still with her
grandmother, but Grace and Gypsy walked out about ten minutes ago.”
“Then why won’t she pick up?” he groused, trying her phone again.
“You said this was her first time driving since the accident,” Patrick commented. “Maybe she’s too nervous to talk and drive at the same time.”
Nodding, Blaise agreed, “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Standing, he said, “Jack, I’m heading back home. I want to make sure she gets there all right.”
“Good idea.”
Mitch piped back up, saying, “I’ve just alerted the DEA of what Luke has found. I’m running a check on them as well. We need to coordinate tomorrow, to plan our move. I’ll talk to my superiors right now.”
Blaise turned around as Marc called out his name. “Let us hear that she got home,” his friend said. Nodding, Blaise hustled up the stairs.
*
Heart hammering inside her chest, Grace tried to keep her eyes on the road, while simultaneously glancing into the rearview mirror at Gypsy in the back, and the man sitting beside her…still holding the gun.
The road curved upward and she quickly recognized the road she had been on the night of her accident.
“Wh…where are we going?”
After a long pause she thought he wasn’t going to answer, when she finally heard him say, “You know where.”
Shaking her head slightly, she said, “No, no I don’t.” Her fingers clutched the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white. She could feel his hard gaze burning into her, so she continued, “I don’t remember anything. I had an accident…on this road…but I don’t…”
“You don’t remember anything about that night?”
Shaking her head again, she said, “I didn’t know who I was. Amnesia from a concussion.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Silent for a moment, he added, “If this had been done correctly, you wouldn’t have even been involved.”
She opened her mouth to question him further when he barked, “Turn left here.”
As she turned onto the gravel drive flanked by thick foliage and trees, she slowed the truck as a memory assaulted her.
I’ve seen this man before. He was at the airport. He’s the one I followed here that night—
“Park here,” he ordered, startling her out of her thoughts. Glancing to the side, she noticed his eyes were on the small house. Another man walked out—tall, dark, light blue polo shirt and dark slacks. And his expression…murderous.
“What are you doing, you moron? Why did you bring her here?”
“We need to get rid of her…her and the dog,” the man next to her quickly explained as he got out of the truck, still pointing the gun at her.
“You could have done that anywhere,” came the sharp retort.
As the two men argued, Grace grew lightheaded, her vision blurring. For once she tried to keep the memory from coming, but to no avail.
I saw him…at the airport…with…with…
Planes were landing and taking off. The main airport was over to the right, with the smaller private planes disembarking at hangars to the left.
Douglas Wilkins stepped around a large, white SUV, walking with a man. Tall, dark haired, and distinguished. I lifted my hand to wave but did not want to interrupt. Their heads were bent closely together, deep in conversation. They began walking toward a long, sleek car…black with dark, tinted windows.
Gypsy and I walked toward Douglas, passing by the white SUV, when Gypsy began to pace excitedly. Instinctively, my eyes moved to her, letting her have more of a lead. Rushing around the car, nose working, she made her way toward the back and began digging at the vehicle. Scratching and whimpering, I stared…knowing what was there. All the training…I knew. Drugs. Why had Douglas gotten out of a vehicle with drugs?
Before I had a chance to ponder what to do, I observed Douglas turning to walk back to the SUV. Silently commanding Gypsy to follow, we backed away, moving out of sight behind other cars in the parking lot.
As the SUV pulled out of the parking lot, I ordered Gypsy back into my car and followed.
Chapter 29
“Grace?” Blaise called out, jogging into his house. He had noticed the truck was not parked in front of the garage, but hoped against hope she was home. Racing through the room and out toward the kennels calling her name, his stomach sank with the realization she was not there.
Pulling out his phone, he tried once more, but just like the past hour it rang and rang before going to voice mail.
Dialing Jack, his strident voice croaked, “She’s not here. She’s not picking up. Get Luke on it. I’m coming back.”
On the other end, Jack immediately barked orders to Luke and the others still there. “Get Mitch back on,” he added to Monty.
By the time Blaise pulled up to the front of Jack’s place, Marc was there, ready to brief him.
“Luke’s got her. She’s up on the mountain…the Savine place. Mitch already has DEA and his FBI team alerted and on their way. Come on, you’re with me.”
The rest of the Saints were coming around in their vehicles, with Luke, Jude, and Jack in their specially equipped van.
Throwing himself up into Marc’s SUV, the caravan roared down the drive.
*
Grace’s mind struggled with the memory of her former trainer in a vehicle with drugs. The memory of her first trip up the mountain replayed, this time with more clarity.
