Chapter Forty-Eight
“Shit.”
Smacked the steering wheel.
“Shit!”
Garvey balled his hand into a fist. Aimed it at the center of the wheel. Smashed it straight forward.
Heard the horn sound out. Felt pain traverse up his arm. Saw Megan flinch on the seat beside him.
“You see what you did?” he asked. Leaned forward and grabbed the wheel in both hands. Alternated between checking the road and the rearview mirror. Watched as the office disappeared from sight. The cops lingered outside.
The urge to continue lashing out was strong.
This was all her fault. Had she just kept her mouth shut. Had she just been able to ride things out another couple of days. Things would have died down. Attention would have moved on. They would have gotten away with it.
This was how things unravel though. She confides in the wrong person. Shows a little too much interest in something. Arouses a bit of suspicion.
Next thing, cops were showing up at their door.
Garvey glared. Wanted so badly to fly across at her.
Knew inside the truth was it wasn’t all her fault. He should have known better. She wasn’t ready to be trusted with such a thing.
Even before that, he should have done more research. Just because the old man was usually gone didn’t mean he was going to be away the night they chose.
An arson would have gotten him some time. Most assuredly with his sheet.
Nothing like he was looking at now.
His life was over.
Unless he did something about it in the next few minutes.
“Okay,” he whispered aloud. Ran a hand down over his face. Was surprised to find he was sweating. Wiped it against the leg of his pants. Pulled in long breaths. Forced his mind to slow down. To process what he needed to do.
He had disappeared once before. He could do it again.
Just up the road in Glacier National Park was a water shuttle that crossed into Banff National Park. The only thoroughfare in the entire country that allowed international passage without so much as showing ID.
It was winter, but the shuttle should still be running. All he had to do was make it there.
Rising onto the freeway, Garvey pushed the truck west across town. Watched two exits pass by. Pulled off and wound past city streets. Made his way onto the country two-lane where they lived.
Held his breath as the small grey home came into view. Pushed it out in a puff as he found no cars sitting outside.
He had precious little time. Five, ten minutes tops to get what he needed.
Get rid of Megan.
Get on the road again.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Clear.
Quiet.
Damn near empty.
The wall of people in front of Drake and Kade had dispersed within minutes of them finishing their findings.
Sharp was the first one to go. Muttered something under his breath. Paused at the door as if he might erupt at them.
Left without a word.
Taggert and Foye were the next ones out. Took the pictures with them. Went to join Humboldt. Told Poe they were going to run the license plate. Be back if it turned up a dead end.
A half hour later there was still no sign of them.
A safe assumption that the information handed over was valid.
Using that as a baseline, Drake leaned back in his chair. Crossed his right ankle onto his left knee. Broke the awkward silence that had settled over the space.
“I think at this point it’s safe to say my client is in the clear, wouldn’t you?” Drake asked.
The comment snapped Poe’s attention up from the legal pad he was working on, doing anything to avoid eye contact. Making list after list of things that both sides knew meant nothing.
He leaned back a few inches in Taggert’s chair. Laid the pad down in his lap. Folded his hands over it. “We don’t know that yet.”
One side of Drake’s mouth turned upward in a smile. Pulled his glance over to Kade, who wore the same expression.
“Mr. Poe,” Drake said, “I respect your position here, but this isn’t a trial. We don’t have to wait for the judge to go ahead and make a ruling. You have absolutely nothing on Tyce Riggins. And we both know it.”
The smile fell away as he delivered the last lines. Made sure his intent was clear.
However ethereal the evidence against Tyce Riggins might have at one point been, it had now completely evaporated. Holding him any longer would only be a reaction of their collective egos being unable to let go.
And it would be a major faux pas Drake would be sure to point out in the court of public opinion.
“We don’t even know that this information you brought in today will turn up anything,” Poe said. Used his courtroom demeanor. Tried to reassert dominance over the situation.
“It doesn’t have to,” Drake said. “That’s not how this works and you know it. It isn’t our jobs or our client’s responsibility to solve a case for you. We went above and beyond to clear his name and turned up a far more likely suspect.
“The fact that your detectives have not yet returned proves that.”
Poe opened his mouth to respond. Paused. Squirmed a little lower in the seat, the collar of the track suit riding up to his ears.
“You realize that we’ll have to corroborate everything you said today,” Poe said. “Talk to his aunt, all of it.”
“I can give you names and phone numbers right now,” Drake said. Kept the pressure on. Did not for one second want it to appear that they were fearful of anything an investigation might uncover.
Poe swiveled in the chair. Turned to look out the window. Saw the sun beginning to set in the western sky. Long shafts of golden light starting to crawl across the desk.
“Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s give the detectives this last half hour until sunset. Then we’ll call and see where they’re at.
“If it at all looks like your findings are correct, I’ll go release Tyce Riggins myself.”
Chapter Fifty
Off.
Fishy.
Something just wasn’t sitting right.
Paul Taggert couldn’t put his finger on it. Didn’t know why a feeling had kicked up when he was standing outside the Montana Protection Society office. Had lingered there for the past fifteen minutes and counting.
“Read me that address again,” Taggert said. Waited as Foye shuffled through the few printouts they’d made at the station.
Recited it slowly from the last one in the stack.
“That’s out on the edge of town, right?” Taggert asked. Tried to think if he’d ever been there in person. Thought back in his mind, tried to place it.
Nothing came to him.
“Right,” Foye said. Pulled up an app on his phone. Read out the few lines of directions in order.
Taggert nodded as the words were spit out. Pulled in the right side of his moustache. Chewed on the hairs hanging down over his lip.
“You think we should call for backup?” Foye asked. Seemed to sense the strain building in the car.
“No,” Taggert said. Pushed the word out without moving his lips.
The truth was he wanted nothing more than to call for a full arsenal. That same nagging feeling refused to go away. Kept telling him something was lying in wait.
At the same time, he had nothing positive to go on. Couldn’t very well call for backup and ask them to roll up to a house that was probably empty. Ask them to stand around while he tossed out a few questions.
Perhaps more than anything was the fact that they were relying on information discovered by Bell and his partner. There was no definitive way to know their motivations.
No real way to determine if they were being set up.
Keeping the car at a steady five miles below the speed limit, Taggert turned onto the country two-lane they were looking for. Watched a handful of soapbox houses pass by on either side. All constructed in bri
ck and siding. All showing heavy signs of the elements.
A smattering of bony trees dotted the landscape as they pushed forward, leaving the strip of homes behind.
Shoving the facial hair from his mouth, Taggert leaned forward behind the wheel. Held the pose for over a mile.
Saw their destination come into sight.
Positioned over a quarter mile from the closest neighbor, it appeared to be a double-wide trailer with dark gray siding. A thin layer of blackened mold was present along the outside as they got closer. Misshapen shrubs lined the only two visible sides.
None of that registered with Taggert.
Instead his attention focused on the pickup truck sitting in the driveway. The thin curlicue of exhaust rising from the tailpipe.
Felt the nagging feeling within click into place.
It was the same truck in the picture now on Foye’s lap.
The same truck that had driven by while they stood outside the Montana Protection Society office.
“Call for backup,” Taggert said. Didn’t take his eyes from their destination as they drew closer. Reached down with his right hand and tapped at the butt of his gun.
“Yeah?” Foye asked. Raised the microphone from the radio mounted on the dash. Held it in front of him without making the call.
“Now, dammit!” Taggert said. Smashed the steering wheel with his palm.
The undercarriage of the car whined in protest as he eased to a stop. Blocked the driveway. Lowered himself and peered up at the house.
Beside him Foye made the call as he scanned the windows. Could see nothing but the setting sun reflecting off of them.
Shifted his attention to the truck sitting nearby.
“Clint,” he said. Again reached to his hip. This time unsnapped the holster. “We’ve got a passenger inside.”
Finishing the call for assistance, Foye dropped the microphone without hanging it on its cradle. Sent it bouncing against the hard plastic of the dash.
Neither one cared.
Both focused their entire attention on the shadowy outline of a head and shoulders leaning against the passenger side door.
“Oh shit,” Foye whispered.
“Yeah,” Taggert agreed.
Felt his entire insides clench tight. Could feel sweat bathing the back of shirt. Could hear his breath coming in short gasps.
“Backup will be here in seven minutes,” Foye said. Glanced over at Taggert. “How do you want to play it?”
Taggert nodded at the information. Said nothing.
Watched the silhouette through the back window. Saw it rise straight up. Begin to swing its head from side to side.
Felt adrenaline roil through his stomach. Rise within him. Bring prickly heat and sensation to every pore of his body.
“We’re going now,” he said. “I’ve got the passenger side. You stay on the rear bumper. Cover the house.”
Foye nodded. Said nothing.
A long moment passed as each man drew their weapon. Checked the slide. Thumbed the safety off.
Emerged into the cold air without a word.
The setting sun pushed at their backs as they dropped into a crouch. Threw long shadows over the ground as they inched up on the truck. Heard the engine purring softly. Listened as the gravel drive crunched beneath their boots.
At the rear tailgate Taggert glanced to Foye. Nodded. Stepped out wide away from the truck.
“This is Detective Paul Taggert, BPD!” he said. Put more force on his voice than intended. Heard it carry through the still air.
“Raise your hands where I can see them and step out of the vehicle, please.”
Heart pounding, Taggert took two more steps forward. Crossed his left foot over his right as he moved. Shifted off the edge of the gravel driveway into the yellowed grass of the yard.
Saw no movement from inside the truck.
“I said, put your hands up and step out of the vehicle!”
This time he placed an extra edge on the words. Made sure his tone was clear.
With his gun extended in both hands before him, he ventured another step forward. Jerked back just as fast as the passenger slammed their head into the window. Paused. Smashed it against the glass again.
A blur of dark hair. A smear of blood left behind.