As I followed discreetly, I continued to mull over the possibilities. Who better to disguise someone coming into the country with drugs than someone trained…and one with a dog that’s been trained not to react? Oh, Jesus, Mr. Wilkins, what have you gotten yourself into?
The road climbed higher and higher, the twists and turns unfamiliar. Dusk was falling but I did not turn on my headlights, wanting to stay unnoticed. Thank goodness my car is black and their SUV is white. Hopefully, I’ll stay hidden, and their bright colored vehicle is easier to follow!
I noted when the vehicle slowed, turning to the left between trees. I braked, crawling up to the now visible gravel drive between two trees…almost hidden. What do I do? Looking at Gypsy sitting on the back seat, eyes bright, eagerly awaiting whatever my command would be.
Sitting in my car, I debated what to do, when a sheriff’s car drove by. Rolling my window down, I waved him over. Glancing back, I said, “Gypsy, we’re in luck!”
“You having car trouble, miss?” the young, female deputy asked.
Whipping my head around at the familiar voice, I cry out, “Jocelyn! Oh, thank God!”
Jocelyn, eyes wide, stared at me, shock on her face. “Grace? What are you doing up here?”
“I needed to pick up something from the Charlestown TSA office since I live near there and,” I climbed out of the car, “you won’t believe what I saw!” Looking toward her official car, I saw K-9 on the side and saw a large dog inside. “Oh, thank God, you’ve got Torch.”
“Grace, slow down, you’re not making any sense.” Jocelyn put her hands on my arms, giving me a little shake. “Come on, let’s head toward town and you can tell me what is going on.”
“No, no, we can’t leave. We need to call for backup…or the DEA…or…or…”
“What are you talking about?”
“I followed a white SUV from the Charlestown airport to here. I know there are drugs in it because Gypsy detected them! And the vehicle belonged to Douglas Wilkins! He was talking to a man before he got into the SUV and he turned in here.” I knew I sounded fantastical but was grateful it was Jocelyn and not some strange deputy, thinking I had too much to drink!
She turned toward the lane, biting her lip, before saying, “Let’s check it out. I’ll go in and you follow me. They won’t do anything when they see a police car. I’ll call for backup on the way.”
“Are you sure?” Her plan sounded off…but she’s the deputy. Watching as Jocelyn climbed into her vehicle, I followed down the dark, wooded lane until we came to a clearing circling a small house.
Adre
naline coursing through my veins, I hoped the back-up she called for was soon to arrive. As she alighted from her car, Jocelyn grabbed Torch’s leash, calling for me to do the same with Gypsy.
Blindly following her instructions, I opened the door, allowing Gypsy to hop down next to me, her tail wagging as she pranced around eager to work. Looking up, I noticed the house was dark, but lights shown from a structure further down the lane. Continuing to follow Jocelyn, we walked down the path, coming to a lighted barn, the white SUV parked outside.
“Jocelyn,” I whispered, grabbing her arm. “What are you doing? Don’t we need the backup?”
Her gaze cut over to me, barely discernable in the darkness, as she said, “Just follow my lead. I’ve got this.”
The wide door to the barn opened, exposing a small airplane inside. Two men were loading packages into the seat, while a third man—the tall, distinguished man I had seen at the Charlestown airport—stood, appearing to monitor the activities. And next to him…Douglas Wilkins!
Gypsy began whimpering again, straining at the leash to get to the plane. Drugs!
The four men’s faces turned in unison toward us. One of the men by the plane angrily shouted, “What the fuck are you doing? Why did you bring her here?”
“I didn’t bring her, you idiot! I found her at the end of the lane! She followed Douglas here from the airport!”
Jocelyn? No! How could you be part of this? Now that the light from the barn illuminated the area, I looked at the hard face of my former friend and her dog…that’s not Torch. Of course! She needs a look-alike that’s not trained for drug detection.
Her vision clearing, Grace came out of her memory, glancing around at her surroundings, seeing the two men still talking angrily. Hearing a familiar voice, she turned her head toward the sound. Holy shit. Jocelyn! The similarities between what had occurred the night of her accident and her current situation slammed into her.
“What’s going on? Joe, why did you bring her here?” Jocelyn asked.
Joe Savine. I didn’t recognize him earlier, but that was who Blaise had me try to identify. Oh, why won’t my memory work when I need it to! Steeling her spine, she refused to let them see her quivering.
Remember Love: Saints Protection & Investigations Page 23