Every nerve ending on fire, Taggert stood rooted in place. Watched as the person lined themselves up. Smacked the glass a third time.
Heard the hollow sound of skull smacking against frozen tempered glass ring out over the yard.
“What the hell is that?” Foye asked. Glanced over his shoulder to Taggert. Kept his attention on the house.
“Jesus Christ,” Taggert said. Snapped himself into focus. Took three quick steps forward. “She’s tied up in there!”
Reached out and jerked open the truck door.
Barely caught the young girl as she tumbled from the seat to the ground.
Chapter Fifty-One
Everything.
All of it.
Each and every second.
Dale Garvey watched it all play out from inside the house.
Another three minutes and he would have been clear.
Three minutes that he didn’t have to spend on Megan. Silencing her. Wrapping her hands and feet and mouth in duct tape. Ensuring she didn’t make good on her threat to go to the police the second he stepped out of the truck.
If only he had that time back he would have been a ghost. Could have swapped out the plates on Megan’s car behind the house with his truck’s. Been halfway to Glacier by the time he dropped Megan somewhere.
Been well over the border into Canada before she came to. Was able to contact anybody. Alert the police what had happened.
But he didn’t. Instead he was left standing in the kitchen. Duffel bag in one hand, his last remaining canister of LNG inside. A few old clothes wrapped around it for insulation.
A plastic sack with a couple of bare essentials for the road in the other. His laptop and anything else that was too incriminating to leave behind crammed into a backpack over his shoulder.
Nothing else.
He spotted the car the moment it came into view, creeping down the street. It was the same one that had been parked outside his office. Two silhouettes in the front seat.
Cursing out loud he ducked low behind the kitchen table. Pressed himself against the wall. Watched as they hemmed his truck in along the street.
As they emerged and moved on it.
Found Megan tied up on the front seat.
Fear, anxiety, adrenaline, pulsed through Garvey. Pushed him back away from the table. Made him leave the plastic sack on the floor.
Right now he had precious few options. They had him pinned down on the arson and murder of Wes Koenig. No doubt by now knew about his list of transgressions in Alaska.
Had found Megan bound up in the front seat.
At the moment there were only two of them. One standing watch over the house. The other tending to Megan.
The pause at the foot of the driveway had to have been a call for backup. Any second they would arrive. Would swarm the house. Take him into custody.
Garvey backed clear into the kitchen. Kept the backpack on his shoulder. The duffel in his hand.
Looked down at the counter and saw Megan’s car keys lying there. A Rocky Mountain College bottle opener keychain on the end of them.
The fact was he had no options. If he set foot outside, he would be arrested. If he waited for the assisting officers to show, he would be arrested.
Either way, there was no chance he would come out on top in a trial. He would be looking at the death penalty. Life in prison at a minimum.
Never again set foot in the beloved outdoors he’d sworn to protect.
Snapping the keys up from the counter, Garvey whirled out through the kitchen. Sprinted through the laundry room, through the back door. Left it to swing shut behind him. Hit the ground at a full gallop. Tore chunks of grass and gravel away with each step as he pounded for
the Subaru parked on the concrete landing.
Perspiration poured from his skin. His breath came in ragged gasps. His mind worked at a frenetic pace. Tried to push forward. Plan his next move.
Jerking open the driver’s side door, Garvey tossed both bags onto the passenger seat. Slid behind the wheel. Didn’t even bother to adjust the chair as he shoved the key into the ignition and cranked it.
Smacked the wheel with impatience as the starter whined once. Twice. Kicked over on the third attempt.
Eschewing the driveway he shot out across the backyard. Looped around the house. Tires biting in the frozen ground, they tore two even tracks through the dead grass.
As he sped past the corner of the house he saw both cops in his periphery. Watched them hunker low against the body of his truck.
Saw orange blossoms ignite from the tips of their guns.
Heard the first shots slam into the front end of the car.
Felt the sting of shattered glass cut into his neck as the rear window exploded behind him.
Succumbed to total darkness as the same bullet smashed into the duffel bag on the front seat beside him.
Chapter Fifty-Two
It was like a magic trick.
One moment nothing but clear blue sky.
The next a plume of dark smoke shot straight into the atmosphere like a geyser. An inverted cone rising from some indeterminate point.
All three men inside the office saw it at the same time. Rose from their chairs. Rushed to the window.
Felt the bottom drop out of their stomachs.
“That can’t be good,” Kade whispered.
Drake nodded in agreement.
Poe drew his mouth into a tight line. Had every bit of color drain from his features. Practically sprinted out. Let the door bang against the wall behind him. Didn’t bother trying to close it.
Left Drake and Kade standing at the window. Watching the smoke continue to rise. Change from black to grey. Spread in an ever-widening triangle. A massive funnel cloud moving against the horizon.
Almost blotting the setting sun out behind it.
“You don’t think?” Kade whispered.
Drake kept his gaze on the smoke cloud. Tried to think of anything else in the world it could have been. Couldn’t come up with anything.
The Glue Guy: The Zoo Crew Series Book 4 Page 20
